#denmark x y/n

[mxlovinovargas]

PRIZEFIGHTER — DENMARK x READER

Synopsis: Denmark doesn't really like your boyfriend. So, to make up for that, he dances with you instead.

Prizefighter

CW: Drinking, Heavy Drinking, Drunken Behavior, Possessiveness, Possessive Thoughts, Yandere Themes, Allusions to Abuse, Allusions to Abusive Relationship. Use of Country Names. Reader-Insert.

Word Count: 1.6k

Well, if you need me I'm right here. 

Denmark feels the rhythm of the bar. There’s something heavy hanging in the air. He cocks his head, regarding the spread thoughtfully. Bright stage lights filtering warm lighting, heady beer and liquor, and polished stools and elongated tops feather out from the centerpiece of the main bar. The front bar is lined with drunk people leaned up and conglomerated together the later the night goes on. Denmark’s arch rests on the foot rail and he bounces his leg excitedly as he stretches his back out and spots you. 

He watches you dance. The way you move, the way you slink through the crowds. There’s a coy little smile plastered across your face and Denmark feels his chest swell in excitement. He pushes away from his seat and crosses the wayward. 

You grin up at him whenever he approaches. Denmark feels like he’s walking on a series of clouds with each step, but he just grooves with the flow and then extends his hand out. A twangy rhythm—low guitar strummed with some soft rock and off-brand country—pilfers through the bar, pouring out of speakers and drumming subwoofers that make Denmark’s ears ring the closer your hands draw. 

A small spark engages between your fingertips whenever they touch and Denmark feels a little lighter than before. Every time, without fail. His hands clasps through yours and he’s pulling you closer—always near. He looks like a madman as he stares down at you, but you just laugh and roll into his embrace with a twirl. 

Eyes watch him from the sidelines, but Denmark takes it in stride as he hops with his left leg and then pulls you back with his sway. There’s a giggle that escapes your lips as your cheek brushes his chest and the rest of the bar melts away. You laugh again. 

“You’ve been drinking too much tonight, Dan,” your voice is demure and lovely. Denmark feels like a million bucks as he laughs too and shrugs it off. 

“But you like it, anyway! Don’t-cha?” you can’t argue with that. Denmark does another move and the two of you are doing a slide down the bar, feeling like rednecks and hillbillies shucking a lasso and Denmark can’t help but pick up his pace. He steps around the dynamite of his feet and lets it pump him alive. 

Denmark dips his chin down into the nape of your neck; the faintest whiff of flowers and something super sweet tickles his nostrils, so he sucks in a tiny gasp and then he can feel those eyes boring into him burn. But he doesn’t care! He’s been through a lot, some shitty boyfriend’s not going to scare him off from you. 

You whisper, “He doesn’t like you.” 

Denmark nods. He stands up tall, the barometric pressure changes and Denmark feels frustrated now. Maybe he’s flustered—it doesn’t matter; not when you’re here, in his arms, he can’t lose this. Just one more dance. Denmark drags your feet over the floor, towards the bar, and he’s swiped up another drink before you can protest. The music thumps louder. Alcohol sits hard behind his temples. Denmark chugs a nice wallow down before he hands it to you with a giddy chuckle. You accept with a bout of laughs before the glass bore kisses your lips and you tilt your head back for a drink. 

One swig, then two. Amber liquid swills at the bottom of a glass bottle, dollops with a splash, and then stills. The bottle glitters in the light, grasped by paled knuckles. 

You hand the bottle back to Denmark before you wipe your mouth off with the back of your hands. Beer schmears across your lips and then you’re glancing off to the side. Denmark knows who you’re looking at. Who cares about him? Don’t let him get you down, baby. He can’t do anything to you. No matter what—I’m a prizefighter. I’ll break through anything for you. 

Dane smiles, anyway. This long, and wide, and nice smile that stretches from cheek to cheek; the kind that shows off those lipped pearly white teeth. The corners of his eyes are squinted, full of budding tears that don't fall. Rich cornflower blue eyes shimmer before they blink, another swig before the beer’s polished off. 

His mouth is close to the shell of your ear as he says, “Tell me all. I can go all night for you anytime.” 

He vaguely gestures with the empty bottle, but Denmark’s looking so intensely at you that you understand immediately what he’s implying. Something akin to amusement blossoms across your face before your arms wrap around his waist and the two of you are shambling back out to the dancefloor. 

Denmark’s happy—so happy. And whenever Denmark looks down at you there, in his arms gazing up at him with that pretty little head, he can’t help but let out a laugh himself. It’s funny! Really funny. So funny that Denmark doesn’t even realize he’s shedding tears of jubilation. 

You lean on him, prodding your nose against his left shoulder and Denmark finds himself veering into it. There’s some sort of twinkle blushing your face as you look at him, shaded by the dim orange lighting of the bar and the flush of alcohol, and it’s something that makes his heart beat faster. You mean so much to him, tucked beneath his jaw and clung to his body. This feels so unreal, like a dream. A dream that Denmark never wants to wake up from even though each step brings you closer to leaving. But then he levels your gaze again. 

You’ve been crying, He can see your puffy eyes, those ruddy whites, and the dips of incisors into your bottom lip. Denmark doesn’t comment on it because that’s unnecessary. Negativity has no place between the two of you, between the press of your bodies. More laughter. 

But Denmark’s cornflowers find your boyfriend absolutely sloshed against the bar, hiccupping and picking random fights with guys who have nothing better to do except entertain him. That’s the reason you’re so down and alone. He scoffs. 

“Jerk.” 

Denmark brushes that off with a flick of his head and a cheer. He’s not. You know he’s not. That sound had not been meant for you, Denmark knows you know. There’s just something so carefree about the way that he listens to you; the way his eyes seem so large whenever he stares at you as you speak and as you relay your stories and you just can’t take it. Denmark is passionate, that’s the root of all evils. He’s so enthralled that he can’t do anything but look at you. Soft music hums in the air now, and whenever Denmark sniffs the film of dewdrops from his eyes and the distinct sting of alcohol hazes his senses… Nah, nothing’s going to get him down. He’s with you!

You can always go to him. Denmark will always be here for you. You glance at your boyfriend. 

He tells you, “There’s nothing gonna change over here on my end.”

You can always go to him—he’s a true friend. Someone who just loves you so much that it physically pains him in all of his joints and right below his ribs whenever you stare for too long at that bastard of a man. 

“You know I’ll always care.”

Are words so ginger that Denmark turns red in the face, and he doesn’t quite understand whenever you place your palm against his chest and push away from him. He follows you with a curious gaze and a quirked brow, but you just shake your head softly and smile. You gesture vaguely over your shoulder, towards that shitty boyfriend you’ve snagged, and then wave Denmark off. A look of concern doesn’t present itself, but Denmark just grins and grins and memorizes and studies. 

“I’ll win your heart one day,” he murmurs as you enthusiastically roll your eyes. 

One last swig. 

Denmark feels restless as he watches you. An itch of explosions beneath his skin, vibrating in his wrists. He takes a step and the heel of his boot makes a loud clap whenever he thunders back onto the ground—the world and its gravity mean nothing to him as his eyes constrict, as blackness swallows up everything but you and you’re all Denmark can see. A half-full bottle of beer rumbles in his stomach. You wince, Denmark sheepishly curls his lips, and then you’re back to gazing at one another. It’s so intense. Denmark feels heat in his heart, right where his blood pumps and where adrenaline is born. You go in for one last hug and Denmark is not short on the draw. 

His arms engulf your whole body, and he squeezes. The world feels a little foggy whenever you brush your bodies together. He whispers something that you can’t hear and something Denmark doesn’t feel like bringing to light, but his glare conflagrates through your boyfriend. Another drink, anything for you. 

“Let it start, let it start.” 

One day—For now, Denmark’s eyes close and he hugs tighter. Closer. One Day. He lets go. Your heat leaves his front and a chill traces down his spine, breeding gooseflesh and resentful feelings that Denmark only shows with that boyish vigor and optimism. You titter, so cutely, and he feels a pluck at his heartstrings. 

Denmark watches you go, but not without a last: 

“Come on, baby, if you just dare me.” 

that you never hear whenever you link arms with him. 

#hws denmark #hetalia denmark #aph denmark #hetalia word stars #hetalia world series #hetalia world twinkle #denmark x reader #denmark x you #yandere denmark #yandere denmark x reader #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n #denmark x y/n #Cib Writes SPICY Fics

[milaisreading]

Hetalia AU:

Denmark, tapping on the desk*

Sweden: What is he doing?

Yn, taps back on the desk*

Iceland: And why is Yn repeating the behavior?

Norway: You remember how they argued over who gets the last Napoleonshatte*?

Sweden, remembering the argument from last night: Yeah, at the end neither got it and Finland ate it. What about it?

Finland: Turns out they are now mad at each other and are blaming each other.

Iceland: What does that have to do with the tapping?!

Norway: They said they won't talk to each other anymore...So, they are using Morse code to communicate.

Denmark, tapes more aggressively*

Yn: Hey! Take that back!

Denmark: Nuh-uh!

Finland: At least they are talking.

Norway: Now we need to get them to talk at a normal volume.

Sweden: I need a drink.

Iceland: ????

*- it's a Danish baked sweet dish

#hetalia #hws #aph #hetalia world stars #hetalia world series #hws nordics #hws norway #hws denmark #hws sweden #hws finland #hws x reader #hetalia x reader #hetalia x y/n

[lewisvinga]

prinsesse! | oscar piastri x royal! danish! fem! reader

summary; oscar met y/n while she was secretly visiting australia and since then, they have kept a private but not a secret relationship. the danish princess wasn’t known by the whole world until a certain danish junior driver recognizes her.

fc; lara cosima

warnings; none (?)

note; requested!

taglist; @namgification

masterlist !

liked by yourusername, landonorris, and others

oscarpiastri: summer 🌴

username: SHES SO PRETTYY

username: will never get over how her account is private 💔

username: vacation osc 🧚‍♀️

yourusername: 🤍 liked by oscarpiastri

landonorris: you better come back with a tan

oscarpiastri: i can confirm i am now 2 shades tanner

username: i miss f1

username: oscar the best rookie

username: oscar being taken is my roman empire

username: seeing what drivers do on summer break is so entertaining 😭

frederikvestiofficial: wait, isn’t that the princess??

landonorris: the what

frederikvestiofficial: of denmark!

logansargeant: no that’s oscar’s girlfriend

logansargeant: wait a minute

oscarpiastri: yeah ?😀

liked by yourusername, landonorris, and others

oscarpiastri: min prinsesse [my princess]

tagged; yourusername

yourusername: osc❤️‍🩹 jeg elsker dig🩵 [i love you]

oscarpiastri: i love you🧡

yourusername: far [dad] has been asking when you’re gonna join for dinner 🤔

oscarpiastri: tell him i’ll be back from england next week😌

username: OMG??

username: oscar in his prince era??!!! liked by yourusername !

landonorris: no way she’s been a princess this whole time…

oscarpiastri: i mean she wasn’t hiding it

landonorris: u let me act like a fool in front of a PRINCESS??😀😀

yourusername: ur funny tho don’t worry😁

logansargeant: why doesn’t america have a royal family , going to a ball would be sick asf 🥲

yourusername: bday invite coming soon to u , logan don’t worry🧚‍♀️

oscarpiastri: be prepared to learn a new type of dancing

username: oh she’s a beauty!😍

username: gosh she has such a princess fairy face, how’d oscar pull her

oscarpiastri: i’ve asked myself that everyday ever since she visited australia 5 years ago and willingly talked to me🥸

yourusername: if it wasn’t for my younger brothers i would’ve been to shy to talk to osc😅😅

username: tears i love them sm😩

frederikvestiofficial: sorry for exposing you😅😅

oscarpiastri: lol don’t worry about it, we weren’t even trying to keep it a secret

yourusername: don’t worry🤍❤️‍🩹

#formula one x reader #f1 x reader #f1 smau #f1 scenario #formula one scenarios #f1 imagine #formula one imagines #formula one imagine #f1 scenarios #formula one social media au #oscar piastri smau #oscar piastri scenario #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri x reader

[woso-dreamzzz]

Accident II

Pernille Harder x Child!Reader

Fridolina Rolfö + Ingrid Engen x Hardersson!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: Potty training at Wolfsburg

“This,” Moster Frido says to you,” Is a potty.”

You blink at her, sitting on the floor of the Wolfsburg break room. You go back to playing with your toys.

“Hey! This is important!” Frido says, trying to draw your attention back but you keep ignoring her.

“She’s not stupid,” Pernille laughs from the sofa,” She knows what the potty is. She has one at home.”

“Well, now she’s got one here too.” She whistles like you’re a dog but you still don’t give her the time of day, instead standing up and wandering over to where Ingrid is on the phone with her mother.

You pull on her shorts and she hefts you up onto her hip without question.

“I thought you were trying to potty train her,” Frido complains,” You can’t do it just at home, you know.”

Pernille rolls her eyes. “One step at a time, Frido. It might freak her out a little to do it here. We’re taking it at her pace.”

Frido huffs but drops her questioning as you play with the ends of Ingrid’s hair. Your girl-swan hangs in your other hand and you swing it around as Ingrid talks.

Your potty training has been slow going. Sometimes you just refuse to cooperate even when Pernille swaps your nappies for pullups. You just don’t want to use the potty sometimes.

But she can see you start wriggling in Ingrid’s arms and she knows if you were standing then you’d be doing your potty dance. She sighs, standing up and grabbing the potty Frido had bought for you.

“Princesse,” She calls and you turn your head to look at her (much to Frido’s annoyance),” Do you need to use the potty?”

You think for a moment. “No, Momma.”

“I think you do.”

“No.”

Pernille sighs and Ingrid instantly offers you to her. You whine when you’re transferred to Pernille, reaching to grab onto Ingrid, who you know won’t force you to use the potty.

You don’t like using the potty at training. You don’t know why but you just don’t. You don’t really like using it at home either but Momma told you all big girls use the potty and you really want to be a big girl in time for Morsa's next visit even though you’re still little and everyone is taller than you.

“Yes.”

Momma takes you into the toilets and sets your potty down in there. You feel better now that you don't have to go potty in front of moster Frido and Ingrid. Thinking about going potty in front of them makes you shy and makes your tummy go all wavy.

You don’t like the potty much at all but you like it better when there’s no one but Momma helping you go.

You still don’t like it though.

It becomes a bit of a joke around the Wolfsburg girls in the following weeks. Your refusal to use the potty unless Pernille makes you is a bit funny.

Whenever she asks, you gain the biggest pout and you whine and try to fight it until she plucks you from where you’re sitting and takes you to the toilets. She tries to set you on a proper toilet a few times but you’re still very little and you cry because it feels like you’re about to fall in.

Momma never tries that again.

But she does keep insisting on the potty whenever she can. Sometimes you can get away with it but as soon as she notices your potty dance, it’s straight to the potty with little fanfare.

You think you can get away with it today.

Momma’s in interviews all day so you’re sitting in the break room with Frido and Ingrid. Ingrid’s nice, you decide. She’s not Swedish like your moster and Morsa and she’s not Danish like Momma is. She’s Norwegian which is near Sweden and Denmark, she tells you, so she speaks Norwegian which is kind of similar to your other languages so when she speaks it, you can still kind of understand what she’s saying.

Ingrid’s nice though or, she was until she notices your potty dance.

“Do you need to go to the toilet, y/n?” She asks sweetly and you freeze where you’re sitting playing with your toys.

You shake your head.

“Are you sure?”

You nod.

“Okay, then.”

For some reason, Momma’s put you in big girl underwear today. She doesn’t usually but she has today and that’s a little weird but Momma says you’re growing up now and you assume wearing big girl underwear is part of that.

Ingrid doesn’t mention the potty again even though you keep wiggling around as you do your potty dance. She just lets you keep playing.

Moster Frido is the one that mentions it though.

She sees your potty dance too.

“Are you definitely sure you don’t need the potty?” She asks you and you shake your head again.

“No potty, moster,” You say even though your wiggling is getting more and more aggressive. You don’t want to use the potty at training. Potties are only for at home, you decide.

“Okay,” She says. She stands and your eyes follow her to the sink. She turns on the tap, leaning against the counter.

The water pours into the sink and moster Frido looks at you.

You look away but the running water makes your potty dance worse. You’re not wearing a nappy or a pull up and you don’t want Momma to get mad at you for having an accident in your big girl underwear.

