#google translate please entertain me

[wosowritinnnggs11]

SMUT! 18+ MDNI

Ona x Reader ... Alexia x Reader

WARNING: Cheating, lying, lots of unfaithfulness, alcohol consumption, ALL PURELY FICTIONAL!, potentially shitty google translated spanish

Summary: Your relationship with Ona gets messy when you see her team-mate and more importantly your ex for the first time in 2 years. With no closure, pent-up frustration and a night of stolen glances, is your toxic relationship with Barca's captain really all in the past?

Tags: Exes, fingering, semi-public, mirror sex, bathroom sex, Top!Alexia x Bottom!Reader, possessiveness, begging, light degradation

You stared, dazed, at your disheveled reflection in the mirror. Cheeks still flushed, fucked out hair, puffed up lips and lustful eyes that gave it all away. With everything that had just transpired within these bathroom walls, betrayal and infidelity might as well be plastered on your forehead and oh my god if you were to walk out like this-

Fuck! Your legs were on the brink of giving out, knees trembling and doing little to support your current state. You hissed silently under your breath, gnawing at your bottom lip, your eyes closing as you silently rode the aftershocks of intoxicating pleasure that had you clawing at the sink minutes earlier. You stared at yourself again, her lingering touch still tormenting your being.

Ona would know. Everyone would know. This would be the death of you as you knew it... and that cocky little bitch would revel in it. Despite knowing damn well that she caused this, conquering you entirely and shamelessly in a tiny ass public restroom. She'd do more than relish in the idea of how easily your body complied and eagerly answered her touch. In fact. She wouldn't let you hear the end of it. 

A smile crept on your lips at the thought and you had half a mind to hit your head against the sink for it.

"Fucking Putellas..." the words nearly a chuckle from your mouth.

You tried your best to compose yourself, letting the water run from the faucet as you focused on the cold sensation trickling down your hands. Just breathe. You could do this. You'd touch up your make up, comb out your hair, fix up this dress and don on your underwe-...Where the fuck...??? You tore yourself away from the sink, adrenaline coursing through your veins. The floor? No. The sink? No. Behind the door? No. The sudden realization sent your searches to a halt, launching at your bag and rummaging through it to find your phone. 

Y/N: [ARE U SERIOUS!!??] - sent Do Not Answer- A. Putellas.:  [Quien es este?] Y/N: [Alexia- I am not kidding. Bring them back! NOW!!] - sent

The text bubbles appeared, then ... nothing. She was mocking you. 

Y/N: [NOW!!]  Y/N: [please!] Do Not Answer- A. Putellas.:  [Me encanta cuando suplicas ;)]

"No." Turning off your phone, you turned back to confront yourself in the mirror. "Do not go there. Do not give in." 

"Act unaffected. That's all you have to do."  you demanded, gaze fixated on your now slightly more presentable appearance. And as your subconscious triggered a replay of what had just happened, you bit down on your tongue hard enough to not let out a moan from the mere thought.

*** hours earlier...

The venue was littered with an array of Barcelona girls drowning in red and blue lighting as obnoxiously loud music and decor filtered into all areas of the room. Bodies pressed up against bodies, and even with drink in hand, you were barely drunk enough to find any of this remotely exciting. Entertaining that thought, you took another drawn out sip of your 3rd? 4th? Glass of champagne before tuning back into reality. No, the only thing keeping you sane was her. The way her smile reached to her eyes and the warmth of her giggle as she chatted with her teammates, fingers entwined in your own. You’d be lying if you said she wasn't the only reason you had even come tonight. As Ona's girlfriend of 2 years, she had invited you as her plus one to Barcelona's night out after winning the Champions League. Usually, you would find a way to make yourself conveniently unavailable.

The reason for that awful truth now met your eyes across the room. Alexia. You took your time in dissecting her appearance, having not laid eyes on her for years. At least in person. Her outfit consisted of a soft white silk top, covered by a dark suit jacket and paired with a matching set of black formal pants that accentuated her height, the shirt exposing just enough to highlight her toned figure. One thing about Alexia was that she knew how to dress and clearly tonight was no exception. 

Much like you, she was stood beside some other barca girls. You could make out some familiar faces from the years past when your presence was frequent at these kinds of things. Seemingly becoming distracted from the conversation, Alexia's gaze was trained on yours, her cool eyes lingering for a second longer than necessary. They contained a hint of something unrecognizable. She seemed...almost sorry. Guilty? Remorseful? Nostalgic? Whatever it was, your psycho-analyzations got cut short, Alexia offering nothing but a simple head nod of acknowledgement before returning to her conversation. You let your mind drift to a place you hadn’t been or rather let yourself go to in the longest time. Your relationship. Your past. Your relationship of 2 years was a while and whilst you had started dating Ona shortly after her, so much of your situation with the Barcelona captain was...unresolved. All-consuming. Honestly, that was part of the appeal but it became unsustainable. So you went no contact after the split. 

Which…was now difficult that Barcelona had won. Not only was this a feat in women's soccer itself but it was also Ona's first big trophy win with her childhood club, so you knew being here and supporting her achievements meant a lot. Champagne in the opposite hand, you slipped your arm around Ona's waist, pulling her in closer as you two made conversation with her fellow defenders. Her skin was soft under your hand and though you shot a smile in her direction, her attentions were fully drawn to her teammates. Even then, you couldn't help but focus on how familiar all of this felt. How weird it was to see all these people again. The same festivities. The same alcohol. Only a new girl to draw you back to the present. Soft skin under your palm rather than a firm hand against yours. A long dress instead of a shirtless jacket. Maybe it was something in your drink that made you reminiscent, drawing your eyes across to her once more.

Her eyes were quicker, already laid upon you and you could feel as your heart raced at the gesture. Alexia's gaze was now somewhat darkened by the blaring lights in the room as she sat on a lounge, legs slightly spread apart and posture relaxed as an... extremely beautiful redhead you did not recognise sat in her lap, leaning against her chest. Shit. Reluctantly, you watched as her eyes drifted away from yours, her mouth coming closer to the redhead's ear, whispering something so abundantly hilarious, it sent the other woman's head flying back with laughter. A shiver ran down your spine at the familiar memory of those lips ghosting over your skin. In an attempt to flush away the sickly feeling in your stomach, you took another sip of champagne, ruminating in the burn as it travelled down your throat.