Ingrid crouches in front of you and you look at her with wide eyes. She’s got a packet of your favourite mini skildpadder. Momma says you’re two little for sweeties but Momma's Momma came over from Denmark to visit and she bought those for you. You love them so Momma usually packs a few in your training bag for when you’ve been very good.

“It looks like you really need the potty,” She tells you, drawing the skildpadder away from you when you try to reach for it,” Why don’t you let Frido take you to the toilet, you go to the potty and you can have this when you get back?”

You think for a moment, trying to reach for it again but Ingrid keeps it from your grasp and your potty dance gets even worse.

“Do you need the potty?” Frido asks sweetly and your cheeks puff out in annoyance.

“Ja, moster.”

She grins at you. “Perfect.” She scoops you up and hurriedly walks you to the toilets where she puts down your potty and helps you pull down your special Wolfsburg shorts.

You are happy that she doesn’t watch you go, turning around to face the door and make sure no one else comes in.

She helps you get properly dressed again and walks you back to the break room. “I’m very proud of you,” She praises as she walks back,” You’re such a big girl now.”

You feel a little shy at that, feeling all mushy and warm that Frido thinks you’re a big girl. When you really miss Morsa, when she’s away with her blue team in London, you like to be with moster Frido. She’s not Morsa but she kind of is sometimes. Not in the ways that Morsa is your Morsa but you can close your eyes and have Frido talk to you in Swedish and it’s kind of like having Morsa with you.

“All good?” Ingrid asks as you both come back in and Frido nods.

Ingrid passes you your skildpadder and you tear into it until it’s all gone. That makes you a little sad but Ingrid and Frido join you on the floor with your toys and you feel better again.

“How about this,” Ingrid says as she plays,” For every time you use the potty at training, you can have a skildpadder? Does that sound good?”

It does sound good. You don’t get to eat them often but you know if Ingrid makes a convincing argument then Momma can’t do anything about it. You tell Ingrid as such and she and Frido both laugh.

“So it’s a deal then, is it, little monster?” Frido asks and you nod.

“Deal!”

“You have to shake on a deal.” She offers you her hand and you shake it eagerly.

You think for a moment. “Potty again, please?”

Ingrid and Frido both laugh.

“Maybe wait until you actually need it again. The skildpadder aren’t going anywhere.”

#woso x reader #pernille harder x reader #pernille harder #fridolina rolfö x reader #fridolina rolfö #ingrid engen x reader #ingrid engen #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso #the big adventures universe

[deltaharrington]

STUCK [SEASON 3 SPOILERS]

PAIRING: Rafe Cameron x Female!Pogue!Reader

WARNINGS: smut, heavy swearing, kidnapping, obx3 SPOILERS

SUMMARY: You were separated from your ex, Rafe, after falling off the Costal Adventure. The Pogues took you in as one of their own. You and Rafe meet again when you’re kidnapped by Singh.

Muffled screams were heard from the hallways as you were dragged to an unfamiliar room.

How did you get here? That was a long story?

A month prior, Rafe Cameron, your boyfriend at the time, had somehow convinced you to run away with him and his family.

You had no idea what he was capable of back then.

When you found out that he helped steal a cross that wasn’t his, and that he tried to kill his own sister, things felt different.

You couldn’t deny that you were in love with him though. It was hard for you to grasp the fact that he wasn’t a good person.

So, you did the thing anyone would have done. You helped Sarah escape.

When both John B and Sarah insisted you came with them, you wasted no time jumping off of the boat.

Rafe nearly shot at the small boat you escaped in. He was expecting you to be on it. Y/n. His Y/n was a Pogue.

Here you were now, kidnapped by Carlos Singh. He had you for a couple of days, claiming he was waiting on something before he could tell you what he wanted.

A large door opened and you were practically thrown into the room, your body slamming against another.

“What the-?” The voice above you spoke. It sounded familiar, and that scared you.

“Y/n? Oh my god!” The voice said, worried. You looked up and we’re met with none other than Rafe Cameron.

He wasted no time, ripping the cloth gag from your lips. At that you scrambled to get away from him, tripping and falling to the floor.

“Rafe? I knew you were apart of this!” You said and the Kook boy tried to reach for you. You tried to wiggle away, but your hands were still tied.

Rafe helped you up, cupping your face in his hands. He was happy to see you. He assumed you got kidnapped by the Pogues, he never knew you went willingly.

“I’ve been trying to find you, sweetheart” He said and your chest rose and fell with anger. He didn’t notice, he was too caught up with the fact that you had survived.

“You won’t have to go with those Pogues again, you’re safe now” Rafe rambled and you shook your head, about to argue.

“I knew this reunion would cause sparks” Singh’s voice from the opening room.

“What do you want from me?” You said and he waved you into the other room. You yanked yourself from Rafe’s grip and you walked into the room, sitting down on a couch.

Rafe followed and sat next to you.

Singh went on a rant about El Dorado and all you could think about was how close Rafe was to you. You hadn’t seen him in a month, and you were sure you had gotten over him.

Now that he was in front of you, butterflies fluttered in your stomach. Well, maybe that was because he was fiddling with the ties that bound your hands together.

“What do you want from me?” You asked Singh and he smiled.

“Your friends, they have a diary” He went on and it clicked for you. They had told you about a diary. Denmark Tanny’s diary.

“I don’t…I don’t know anything about a diary” You said and those words landed you right back in a locked room.

“Y/n, baby, you have to talk to me” Rafe pled, kneeling down in front of your sitting figure. You had finally wiggled your way out of the zip ties that had bound your wrists, and now you were placed on the bed.

“Rafe, I really don’t know what there is to talk about” You said and he looked confused, hurt even.

“You, me, you getting napped by the Pogues? That’s what we can talk about” He said and stood up, pacing.

This was it, you had to tell him.

“I didn’t get kidnapped, Rafe” You said and he stopped, looking towards you “I left with them myself” You added and his eyes widened.

“Why- Why would you do that?” He said and you sighed.

“You killed Peterkin, tried to kill your sister, and you lied to me!” You said “I couldn’t be around you, I was scared, Rafe!” You said and he looked shattered.

“You know I’d never hurt you, Y/n” Rafe said and you shook your head.

“I don’t know that, I didn’t” You said and he moved closer, grabbing your hands to hold in his.

“You never ended things properly, so we’re still together” Rafe said, his eyes tearing up “Y-You’re still mine, baby please” He begged and you shook your head, your eyes becoming teary as well.

“Rafe, we can’t” You said and he reached up towards four face, cupping it “Please don’t do this, not now.” You added and he shook his head, leaning in towards you.

When he kissed you, you felt like your world fell into place. You hated that feeling, but you craved it more than anything.

You couldn’t help but melt into his touch, letting him lean in further to pin you to the bed. He hadn’t seen you in a month, and he longed to feel you in his arms again.

Upon realizing what you were doing, you pulled away, shaking your head “Rafe” You whispered, his thumb trailing across your bottom lip.

“Please, I know you want this just as much as me” Rafe said “I love you, so much” He said and you felt your heart nearly explode.

“I love you too” You whispered and he smiled, letting his thumb caress your cheek.

“There’s my girl” Rafe whispered, pressing his lips against yours again. This time you gave in, missing his touch.

Rafe moved between your legs, pulling you flesh against his hard-on.

“Feel that?” He asked and you nodded “All because of you baby” He whispered and looked down at you. “Haven’t had any in a month” He said “I’ve been waiting on you, only to hear that you left me?” He said and you shook your head.

“That’s right, I’ll have to show you just how pent up I’ve been” He said and you looked up at him, trying to pull him closer.

“Please, Rafe” You begged “I need you, now.” You said and that was all he needed.

Within mere seconds, your clothes were on the floor, Rafe prodding your entrance with the tip of his cock.

“Please, Rafe” You begged and that was enough for him, the blonde sliding all the way inside of you, his hips touching yours.

Your back arched at the familiar fullness you felt, a moan left your lips as he attacked your neck, littering it with hickeys.

You both had forgotten the situation you were in, only worried about each other.

Soft moans and the sound of hips meeting filled the room, Rafe moving fast to make you have the best orgasm of your life.

“Rafe! M’already close!” You gasped out and he nodded, a smirk on his face.

“Me too baby, I fuckin’ missed you” He said finally giving you permission to cum.

At his command, you turned into putty, your legs shaking, as you clenched around him, milking his cock.

He rested his head in the crook of your neck after he came, your labored breaths filling the room. It didn’t take too long for you to come down and calm down, slipping under the covers to hide your exposed body.

“We need to get out of here” Rafe spoke softly “You’re mine”

END.

#outer banks #x y/n #obx netflix #outer banks x you #jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x y/n #rafe cameron #john b x reader #john booker routledge #rafe smut #rafe x reader #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe x y/n #rafe obx #rafe x you #outerbanks rafe #rafe fic #rafe imagine

[il-miele-che-scrive]

Charles Leclerc x princess of Monaco reader

When their relationship gets discovered by the public eye, it's starting to get a bit chaotic. Contrary to [Y/n]'s worries, people react positively and start to even wonder if Charles is going to become an actual prince of Monaco.

words count: 3.6k

cursive is for memories

As I was finishing writing this last night, I've received such a fun idea for rivals to lovers for reader x Charles, so you know what fic to expect next;)

The Princess

Keeping your relationship private isn't an easy thing when you're royalty, the literal princess of Monaco, and your boyfriend is a famous Formula One driver. But somewhat [Y/n] and Charles managed to remain private until their engagement.

Of course, there were theories and people were suspecting it. Both [Y/n] and Charles were from Monaco and single for a suspiciously long period of time, so rumours were writing itself.

It wasn't that weird when it came to the princess being single, at first people even speculated about her preparing for some political marriage that would be beneficial for her country. However, Charles had quite the reputation when it came to dating, so fans were pretty surprised he 'stayed single' for so long.

Everything cleared up and fans' theories became reality, when [Y/n] and Charles were caught sneaking out of one parisian restaurant through the back door. It was the evening that Charles had proposed to [Y/n] and she wanted it to be officially announced on the next day, but unfortunately they were noticed by some paparazzi.

"I knew we weren't going to keep it this way forever," [Y/n] sighed, seated in the passenger seat of Charles' Rolls Royce Wraith, "but I wanted it to be officially announced."

"Don't worry, love." Charles assured, putting his right hand on the woman's thigh. His left hand was on the steering wheel, controlling the car at a speed that had surpassed the legal limit some time ago. "We might not have control over how the news got out, but it doesn't matter, people's opinions don't matter."

"True, but I hope the official announcement won't be overshadowed by the media's articles. You know how they are."

"And what if it does? The only thing that matters to me is our love, I don't care if people that I don't even know approve or not."

The night air whispered against the windows as they sped through the city, the glow of streetlights reflecting inside the car. They were already far from the center of Paris, no paparazzi in sight anymore.

As they reached the destination, which was a mansion located in a secluded place, Charles got out of the car and rushed to open the door for [Y/n].

"Thank you, love." [Y/n] smiled, stepping out of the vehicle. "I'm sorry this had to end with us evacuating like that."

"It's no problem at all, I'm quite used to the spotlight, nothing new for me." Charles joked, walking alongside his now fiancée towards the door of the building.

"I was hoping it wouldn't be like this. I mean, Nikolai has a pretty normal life in Australia, people don't stalk him wherever he goes. In Sydney he isn't Nikolai the prince of Denmark, he's just a normal person. I thought I could be the same in Paris."

"Chérie, as much as I love you, I cannot agree with you. I think there is a small difference between Paris and Sydney," Charles laughed.

They entered the mansion, the opulence of the surroundings contrasting with the night's earlier events. The warmth of the mansion was a contrast to the moments they had just left behind.

As they settled into a cosy sitting room, [Y/n] asked her maid to bring a bottle of champagne.

"Maybe I should leave my royal title." [Y/n] wondered out loud. "There were cases in which the royals left their titles to marry someone."

"No," Charles shook his head, "I would never forgive myself if you made this decision solely based on tonight. I think partially the fault is also mine, don't forget I drive in Formula One."

The maid returned with a chilled bottle of champagne, uncorking it as [Y/n] and Charles continued their conversation.

"Thank you," [Y/n] smiled at the maid and then shifted her focus back to Charles. "I appreciate your concern, Charles, but it's not just about tonight. I love you, and I want to be with you, but sometimes, I wish we could escape the constant judgement. I don't want my title to affect you in bad ways."

Charles reached for her hand. "I get it, [Y/n]. And I admire you for even considering it. But I fell in love with you, the princess, just as much as I did with [Y/n], the person. Your title is a part of who you are and I wouldn't want you to give that up for me."

"I just wish we could have a life where we're not constantly under the public microscope."

"Then we'll find a way to make it work. We'll create our own story, one that is above the titles and the fame. [Y/n], I've just proposed to you tonight. I wouldn't have done it if I wasn't ready for everything it brings into my life."

They continued to enjoy the evening while the flickering flames in the fireplace cast a warm glow over the room. The world outside seemed distant.

In that moment it was just Charles and [Y/n], two people deeply in love. Not 'the princess and the Formule Ona driver'. Inside the walls of [Y/n]'s family's mansion, they were just normal people.

On the next day, as [Y/n] and Charles had woken up, the media was already filled with rumours about them. It seemed as if the whole world was talking about last night.

"I contacted my spokeswoman," [Y/n] announced to Charles as they sat down to breakfast. "Our engagement will be officially announced as soon as possible, apparently the statement has been ready for a few months now."

Charles couldn't help but let out an amused chuckle slip out of his mouth. "A few months? Were they predicting our engagement?"

[Y/n] joined in his laughter, shaking her head. "Oh, they're always prepared for anything."

"How did your parents react? Have you spoken to them?"

"Well, it'll be the time for you to meet them. I've been postponing it, but now we're engaged and it can't be avoided."

"I've been telling you I should meet them already. I don't want them to think it was me who didn't want to do it."

"I told them I didn't want to jinx it!"

"Well, I've been practicing my royal etiquette. It time to make a use out of it."

"You'll be just fine, Charles. Just be yourself." [Y/n] giggled. "You know, in their eyes you're one of the best candidates."

Formula One was important for Monaco and Monaco was important for Formula One, so when [Y/n]'s parents found out she's dating a driver, a monégasque one, they were very content.

Unfortunately, there were some issues the couple was about to face. Being engaged didn't bring any legal responsibilities, however once they get married, things could change.

[Y/n] and Charles landed in Monaco in a private jet chartered for them. They were greeted by a big crowd of people eager to know the whole story.

"We aren't supposed to give impromptu interviews." [Y/n] said quietly, walking down the stairs from the plane.

Charles, a few steps behind her, replied with a mischievous grin, "Why not? It would be fun. Spontaneity can be good for us."

As they stepped off the plane, they began to walk side by side. Charles offered his arm to [Y/n], who gracefully looped her hand around his forearm.

"My spokeswoman advised this to me." [Y/n] answered. What she didn't mention was that her spokeswoman was worried about Charles saying something inappropriate.

The couple continued their walk with smiles on their faces. [Y/n] occassionaly waved at someone. It was a bit windy that day and she was thankful for wearing a long dress that day, because it wasn't that easy to be lifted up by the wind.

Somehow, their attention was then captured by a friendly-looking journalist who approached with a warm smile. [Y/n] gestured to the bodyguard, who Charles thought was unnecessary, indicating that they were willing to engage in a brief conversation.

"Princess [Y/n], Mr. Leclerc, thank you for sparing a moment." The woman began, without even introducing herself. "The world is eager to hear more about your engagement. Everyone is curious how did you manage to keep the relationship a secret for so long."

Charles and [Y/n] exchanged a brief glance.

Then [Y/n] decided to speak. "We just valued our privacy and wanted to savor the moments without external pressures. We're grateful for the time we had to get to know each other and form a connection away from the spotlight."

The journalist continued with the next question. "And what made you decide to go public with the engagement now?"

"We literally got engaged last night." Charles admitted with a playful smile. "We planned to announce it a little later, but we were seen anyway, so thought why not."

"Many people are already speculating about the wedding. Can you give us any hints about when and where it might take place?"

[Y/n], maintaining a diplomatic demeanor, responded. "We're still in the early stages of planning. When we have the details, we'll share them with everyone."

The woman didn't seem satisfied with the princess' reply. She decided to shift her attention completely to Charles. "And, Charles, as you might know, people have been calling you the unofficial prince of Monaco for years and now you're about to marry into the royal family."

Charles, caught off guard by the unexpected question, scratched the back of his head with a sheepish grin. "Well, unofficial prince or not, I don't think anyone would want me leading official ceremonies. I'm more comfortable behind the wheel of a racing car than in any royal procession."

The journalist chuckled at his candid response, appreciating the touch of humor to the so far serious interview. [Y/n] smiled lightly, but deep down she was worried about how the public might perceive Charles's.

Noticing [Y/n]'s concern, Charles quickly added with a playful wink. "But who knows? Maybe I'll become the first prince who can pull off a pit stop during a royal banquet."

"One last question. Do you think there will be any changes in your career, induced the responsibilities that come with being part of a royal family? For example, princess [Y/n]'s grandmother had to leave her Hollywood dream."

"Marrying into the royal family is a bit like joining a new team, isn't it?" Charles joked, searching for a proper answer in his mind. "But seriously, I don't see myself giving up my racing career. It's my passion and I'm lucky to have the support of [Y/n] and her family in pursuing it."

[Y/n] decided to chime in. "It's a unique situation and we'll try to find the balance between Charles' racing career and any new royal responsibilities."

Charles and [Y/n], having left the interview behind, found the car that was supposed to take them straight to [Y/n]'s parents' palace. Charles opened the door for [Y/n] and soon after that the both of them were sitting in the back of the car.

The car moved smoothly through the small city and thankfully the windows in the back were darkened, so that the couple could feel more comfortable. Charles couldn't ignore the quiet need for the driver's seat. The engine's sound and the familiarity of the steering wheel, and the city outside the vehicle, held a certain comfort that the backseat couldn't quite provide.

He stole a glance at [Y/n], her hand still intertwined with his. "You know, love, I can't stop thinking about how much I'd rather be driving right now. No offense to our chauffeur, of course."

The man in the driver's seat took a glance at Charles through the rearview mirror, smiling sympathetically.

[Y/n], with a smile, leaned closer to Charles. "I know, I know, but this way it's more official. You'll have opportunities to be the driver."

The chauffeur, overhearing their banter, chimed in. "I'd be happy to trade places with you, Mr. Leclerc, but I doubt the palace would approve."

Being reffered to as 'Mr. Leclerc' was another thing Charles had to get used to. For most of the time to people, to fans , journalists and others he was just Charles. Or Leclerc. And now people began to put 'mister' in front of his name.

The trio shared a light laugh as the car came to a stop in front of [Y/n]'s parents' palace. After stepping out of the vehicle, Charles and [Y/n] approached the entrance of the building and the man could feel some stress appearing in his body.

He wasn't stressing before at all. But now the reality of the situation hit him with full force. He was meeting his future wife's parents. Not only this, but also they were royalty.

Holy shit, Charles was about to marry into royalty.

The couple was holding hands, so [Y/n] could feel Charles' hand starting to lightly shake.

"I told you, you have nothing to worry about." [Y/n] assured, trying to calm his nerves.

"Easy to say," Charles said, a hint of anxiety in his voice, "your parents are, like, the most important people in Monaco."

"And? You as well. Fans have been referring to you as the prince of Monaco for years, think about it this way."

The palace doors opened, revealing a grand foyer. The couple stepped inside, entering a world of regality. It was this moment when Charles realized how real it all was. The anxiety lingered, but he found a remedy for it in [Y/n]'s presence.

The couple was walked into the drawing room. Charles glanced at [Y/n], who gave him an encouraging smile, and for a moment it was just the two of them. Not for long, however. Their little moment was interrupted by the arrival of [Y/n]'s parents.

"Mother, father," [Y/n] gracefully curtsied.

"Your majesties, it's an honor." Charles greeted, bowing his head.

By the time [Y/n] came back from her curtsy and Charles looked up, [Y/f/n] was extending his arm towards the man, offering a handshake. Charles respectufully accepted the gesture.

As their hands met, Charles decided to introduce himself. "Charles Leclerc," he said, being cut off before he could say more.

"Our national treasure, indeed. We're well acquainted with your accomplishments."

The room echoed with a shared laughter, breaking the ice and setting the tone for a lighter conversation. It was something that eased Charles' nerves. Of course, he still had to follow the etiquette, but [Y/f/n]'s remark made the situation feel less formal. After all, royalty is people as well.

The conversation smoothly continued as both the couples sat down on the elegant, antique sofas.

"And how did you two figure out 'this is it'?" [Y/m/n] inquired with a playful twinkle in her eye. "I don't think you've told me this story, [Y/n]."

"Of course, it started when we met at the race in Monaco a few years ago." [Y/n] smiled at the memory.

It was the first Monaco Grand Prix that [Y/n] attended, four years ago. Accompanied by friends, [Y/n] made a casual appearance in the paddock for media purposes, not initially a fan of Formula One. However, that day changed everything.

Their eyes met for seconds, but it was enough for Charles to get enchanted by [Y/n]. Her smile, her eyes, the way she moved so gracefully. They met again the same day after the race, when [Y/n] took her time to pay a visit into every garage.

"Mate, I'm telling you, shoot your shot." Sebastian encouraged his teammate. "Everyone on the grid can see the way you look at each other."

"Are you kidding?" Charles refused. "She's royalty. What would I even say?"

"Come on, you're not just anyone. You're Charles Leclerc. I'm sure she wouldn't refuse a date."

Charles couldn't help but chuckle at Sebastian's persistence. "Seb, she's a princess. I can't just approach her like it's not a big deal."

"It is not a big deal, though!"

"What if I make a fool out of myself?"

And so, the worries won that time. Charles, scared of embarrassing himself, barely made any conversation with the princess when she approached the Ferrari garage.

He waited a year, because a princess is not someome you can just hit up on social media. He waited a year, hoping she will visit the paddock again. She did, but unfortunately with a man. She was in a relationship with a prince, exactly the way royalty works.

Discouraged, Charles decided to give up on her, eventually finding himself in a relationship with someone else as well. The irony struck him when [Y/n] was single again a year later. Of course, he couldn't make any move, being in a relationship himself.

Maybe if he was single at the time, he would have finally found the courage to have a private conversation with the princess. He felt as if he missed out and he hated himself for having these thoughts.

One more year had passed and eventually the both of them found themselves single by the time of the Monaco Grand Prix. Charles didn't hold back and this time started a conversation with the princess.

"Your royal highness," he greeted, "fancy meeting you here again. Although you do seem lonely."

It was a fact. [Y/n] indeed came to the Grand Prix alone that year. Without a boyfriend, obviously due to the breakup, and also without her friends.

"Well, you've caught me," [Y/n] chuckled, "attenting the Grand Prix by my lonesome. I must admit, the prince was never a fan."

"Oh, and why is that?"

"He was an average insecure man. According to him, I am a fan just because you drivers are physically attractive." [Y/n] stopped herself from smiling after that sentence. After all, there was a bit of truth in this in her case.

"Well, aren't we?" Charles opted for a cheeky question.

"Touché." The smile creeped up onto the princess' face by itself. "I suppose there's some truth to his observations."

"And what exactly would a princess like yourself do in the case of getting asked for a deliberate encounter?"

"Are you suggesting something?" [Y/n]'s eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief.

"Yes, what do you say to a more intentional rendezvous, perhaps over dinner?"

[Y/n]'s smile widened, and she nodded. "Hmm, that sounds like a rather bold move. But I must admit, I appreciate boldness. Dinner it is."

And that was basically how their romance unfolded. Both [Y/n] and Charles were grateful for the way the events played out. Charles found in [Y/n] not just a princess but a person in whom he could find solace and support, and [Y/n] discovered in Charles a partner who liked her for more than her royal status.

The engagement, announced under unexpected circumstances, only strenghtened their commitment to each other. Not a long time after, the day of their wedding came.

The ceremony took place in the Saint Nicholas Cathedral and was attended by, first and foremost, the families of both the bride and the groom, by other members of royalty, and also by Charles' fellow drivers, principals of the teams, a lot of people related to Charles' 'workplace' in general.

[Y/n] walked down the aisle, holding the arm of her father. The moment important in the royal tradition. Charles, waiting at the altar, couldn't help but marvel at the sight of his soon-to-be wife. Her white dress highlighted her grace, making Charles question if he's actually worthy of being her husband.

The vows they exchanged were personal and heartfelt, expressing their love, talking about their past, including a promise to grow old together.

The reception was held at the palace. The couple danced their first dance as husband and wife, surrounded by the music of a live orchestra. A bit later, it was the time to socialize with the guests.

"You did end up as the prince of Monaco, after all." Charles' friend, Pierre, joked, recalling the nickname made up by fans.

Charles chuckled at Pierre's comment. "The people have manifested it. But I wouldn't have it any other way."

Esteban joined the laughter, adding with a grin, "Should we start addressing you as your royal highness now?"

The groom playfully rolled his eyes. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves. I'm still the same old Charles, just with a fancy title."

In the same moment the groom was having a chat with his friends, [Y/n] made her way toward his younger brother, Arthur, who served as the best man at the wedding.

"Princess [Y/n]!" Arthur said, raising his glass in a greeting. "Quite the celebration, isn't it?"

"It is, indeed," [Y/n] replied, smiling, "and your speech made it even better."

"Thank you, I tried my best. It was my first time and the huge amount of guests didn't make it better."

"You did wonderful regardless." She paused. "And, by the way, there's no need for formalities, we're family now. Call me just [Y/n]."

"Deal, [Y/n]," he clinked his glass with hers, "and, if Charles ever does anything to upset you, let me know. I'll try to put him in his place. He is really lucky to have you."

"Hopefully I'll never have to take you up on that offer," she giggled.

"I have a feeling you two are going to have an amazing life together."

The night continued with celebrations, toasts, music inside the walls of the enchanting palace. The newlyweds were happy to share this moment with all the people they had invited.

A few hours into the celebration, so late at night it could be as well called morning, [Y/n] and Charles found themselves swaying to a slow song.

"How are you enjoying the celebration, my prince?" [Y/n] whispered, audibly just for her husband.

Charles' smile reflected the happiness in his heart. "I couldn't have asked for more. One of my biggest dreams came true."

"One of them? What are the other big ones?"

"Becoming the world champion." He chuckled. "Do you even know me at all?"

[Y/n] playfully rolled her eyes. "I was hoping for some more romantic goal."

"I didn't say I'd trade you for the championship, did I?"

"I know you wouldn't." She paused. "One step at a time, Charlie. You'll be the first prince to win it."

#f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc imagine

[unbearableblog]

My Christmas gift for you.

Messages (Carmen Berzatto x reader)

Summary Carmy’s actions towards the reader might eventually lead to consequences.

Word count ~2,8k

Warnings 18+, No use of Y/N (there is rarely a name but it’s just for aesthetics, you are welcome to insert your own name), action set in S2 so possible spoilers, cursing, angst, relationship problems, possible mentions of smut

A/N God this took a lot from me! Legit flew to Copenhagen haha. I am very grateful to each and every one of you who read, liked, commented or reposted and supported this! I would never think that this would happen. I hope you’re not going to crucify me over the plot. Thank you so much for waiting!

Merry Christmas everyone!

Chapter 1 (the one with departure, Denmark, and desserts)

Things were a little different at the Beef lately.

“Richie, shut the fuck up!”

“You first, child!”

Well, maybe not so different. But they certainly were different with you. Amongst the neverending screaming, cursing, and fighting, you somehow survived getting shot at, losing the power, dealing with the IRS, and everything else that constantly went wrong with this cursed place. The amount of experience you had in this short amount of time has topped anything you've done before. You couldn't catch your breath. But that's what you do for the ones you love, right?

It's been some time since you started helping Carmen with the Beef - serving the customers on a particularly busy day, calming down Carmen, sometimes giving Richie a pep talk when he needed to keep his shit together. But mostly you just chatted with Sydney and sat in the kitchen, doing your college assignments while watching Carmen work. You could never get tired of it - he looked so professional and smart. It was his element. Well, when everything was going well.

The entire time, you were there, talking to Carmen as he prepped for the day, giving him a smile and getting one back, just watching him go on about his day and move so swiftly like a well-oiled machine. Seeing him in an apron drove you wild. You'd have to stop yourself from going up to him and touching his god-given curls or rubbing his back through his white T-shirt (but more often you failed to do so). Most of the days you patiently waited to go home and show him everything that was on your mind all day.

One time he caught you staring, mind far away from the Beef. His voice brought you back.

“Are you thinking about my fingers again?” He said while putting his arms at his hips, almost offended.

You bit your lip and looked at him with a guilty smile.

His hand went up to brush through his curls.

“You’re not gonna get any work done if you keep thinking about that. And with the way you look at me, can say the same thing about myself.”

You whine and playfully pout, not wanting to keep studying.

“Come on, princess,” he comes closer to you and whispers in your ear so that his whole voice goes through your body and his lips brush your ear “And when we get home you can tell me all about it while you sit on my ‘pretty’ cock”

Sometimes he would explain what he was doing or why things weren't going the way they were supposed to, sometimes you would share something you found fascinating in your assignment. He would always listen, even if he didn't fully understand, but you knew he was trying to. It made you feel so special - you got the whole attention of this hot 3 Michelin star chef, covered in tattoos and buff, but he looked at you with such care and softness. His muscular arms touched and wrapped around you with strong tenderness and appreciation. Sometimes you saw the same attention to the details in the food he was making - he really cared.

Everything changed after the Beef closed down.

Carmen was a little taken aback when you told him you were going to Copenhagen with Marcus. You were at the restaurant, like any other day, figuring out a thousand things that were wrong before the opening, when you heard Denmark being mentioned amongst the guys.

“Someone's going to Denmark?” you asked, turning around on your chair.

“Marcus is,” Carmen brushed off, and continued having his conversation with him.

“Wait, to Copenhagen? Why?” you felt ignored.

“Uhh, to learn everything about desserts,” Marcus answered. Carmen didn't even look in your direction.

“When? Why didn't you tell me?” you sounded excited because you were, but your heart felt like it was placed into an iron cage. Carmen knew how much that city meant to you, and to not even mention that your friend was going there felt neglectful. But maybe you were overreacting - he was probably busy, he doesn't have to tell you everything, and it surely wasn't for long anyway.

Berzatto shrugged his shoulders. “Why? It's just for some time.”

“I was actually thinking about going there too. I haven't seen my sister in a while. Maybe we could fly together? I know everything there,” you were ready to help Marcus as a bonus. You really appreciated him as a friend, and returning the favor for all those delicious pastries he made at your request would be terrific. You could also use a fucking break from Chiberia.

“For real? That would be awesome!” Marcus exclaimed with his arms, his smile releasing your heart from its prison.

“Uhh… yeah-yeah, sure, I guess,” Carmen squinted his eyes and rubbed his forehead. “I- uhhh, have to go out for a minute. Umm,” he swallowed “-meet that rep for me, yeah?”

An entire work shift of flying has gone by the time you started seeing the bronze-roofed houses sprinkled like decorations on a Red Velvet cake. You made Marcus promise you not to judge the country by its airport, as it usually was surprisingly dirty. Nevertheless, there were hints of what life there was like - a burst of energy, culture, and flavour. You walked what seemed like forever through the endless white halls with blue sections, wondering how many times Carmen had been here and whether you ever crossed paths. You kind of wished he was there. Your excitement rubbed off on your friend - Marcus was beaming with happiness, anticipating your time there. He knew it was going to be life-changing.

The moment you went outside felt like you could breathe again. The weight of The Beef, Carmen, stress, problems problems problems dropped off, was left behind, and never got on the plane. Your chest wasn't encircled by snakes that only pushed until you suffocated. Your mind was clear.

You helped Marcus settle in his awesome boat, and after reading the owner's note to "keep the water in Coco's bowl", searched for the cat for like 20 minutes. Unfortunately, your efforts were fruitless.

Marcus only let you go back alone because you assured him of your safety (you gave him a speech about how it wasn't like Chicago) and experience. Still, he made you text him when you got to your sister's. The two of you were always trying to make your relationship work, but the distance didn't make it easy. That did not mean that you were going to give up - you were used to making a lot of effort for the people you love. She was ecstatic and grateful to see her little sister. The rest of the evening was spent eating, sharing your lives, and talking about your mysterious boyfriend.

“I don’t know, he’s just so… distant. He always leaves somewhere, does god knows what when he knows we don’t have much time! Sometimes it feels like I care about the restaurant more than him. Which is so weird because he was so into it before! He planned the whole thing! And I am so fucking stressed from it all! I never even wanted to work in a restaurant but I was there for him!” you expressed your pain very loudly.

“Have you thought of… breaking up with him?”

You exhale and almost completely give up mentally.

“I don’t know… it feels like we don’t have much of a relationship at all anymore. We don’t go out, all the time is spent on the opening. I swear sometimes I’m there just for our friends and his sister, I can’t just leave them without help while he’s wandering somewhere”.