Jealousy? No. No this wasn't jealousy. It just kind of stinged to watch your ex so close to an attractive woman, that was all. Especially when this shit was happening directly in front of you. In fact, you were glad. Relieved even. This was just her round about way of showing you that she's moved on and, hey, at least it eased the awkward tension in the room. Even then, you watched as her eyes travelled down to where your hand met Ona, biting down on the inside of her cheek until they caught yours again. At that, she quickly dropped her gaze to the floor before taking another drawn-out sip of her drink, quick to replace the empty glass in her hand with another. You tried to return your attention to the people in front of you, brushing it off as a mere slip-up and attempting to ignore the way every nerve in your body was set alight at mere seconds of her observations.

By the end of the first hour, you caught sight of her again, leant up on the wall across the room, arms crossed over her chest and a full glass in hand, this time, with no redhead in sight. Your eyes searched the floor when you saw the other woman now talking to another Barcelona girl, getting awfully cozy. Alexia on the other hand was less than comfortable, evident in her tense shoulders and the way her tongue rested against her cheek. You laughed to yourself, recognising her obviously foul, drunk mood. Fucking classic. The second "la reina" didn't get her way, she acted exactly like a child throwing a fit. That thirst for control quite obviously made her a great captain but on the other hand a shit partner. 

You tried your best to suppress the sense of smugness growing inside you , glad you were no longer the one dealing with any of it. Without realizing, you turned your head to Ona, still sat beside you. Nuzzling into the warmth of her neck, you stared up at her dotingly, ultimately relieved you were with someone who actually cared. Catching her attention, the defender turned her head towards you.

"Hey, you feeling okay? Wanna go home early?" her words were barely more than a whisper.

In response, you simply shook your head, not moving from the familiarity of her embrace. A warm grin was all she offered before placing a soft kiss on your forehead and unbeknownst to either of you, sparking a full - fledged war across the room.

As the night carried on, Alexia's lingering looks became longer. More careless, turning almost predatory. Initially you mistook the unfamiliarity in her eyes for anger but as she found you again, gaze steady, darkened and with no sign of shying away, you could not deny how painfully obvious that look was. That look was your entire history. Alexia had always released her frustration on her partners. Never abusively of course but instead through hours of endless domination. Relentlessness. Pushing you to the edge over and over until you broke. Making you beg for release. Doing anything and everything possible to get her back in that position of power. You knew it all too well. Suddenly the urge to hit yourself with a pound of bricks became increasingly apparent as you noticed how wet you were getting, the memories playing back in your mind. What the fuck was wrong with you. 

Ona was right beside you. That fact in itself spoke volumes as you tried to think of the last time you had focused on anything other than Alexia this whole night, a burning shame entering your face, gladly concealed by the dim lighting. You and Alexia were long done. No, she had a girlfriend, a partner, someone. Whoever that redhead was to her. This wasn't and this couldn't be directed towards you. 

And so you tried. You tried so hard to focus on anything else, digging your nails into the palm of your hands to try calm the thrumming ache growing inside your body. But her presence was fucking magnetic. You could tell the alcohol was getting to her by the way her eyes dragged down your body, a slight smirk playing at the corner of her mouth as she bit her lower lip softly. They became mixed with something deeper. A need. An almost instinctual desire. And you could tell the alcohol was getting to you by how you kept meeting her looks. And how your body responded to her scrutiny, the ache in your core increasing by the second. You hated how you had to forcibly tear your eyes away. You could tell she was enjoying this, making you flustered. Frustrated. Squirming from mere eye contact. Like a pawn underneath her stupid fucking finger as your thread of honour broke by the second. 

You needed to look away and more importantly you needed this to stop. But as your inhibitions became hazier and that feeling... Those eyes on you, waiting patiently.

Don't. Don't. Don't. Please don't. No. Don't. 

Against all rationale and self restraint, for a millisecond, you locked eyes over your shoulder. Tilting her head, she simply offered a flash of teeth in response before turning away from you. You could have swore the room actually slowed as she rolled her shoulders and slid the jacket down her spine to reveal her back. You analyzed her tensing muscles. The tattoos that littered her skin. Fuck. Her back her back her back her back her back her back. You could barely form a sentence let alone a thought. If you hadn't been together for so long, she may have been able to feign innocence but you knew. She did this on purpose. Your mind replayed that image, seconds turning into minutes as her muscles tensed and flexed with every small movement of her arm, her soft hair falling so perfectly along her skin. What you'd to do be underneath all of that again. Turning back around, she looked at you over her shoulder with a shit eating grin and a small wink.

No. ha. No, fuck this. You shot up from your seat, excusing yourself to the bathroom as casually as you could muster and basically sprinting to the door. Every last part of you felt like it was on fire. Anger? Guilt? Frustration? Horniness? Beats you. As you looked up, Alexia was already on her feet, practically pacing across the room. Whatever remorse was present in her eyes moments ago had burned. Fuck everyone else in that room, to her? You might as well be cornered prey. Palms on the door handle you slammed open the bathroom, turning to shut it when...

"No." you uttered. Alexia towered over you in the door frame, hands blockading you from exiting as she slowly walked in and shut the door behind you both. Locking it. That same fucking smirk still on her lips. 

"Alexia. I am not playing along with whatever game you think this is." You were practically shaking from all the adrenaline coursing through your veins.

"Calmate. I'm just here to wash my hands." Taken aback by the ease of her voice, you stood away as she leant over the sink, back on full show. You tried to stop yourself but as your gaze scanned over her physique, you felt another rush of heat to your core. You saw as Alexia bit down the smile threatening to rise, catching your eye in the mirror. God, she was so hot infuriating when she got cocky.

"So, Ona huh?" She questioned, still looking down into the sink basin. The sudden mention of your girlfriend's name formed a pit in your stomach which you tried your best to calm.

You scoffed slightly, attempting to mask the sweat forming along your hands. "Like you care. Seemed pretty comfortable with that redhead all up on you."

She looked up at you in the mirror reflection, eyebrow raised in challenge.  "You wish you were instead?" Your breath stopped. Why did it feel so wrong to say no.

"I'm joking." She looked back down and you felt your heart drop. Why did it drop? You watched intently as she turned off the tap and shook her hands dry, placing them against the edge of the sink. You watched the way her shoulders flexed, supporting her weight, her stature built to a tee. 

"You always have been a social climber though." Her words came out as a slight chuckle, an almost amused expression playing out on her face in the mirror. 

"What the fuck is that meant to mean." The forcefulness of your words surprised even you.

"You know, someone who has a reputation for trying to score whoever will get you the most attention."

"I know the definition of the word Alexia. Why are you doing this? What's with the sudden attention to my personal life." You kept looking at her in the mirror in an attempts to force her gaze back to yours but she didn't budge. God, you felt pathetic standing here, just admiring her stupid muscular build.

"Just expected you to be with someone a little less...soft. Can't really see a girl like her spitting in your mouth." The corners of her lips lifted, attempting to set you off in any way possible. 

"Shut up." 

Noticing your riled up reaction, she pressed harder. "No, no, I get it. You always had a thing for taller girls who... oh wait."

"Alexia-"

Her voice became slightly aggressive, a mocking tone now present in her words. "Sorry, you are actually with her cause she's so sweet right? Is that why your eyes have been on me the whole night instead of her."

You grabbed her arm steadily, turning her against the counter. 

"Shut the fuck up." Your words contained a hint of a smile, becoming muffled as you pulled her face down to yours, pressing your lips together in a heated kiss. You moved your lips softly against hers, feeling 2 years of tension in your body slowly melt away.

She teared away from you almost immediately, staring at you with furrowed brows. "What the fuck are you doing? I'm with someone." Her words sent a rush of heat to your cheeks, caught on how to even respond as you looked at her alarmed gaze. You were a mixture of mortified, confused and shocked at what the fuck you just pulled. More than that, you were still craving another taste of her.

"Shit. Fuck. Sorry I-"

A smug grin flashed across her face before she spoke again. "I'm kidding, I just love seeing you flustered."

At that she grabbed a fistful of your hair, causing you to let out a moan against her mouth as she pushed you roughly up against the tiled wall, deepening the kiss. Her strength was nothing if not attractive, her frame towering over you and keeping you cornered as she explored your mouth. Nothing about her was slow or careful. She threw caution to the wind, biting down on your bottom lip before forcing her tongue inside to brush against your own, making you whimper as her hand remained tight in your hair, forcing your neck back. You could taste the remainder of alcohol on her lips and it was intoxicating, her mouth savoring every part of you and leaving you breathless. She tasted so Hot. Sweet. Perfect. You dragged your hands across her broad shoulders before sliding them up to her neck, attempting to reel her in even closer. You felt her smile against your mouth at your desperation, clearly enjoying the way you so easily submitted to her. And you gladly did. You let her hold you like you were hers and hers only. You let her force her hips into yours, pinning you in place as she worked your mouth. You let her hands roam freely along your body, setting your skin on fire as she found your waist and settled against your ass, firmly gripping it in her hands. You tried to get a breath in but every attempt was only met with more intensity from Alexia, sliding her tongue against yours with a hunger that lingered along every inch of your body.

Finally pulling away to catch her breath, Alexia's eyes raced between your own and back to your lips, chest rising and falling. Tightening her grip in your hair, she angled your chin up further, allowing her to gain full access to your neck. Using her other hand to steady herself against the wall, she slowly lowered her head down, breath hot against your skin. Instead of saying anything she placed her lips against your neck, sending a wave of electricity through you as she began mixing the softness of her lips with the harsh marks she left on you, blurring the lines between pain and pleasure. If tonight was any evidence, she was extremely territorial over what was hers, making sure to sink her teeth just enough to leave a bruise, the sharp spike of pain making you softly whimper, your hand still keeping her head steady against you. She moved her hands along your waist, trailing upwards to your ribs and coming back down, soaking in the feeling of you so helpless against her. Her touch was so familiar. The perfect mix of rough and right which left you only wanting more and nothing else. No one else. That thought caused your throat to dry. You swallowed before speaking through labored breaths, Alexias lips unrelenting from your skin. 

"We shouldn't be doing this... we can't." The words didn't come out of you easily, everything about her was so...excruciatingly addicting. The way she tasted. The way she knew your body like the back of her hand. The way she looked up at you then.

"Yeah?" She spoke lowly against you. You felt another smile spread across her face as she ran her hands further down your thighs, before dragging her fingertips ever so slowly up the inside of your legs. You were definitely shaking. You felt every breath and inflection on your skin as she spoke again "Tell me to stop." Your head tilted back against the wall, head spinning and lips unable to even move. "Alexia-" is all you managed to breathe out.

"Hm?", she moved up to your jaw this time, her kisses more careless and passionate as she dragged her fingertips up more. Higher. Higher. Higher- You let out a pathetically loud whimper that you could tell she was more than satisfied with, evident in the small laugh she let out. Every slight touch of her fingers left your body annoyingly sensitive, the longing in your cunt only growing. Teasingly, she stopped right before the edge of your underwear, caressing your skin and moving her head to look at you as she waited for your response. "Tell. Me. To. Stop."

"No, Don't..." Your words were more of a sigh than anything else.

She lifted an eyebrow at you, moving her fingertips back down your thigh. You didn't even need her to speak to know what it meant. She wanted you to work for it. Beg to have her fingers inside you. 

"Please...fuck...Don't Stop." Your words were breathy but you didn't care anymore. You were practically dripping and you needed her fingers, mouth, fucking anything to feel release. 

"Good." She smirked again before guiding her fingers over your underwear that barely kept you decent, feeling as you soaked through the fabric. 

"Fuck, you are drenched. This wet over a quick make out?" 

"I've been like this the whole night." You met her eyes as you said that, staring up at her shamelessly. 