You couldn’t sleep because being in bed without Carmy by your side felt plain wrong. You were also jetlagged which meant that the peaceful world of Morpheus was avoiding you like a plague. The same thing happened to Marcus, so you both were just texting about what you were doing.

“idk, i gave up and went to get some tea” you typed, a warm mug in your hand as you cozied up on the couch with a blanket.

“yeah, same shit here. bout time to get ready anyway”

Your whole house was asleep, and probably would be so for a while. It was too dark to go out for your liking. Boredom kind of crept in.

“what is it exactly u're gonna do there?”

“uhhh i wish i knew. make some things from the pics i showed u i guess”

“can i watch?” Was it too much of a request? Who even knows if you'll be allowed there?

“yeah i think so. i'd love to not have to do this alone”

You smile, finish your tea, and get up to find some clothes.

You finally reached the place and were met by a tall man in an apron. He introduced himself as Luca, and you heard a very sultry voice softened by an accent. You wondered where he was from.

“I'm Chef Marcus. That's Liv. Is it cool if she just hangs around and watches me?”

“Hi,” you smile at him.

“Hello. You could also join in. What kind of a chef are you?”

“Oh I'm not, I'm -”

“Well, with the amount of time Liv spends in our kitchen listening to every word of the CDC, I'd say she might as well be a chef by now,” Marcus only half-jokes. You give him a look anyway.

Luca prepared everything and soon he and Marcus were working. You were sitting on the other side of the table, able to see everything. Only now you were starting to notice how strong he was, you have to be, you thought, if you stay on your feet all day. His arms were also covered in tattoos that didn't seem to make sense, like Carmy's.

“So who are you?” Luca's question doesn't sound rude, just curious.

“I'm his boss' girlfriend,” you nod as you speak.

“Wow,” he seems to be thinking something, but maybe it's just him being focused on putting the peanuts on dessert, “What are you doing here?”

“Uhh, visiting my sister? It was time and I thought Marcus here could use someone to show him around. As for here, I was really jetlagged and bored.”

Luca was amazing. The way he coached Marcus even when he made mistakes was consistently calm, stern, and leading. Not once did any of you feel berated or hear his voice go louder, all you knew was to just try again. His entire presence excreted stability and equilibrium.

After an extensive lesson, it was Marcus' turn to try. All of you leaned closer to the dessert in hopes of seeing more. You held your breath as you watched Marcus carefully place a tiny piece in the clockwise direction of the dessert when in the blurred background of your vision you felt something change. Instinctively, you looked up from the dish, and your eyes met the gaze of your friend's teacher. There he was, almost lying on the table, looking at you. As if he wasn't busy right now. As if the dessert didn't matter. Hypnotized. “Got it!” Marcus smiled and stood straight up. “Great job, chef,” Luca switched back to Marcus.

Suddenly a firework of spice embraced you in its scent, making your head go round from the all-encompassing desire to taste it.

“Oh my god, are those cinnamon buns?” you had to put your hands on the counter to keep yourself up. “Yeah,” Luca stood straight. “You like them?” “They smell amazing!” you could swear you saw a quick prideful smile brush Luca's lips.

“They are her favourite. And she's very specific about'em too,” Marcus threw you under the bus.

Luca seems interested. “In what way?”

“I'm not, okay? I just believe that cinnamon buns should have a lot of sugar and cinnamon, or else they're just buns. There was this place near the park, and the pastry they sold was like 90% dough. I didn't like that at all” you defend yourself, and Marcus scoffs, having heard you rant about it many times at The Beef.

“Abomination,” Luca shakes his head.

“Exactly! I love it when there is so much sugar that it's oozing out, that's how it'd supposed to be.”

Your lighthearted banter somehow led to Luca opening up and talking about his life and experience. He also shared a couple of stories about determination, his acceptance of not being the best, and some of his failures. Soon all of you were joking around and laughing at your pasts. You felt your heart warm up to him and thought that leaving the house was a good idea.

Marcus stepped outside to check on his mom. He called her sitter as often as he could, and every time you hoped that everything would be alright. Luca was silently doing his work, kneading some dough. It was a demanding process, but so meditative, and you couldn't help but float away watching his big hands grab and squeeze the smooth dough, throwing it back onto the table occasionally, his long fingers dug into it, leaving an impression. “So where is he now?” you ask. “Who?” “The chef who was better than you. Where is he now?” you wondered if Carmen knew him or told you about him. “Well, you tell me. Apparently, opening up a new restaurant,” the chef said, as he threw a careless nod in your direction. Huh? Your heart drops. What? You let out a nervous scoff. “You're saying it was… Carmen??” Your question was met with a simple nod as he kept working. “Carmen Berzatto, the chef that was better than you at everything?” you almost spell out. Luca just takes his eyes off the dough and watches your reaction. He is also confused. “God, he really is the best?” the question sounds more like an exhale. “People keep saying it, but I guess I didn't realize” you sit down, defeated, and stare off. Your mind keeps pacing - what happened to Carmen? How did he go from being the best to being a yelling mess of chaos? Why is someone who looked up to him so calm and collected but still successful? Why can't he be like that? “You sound surprised. What, he doesn't feel like it?” He asks while kneading the dough, this time slower and a little softer. You look at him, then shake your head away and look down. You want to tell him everything about the way Carmen treats you, and how different that is from what your beginning used to be, how he doesn't appreciate you even though you spent so much time in and on The Beef, and how unfair that is, and have his deep voice tell you the answer, but you can't. That would be weird. Luca notices your hesitation. “You know, when we worked together, he would often be… difficult,” there is a pause after he says it because he is reading your face, trying to understand if he's walking on thin ice. He isn't, so he continues. “Partly why I didn't become better than him was because he wouldn't let me.” “Yeah, he shared something like that.” His brows went a little higher, and his grip on the dough hardened and stayed there. “My point is, being with a person like that can't be easy. Man, we only worked together and I already wanted to smother him, can't imagine being in a bloody relationship,” his smile makes you laugh and for a second you forget every bad thing in the world.

Later that day you wanted to call Carmen. “Carm, you free?” You wished to tell him everything - how much you loved the city, how nice his friend was, the fun you were having, and how good this was for you. Kinda wanted to beat his ass for being so mean to Luca too. “not rn, Liv, busy”

Of course.

“Olivia! Come here!” your sister screamed to get your attention. You noticed she was standing at the door, talking to somebody, so you got up and approached her. “What's up?” you asked. She closed the door and turned to you, holding something in her hands. “It's a gift from your boyfriend,” she said in a teasing tone, and you could swear that the last time you saw her that giddy was in high school. “What? How do you know?” A drop of hope celebrated its birth in your chest. “The delivery guy said it's from a chef,” the last word she playfully stretched out, so it came out a little funny, like Tina says it. You couldn't believe it. There it was, a white box carefully tied with a red ribbon. Finally Carmen realised how distracted he was and decided to apologize. Obviously, you were gone, so he missed you. Your heart filled with warmth and you smiled to yourself - you knew things would get better. You take the hefty precious gift from your sister's hands, sit on the couch, and open it with anticipation. Inside, 9 breathtaking gourmet cinnamon rolls with caramelized sugar barely fitting, leaking out of the mouthwatering, well-kneaded dough. And a note.

"You deserve all the best in the world - Luca"

I hope you enjoyed it! Part 2 might come quicker if you comment how you liked it

Snippet from the next chapters

🏷️ Tagged everyone in the comments! If you want to be excluded, just let me know♥️ @carma-fanficaddict @eternallyvenus @sia2raw @helloheyhihowdyheya @soursopsista @m1dnightsnackz @custarrds

Dividers by @saradika

#the bear #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto fanfiction #carmy berzatto #carmy x you #carmy x reader #the bear season 2 #carmy the bear #carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto angst #the bear fx #the bear fic #the bear fanfiction #chef luca #chef luca x reader #chef luca x you #luca the bear #luca x reader #the bear show #carmy x y/n #copenhagen #the bear series

[putellas14]

Home for the Holidays (Alexia Putellas x Reader ficlet)

18. "cancelling all other plans so they can spend the entire holidays together."

Hope you don't hate me for being a few weeks late. This one's not the best but covid really took me out. Merry Christmas, dear friends. I hope 2024 is full of magic for you all.

"Are you excited to go visit your family for Christmas?" Lola asked you at the end of the last training before Christmas. This was your third year in Madrid and every Christmas, you left Spain to visit your family in Denmark. You usually looked forward to the time with them since you didn't get to go home often.

"Yeah!" you lied. "We're going to make cookies like we do every year and I've been on a crafting kick, so I made a bunch of pinterest-y crafts to give them." You hadn't told anyone but you were dreading going home this year. Not because you didn't love your family but because you didn't want to leave Alexia alone. Her mom and sister had gone on a vacation for a week to Japan and due to a volcanic eruption, they had gotten stuck there. So far, there was no news on whether they'd make it back this weekend for Christmas.

Not that anyone knew you and Alexia were dating. That you wanted to throw your traditions to the wind and start building new ones with Alexia.

"When do you leave?"

"In the morning. I have the first flight out at 6am."

"That's too early," Lola said, fake shuddering. "Merry Christmas, Y/N," she said, picking up her bags. "I hope you have a great time."

"Thanks, Lol. Merry Christmas." You smiled warmly at her as she walked away. You finished packing your bag and walked out to the parking lot. On the drive back to your apartment, you  tried calling Alexia. They had finished training  for two weeks yesterday and had a team Christmas party tonight. It surprised you to get her voicemail. Hanging up, you sighed, hoping she was alright. She loved Christmas normally and you knew it was incredibly hard for her to be without her family.

Once you were home, you turned on all the Christmas lights you'd put up. Bright colors and twinkly white lights illuminated your home, bringing a huge smile to your face. The Christmas tree in the corner was filled with the ugliest ornaments you could find. Garlands and tinsel were hung over every window. The older you got, the more time you spent away from home, the more you reveled in tacky Christmas décor.

An hour later, you were curled on the couch with a large bowl of soup, a cheesy Christmas movie on the television, and your puppy sprawled out next to you on the couch. As the couple on the screen slowly fell in love, your mind drifted to the woman you loved. And you started to plan. There was no way you could leave her alone at Christmastime. The thought of her alone dampened all your Christmas spirit.

The next morning, you packed up your bags and the puppy and made your way to the train station. When you should have been touching down in Copenhagen, you were stepping off the train in Barcelona. Although Zazu had only been to Barcelona once, he led you right to her apartment, tugging you along behind, anxious to see Alexia. You had a key to her apartment but this surprise felt worth knocking and waiting for her to open the door, so you kept it tucked away in the side pocket of your backpack.

She answered, a hoodie pulled down over her forehead, hair that had escaped her bun poking out around her face. The initial frown she had at being awoken broke into a smile and then tears.

"Oh, honey." You stepped into her and wrapped your arms tight around her. She burrowed her head into your shoulder, making her hood fall off. Zazu jumped onto both of your legs, barking in excitement.

"I needed you. And here you are," she whispered.

You brushed her hair back and kissed her forehead. "Come on. I'll make you some breakfast."

She hugged you from behind while you made food for both of you. Her arms tightened when you started pulling plates out of the cabinet. All you could do was giggle. Hungover Alexia was always so cuddly. Sad Ale was clingy. This Alexia was a combination of both of them.

“Are you going to let me go so we can sit at the table or do you want to sit on the couch?”

“Couch,” she mumbled.

"Carry this for me," you said, handing her one of the plates. You picked up the empty plate and took her free hand in yours for the short walk to the couch. Zazu had made himself comfortable on one end. His tail wagged excitedly when you walked closer to him. Skirting the coffee table, you put your plate down and then took Alexia's to set down. Sitting, you pulled her down next to you, letting your thigh rest against hers. Picking up her plate, you handed it to her. "Here you go, babe," you said gently.

You ate in silence, enjoying each other's presence after all these weeks apart. After breakfast, you both took a lazy shower. You washed her hair for her and let your hands wander. She told you she was beginning to feel half human by the time you got dressed. She asked to go for a walk with Zazu and you gladly agreed. After sitting on the train all morning, you needed some fresh air and exercise.

As you walked down the street towards Alexia's favorite coffee shop, you looped your arm through hers. Barcelona at Christmastime was a magic and you felt like you were walking in a dream. Zazu tugged excitedly at the leash even though he didn’t know where you were going. Multiple times, Alexia had to tug the leash to bring him back to the correct direction.

You took your coffees to the park, so Zazu could run freely for a bit. You cuddled up next to Alexia on the bench. The wind had picked up and you hadn't worn enough layers. She took her hat off and pulled it down over your ears.

"Thank you." You'd also made the mistake of getting an iced coffee. But when he said their special was an iced cardamom lavender latte, you couldn't resist it. It was also so good that you couldn't stop drinking it, despite how cold you were.

"So, what time do you leave for home?" she asked suddenly.

"I have a flight this evening." You traced small patterns on her arm.

"Today?" she asked sadly. "That's so soon."

"I know. I know. My mom was very annoyed that I pushed it even that long."

"Well, I'm really glad you were able to make this pitstop." She kissed your cheek, letting her lips linger a second longer than she should have in public. "I hated the idea of being alone."

"I hated the idea of you being alone too. Which is why I booked two tickets from here to Copenhagen. If I have to go home, you're coming with me."

"What?" she asked, sitting back in shock.

"Come with me," you said, taking her hand in yours. "I want to show you my life in Copenhagen. I want to wake up with you on Christmas morning."

"You're adorable." Throwing her arms around, she pulled you close. "Merry Christmas, Y/N."

"Merry Christmas, Ale." Before putting your arms around her, you let your fingers dance over the little velvet box in your pocket. Christmas in Copenhagen wasn't the only surprise waiting for Alexia this year.

#alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas imagine #ficlet #woso imagine #alexia putellas

[nolita-fairytale]

burn your life down | chef luca x fem!reader | chapter one

summary: leaving your old life behind, you move to copenhagen to follow your dream of opening a restaurant. almost a year after opening, luca's quest for inspiration brings him right to your doorstep.

warnings: fluff, eventual smut, eventual angst not use of y/n, second person pov, swearing, danish inaccuracies, very little connection to the world of the bear.

word count: 2500

a/n: remember when i said we'd get pastry chef luca fanfic whether we liked it or not? well, it seems i can't be normal about anything bc i have an outline of (potentially) 10 chapters right now based on this headcanon. while i try to keep reader characters pretty neutral so that you can picture yourself, i have this reader creating food from her own life experiences/cultures so do what you will with that. also, i tagged some peeps from my headcanon post, but please let me know if you'd like to be removed.

masterlist | part two

He’s in search of inspiration when he finds the restaurant – your restaurant. 

It’s an American stagiaire and a single conversation that makes him realize that he’s missing something – that he’s been in need of something fresh, a new perspective– setting him on his quest. 

The best things are inspired. 

Luca stares at a blank piece of paper for what feels like hours, writing a few things down, sketching up an idea, before viciously crossing them out, hopelessly stuck on new ideas for the new menu. After a few half-baked ideas that go nowhere, It occurs to him that he may be in need of a little inspiration himself. He can’t think of the last time he’s taken his own advice, mulling over the carefully-chosen words of wisdom imparted to Marcus a couple of weeks ago, and he’s determined to change that. 

A review in the paper, an old colleague’s recent trip there, and a glowing recommendation from a close friend are what bring him to the restaurant. 

He’s not sure what to expect – having forgone any interest in cuisine described with the words trendy or fusion a long time ago – but Luca reminds himself that it’s the writer’s word choice, not the chef’s, when writing the article. 

When Luca steps into the small home-turned-restaurant, he’s immediately inundated with a warmth, a homeyness, that takes him by surprise. From the open kitchen, to the golden lighting, it feels vastly different from the classic Danish-style, fine dining establishments that have swept the country. 

But Luca reminds himself that the announcement of noma’s 2024 closure, has shifted the conversation around dining culture in Denmark, and already, he can feel that this is the breath of fresh air that he’s been looking for. 

Luca’s seated quickly with care and hospitality by a highly-attentive host, which he only assumes is a symptom of the fact that he read somewhere that you’re an American. While Danish, the host is boisterous, as if he’s known Luca since childhood. Luca smiles politely in response, graciously thanking the man and his chocolate brown curls. 

The menu is small, indicating that each dish receives enough care to be excellent and he likes that, despite being described as trendy and fusion-focused, your menu is creative. It’s different. It’s inspired. 

He chooses the special of the day: the mapo tofu bolognese – a traditionally Italian concept done from an Asian perspective – and the suggested wine pairing.

It doesn’t take long for him to receive his glass of wine, or his food, and he’s pleasantly surprised by how efficient service seems. Stealing glances through the open kitchen, he watches as you and your sous lead dinner service with a kind of compassionate leadership and playfulness that warms him from the inside out. 

“We recommend mixing the whipped tofu into the dish for a creamier sauce. Skal,” his waitress greets, with a warm smile on her face as she sets down the bowl of noodles. 

“Cheers,” Luca replies, his eyes savoring every single detail of the dish. 

It’s somehow elevated, thoughtful, and elegant, yet comforting all at once. 

Luca picks up his fork, using it to collect a little bit of everything – a perfect noodle twirl with just enough sauce, and ground pork before running his fork the whipped topping – raising the fork to his lips for his first bite. 

As the flavors hit his tongue, he closes his eyes, and it’s as if time has stopped, just for a moment. 

The wheat noodles are perfectly al dente while the whipped tofu is almost ricotta-like, transforming into a silky smooth addition to the dish, cutting the tingle and heat of the Sichuan chili peppercorn-based sauce. 

The corners of his lips turn up as he takes a breath, opening his eyes as he savors the delicate layers of flavors. With a crooked smile on his face, he decides that he’ll most certainly be back next week. 

-------------------------------

You make peace with the fact that tonight is one of those nights – a slow night – as you finish washing your hands. It being a slow night, you’d encouraged your staff to up the hospitality at the pre-shift meeting. Treating guests with the utmost personal touches in an effort to build genuine connections would be the focus of tonight’s slow service. In fact, you and Mathilde, your sous chef, had been running dishes out this evening – something you rarely had the luxury to do. 

“You should go say hello,” your sous encourages, nodding towards the dining room through the expansive window of the open kitchen. 

“Thought it was your turn,” you reply in a casual tone, paying no attention to who she’s referencing.

“No, I think you should take this one,” Mathilde nudges you, causing you to look up. You shoot her a funny look, your eyes flickering over the mischievous expression she has on her face, to where she’s gestured towards. 

“To-?” you begin to ask, before seeing exactly who she’s talking about.

“Ehm. Tall, blonde, and tatted!” she emphasizes in a whisper yell. 

You don’t really need the description as you glance over at the dining room, easily spotting the man seated at a two-seater near the front window.

“You’re right. He’s become a bit of a regular,” you agree with a curt nod that means all business, no pleasure, as you move a few things as you walk and talk around the kitchen, tidying up.

“That’s not what I meant,” she scoffs with a playful eye roll. 

“You know, Jesper thought he was Swedish because… look at him… but he’s apparently a Brit,” she gossips with you, her eyes stealing a glance his way. “We’re slow tonight. He’s here every week. Sure he’d appreciate a direct thank you from the chef!” 

“I-,” you hesitate, wondering why she’s so damn insistent on this. “... yeah, alright. I’ll go.”

“That’s my girl!” Mathilde cheers, in a sing-song voice, she hands you the beautifully plated bowl of pasta to take out to the dining room.

As you walk over towards his table, you make a note that it seems as if the mystery man has made this a bit of a routine. He shows every Saturday at exactly 7 pm, week after week, for the past month or so, as if it’s a standing date he has with himself. After his first visit, you half-expected him to bring a date when he returned, or bring a group of friends, or for something different to happen. 

But it hadn’t and you’ve watched him come in, week after week, with a different book each time. He always orders the special of the day and whatever suggested wine pairing Jesper’s recommended that week.

Most Saturday nights you're busy leading a kitchen or cooking on the line – having little to no time to fixate or wonder curiously over your weekly diner – but tonight’s pace affords you the luxury to spend more time at the front of house. Truthfully, you know it’s the thing that sets you apart. Sure, the hospitality here in Copenhagen is excellent, but you bring an American hospitality-style to this restaurant – and above and beyond mentality – that feels welcoming, personal, even, as if your restaurant itself is just an extension of your home. 

You’ve heard your staff – front of house and back of house – whispering about him, all seemingly enamored and enchanted by the charming Brit. All any of you knew about him was that his name was Luca and that he’s always more than kind to your front of house staff. 

He doesn’t say much when he comes in, you’ve noticed, but every Saturday at 7 pm, he’s pushing his way through the front door with punctuality and a gentle ease.

The whisperings from your staff had all revolved around who your mysterious regular must be: whether he was Danish or Swedish, that someone that good looking must already have a partner, that he doesn’t wear a ring. 

You hadn’t paid much attention to the gossip (or at least that’s what you’ve told yourself) more focused on running dinner service then trying to piece together the story of your handsome, mysterious regular. 

“Hello,” you greet him warmly. “I just wanted to come introduce myself and say thank you for becoming one of our regulars. Your support means a lot to all of us.”

“Hi, I’m Luca.”

You share your name with a smile as he shakes your hand. 

Luca turns his attention down to the bowl you’ve put in front of him, his eyes taking in the beautiful presentation hungrily. 

“Wow, this looks… incredible,” he marvels, returning his gaze back to you. 

“Thank you. I’m sure my front of house already walked you through this but if you’d like for me to-,” you begin. 

“Yes, that’d be great, thanks,” he interjects, a crooked smile on his face that makes your heart skip a beat. 

You have to pull your attention away from him, hoping he doesn’t notice that you’re quite possibly gawking at him. 

He’s kind, charming, and he’s easy on the eyes (easy on the eyes, really being an understatement here).

“Today’s special was inspired by a childhood favorite of mine,” you begin, walking him through each component of the dish. 

Crispy Rice. Caramelized marinated trumpet mushrooms and charred broccolini. Your mom’s sauce approached with classic French techniques, courtesy of your sous, Mathilde, a classically French-trained chef. 

It’s a marriage of your story. Of the people around you. It’s your heart and theirs, put into a dish. 

“You’re the chef?” he asks, unable to hide the surprise in his voice. 

“Yes,” you answer, trying your best to get a read on him. 

He balks, and you’re unsure of how you’re supposed to respond. Was he surprised that you’re a woman? That he’s been eating your food the whole time and expected a male chef? Before you can overthink it, Luca clarifies with:

“I’m sorry. It’s just-, I can't think of the last time I saw a head chef work front of house, let alone with this much care.” 

Oh. 

You let down your guard, wondering why you’d assumed the worst when the man’s been nothing but kind to you and your staff so far. 

"We're a little short staffed tonight. And I love getting to talk to diners… especially on nights like this,” you explain, trying your best to sound like you hadn’t just assumed that he was a sexist asshole. 

He shakes his head in disbelief, looking down at the picturesque bowl, then back to you.

Luca is impressed, and he has no intention of hiding it.

He picks up his wine glass by the stem, raising it to you.

"Cheers,” he says. “And thank you. This is a really beautiful dish.”

“Of course. Enjoy,” you reply, giving him a polite smile, before heading back into the kitchen. 

 -------------------------------

“Good service tonight, everybody!” Jesper, your front of house manager, announces while clapping a few times to signal to staff that it’s time for a post shift meeting. 

As you all gather in the pristine front of house space. Some of your cooks have taken their aprons off, others haven’t had a moment to unwind from the shift yet – business picking up in the last hour or so of service. 

Jesper goes through his nightly wrap-up notes, celebrating the wins of tonight, and making sure to celebrate how everyone rallied to pick up pace when business spiked. He’s gregarious, larger-than-life, the kind of person who can talk to anyone about anything, making him an excellent front of house manager, and even better sommelier. You really lucked out with the twins, you think to yourself – with Jesper and Mathilde – when they were more than eager to work with you on opening this restaurant. 

“Oh, and before we go, a client left a gift… table number four,” Jesper says, in reference to Luca’s table. He pulls a tan-colored pastry box from another table, setting it down on a table where everyone can take a look. 

“As a thank you. He requested for me to share. So have it and let’s make a note next time he’s in to really treat him like a VIP.”

One of your most-talented servers opens the box, eliciting a chorus of gasps, giggles, and excited whispers as soon as the assortment of croissants and pastries are revealed. 

You and Mathilde exchange a look as everyone else busy themselves with unpacking the pastry box. Mathilde raises an eyebrow and you’re not sure what to say. Witnessing your silent exchange, Jesper makes his way over to the both of you, before extending his arm to reveal the card he’s holding. 

“And this, my dear…” he begins, exchanging a look with his sister. “...is for you.”

“What do you-, just me?” you ask as you take it, hesitantly. 

“I think so, yeah,” he nods, confidently. 

To the Chef, the front of the card reads. 

“Jesper, let’s check out some of these pastries, yeah?” Mathilde suggests, not so subtly hinting towards her brother. 

He nods, giving you a little space so that you can read the card Luca’s left for you. 

As your staff divvy up the box of laminated pastries, sighing with joy as they taste the decadent, hand-crafted sweets, you take a few steps away to open the note. His handwriting is pristine – perfectly neat in every way, like he’s written over carefully measured invisible lines.

Chef,

Thank you for all of the great meals. I'd like to return the favor, that is, if you're open to it. 

Tomorrow. 5 pm. Dronningens Tværgade 2, 1302

While Luca’s gift has been more-than-generous, you find yourself overwhelmed by questions. Was he a chef too? And why had he not said anything? And what was this gesture all about anyways?

You read the card a few more times, turning the words over in your head as you try to make sense of it. 

Mathilde can see your overwhelm, your eyebrows knitted into one confused expression as she saunters back over to you.

“What does it say?” she asks, curiously. “A love confession perhaps?”

“Mathilde, you really have to stop reading all of those French romance novels!” you tease her. “It’s giving you too many ideas.”

“It’s the only way I keep up with my French!” she defends herself with a lackadaisical shrug, earning a laugh from you.

“Uh no… it’s actually a thank you card… only I think he… wants to feed me,” you share with her, holding the card out so that she can take a look. 

“He’s a chef too?” she asks, taking the card from your hands. 

“I think so, yeah,” you reply, letting out an exasperated laugh. 

“Oh shit!” Mathilde exclaims, as soon as she sees the address that Luca’s written down. 

“What?” you ask her, wondering if there’s something you missed. 

“The address… that’s AOC. I think he’s a chef at AOC, babe,” she gasps, shaking her head as she hands the card back to you, sending a ‘you lucky, bitch’ look your way.

Oh shit, is right.

#chef luca #will poulter #luca the bear #the bear season 2 #the bear headcanon #luca x reader #the bear hulu #the bear fx #the bear fanfiction #chef luca x reader #pastry chef luca #burn your life down

[queen-of-reptiles]

𝚆𝙰𝚅𝙴𝚂

description: In which Denmark's star girl in swimming has always been very outgoing, which has always made her so popular, especially when she talks about her crushes...

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sofia lundgaard x female reader

disclaimer: I am in now way saying sofia is bi-sexual or lesbian, this is all fiction

warnings: language, bad google translation, also just fluff

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y/n just posted on her story

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interview

"Hi y/n, welcome to London!" Marie, the interviewer said.

"Thank you! I am really enjoying looking around." y/n said smiling, her bright smile as sweet as always as they got straight into the interview.

"Well, obviously you are wonderous, three golds at the Worlds already this year, I mean being 19 and so talented, what is that like?" Marie asked.

"Very, very stressful." y/n said with a laugh and the group watching her laughed a little too.

"I bet." Marie nodded.

"I think also, because I am naturally quite a happy person, it seems to have shown during interviews and cameras so now I feel like I cannot be angry or upset, because everyone expects something else from me." y/n explained and Marie nodded.

The interview continued for a bit, until Marie got to her final section, smiling at the young girl who hadn't stopped making the room chuckle since she stepped foot in it.

"And finally, we know you are a big football fan, you have talked about it a lot, who is your favourite player?" Marie asks.

"I think that such a hard question because I like so many players for so many reasons, but I mean Sofie Lundgaard, she's fantastic. Also, pretty, Sofie, I'm single." y/n said.

She looked toward the second camera as she spoke, making everyone laugh again before the interview wrapped up.

"Oh my! She knows who I am?" Sofie asks as she looks up from the video, tearing her eyes from the stunning girl as Rachel snorted, used to the Danish girl's obsession with the swimmer.

"Yep." Yana grins, popping the 'p' with her lips.

"Great, she'll be unbearable now." Missy sighs as the group walk out to warm up on the pitch, Sofie stuck her tongue out at her friend, leaving over to push her when Yana spat out some water.

Both Missy and Sofie shrieked, jumping out of the way but Yana was focussed on something in the stands, and when Sofie and Missy turned they both gasped.

y/n was sat happily in the stands, talking to one of her friends who must have come over from Denmark with her for the few days of interviews she had.

Sofie's eyes had doubled in size as she took in the gorgeous girl, smooth skin and sweet dimples which had appeared as she threw her head back, laughing at her friend.

"Come on love bird." Missy sighed and Sofie tore her eyes away as they began to run.

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twitter/X

username1: is anyone at the Liverpool women game rn cause Sofie just looked at y/n like she was an angel and I am freaking out because of it

^

username2: AND THEY WAY y/n is looking at her? Like she's so amazing... I am going to cry this is so cute

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username3: AND AFTER Y/N'S INTERVIEW??????

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username4: Sofie better shoot her shot, or I will do it for her!

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username5: We don't know if Sofie is even into it though???

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y/n just posted

liked by, sofiielundgaard, daniels_yana and 398, 279 others

tagged liverpoolwfc and y/f/n

y/n just one chance, please...

view all 13, 287 comments

username1: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH 😂😂😂

^

username2: no shame

daniels_yana: @sofiielundgaard...

username3: Sofie was a bit quick to like there

username4: y/n is so cute omg 😭😍😍

username5: the way she was cheering in game was so cute i wanted to cry !!!

username6: I spoke to her during half-time and SHE WAS SO SWEET and gave me some gum! 🥹

username7: not even trying to hide it! 😭

y/f/n: she cried when we got back to the hotel, she was too excited...

^

y/n: stfu 😑

liverpoolwfc: Thank you for your support! Loved having you!! ❤️

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y/n: Thanks for the invite! ❤️

^

username8: Liverpool admin tryna love island it up???

sofiielundgaard: Tak for din støtte! Helt sikkert hjulpet!

thanks for your support! Definitely helped!

^

y/n: elskede at se jer alle!

loved watching you all

^

sofiielundgaard: xxx

^

username9: OMG

username10: this girl forgets she is a public figure and I love it so much 😂

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y/n just posted on her story

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Sofie sat laughing with her teammate Yana as they answered questions for an interview which would go on the Youtube channel, Yana grinning evilly when asked what Sofie liked to watch as a test of their friendship.

"Sofie here is really into her swimming, you, patriot for Denmark and all that." Yana grins. "Though, with how many competitions of a certain Denmark swimmer she watches, I don't know... Maybe it's not the swimming." Yana hums.

"Shut up!" Sofie hisses but the crew had already begun to laugh, causing Sofie to groan and throw her head against the table with a thump.

Yana grins evilly at the camera before feeling a little bad for the blonde and rubbing her back kindly as Sofie leans back up and sighs.

"What can I say? I love my home country." She hums and this again causes everyone to burst out laughing.

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twitter/X

username1: The way this plot thickens with every turn!

^

username2: Sofie admitting she likes watching swimming then Yana being an angel and spilling the true tea

^

username3: loveeeee Yana sm omg 😍😂

username4: I did feel bad for Sofie though, she looked so embarrassed 😩

^

username5: yeah same...

^

username6: She will have let them put that in tho, like they would have removed it if she really wanted

^

username5: VERYYYYY true 😶

^

username7: omg that is such a good point!!

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y/n took a deep breath in, her limbs weightless as they floated around her, the swimmer took another deep breath before pushing of the wall and beginning to swim down toward the other side.

The pool she had found was not busy, maybe because it was half six on a Sunday morning. But y/n could never go a few days without swimming, the water was more home than ground was.

y/n did several lengths before she came to a stop, head popping up before she pushed herself underneath the water, using the side to hold her underneath.

The world quietened and blurred above her, the water for that minute, kept her safe. However, she hadn't taken a deep enough breath for longer than a minute and a half, and so pushed herself back up and to sit on the side.

y/n sat quietly, regulating her breath once more as she watched her feet in the water, her braided hair now heavy against her suit clad back.

It was only after a minute, did y/n realise she was no longer alone. She turned her head, looking in the next lane, where to her surprise, Sofie Lundgaard was, head lent back and eyes shut as she floated for a moment in the water.