She let out a soft groan at your words before running her hands underneath your underwear, feeling your warmth against her fingers. She looked back up at you, watching as your breathing became shallow, eyes closed and eyebrows scrunched together, before continuing to focus on her hands. She collected the wetness from your entrance before guiding her fingers back to trace painfully slow circles over your clit, alternating her pattern frequently enough to not give you any proper stimulation. Your breath and desperation only increased. 

She leant into you again, biting down against your ear lobe, eliciting another whine. Her voice was low as she spoke. "It's been so long... you might have to remind you how you like to take it." Her fingers began to gradually circle faster around your clit, pressing down with just enough pressure to make your head spin. "Was it like this?" In response you could only move your hips down against her, attempting to increase the friction by any means possible. Noticing your actions, she simply pulled her hand away, causing you to let out a soft cry.

"Or... was it like this?" She rubbed a finger through your slick folds before pushing inside, curling it against your g-spot and slowly sliding back down your walls. The simple gesture of her fingers inside you caused your eyes to roll back in your head as you once again slumped back against the wall in frustration. 

"Fuck, Alexia. Just do something." As soon as the words left your mouth, you wished you had bit your tongue. Cautiously gazing up at her, her expression was what could only be described as amused though you were almost certain it was not sincere. She shook her head slightly in disbelief before putting on another shit eating grin. 

"So brave..." Before you could even think to say anything she unceremoniously spun you back to the sink basin, keeping your back against her chest as her hands steadied you against it. You looked back at her over your shoulder, more confused than anything else. 

"What are yo-"

She used her hand to angle your chin forcefully back to the mirror. "Shut up and grip the counter."

You did as you were told. Frankly, you were in no position to argue when you were ready to do just about anything to satisfy the building need inside you. You watched the mirror as Alexia hiked up your dress to your hips, exposing your underwear. Running her hands along your back, she moved the zipper fully down before tugging the hem of it upwards. "Off." She demanded next to your ear. You wasted no time pulling it over your head in one swoop and discarding it to the floor, a pink flush appearing in your cheeks as you remembered your decision earlier that day to not wear a bra for comfort purposes, regretting it more than anything as you watched how Alexia took her time to run her eyes up and down the length of your body in the reflection. When she caught your eye again, her smirk only grew at your flustered appearance, which if anything, only made you more flushed. Slowly she began to drag your underwear down your legs, gaze intent on watching just how wet you had gotten for her. Even the simple graze of her fingers down your legs felt like enough to make you explode. You stepped out of them awkwardly from your compromising position, feeling as the cold air hit you. 

Her veined hands wrapped around the base of your neck, thumb acting to angle your head firmly back to the mirror. "Keep your eyes on mine yeah?" Her words were paired by her thumb softly caressing your jaw though her firm grip on your neck reminded you of her true intentions. You looked at your reflection then, namely the way your hair had lost any essence of normality thanks to Alexia's forcefulness, but also at how easily you had let yourself end up in this current position. You were on full display in front of her with nothing left to spare and she hadn't done anything but remove her jacket. 

Suddenly, your scrutiny was interrupted by the feeling of her knee prying the back of your legs open as her other arm curved around the front of your stomach gliding further down. Her two fingertips ran against your folds, going lower to toy you with your entrance. Your hands gripped the counter tighter as you struggled to keep your eyes from folding over in pure bliss. You felt as your arousal pooled along her fingers.

"Don't get that shit on me." She met your eyes in the mirror as she warned and you knew better than to question her. 

You could barely ruminate in the feeling before she slipped both digits in, causing your mouth to fall agape, eyes fixated on her as you let out a tortured gasp. Despite how ready you were, the lack of preparation you got was enough to make you clench around her. Slowly she pulled her fingers out before pumping into you again, making sure to toy with your g spot as she curled up inside you. She knew exactly how and where you wanted her, continuing to fuck you slowly, as she hit every single angle which made you arch your back into her chest. She moved her hand from your chin to caress the curve of your shoulders and down your chest, taking your left nipple in between her fingers before pinching it, sending a spike of pain through your nerves whilst simultaneously causing a flood of heat to your core. She continued to rub you between her fingers as her other hand moved in and out of you, painstakingly steady. As she curled into you again, you arched off her, which she quickly undid, forcing her arm back to push you back further onto her. 

"Alexia-" you whimpered, the movement of her fingers filling you again and again.

"Words." She bit back, gaze darkened.

"God, you feel so good." You didn't even recognise your voice, high-pitched and filled with a desperation that was embarrassingly obvious. You tried to grind down against her in order to quicken the pace, causing her palm to press against your clit with every move and sending your head backwards as you bared your neck. 

"I know." Her voice was more breathy than before, though she tried hard to not show it. You could tell that watching you fuck yourself on nothing but her fingers was enough to stroke that massive ego of hers as well as stir a building need to ruin you. 

It was when she began to thrust in and out of you with a devastating pace that you felt all semblance of composure slip. Your hands gripped the counter tighter as your knees shook from the sensation, barely holding onto your weight. Noticing your struggle, you watched as her arms flexed in the mirror, supporting your body and keeping you pressed against her. Your eyes opened to find her own in the mirror, glancing at you, half-lidded, gaze burning with lust and control. You watched the way her hair fell across her shoulder, the way her muscles tensed as she worked her hands, the way she smiled at you when you found her eyes again. A strangled, louder moan escaped your lips, the mix of her composure and the pace of her fingers sending you into complete overdrive. 

She lent close to your ear, slowing her fingers a bit, forcing you to pay attention to her words. 

"Unless you want your little girlfriend to hear how much you love my fingers in you, be fucking quiet." You gave her a soft nod, biting your lip as you met her stare in the mirror. You couldn't help but feel your heart drop at the mention of Ona. This was so wrong. But you couldn't deny how much you wanted this. Needed this. Needed her. Just tonight. So you let yourself drown in the feeling. You let yourself slip through the cracks as she lent back and moved inside you faster. And when she slipped a 3rd finger in, the line between pain and pleasure became so hazy, you could barely keep yourself up. 

"Wait...Fuck," You tried to plead.