Her muscled shoulder tensed as she kept herself afloat, and y/n suddenly felt very hot as she lowered herself back into the water to try and ignore the woman beside her.

"Ingen er her normalt på dette tidspunkt." Sofie hummed as she looked back up.

no one is usually here at this time.

"Jeg bliver stort set sindssyg, hvis jeg ikke svømmer i et par dage." y/n admitted with a soft laugh.

I pretty much go insane if I don't swim for a few days.

"Really?" Sofie asked, not overly aware she had slipped into English.

"Yeah, more at home in the water than on land mum used to say." y/n smiled softly relaxing back, her eyes darted up to the clock, showing 6:48.

Sofie and y/n didn't talk much for the new few minutes, an occasional comment or question with an answer would be thrown, but for a bit they just swam side by side, enjoying the feeling of one another's company.

When the clock hit 7:30, y/n sighed and slid up the pool side. Sofie gulped and looked away from the muscled arms which tensed as they pushed y/n from the water.

y/n smiled at Sofie, nodding as she grabbed her towel and walked toward the changing rooms, but as she went to leave the room she changed her mind.

"Would you like to get breakfast?" y/n asked as she turned to face Sofie.

"Thought you would never ask." The blonde grinned and pushed herself out of the water as well.

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y/n just posted on their story

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sofiielundgaard just posted on her story

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y/n hummed as she prepared for her final race of the day, it was just a friendly, Denmark's best against each other, but that did not mean she was not prepared.

She had gotten back to Denmark a week ago, after spending three weeks in London, a trip which had lengthened for no specific reason.

She heard the call, the shot and then she dived as soon as she hit the water, y/n knew, she knew she had won, because she was away suddenly.

She pulled ahead, a good few strokes from everyone else, she turned and pushed again, knowing this one was only two lengths. Which after a week of long racing was nice to think.

She pulled ahead further, the commentator shocked as anything as she slammed her hand on the wall, sighing in relief as she pulled herself up, shocked at the way her coach had paused.

"Hvad?" She asked him.

what?

"Hvad?" She asked again, pulling a towel around her body to keep her warm. Her coach just turned her body and pointed to two letters next to her name.

DR

Danish Record.

y/n let out a yell of shock, her fellow swimmers running over to congratulate her as she slammed her hand over her mouth, eyes trying to find someone, who once they had been found grinned wildly.

y/n grinned back, looking briefly at the pool before grabbing her coach and fellow swimmers, the group all jumping in, her coach slightly begrudgingly.

Breaking records was something y/n had been doing from the age of 14, and every time she did, she would jump into the pool. But y/n had just been thrown into today's race as a back up, almost as a joke.

Because breaststroke was not her stroke, but she had somehow just broken a Danish record with it. How? She didn't know nor care as she and her fellow swimmers sunk into the waves of blue, being watched by a very proud blonde.

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y/n just posted

liked by, sofiielundgaard, pharder10 ans 401, 766 others

tagged sofiielundgaard

y/n note to self, always go for half six swimming sessions...

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sofiielundgaard just posted

liked by, daniels_yana, y/n and 218, 736 others

tagged y/n

sofiielundgaard You know, I don't think I watch swimming for the sport... 🤷‍♀️

comments disabled.

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twitter/X

username1: HARD LAUNCH HARD LAUNCH I REPEAT HARD FUCKING LAUNCH 😭😭

username2: 'I don't think I watch swimming for the sport' hahahahah 😂

username3: FUCK YESSSSSS

username4: I feel like we have Yana to thank for this.

^

daniels_yana: You do 😌

^

username5: OMG

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END

kay bois, struggled with this one, won't lie - so what do you we think???

love ya'll!

-

Queenie!

#social media woso #woso #woso x reader #woso x y/n #woso community #woso soccer #sofie lundgaard #sofie lundgaard x y/n #sofie lundgaard x reader #sofie lundgaard imagine #liverpool wfc #swimmer #swimmer x footballer

[wosowrites]

Another Kid (Magda and Pernille x young!reader)

warnings: alcoholism, throwing up

a/n: based off this request here

prompt: the reader didn’t grow up in a good family and struggled to ask for help, so pernille and magda make sure she knows she is at home with chelsea

You weren’t super tall, maybe 5,6…5,7 on a good day you liked to say. But man, you were intimidating. You never hurt anyone, but your tackles came in full force, your glares would make a player on the opposite side of the field look down and your handshake was so firm that you would leave the referees shaking their hand in the air to rid themselves of the feeling of your hand squeezing theirs. You were strong. That was no doubt. But maybe you were just waiting for someone… or some people to help break down your walls, and reveal the delicate you.

Your walls had never come down completely, although there had been two occasions where the team thought they had. The first time was on the mark of your first year with Chelsea. The girls had thrown a little party, which honestly was more of an excuse to drink beer, but you were grateful for it. You all gathered at Pernille and Magda’s house, had a cheat night of pizza and beer, played games and had all around fun. You didn’t drink any beer, you never did consume alcohol considering it was the main reason behind your shit childhood. The main reason behind the walls you had put up as well.

So, as Magda did her special party trick (drank a bit too much and got sick), you were the one who ended up having to sit with her in the washroom. Pernille hadn’t come to the party due to the fact that her mother and father were in town, she had apologized but you insisted it was okay, because it was.

That night, you played the role of Pernille. A younger, darker haired Pernille. You let Magda lay on your lap, and you held her hair as she threw up. You brushed your fingers through her hair and dabbed her face with a warm towel. That moment was the closest you had ever gotten to being completely and utterly soft. But then Magda threw up on your lap and you tried to stay calm but you freaked out solid.

Magda remembered nothing the next morning and you did not remind her.

The second time was after winning the 2022 FA cup. You hadn’t cried of joy right away although you could have. Instead, you hugged every single person on the team for over ten seconds each. "Was that an actual hug, y/n/n?" every one of the girls including Emma had said. You had rolled your eyes.

When you got into the changing room, emotions came over you. Your eyes welled with tears as you sat down at your cubby, your head in your hands. Aniek had been the one to accidentally ruin it. "Are you crying?" she asked gently, not meaning to strike a nerve. "No! What the hell?!" you said, standing up quickly and walking into the washroom.

Ever since that day, Magda and Pernille had realized that there was more behind your tears, they noticed that there was more than joy behind your eyes. As everyone on the team hugged their parents and siblings, or face timed them after that game, you sat in a corner on your phone, staring at the apps on your phone.

"She doesn’t have anyone to call, does she?" Pernille said, her arm around Magda’s waist as they watched you sadly. "We’ll be the people she can call then," the swedish woman answered.

It was a promise they had made to themselves and that they upheld every day. They didn’t know what your family situation was, but they did know that they wanted to be your new family.

And they kept that promise every single day. Wether it was holding you tightly but briefly when you had a bad day, or just picking you too be in their group during drills, you were always with P and Magda. You were constantly being caught on camera in the arms of Magda or P, being jokingly carried on and off the pitch like a baby. The denmark native and the swede had a similar behaviour with Niahm and Jessie but with you… they had really claimed you. You were theirs, and everyone knew that.

And sooner than you knew it, a year had passed and it was once again the FA cup final, but against the red side of Manchester this time. Pernille wasn’t starting as she was recently back from injury so you did your pregame routine after warmup. A quick three person handshake and then you hugged them tightly. The kissed one of your temples each and then you stood in a circle, holding the hands of your mothers.

0-0 at half made you feel relieved. Manchester United had easily been the stronger half and you had all been so lucky they hadn’t conceded.

Going into the second half, you had a desire. In a year, you had been named best young player of the year amongst a bunch of other awards, and you were in the race for the golden boot, tied with Rachel Daly. At last years FA cup, you had played 6 minutes and today… today you were on thee starting. You needed to score. A goal at Wembley… what more could you ask for?

Your wish was granted in the 56th minute, a couple minutes after Pernille had been subbed on. Magda sent a long, long ball through the field to find Pernille on the wing. The Scandinavian controlled the ball perfectly and got passed Ona Batlle. Your run was perfect, but you were sprinting to get there. Pernille crossed it in the air and you jumped.

Your head hit the ball, the ball hit the netting, and then you hit the turf, falling at the feet of Mary Earps who yelled a loud curse word. But you were full of joy. You stood up, screaming at the top of your lungs and running towards Pernille with your arms wide. Magda came and then Jessie, Niahm, Sam, Guro, everyone. You had jumped into Pernilles arms, your legs around her waist. You faced the fans, blowing kisses to the crowd and yelling at the top of your lungs.

It was a family goal.

When the final whistle blew, you fell to your knees and let out a large breath of relief. "You did it!" Pernille and Magda yelled, rushing to you and tackling you into a hug on the pitch.

The celebrations were insane, you lifted the trophy with Magda, you danced on the field, gave your shirt to a young fan, took pictures and danced some more. The difference was that when people went to see or call their families Magda and Pernille stayed with you.

"You played so well today baby," Magda said to you. It was said in a motherly way, a way that made you blush and look down at your lap. "Listen, we’ve never wanted to ask but if you ever want to… i don’t know… talk? Yeah, talk about whatever your family situation is, we are more than here for you. You know that right?"

You fiddled with your fingers, not looking at the blondes on either side of you. "Yeah, I know," you answered half heartedly.

"Y/n…" Pernille said gently. "Not to be… dramatic or whatever but I’ve been told that before, okay? And it wasn’t true," you said, standing up from the bench you were on. A few heads turned but you didn’t want to make a scene so you sat back down quickly. You hung your head and then inhaled and exhaled heavily.

"My mother got pregnant with me when she was 18. My dad just freaked out and left, I’ve never met him and he’s never shown any desire to want to meet me, even though he knows who I am. My mother got deep, deep into drugs and alcohol when I was 5. By the time I was 6 I was walking 30 minutes to get to school by myself, and- and cooking and I would animal sit for all of my neighbours with pets just to try and help my mother out a little. I started playing football when I was 7 because my best friends dad was the coach and he agreed to let me play on his boys team for free. I played with that team till I was 10 and then when I wanted to switch to competitive I got an anonymous amount of money to put towards keeping on playing football. I had no clue it was from who, and I still don’t. Anyways. I played football with clubs in Ottawa till I was 16 and started playing with the U-17 Canada team as well. You know the story from there. But that’s just the public story. The private story was that from age 10 to 17 my mother was constantly passed out, the house smelled like vomit, it was horrible. And my mother hated me. She thought it was all my fault that she landed in addiction. So when I was 18 and I left for Stanford… I deleted her number and I haven’t talked to her since. That’s the story."

It felt as though you had said that whole rant in one breath. Throughout everything, your eyes stayed fixed on your feet. You had not realized your eyes were filled with tears and you didn’t like it when you realized. Quickly, you used the neck of your shirt to erase any trace of tears. "Y/n/n…" Magda said, lifting your chin and making you look at her, her own eyes glistening with tears. "Don’t cry," you said to her before looking over at Pernille who was keeping herself together a bit more but obviously hurt for you. "Guys! Geez were FA cup champions… again! Let’s focus on that! Okay?"

You said this as you stood up, genuinely truly happy that you had won the cup again. But your "mothers" did not let you off that easily. Pernille and Magda both had the idea of reaching out to grab your jersey and pull you back which ended up in your flying backwards onto Magda’s lap. "Okay I know you guys see yourself as my parents or whatever but you do realize i’m not actually a baby right?" you asked, looking at Magda as you sat on her legs. "Haha," she said. "But while I have you here, please underhand that you are so much more than your past, okay?" Magda said, Pernille nodding along to her girlfriends words. "Okay," you said.

You never really talked about it again, but Magda and P knew, and when the reality that they needed to sign a new contract immediately or choose a club to leave too, (Bayern or OL at the moment) they gave each other one look, and then looked over at Millie who had you slung over her shoulder as Jessie and Niahm watched you, laughing loudly, and that was it. They were staying at Chelsea.

#woso fic #woso imagine #woso x reader #woso #chelsea fcw #pernille harder #magda eriksson #jessie fleming #cfcw

[miloformula123fan]

I really want to see the arthur leclerc x verstappen! male! reader since we dont have much of him

okay, if you want something driver based instead of this mafia fic, I will be writing it at some point :)

also sorry this took me so long to get out I tossed a few options here and there before deciding on this one :)

Okay I came up with this so it’s a little different to the original moodboard, but if you want something accurate to the moodboard, see here

if you want to participate in my 100 followers event, look here :)

(hint hint: this closes on Thursday 1st March 0:00 GMT, so if you want to make a request do so soon because this is in a little more than a week when publishing this :))

Please keep requesting - y'all have awesome ideas we agree on a lot of stuff :) - my guidelines are here, and if you want some prompts, they are here.

also feel free to come in and start chatting to me in my asks, would love to get to know y'all better

and if you want to be added to my taglist lmk :)

Also…i know there’s all the shit going around about christian horner, i just want to say that i don’t condone his actions at all, and while I have left him in this fic, I am separating the character from the person.

also warnings: death, general mafia shittiness, homophobia, bad dad jos

arthur leclerc x male!verstappen!reader

“Ermitage will be safe for you, Y/N. It has kept Max safe for years and I trust their teachers. Professor Marko, who will teach english, Professor Horner who will teach history and public speaking, and Professor Dominicelli who is the head teacher all sing their praises of Max, and have helped your admission into the school. The school does not regularly take students mid year, however based on your prior behaviour and safety. I needed to send you here.”

Y/N scoffed at his fathers words. His ‘prior behaviour’ wasn’t all that bad. Max had been sent to this school for an arson attack that had almost resulted in the deaths of 5 people, including 3 of his dad’s own men. He was being sent to this school for running away from his bodyguards, drinking and making out with a boy. But Max was his father’s golden boy, and Y/N was the spare in case a rival gang took out Max. And he was sure that Max despised the 2 of the professors, based on his letters to Y/N. He seemed to adore Professor Horner, so maybe that would be Y/N’s respite.

As the car pulled up in front of the school and crunched on the gravel driveway, Y/N took a minute to admire it.

He smiled as he saw the young children running around near the junior school. He got out of the car, smiling as he felt the warm French sum combined with a small breeze. The car had pulled up on the other side of the driveway, in between 2 other buildings. One looked very traditional, however there had clearly been an extension or five as parts looked very modern with a lot of glass. The other building was gorgeous. The other building was very traditional, looking like one of Jos’ summer houses in Denmark, all white and clearly spacious, however it had a metal spiral staircase on the outside that led to the roof. Jos would’ve killed a builder if that had been left there at their house. It made the building look less professional, and even Y/N wasn’t sure that he liked it.

Y/N watched as 3 men came out from the doors of the building. The 2 in front, both had greying hair and stern expressions, whispering amongst each other, while making disgusted looks towards Y/N. The third looked a little younger and shorter, with grey hair, attempting to look serious and stern as he walked towards the 2 with Y/N’s big brother in tow. Y/N smiled as his brother walked out with the teachers. He looked happy and better and less like he’d just torched a building than the last time he had seen him. Max whispered something in the younger man’s ears and the mask of sterness dropped to smile at the boy.

The group reached the pair of Verstappens, and Max let his guard down a little after shaking hands with their dad to give his baby brother a big bear hug, and provide some intel.

“Who’d he catch you with, huh?”

“Liam. At least it wasn’t bloody Frederik or he’d be here to inform you that I got caught up in the crossfire of a shooting and my funeral is tomorrow.”

“It was simply a matter of time. Anyway, you will like it here. Try and steer clear of Marko, he is incredibly strict and if it was still legal he would hang you from your arms from the roof until your shoulders dislocated. You will barely see Dominicelli, he just rocks up to greet you now, and you will never see him again. Horner is also our housemaster. He’s amazing. He’ll like you. He kinda adopted me after I told him how much of an asshole dear father is.”

“Okay.” Y/N smiled tensely as he pulled himself out of his brother’s hug and turned to greet the 3 strangers.

The first one looked old, as in old enough to retire, and had a stern face, as in someone who would scold you for laughing too hard. Someone after his fathers’ own heart he presumed. He held his hand out, and the man took it,  shook it once, and then dropped his hand, as if disgusted to be touching ‘someone like Y/N’. So an old homophobe then. He then turned around and started talking to Jos, and  Y/n tried to eavesdrop as he met the other men.

“Lawson has been dealt with, I’m just concerned about…”

The 2nd man, held out his hand and shook Y/n’s twice which was an improvement, at least until he dropped it. 

“...he sort of always showed signs but I never thought…”

Then he tried to discreetly wipe his hand on his pants.

“...The Mercedes guys were there, if they had realised who he was…”

Y/N picked it up, and looked down at the ground, slightly awkward, unsure of what to do as the final teacher approached him.

“...Hamilton is pissed, one of his men was caught in the crossfire of trying to get Y/N out…”

Professor Horner immediately engulfed him in a tight hug.

“...see the problem is I can’t explain to anyone why they were shot in a random club on a random thursday to get my son out…”

It was the first time for a long time that Y/N was getting a hug from someone older like her dad’s age. He was so shocked that he missed the next part of Jos and Helmut’s conversation and strained to hear the next part.

“...i can’t tell them my son was in there…so now it looks like i shot up a nightclub for no reason…”

Christian started reassuring him in his ears about how he was safe here and whatnot, but all Y/N was thinking was about how he was preventing him from properly eavesdropping the conversation

“...No, no one important, a lackyman, Aron or something…”

Y/N could feel his heart drop. Paul was dead? He’d known Liam was dead, Jos had used him as an example, but he hasn’t even known that Paul was at the nightclub.

“...it’s done, there’s 2 dead bodies to dispose of, which im gonna do when i get back, but just keep an eye on him please…”

Christian seemed to realise the internal struggle that Y/N was having and started hugging him tighter to make him feel better.

“...He’s gonna get everyone killed and he will only realise when he loses his brother the consequences his actions have…”

‘I KNOW WHAT CONSEQUENCES MY ACTIONS HAVE DAD, YOU KILLED MY KIND OF BOYFRIEND IN FRONT OF ME!’ Y/N wanted to scream at his dad, but that would make him realise that he was eavesdropping and why he was actually here.

Christian felt him tense and tried to sooth him into the hug.

“Alright, that’s enough, Christian, how about we head inside?”

—

Arthur could recognise the boy walking in, but he couldn’t see the father which would help if he could work out why his body was in fight and flight mode as the boy had seen him, waved and smiled at him.

A memory flashed, of a meeting him and all his brothers together in a meeting room, as their father ran them through their highest enemies. He could remember the smile of a kid his age. He remembered Lorenzo asking how a 5 year old could be a threat…he doesn’t remember the rest or why this kid is a threat, but he remembers the goofy smile, the smile that was being flashed his way now, and the eyes that held so much happiness that seemed to hold a lot more pain now.

He couldn’t remember why this kid was in the powerpoint, so he supposed it was okay and irrelevant and smiled back, before being hurried on by Lorenzo.

---

taglist: @leosxrealm, @ghostking4m

#f1 x reader #miloformula123fan #f1 fanfic #f1 x male reader #f1 fic #f2 x reader #f2 fanfic #f2 fic #f2 x male reader #arthur leclerc x reader #arthur leclerc #arthur leclerc moodboards #arthur leclerc x male reader #arthur leclerc x you #arthur leclerc x y/n

[companionjones]

Chicago

This is a sequel to "Copenhagen"

Pairing: Luca x Fem!Reader

Fandom: The Bear

Summary: Today, The Bear is opening. There are more surprises in store for you than you think.

Warnings: SMUT, Cursing

Tag List: @codekiraqueen

*******

"Alalalala! I told you I don't want to hear anymore!" Carmy came back into the room with his hands on his ears.

Nat, your sister, had another opinion on your story. She couldn't get enough of it. "Was he really that big?!"

"I could never do it justice," you managed to get out before Carmy scolded you.

"Y/n!"

Your brother and sister had differing reactions to your Copenhagen escapades, but in the end, you didn't really care what either. All you could think about since that day in Denmark was him.

You couldn't stop yourself. You weren't even sure how you got to the restaurant opening because you were so preoccupied with thoughts of Luca.

The Bear wasn't even open yet, but it was going to be that day. No one needed to say it: the stakes were high.

You were busy in the office, going over prices and costs with Rich and Nat when you heard a commotion in the kitchen. Your first thought was that somebody had locked themselves in the freezer.

"Yo, Y/n! Get out here!" You heard Marcus call out for you.

Immediately, you were on your feet and out the office door. You caught eyes with the baker, but he just raised his hands up in surrender and looked toward the backdoor that lead to the alleyway. It was wide open, and you heard Carmy yelling outside.

"Why the hell are you fucking my sister, huh?!" You heard your brother yell as you got closer.

No way.

Upon exiting the kitchen, right there in front of you, was Carmy yelling at Luca. It looked like Carmy was trying to get Luca to fight him. It also seemed like Luca was refusing to do so.

"What the hell is going on?" you yelled, "Carmy, the stress is getting to you. Go inside, and get a drink of water or something."

Turning toward you, Carmy gave you a look that said, "You really expect me to leave him alone with you?"

You answered his unspoken question with words. "I'm a big girl, I can make my own decisions."

Reluctantly, and with one more look between you and Luca, Carmy went inside. He slammed the door behind him. "I'm sorry about him," you apologised, "Carmy can be--"

"Intense," Luca finished for you. "I remember."

There was a moment's silence between the two of you.

"What are you doing here?" you asked him.

He let silence fill the space between you again before responding, "I haven't been able to stop thinking about you."

At his words, you straightened you posture and blinked.

Luca was quick to continue, "I wanted to surprise you by coming on opening night, but then I realized I didn't want to distract you from all this, so I decided to show my face now--"

"You were already distracting me," you told him truthfully.

It was Luca's turn to straighten his posture and blink in surprise. "H-how?"

"I can't stop thinking about it--about you--either," you clarified.

Without another word, Luca took the two big steps necessary to close the distance between you two. He cupped your face in his hands and brought you in for a kiss. Luca backed you up against the brick wall of the restaurant. "Fuck, I missed you," he said when he broke apart from you to go in for a better angle. Luca started kissing and nipping down your neck.

You moaned his name.

"Say that again," he gritted against your skin.

"Luca!" you repeated, louder.

He growled, and started undoing the buttons on your pants. "I'm sorry darling, but I need you now."

"Need you too, baby," you whispered, shimmying out of your pants and underwear.

Luca undid his jeans, and pulled out his sizeable cock. He backed you firmly against the wall again, and hoisted you off the ground using your thighs.

You responded accordingly by wrapping your legs around his torso.

"You're gonna make me cum, and I'm not even inside you yet." Luca kissed your lips, then parted from you to kiss your forehead. "Are you ready?"

"Always," you answered before Luca slid himself inside you. Your head fell back against the wall, and your jaw fell slack as you gasped.

Immediately, Luca started with shallow thrusts. His eyes were screwed shut, almost like he was overwhelmed by the sensations he was feeling.

"Hey." You stroked the sides of his face with your hands as you checked on him. "You okay?"

All you got was Luca opening his eyes to give you a short nod before he leaned in to kiss you.

From there, Luca picked up the pace of his thrusts. He soon parted from you to lean his forehead against the brick wall. You guessed he did so to focus on not cumming.

You tangled your fingers in his hair and shut your eyes to prioritize your other senses. You were almost overwhelmed yourself by it all. Soon, you started scratching the back of his head to get his attention. "Luca-Luc-Luca!" Your voice got higher as your climax drew nearer.

Luca pressed his forehead against yours to soothe, "It's alright. It's alright, baby. Just let go."

You did as you were told and came with a shout you were were afraid passersby heard.

As you spasmed and tightened around his hard cock, Luca squeezed your thighs tightly. "Oh, god. Oh fuck, yes. I've waited so long for this." Luca grunted as he emptied himself inside you.

After it was over, Luca gave you both a few seconds to catch your breaths before leaning in and kissing you senseless. While he did so, he let you down and back onto your feet.

Your knees buckled once you were standing on your own. Luca caught you.

"It's okay," he told you, "My legs almost gave way a couple times as well."

Once you were fully clothed again, and Luca was tucked away, he caught your eyes. "When can I see you again?"

"How long are you here for?"

"As long as you need me to be."

Your heart fluttered at that. "What about Copenhagen?"

"I took a leave of absence. I needed to see you."

"Do you still want to come tonight?"

"Do you want me to?"

"I do."

"You say 'jump', I say, 'how high?'"

"Okay, then. I'll see you tonight."

*******

Author's Note: Thank you so much for reading! Fill up that heart and reblog if you liked it. I would also really appreciate a comment, if you have the time. If you would like to read more, check out my masterlist. Have a nice day, night, or whatever time it is for you! <3 <3 <3

#luca the bear #luca the bear x reader #the bear #the bear hulu #will poulter #companion jones #chicago #copenhagen

[woso-dreamzzz]

Wingwomen

Hardersson x Child!Reader

Part of the Big Adventures Universe

Summary: The Wingman episode

"We are your wingwomen for today," Morsa says to the camera attached to the car," This is Pernille Harder. She plays for Denmark. She plays for Chelsea." She smiles at Momma. "I know you pretty well, I can tell you that."

"You do," Momma says," I can introduce you too. Magdalena Eriksson, captain for Chelsea FC. Playing for the Swedish national team, making a lot of tackles on the football pitch but, also, at home sometimes."

Morsa laughs awkwardly. "Oh, okay."

You laugh too and Morsa reaches back to wiggle your leg. "And our little baby," She says," y/n. The future of Sweden."

Momma rolls her eyes as she pulls out of the spot. "Denmark."

"Sweden."

"Denmark."

You giggle again. "I like Arsenal!"

Momma and Morsa both groan and you beam a sunny smile.

"We started off as just friends, playing together for the same team in Sweden," Morsa says during the drive," Pernille asked me if I wanted to take a math course with her and then we studied math. And yeah, the rest is history."

"Momma doesn't like math!" You say from your seat as you make your girl-swan and girl-moose kiss.

"I like math, princesse!"

"Don't teach me math," You say back, sticking out your tongue.

Morsa laughs. "Now the producer wants to hear about the photo."

"The photo."

"The photo, yeah."

Momma smiles. "Which one? The one with us or Princesse? Because both of them kind of blew up."

"Our one first."

"It was taken at the world cup.. Yeah, after the game I kissed you. The picture was taken and we suddenly just had twenty-thousand more followers on Instagram and Twitter. I didn't get it, like, what happened?"

"After that picture," Morsa says," We really became role models. A lot of people were looking at us and were happy to be able to see that people can be open. If you're two girls in love or a girl and a boy or two boys, it doesn't matter, whatever you are. That's the message we wanted to share. It was a complete coincidence that the picture was taken but it ended up becoming a really beautiful thing."

"And the medal picture?"

"The medal picture," Morsa says softly. She turns her head to look at you. "What's the medal picture, princesse?"

"When I was wearing your medal!" You reply with a silly grin," I was very little but you still gave it to me."

"She did," Momma says," We've got that picture framed somewhere in the house. It was very cute."

"I was just making sure she understood how heavy it was," Morsa laughs," For when she wins her own."

"I'm gonna win a World Cup medal!" You insist.

"Of course you are." Morsa presses her finger to her ear to listen to the producer man before turning to Momma again. "Who or what convinced you to join Chelsea? Anyone in particular?"

Momma laughs. "Morsa thinks she's the reason we moved to Chelsea, princesse."

"She is," You say, stubbornly crossing your arms over your chest," Could've stayed at Wolfsburg."

Momma rolls her eyes. "I just think it was just the perfect timing and obviously you were playing on the team."

"It's a little bit of a bonus."

"That's a bonus, yeah. No more bath time duties, no more having to play all the time. You definitely have your uses."

"Morsa plays with me a lot," You cut in," And she does my hair in the morning. It's not always good but she tries."

Morsa turns to look at you in betrayal. "What do you mean it's not always good?!"

You shrug. "Sometimes you tug too hard."

Morsa still looks at you, mouth open wide before she reaches back to tickle your sides. You shriek and try to wiggle away but you're still strapped into your seat so you can't go anywhere.

"Do you have a funny story about the party?" Morsa asks," After winning the league?"

Momma's face lights up. "Ugh, yes!"

Morsa hides in her hands. "Are we really sharing this?"

"Morsa got excited," You say," Because she had a party with the team and forgot that she's too old to party."

"I'm not old!"

"Yes you are."

"No I'm not!"

"You're a Morsa. All Morsa's are old! You're too old to party! You went blergh everywhere!"

Morsa rolls her eyes and looks at the camera. "Because of Covid, because of everything, I hadn't been able to party in over a year. I didn't really know how much I could handle in that evening and..."

"And Morsa threw up in the toilet!"

"And I was taking care of her," Momma says," Like the good girlfriend that I am."

Morsa smiles weakly as you giggle. "Yeah, you had to do girlfriend duties."

"And Millie had to take over babysitting the princesse."

Momma pulls up to the restaurant and you eagerly look out the window, kicking your little legs. It's not often that you get KFC.

"Okay, Pernille," Morsa says," It's time. It's called The Colonel's Quiz." She pulls out a little KFC bucket.. "You can start."

"I'll take the first one."

"And just so you know before we start, Princesse gets to choose a forfeit for the loser so there's a lot at stake, okay?"

"Okay," Momma says," What is my favourite food?"

"I would say..." Morsa thinks for a moment. "Like sushi or Japanese food."

Momma nods. "It's Japanese slash Mexican."

"That's what we had yesterday!" You giggle.

"That's right, princesse. I got one correct answer!"

"Okay, so the next one," Momma says," What is my worst habit?"

"It's you sometimes ask too many questions," Morsa replies.

You think for a moment. "Er...You make me speak English at home!"

Morsa and Momma laugh.

"I said I ask questions before I try to figure it out myself."

"Two points for Morsa!" You announce. You like this game. It's fun.

"How many times did I win player of the year in Denmark? I mean, if you were a really good girlfriend, you actually should know."

"Five times?" Morsa asks, not looking too sure.

"Is that your final answer?"

"No, six times?"

You frown. That doesn't sound right either.

"Is that your final answer?"

"That's my final answer. Is it correct?"

"Yes?"

"Is it correct?"

"Yes, it is."

"Oh my god!" Morsa celebrates

You shake your head. "No," You say," Morsa's wrong. It's seven, I counted all of them at home."

Morsa laughs. "Pernille, the producer says she's right. It's actually seven."

Momma's eyes go wide. "Oh, is it? I thought it was six!"

"Momma's won too many," You say earnestly," 'Cause she can't keep up with how many she has." You shake your head almost in disappointment. When you win prizes when you're older, you're never going to forget how many you've got.

"Two out of three is not bad," Morsa says.

"No."

"Not let's see how well you know me." She picks up the slip of paper. "Who is my favourite music artist slash band?"

"Er..." Momma looks a bit worried. "Leonard Cohen or something."

"It's Lana Del Rey."

"Are you sure?"

"Momma," You say," I think Morsa knows who her favourites are."

Morsa laughs. "Thanks, princesse. Next question, what is my party trick?"

"I know! I know!"

"Let Momma answer."

"Er..." Momma doesn't look like she knows. "You get drunk and you throw up."

"Shut up!"

"Those are bad words, Morsa! You have to put money in the swear jar when we get home!"

"Yeah, I don't know."

"Princesse?"

"Morsa can open a bottle of beer with her teeth!" You say," She's going to teach me when I get all my big teeth!"

"Magda!"

Morsa tries to change the subject quickly. "Zero points for you, Pernille. We already have a winner but let's do the last question just to see if you know me a little bit. Which team did I make my international debut against?"

Momma blows out all of her and you giggle.

Morsa sighs in disappointment. "Oh, okay well...I'm gonna get out of this car now. This is not good."

"I think it is..." Momma thinks for a while. "Ukraine?"

"No."

"Hungary?"

"No. It's France."

Momma sighs.

"The forfeit is yours. Princesse?"

"Er..." You hadn't actually thought of one in advance. "Er...You...You have to order the food in an English accent!"

Momma looks stricken and Morsa laughs, leaning back to give you a high five.

"Princesse..."

"You have to!" You wave a finger at her," 'Cause you got the forfeit! Forfeits aren't meant to be fun!"

"Are you ready to practice your accent?" Morsa teases.

"You have to say please and thank you a lot," You say helpfully.

Momma pulls up to the window and in a shockingly bad accent speaks," I'd like a Twister Wrap and I'd also like a salad, please."

"Is there anything else?"

"Princesse, what do you want?"

"Popcorn chicken! And er...Fruitshoot!"

"What flavour?"

"Apple and blackcurrent!"

"And a kid's popcorn chicken and an apple and blackcurrent fruitshoot," Momma says in her bad accent.

As you pull away from the machine, the car is filled with laughter.

"Yeah," Morsa laughs," I don't know what the hell that was but it was great. It's so funny that you're like a farmer girl from Denmark doing a posh accent."

The laughter keeps going when Momma drives past the window and then tries to take the tray with her.