"Just take it." Her voice was low and demanding, using her spare hand to grip your waist. You bit down on your lip once more, trying to contain your cries. You tried your best to relax around her but against her harsh speed, it barely made a difference. A tear rolled down your cheek, vision clouding from sheer overstimulation but even then, you could feel yourself getting closer and closer, exacerbated by her palm pressing harder on your clit, circling with about the same speed. Your mouth dropped open slightly but you managed to bite your tongue, silently taking every last part of her fingers. 

She tapped your leg then with her spare hand. "Lift." You tried your best, limbs weak as you moved your knee up to the counter, feeling yourself open up even more. Using this new angle to her advantage, Alexia began moving into you harder, sending your head into a spin.

Just as she did a knock came from outside, the door knob rattling as the door started to shake in its place. Your head snapped to it, breath stilling. A few Spanish voices was all you could make out from the other side, nothing but a distant mumble. But Alexia didn’t stop. Instead, she simply kicked her leg out, slamming the door back into its locked position, her fingers refusing to cease as she spoke back. "Ocupada." The feeling of Alexia's teeth sinking into your shoulder blade sent your head flying back to the mirror as you cried out, the pain sharp, sending heat through your body. 

"Watch..." She spoke against your skin, gripping your chin in her hands, this time unwavering as you drew towards your high. "Or I stop."

You were a fucking mess. Splayed out in a borderline pornographic way, your forehead had a slight sheen of sweat, hair sticking to your scalp as your face grew more than a little lewd, pupils blown out, mouth agape and lips still swollen from before. Your moans had reduced to nothing more than incoherent mumbles of yes and fuck, her occasional, low, spanish grunts filling your ears as she watched you break. You held her eyes in the mirror as you rocked your hips against her hand, chasing your high and watching as the smirk plastered on her face only grew as you became more and more wrecked. You would call it cock-drunk but all it took was her stupid fucking hands. You could feel the pressure in your core building with every move and you weren't sure whether you could hold out for much longer. Letting out a soft keen, you dropped most of your weight to her arms. 

"I'm so fucking close" you mumbled. 

"Yeah? You wanna come?" Her gaze was still steady on yours, magnetic and dominating. 

"Mhm." 

"Ya sabes qué hacer." The smile in her words more obvious now.

"Please...I-" your words were cut short by a moan as she curled her fingers against your walls. "Fuck. Please let me come." You managed.

"Mmm who gets you this fucking wet?" Her voice was so mocking and you couldn't care less.

The answer was simple. "You."

"¿Quién sabe cómo hacerte sentir tan bien?"

"You."

"Say my name." Her words trailed off into a strangled breath.

"Alexia. Please." You whimpered.

"Again." Her tone was harsher now, her eyes closed in ecstasy as she gripped you further back onto her, listening to the way you keened her name. 

"Alexia..." You moaned slightly louder. 

"Slut." Her words contained a hint of a chuckle as she grabbed your hair into a ponytail, forcing your neck back. 

She pressed down harder and harder, moving at a destructive pace against you. You held her eyes as she curled against your g spot, searing pleasure throughout your heat and sending you over the edge. Hot, white ecstasy coursed through your body, your weight fully dependent on her arms as the throbbing in your cunt quickly turned into oversensitivity, You felt your eyes brim with tears, causing her to slow her hand and pull out of you, wiping her fingers on your thigh. 

She barely gave you a second to come down from your high, spinning you around forcefully to face her. She looked deeply into your eyes, angling your head up as she moved closer to you. Wanting nothing more than to taste her soft lips after her brutality, your eyes fluttered closed. You waited desperately. When the lack of anything on your mouth became more apparent, you opened your eyes to find her still staring down at you, inches away, smirking as she ran her fingers on your jaw. Without another word Alexia turned on her heels and exited the bathroom door, leaving you here. Alone. And completely undone. 

#woso community #woso fanfics #barcelona women #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #woso smut #woso #woso fic

[distantdarlings]

CRY TO ME // t. nott

RATING: R / 2.1K WORDS

Theodore Nott x Fem Reader Insert

+ SUMMARY - (1960s AU) (Based on this) When Theodore Nott, the best dancer at one of the top clubs in the Wizarding World, loses his dance partner, he asks you to take her place. However, he pushes you too far and you quickly become overwhelmed.

+ WARNINGS - SMUT! (PIV), unprotected sex, kissing, language, inexperienced!reader, sub!reader, dom!theo, brief mention of masturbation, small amount of angst at beginning, fem reader, bad Google translate, not fully proofread (please lmk if I missed any)

+ MUSIC (listened to while writing) -

Cry To Me - Solomon Burke

A/N: Okay so here’s that Dirty Dancing inspired idea I had. I know it’s kind of a weird mixture but I want to see what you guys think, so please lmk below!!!

- - -

“So, why? Why can’t we do the dance this way?” you demanded, pressing your hands to your hips.

“Because the performance is in two days! We’ve rehearsed it like this the whole time!” Theo shouted back, his face becoming red with anger.

You groaned in frustration, pressing your hands to your face. The sweat slipped through your fingers and down your arms. The two of you had been at it for 4 hours, practicing like your lives depended on it.

Your second to last performance of the season was approaching quickly, as was the end of summer. The two of you couldn’t come to a conclusion about what the finishing move was going to be.

You had argued back and forth for weeks trying to decide what was going to knock the rest of the performers off of their feet, and ensure the two of you would be the main entertainment for the rest of the season. Only that would pay yours and his bills.

You’d been partners since the beginning of summer, when the two of you had first met. You’d had no prior dancing experience and had been absolutely terrified to take on the challenge of dancing with Theodore Nott. One of the best dancers you’d ever seen.

The club you agreed to dance with Theo for had been threatening to drop you for another set of partners. They were better, faster, more qualified, but you’d promised Theo that you’d help him keep his job with this club.

But right now, you felt as though he was expecting too much of you. You’d promised you’d be his dancing partner for the rest of the season only to keep him his job. You didn’t agree to become one of the best young dancers on the scene. You weren’t good enough. Theo was, however. And he was expecting too much from you.

“Theo, I told you I’d help you keep your job. When your dance partner backed out, I stepped up to help you immediately. But I told you from the beginning, I’m not a professional dancer. I’m nowhere close to you or even your old dance partner. I’m just me! I’m telling you—I don’t think I can do this move!”

Angry tears had begun to cascade down your face. At the sight of your emotions, Theo seemed to pause and drop his defensive boundaries. His rage seemed to stutter.

“I didn’t—I’m sorry,” he whispered, stepping closer to you. You shook your head and turned away from him, so angry you couldn’t see straight through the tears or your fury.

“I’m sorry…I’ve pushed you too far,” he said. “How about we take a break?”

You sighed, covering your face out of embarrassment. You didn’t want to cry in front of him. You wanted to finish the damn dance and move on.

“Amore,” he whispered, his voice rattling through the air. Your breath shuddered as he reached for you once more, trying to comfort you. The tips of his fingers brushed against your arm. Somewhat awkwardly, he tried to comfort you. Yet the way he spoke, and the way he touched you, led you to want more than his comfort.

Since the two of you had started dancing together, you couldn’t ignore the obvious attraction you felt for him and the tension that often hung through the air between the two of you.

“What does that mean?” You breathed, refusing to meet his eyes.

“What?” he chuckled quietly.

“Amore,” you responded. “What does that mean?”

“It means ‘love.’” You gasped slightly at his words.

When you finally met his eyes, he grabbed your hand and pulled you toward the back of the practice studio.

Behind the studio was a small building where Theo was allowed to stay while he was performing with the club—it had been part of his contract. He led you through the door.

His room was dark and smelled slightly of tobacco smoke. He walked past the fireplace and further into the room. You could feel his fingers unfurl from yours as he cast a small incantation toward the small candelabra in the corner. it was bronzed and quite plain but the boy it illuminated was cut like David.

Theo turned and walked toward you, stopping just before your body. His softly carved fingers traced slowly up your arms. Though you wore a long-sleeved shirt, you could still feel his fingertips through the material. Shocks went down your spine.

He pressed his hand tightly against the small of your back. You recognized this position as the one that he had done while you were dancing just moments before.

Your hips melded against his as he let you fall back against the brace of his arm. Your eyes fluttered shut as you allowed the dark boy to support you with full trust. You sighed as your back craned against Theo’s arm. He dipped you once before pulling you back up. You smiled slightly, allowing your hands to place themselves on Theo’s chest.

It was endearing how Theo seemed to incorporate dance into everything. He was a dancer, that much was clear, but you weren’t. You’d never taken any classes but the way Theo moved your body within his hands made you feel as if you’d always known what to do. Like you’d always felt the rhythm that Theo kept in his body.

He pulled you as close against him as you would go. Your lips trembled as the tall boy leaned you back once again, molding his blushed lips against your neck. You weren’t sure how you felt about this, feeling this boy's touch and wanting more. If your parents knew, they'd murder you but this was your way of rebelling against them. You knew that they'd hate you but you didn't care.

"K—" you breathed out, your chest shuddering beneath the pressure of his closeness.

"What?" Theo asked, his eyes flickering up to yours, eyebrows furrowed in concern.

You looked into his eyes, wanting nothing more than to fall into them. You wanted to feel the brunette's arms wrapped around you and his cold lips on your chest. You wanted to feel the strings of his heart wrap tightly around your throat and suffocate you.

"Kiss me."

Theo exhaled shakily and, without another moment, pressed his lips to yours, holding your face in place with his gentle fingers. Within a breath, you wrapped your arms around his neck, attempting to be closer to him in any way possible.

You felt his hands fall away from your back and slip beneath the underside of your thighs. A gasp slipped from your lips as Theo lifted you off the ground and pressed your back to the wall. The feeling of the wood behind you and his soft body before you made you shudder with delight.

The boy’s lips melded perfectly with your own, allowing you to see that this is what you wanted. You didn't want to be constantly nagged at by your parents about finding a Ravenclaw man or a wealthy auror. You wanted Theo—this beautiful, Slytherin dancer.

You unwrapped your legs from his tight waist, placing your feet gently on the floor. You pushed Theo backwards and over to the lounge chair you’d seen when you first walked in. Theo fell down against it and allowed you to straddle his hips.

You pulled his lips back to yours, feeling the way the boy's chest pressed so beautifully against your own. A small moan slipped across your tongue at the taste of Theo’s lips.

He brought his fingers up to your hair, burying them within the soft strands. Your chest shuddered against his feelings.

Theo’s hands traveled down to your waist, pulling the hem of your training shirt out of the waistband of your skirt. You helped him slip it over your head.

Theo marveled at your body. Your skin was flawless beneath the white fabric, carved with the intricacies of an art form. He dragged his fingertips down your curves, reveling in the feeling of the soft flesh that blushed beneath his touch.

"You’re so beautiful," Theo whispered, his lips parted, a springtime blush painted across his cheeks and nose. His lips were a bit swollen from the pressure of yours.

Without another word, you pressed your lips back to Theo’s, allowing him to turn both of you over.

The small chair caused some issues with that but Theo quickly figured it out, getting to work on your skirt. His nimble fingers moved over the fabric like they were dancers themselves.

You watched his every movement, his chest elevating with each heavy breath. The brunette boy pressed his cold lips to your stomach.

A gasp escaped you at the sudden change in temperature. Your fingers wrapped in Theo’s hair just as he had done to yours.

Once your skirt was undone and slid down the length of your thighs, Theo slowly slid his pants down his legs. You helped him pull the firm material down and to the floor.

Though you both had waited for months to see each other, to touch each other, to love each other, you couldn’t wait another second now. It felt as though you’d miss out if you waited any longer. You were scared that Theo would slip through your fingers and you’d never feel his touch again.

“Can’t believe I waited this long,” Theo breathed against your flesh.

He kissed his way back up your chest, marveling at the roving dips and curves. Your hands which were still tucked within his hair led his head back up to yours. Your lips locked together once more with a fervor that left the both of you—inexperienced and experienced—utterly breathless.

The brunette boy's hands traveled down between the two of you, his pale fingers tracing down your abdomen. His hands slipped gently between the fabric of your undergarments and your flesh.