"If you're going to eat in the car," Morsa says as she passes you your food and drink," Then you can't spill anything."

"I won't!"

"Okay," Morsa says as you start the drive through," We've got another question here. Which of the players from our team would you want to see doing a Wingmen episode?"

"Well," Momma says," The first one I was thinking about is Sam and Erin."

You giggle. "Sam and Erin are very silly. Like clowns!"

"What about Emma Hayes doing an episode?" Morsa offers.

"Yeah that...that wouldn't be quiet," Momma replies.

"Coach Emma talks a lot," You say," She talks and talks and talks-"

"Where are we?"

"-And talks and talks and talks-"

"This is Harry Potter's World."

"-And talks and talks-"

"I don't know. I've never seen it."

You stop your repetition to gasp. "Momma! But we live in England now! That's...That's really bad!"

Momma laughs. "Sorry, princesse. I didn't realise you were this passionate about it. Who even showed you them?"

"Millie did," You say," She's fun. I like Millie."

"Is she your best friend?"

You think for a moment. "Erin and Sam are my friends too and Guro but they're not my best friends."

"Who's your best friend?"

"Jessie! I like Jessie!"

Morsa laughs. "You and Jessie are two peas in a pod. Best friends forever!"

"Jessie's my bestest friend."

Momma unlocks the car and hoists you out. "Home sweet home. I think we've been some good Wingwomen. "

"I mean this was great fun." Morsa gets out too, pressing a kiss to your cheek before smiling at Moma. "I loved you English accent, that's the best thing for me today."

"I liked the food!" You say, stuffing some chips into your mouth.

"We're never going to get her to eat healthy again," Momma laments.

"Enjoy it while you can, princesse," Morsa says," Because you've not getting anymore fast food for a while."

You stick your tongue out at them. "My bestest friend Jessie will buy me some!"

#woso x reader #hardersson x reader #pernille harder x reader #pernille harder #magdalena eriksson x reader #magdalena eriksson #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso #The Big Adventures Universe

[grapejuicestyless]

Harry Styles x Fem!Reader

Tour opener instagram blurb

Faceclaim: Gracie Abrams

Summery: You, an upcoming artist and a well known Harry fan will be opening with the man himself. What will happen??

🟢🔵🟡liked by harryfan01 and 75,000 others

HSdaily @yourusername, a new up-coming artist will be opening for Harry in his added LOT shows!

view comments

harryfan01 I’m so happy for her! I love her current EP’s, I feel like they’ll work well together!

oliviasourfan I hope Harry plays feels like with her on her last date!

|feelslikestan OMGGG YESSS!

yourusername 💖

🔵🟡🟢liked by harrystyles and 145,009 others

yourusername Someone pinch me! @harrystyles THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU.

view comments

HSHQ 😊💜

oliviarodrigo I SAY THATS MY BABY AND IM PROUD.

minorepsurpreme SO HAPPY FOR YOU!!

y/nlver Let the GATEKEEPING begin!

@harrystyles instagram story

🔵🟢🟡liked by oliviarodrigo and 6,700 others

y/ndaily @yourusername on stage in Denmark opening for Harry!

view comments

harrysfan01 She was so nervous 🥺

y/ndogmom The cutest ever!

yourusername It was such an honor getting to play somewhere in front of so many people! Ah my heart might burst! 💞

y/nthebottom NOT TO ALARM ANYONE BUT SHE SAW THE POST. AND COMMENTED!!

🔵🟡🟢 liked by harrystyles and 542,000 others

yourusername Just opened for Harry Styles. No biggie.

view comments

harrystyles ❤️

oliviarodrigo Stage presence is THERE.

paulithepsm Always the pleasure to have you backstage with us!

| yourusername I love you more than Harry fyi.

| harrystyles heeeeeeyyyyyyy.

harrysferns @yourusername please get him to sing medicine tomorrow!

| yourusername 🫡😊

🟢🟡🔵liked by harrysferns and 75,000 others

HSdaily Harry sang medicine tonight in Denmark! “This next song was per request of the lovely opener tonight, Miss y/n y/l/n. I wasn’t going to play it but she can be very annoying.”-Harry on singing medicine tonight!

view comments

harrysferns THANK YOU @yourusername

|yourusername MY PLEASURE

mermaidrry when 😭 will 😭 it 😭 be 😭 my 😭 turn.

rocklandhoe everyone say thank you to y/n for being so annoying!

nyoh annoying 😭🙏

|yourusername I think he meant to say persuasive!

|harrystyles absolutely not.

|harrysferns HELLO????

🟡🟢🔵 liked by adele and 203,000 others

yourusername Just me, myself, and my tiny tour piano that @harrystyles broke.

view comments

nyoh funniest night of my life.

oliviarodrigo NOT THE PIANO.

|yourusername THATS WHAT I SAID.

|conangray COULD HE NOT SPARE THE PIANO???

|yourusername NO.

minorlyobsessedwithyn what is happening.

harrystyles I said sorry 🤷‍♂️

|yourusername sorry won’t fix my piano.

harrysfineline I love this leg of tour.

🔵🟢🟡liked by yourusername and 103,000 others

HSdaily As of yesterday @yourusername announced her early departure from the LOT opening line up. She will preform eight more of her original sixteen shows left.

view comments

harrysferns WHATTT?! Did something happen?

oliviasourfan oh no! Was there a rift between her and Harry? It seemed so good between them!

minorlystuckonyn NOOOO.

harrysfineline Do we think it was because of the piano?

|HSdaily could be, but probably not.

|liked by yourusername

yourusername Thank You so much for the concern! I am not leaving the opener position for LOT due to any kind of issue or rift between me or any band members.(yes, including Harry.) Unfortunately there was a scheduling error on both of our teams parts where my projects will overlap with the tour. Those projects require me to be at home in the US, unfortunately so I will have to say an early goodbye. Still going to make these next few shows the best I can though! Love the LOT band! 😊💞

|liked by harrystyles

[loudblonde]

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Male!Reader Mafia AU (Chapter 15)

SummarySimon and (Y/N) get close before getting some unfortunate news

Warnings: Oral sex, mentioning of boundaries and people not respecting boundaries.

Author note:

Heyoooooo, it has been a while, things have honestly been mundane here, I just started school and bought Baldurs gate 3 which I have already gotten almost 400 hours in it since august, so sorry for not really posting but I kinda forgot midst school and gaming. I was stuck on where to take this story for a good few weeks, again so sorry. I cant in any way promise consistancy but I will try and post more often.

Thank you so much to the folk who were concerned and all your kind comments that you have left, it truly truly makes my day so much better whenever I read any comment you post.

Word count 1.9K

Ghost awoke feeling the spot in bed cold. He sighed, this was by far a too-common occurrence over these last 4 days, they would be leaving soon. (Y/N) would have Simon fully at his mercy again. Ghost knew he had to fight against it, and so did Simon, yet neither of him wanted to, no matter how much Ghost screamed and yelled that (Y/N) Price was nothing more than a slippery snake with venom-coated fangs, neither Simon nor Ghost was particularly eager to displease this new owner. 

John Price himself had been strict but Simon always knew there was some part of him that regretted what had happened that night, it didn’t take a fool to see just how much he was being shown that he really shouldn’t be shown or seen, even for the bodyguard of John Price. 

Simon opened his eyes as (Y/N) entered the bedroom, he sat up slightly, propped up on only his arms, his back ached from this position, but he wasn’t going to sit up further. “Did we get the go-ahead?” Simon asked, his voice deep and groggy, betraying any calmness he may have hoped to not show. 

(Y/N) slipped into bed, Simon found himself lying down with his head on (Y/N)’s chest, he was far too comfortable in this position, far too exposed but that didn’t matter, this was… well he couldn’t call it safe, but it was nice. 

“Hmm, we leave in the morning, I said goodbye to Arthur, he leaves on a small trip towards the store to stock up on bulk buys. He won’t be there in the morning.” (Y/N) said with a slight sigh. 

“You sound almost sad at that, love,” Simon said.

“He is an old friend. He is my Soap.” (Y/N) said and Simon fully understood that, a bond he couldn’t explain to no other. Not romantic despite desperately trying it. He hoped (Y/N) wouldn’t be another Soap. “I am happy to see him and sad to leave, but we both know we won’t see each other much if at all after this.” (Y/N) said, disappointed. “Maybe at the opposite ends of a gun.” 

“You think he will kill you?” Ghost asked. 

“If he gets paid a lot, maybe, I won’t fault him for that. It’s the business.” (Y/N) said with a slight shrug. He absentmindedly ran a hand through Simon’s hair. “Your hair is getting long, I like it.” 

Simon leaned into his touch, slowly getting lulled to sleep by it. When he awoke again, (Y/N) was sleeping as well. Simon closed his eyes and felt sleep embrace him for a few moments before (Y/N) woke him up.  

Getting back onto the road meant one thing, medical attention. (Y/N) took over as driver and drove up towards northern Europe, (Y/N) took backroads and at times they slept in the car or in shitty cheap cash-only hotels, whatever the route was, they were not hurrying for time. It was almost a week later of this, when they finally arrived in their Swedish cabin, having almost completely blown past Denmark on the way up, only stopping a few moments for his wrist to be checked and taken care of. Simon looked to where (Y/N) was making a fire and yearned for them to get away from this life of running, but they were finally here, fully just alone and for once, without anything or anyone to worry about, a mutually distant place in a mutually distant country. 

The cabin was small and comfortable, though without running water or electronics, they had a generator for their phones and a small camping stow, all they would ever need. Simon laid his head down on the pillow of the queen-sized bed, it was tugged in the corner of the small cabin, only one room, perfect for laying low. 

(Y/N) glanced at him and smiled. Simon sat up as the other walked over, his arms found a way around his waist as he pulled him in. Simon kissed his stomach before looking up at him. “You haven't pushed yourself onto me,” Simon said softly. 

“Why would I?” (Y/N) asked. “You are a person, no one deserves that and if I must cum, well I have a perfectly fine hand that can get me off.” 

Simon chuckled at that, a small smile on his face. “You are making me more confident by the hour, that's a dangerous thing.” 

This time it was (Y/N)’s turn to chuckle. He placed his arms around Simon’s shoulders. “Yeah?” 

“Mhm, once I realise I am a handsome bastard then there is no stopping me,” Simon said. 

“Well, that just means that my Simon will be the fiercest and most dangerous man around.” (Y/N) leaned down and kissed him passionately.

Simon groaned against the kiss. “You want me to be that? To be confident and not just another thing like that König you fucked?” He asked before standing up, his arms still wrapped firmly around (Y/N). 

“Aye, I do. I love a man who knows what he wants and who isn’t afraid to either ask for it or take it.” (Y/N) said with a smirk. 

“My hand is still busted,” Simon said before backing (Y/N) up against the wall, (Y/N)’s back hit it roughly before their lips met. 

(Y/N) groaned lightly but returned the kiss, he didn’t fight this display of confidence that Simon was showing, despite (Y/N) being a power top, this confidence was very attractive and very different from what he had seen so far from Simon. 

Their kiss lasted a while as they let hands roam and map each other's bodies, both seeking comfort in the movements. 

(Y/N) pulled away and bit his lip before looking at Simon. “How far?” 

Simon hesitated before walking over and sitting on the bed, he spread his legs. “I don’t feel comfortable with penetration….” 

(Y/N) walked over and hummed. “Oral?” He knelt down, gently rubbing Simon’s legs. “You on the receiving end.” 

“If I say stop at any point, will you stop?” The confidence washed away to vulnerability. 

(Y/N)’s smile softened. “Of course, Si, if you ever get uncomfortable, even with kissing, tell me and I will stop. Even just holding your hand or touching you in any manner.” 

Simon smiled at that and nodded. “Okay, let's try.” 

(Y/N) reached up and cupped his cheeks before kissing him, his eyes fluttering close as he felt Simon respond to the kiss. He felt him kiss back, their lips parting easily, (Y/N)’s tongue explored Simon’s mouth, Simon didn’t fight against it, his trust in (Y/N) was unwavering. 

(Y/N) pulled away only to kiss down Simon’s neck, leaving behind faint hickeys. They pulled apart for just long enough to discard the shirt and remove the belt. (Y/N) looked up at Simon as he palmed his growing erection, there were no signs of hesitance so far. “You are doing so well for me.” (Y/N) praised, his head tilting slightly before he undid the pants button. With some combined effort they managed to pull the pants and underwear down to Simon’s ankles. (Y/N) situated himself better before grabbing some lube from the bag next to the bed. He coated his hand before giving Simon’s cock a few strokes, getting it erect.

(Y/N) wasted no time before wrapping his lips around the head, he hollowed his cheeks out before slowly going all the way down, his tongue working expertly to hit all the right spots. Simon felt the wet warmth of (Y/N)’s mouth and moaned, his body was growing hotter by the second.

(Y/N) didn’t hold back, he bottomed out expertly, his nose hit Simon’s pubes, causing Simon to moan even louder, he was suddenly glad they were miles away from anyone or anything. 

As (Y/N) moved up and down his tongue massaged every pleasurable part. He removed a hand from Simon’s thigh to fondle his balls, causing Simon to moan even louder. 

Simon was in the clouds, no one had ever just focused on his pleasure, he placed a hand in (Y/N)’s hair, though he didn’t push down in any manner, the pleasure was too good, he was lost, no matter what he wanted to say it never came out. 

Simon felt a familiar knot form in his stomach. He moaned even louder as he struggled to find his words to warn (Y/N).

(Y/N) saw him and hummed in satisfaction, ignoring his own throbbing cock. Simon groaned at that, causing (Y/N) to feel pride in his own ability to please Simon. 

Simon didn’t hold out much longer, the vibrations, the warmth and the way (Y/N)’s tongue moved was pure bliss, he tapped (Y/N)’s head moments before he came. Simon’s salty hot cum sprayed down (Y/N)’s throat, which (Y/N) drank down without a problem. He pulled away and kissed Simon. “You did so well, I am so proud of you.” 

Simon barely registered the words, he was still riding the high from cumming. “You are amazing.” He chuckled cum drunk. 

(Y/N) chuckled and stood up, he helped Simon get dressed again before laying down with him. “Are you feeling less stressed?” 

Simon nodded. “Yes, thank you and thank you for not doing anything I didn’t want.” 

“Si, I would never, I may be an assassin, but I am not a monster.” (Y/N) said.

Simon chuckled and leaned his forehead against his. “You are painfully hard against my thigh, may I?” Simon asked. 

(Y/N) hummed. “Sure, if you want.” 

“I would love nothing more~,” Simon said.

—

The first few days of the cabin were quiet, almost exactly like their initial cabin but this time more intimate, neither man initiated anything sexual beyond those initial blow jobs, they were content with each other's company, and they needed nothing more. At least not for now. They had each other. 

(Y/N) awoke to find his phone blaring the British national anthem. He rolled over, ignoring the way Simon groaned before picking up the phone. He hummed as sleep still had a hold on him. “(Y/N).” 

‘Hey boy, we have this mess cleared up faster than we intended.’ His father's voice would normally have been a welcomed tone, yet it was like ice filled his veins. ‘Are you able to fly home as soon as possible?’ 

His mouth felt impossibly dry. “Yeah, no yeah, that’s good, I will see about booking some tickets home, we shouldn’t have any problems.” He said. 

‘Good, we need to get you up to speed on everything.” Price said before hanging up, undoubtedly very busy despite it being ass o’clock in the morning. Simon wrapped his arms around (Y/N). “Hey?” 

“We have to go home.” 

“Oh.” 

(Y/N) laid down and wrapped his arms around Simon. “I don’t know the situation or how open we can be.” (Y/N) said before placing a hand on Simon’s cheek, his thumb brushed across the scars. 

“No matter what happens, my loyalty is to you,” Simon said, fully just closing his eyes. He had thought there was no other choice but Price, that he wasn’t worthy of living unless he served Price and attempted to work off his debt, yet (Y/N) had branded Simon as his own with the necklace and had shown him more kindness then he had ever experienced before, no matter how much Simon knew that in the end he was simply being used, he was still going to worship the ground (Y/N) walked on, he would burn the world for (Y/N) if asked, fully loyal like a dog to its master. 

(Y/N) smiled at that, he kissed Simon’s forehead. “And I will do anything in my power to protect you, Si. I won’t let my father hurt you.” 

“I love you too,” Simon said softly. 

“Now, let's get some breakfast and catch a plane.” (Y/N) chuckled. “We can handle whatever England throws at us, no matter what, we have survived everything so far, eh?”

Simon chuckled. “Yes, yes we can.” 

Tag list

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