You moaned against Theo’s lips at the contact he was applying to the core of your body. His hands gently teased the your most sensitive areas, smirking against your lips at the sounds he elicited from you. The sound was intoxicating to him.

The only thing you’d ever felt down there was the touch of your own hands, but now you wondered how you’d ever lived without his. He touched every aspect of your body perfectly—almost like he could read your mind and knew exactly what you wanted. Perhaps he was a Legilimens.

“Theo, I need you closer,” you breathed, just as his fingers had just begun to edge your inexperienced body over in on itself.

Without saying another word, he slid his briefs down his pants and ever so gently slid himself inside of you.

The foreign stretch pushed your face to the sky. Your lips opened wide, crying out in silent bliss. His hand gently brushed your hair away from your sweating face.

“So beautiful,” he sighed. “You feel just as I’d imagined.”

The thought of him imagining you and himself like this had you teetering on the edge of pleasure.

With him inside of you, claiming you as his, you imagined him after one of your heavy, tension-filled practices. Ones where he’d brush his fingers down your body a little slower, a little longer, a little softer than he had the last time…or ones where he’d let his breath fan across your neck when he was standing behind you…or ones where you’d touched yourself after the fact to relieve even half of the tension he forced into your body.

And with one final thrust against you, you came breathlessly over Theo, with him very close behind.

At the tightening of your muscles, he gripped the cushion above your head and released into you, pressing love and warmth into you over and over again. You clutched at his bare skin, begging for purchase on anything as he rode out his high into you, assaulting what little strength you had left.

You could barely see anything—not his gorgeous face above you screwed together in pleasure, not the metal ceiling of the building overhead, and not the black beginning to cloud at the edges of your vision.

“S-stop,” you barely muttered out.

Within a millisecond, he completely stopped his movements. His high had passed and so had yours.

“I’m sorry, tesoro,” Theo breathed, checking to make sure you were okay and desperately kissing your fingers. “I didn’t mean to push you too hard.”

“It seems you have a bit of knack for that, hmm?” you whispered, giggling just a bit.

As he realized you were joking, he relaxed just a bit, returning your lazy smile.

Theo was a hard man to keep up with, whether it was dancing, fucking, or just living, and you realized that. But for whatever reason, his intensity only exhilarated you, no matter if it left you in the dust sometimes.

“I will slow down for you, bella,” he spoke softly. “Resterò qui. I will stay here with you, my love. For as long as it takes…”

- - -

Tag List: @lilymurphy03 , @mypolicemanharryyy , @clairesjointshurt , @bunbunbl0gs , @acornacreacure, @niktwazny303 , @thestarlithideout , @sarahskakskskskajakwwnwjw , @yhiiil, @ravenclawprincess33, @xxrougefangxx , @thatblackthorn, @robinyx , @starsval , @jolly4holly , @blvebanisters , @chgrch, @abaker74

#fanfiction #creative writing #fanfic #writing #reader insert #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #oneshot #slytherin #harry potter smut #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott smut #theodore nott #theo nott #1960s

[monzabee]

how you get the girl – cl16

masterlist

Summary: The one where you and your boyfriend Charles attend a gala for a friend and run into Harry Styles – who happens to be your ex. 

Pairing: charles leclerc x reader

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: mentions of a past break-up, jealousy, possessive charles, angst? (only if you squint, or maybe not I don’t know), charles being charles, google translate French, anger?

Request: “Can I request a Charles fanfic with angst? Maybe famous singer reader used to date someone really famous like Harry styles and they run into Harry and Charles is really jealous and acting up/mad?”

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! this is my first time writing a fic, so all feedback is welcome and appreciated. i liked the idea that the anon named harry so i used him, but also i had to include taylor swift some way because she is the literal best. thank you anon for the request, i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

“You don’t have to do this, you know.” You sigh, fixing the way the neckline of your dress looks and meeting the eyes of your boyfriend through the mirror. “I know you’d rather be relaxing tonight than entertaining people.” 

Charles smiles softly as he keeps his eyes focused on yours, the green in his eyes shining just a little bit brighter due to the afternoon sun shining through the hotel room window. He abandons his place on the edge of the bed and comes closer to stand behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist. “Are you trying to convince me to stay back, or convince yourself, chérie?”

His question brings a mischievous smile on your lips and you shrug your shoulders with faux innocence as you lean your head back on the Monegasque’s shoulder. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, chéri.” Your use of the pet name he taught you when the two of you first went on a date makes him let out a laugh – well, you don’t know if it is because of your use or your pronunciation or your use of the word in general, but you’re hoping for the latter. 

“Well, I think you are.” He takes your hand in his and slowly moves you from your place in front of the mirror. “And it’s not going to work, because you—”

“Promised Helen we’d be there. I know, I know.” You huff, shaking out of his grasp and fixing his bowtie with a small frown on your face as you mumble, “I thought you F1 drivers would be into breaking the rules, but no, I had to find the only decent one.” 

Charles chuckles as he places his hands back onto your waist as you continue your mission with a relentless sense of seriousness. “Aw, you think I’m decent?” 

An urgency to smile snakes up onto your lips because of his question but you try to refrain yourself from doing so by twisting your lip, “Shut up, Charles.” 

“I think you’re decent as well,” he takes a moment to think with an exaggerated expression, “pretty, too.” 

You smile at your handiwork as you pat his bowtie twice and place your hands on the sides of your hips. “Is this your way of saying I look nice?”

He shakes his head and starts walking you towards the door, picking up your coat and bag, and ignoring your protests along the way. “But, yes of course. However, we need to go right now if you don’t want to make Helen angry at you for being late.” 

“At me?” You ask, confused. 

Charles laughs. “Well, yes, chérie. She loves me too much to get mad at me. You’ll have fun once we go inside.” 

By the time the two of you arrive at the gala, Charles has managed to uplift your mood (mostly by promising you pizza and sweets after the two of your leave the event). When you get to Royal Albert Hall, Helen welcomes you with a big smile and open arms. The three of you decide to grab drinks together at the bar and talk about the event, your latest recording deal, Charles’ upcoming season, and Helen’s new client who is a “twat-waffle in skinny jeans, but don’t worry about me, honey, I’ve seen worse.” She leaves the two of you to welcome newcomers, who are probably looking at her to congratulate her on the event. You place your glass on the bar and turn to face Charles, who is looking at you with a small smirk on his face. 

You sigh exaggeratedly and tilt your head to the side. “Fine, you were right, this is fun.” 

He matches your sigh, although with a lighter tone to it. “I know, I love being right.” He quickly finishes the rest of his drink and gets up from his place to offer you his hand. “Now, chérie, allons-nous danser?” Shall we dance? You nod your head, giggling as you take his hand and allow him to pull you onto the dance floor. With the alcohol coursing through your veins, you think this might be the perfect night. 

You and Charles dance through what feels like a hundred songs, but in reality, you lose the count after the third slow-paced song because the DJ decides he’s had enough of the slow songs for the evening and moves onto the fast-paced ones. Both of you jump up and down to the rhythm of the music as best as you can in your choice of heels for the evening, and Charles is there with you to do the same. He nudges your shoulder and wiggles his eyebrows when the DJ decides to play one of your recent songs, not shy to let the people around you know that it is your song. “That’s my girlfriend’s song!” he says, “Yes! It’s the new one!” 

After the previous song finishes, the two of you decide to retire for a bit, walking out onto the balcony to get some fresh air. You turn to Charles when you hear him chuckling and find him shaking his head. “Hey, what are you laughing at?” 

“You look like a tomato, mon amour.” He’s quick to add, “A very cute one at that.” 

You let out a shocked gasp, swatting lightly at his chest to cease his laughs. “It’s not funny! I never make fun of you after your races, even if you do look like a tomato.” 

“That is not true, and you know it.” His laughter continues, making you join him and soon after both of you are laughing uncontrollably; with you leaning against the railing of the balcony and him with his arms placed on either side of you to cage you in. After your laughter dies down, leaving you both in heaving breaths in to calm yourselves, he shrugs off his jacket and gently places it onto your shoulders. 

You gaze up at him, softly smiling through your lashes. “Thank you, my love.”  

You press your lips against the corner of his mouth, but he is quick to capture your lips in his, and his eyes are the last thing before you close yours as he starts kissing you. His hands quickly start moving and he drags them up your body to cradle your face between his hands as he deepens the kiss. You let out an involuntary whimper, in which he responds by gently tugging at your lower lip. In an attempt to bring him closer, you slip your fingers through the belt loops of his dress pants, which thankfully is not occupied by a belt. Charles’ response is to bring your face even closer as he keeps kissing you. The two of you don’t realise the sound of footsteps coming from behind you. 

“Oh, God, sorry.” A voice interrupts, and you quickly separate from each other, albeit a little bit unwillingly. You inhale deeply to regulate your irregular breathing, and let out a gasp as your eyes fall onto the intruder. Just as you are about to open your mouth, he beats you to it. “I can’t believe it, hi Y/N, it’s been ages!” 

Although Charles’ eyebrows furrow, he keeps his gaze focused on you only to turn around to face the intruder once you say, “Hi, Harry, it’s been a while!” He gives him a once over, keeping his hands on your waist as the two of you talk about the lost time. And yes, while Charles can be a jealous man – just like any other guy in a relationship who is as besotted with their partner as he is with you – he never considers himself to be possessive. He even likes Harry’s music, he mostly encounters the songs at the paddock before a race or after while doing media stuff, but he doesn’t have any issues regarding his music or him in general just because he is dating you because he is secure in your relationship to know just how much you love and respect him and the same goes for you. But standing there with you leaning against him while talking to your ex-boyfriend, yes he know he is your ex-boyfriend like the rest of the world thanks to your very public break-up, he just wants to take you away from there any to anywhere where the two of you can be alone. 

You leap off the railing you were leaning against when you feel Charles’ hands tightening on your waist and move one of your hands to cover his as you give him a slight squeeze. “This is Charles, my boyfriend.” 

He watches as you give him a polite smile and attempts to do the same, but it reality his probably comes-off as a strained one. Harry offers him a handshake as he smiles at him, “Hello, nice to meet you.” And then, he watches as the Brit turns his attention once against to you. 

“We missed you at the awards this season, you didn’t attend any of them!” Harry chuckles, shaking his head a little. 

You shrug and answer him with the same polite smile on your face. “Well, you know me, never been fan of the award shows in the first place.” 

Charles knows this, of course he does, because whenever someone starts to ask you about award season in the first place, you let them know that the awards are not the reason you write songs in the first place – the fans are. He tunes most of your conversation out as his insecurities take over his thoughts, he thinks it is funny in a way because your relationship might be the only one where he has felt like he could be himself without worrying about what you might think. Just as he is about the calm his fears by the logical side of his brain reasoning and telling him that he should probably stop acting like a fool, he hears Harry asking you about a song on your album which makes him throw all the rationality he has out the metaphorical window. 

“I-uh, I listened to your new album, it was very good.” Harry says. 

A wide smile finds a place on your face. “Oh, thank you, Harry! It’s nice to hear that.” 

“Yeah, yeah. I liked that one song the most, what’s it called, How You Get the Girl?” He thinks quietly for a split second. “Oh whatever – it was very good. But tell me the truth, was it or was it not about me?” 

“Sorry, can’t tell you that, it’s a secret.” You laugh. And he laughs. And Charles only watches the scene before him without being able to say anything because he is swarmed by all the thoughts he tried so hard pushing out of his head coming back. You must’ve notice his drastic change in mood because you excuse the two of you saying that you’re feeling a little bit cold.

“Oh sure, it was nice seeing you again.” Harry smiles at you, and then addresses Charles, “It was also nice meeting you, Charles. Take care of my girl, eh?” 

“You too, Henry.” Charles replies, without filtering his response in his head and hangs his head low to avoid any awkwardness. 

You wait until the Brit leaves the balcony and then focus on the man in front of you, “Charles–” you start, but he cuts you off with a low voice. 

“Can we just go home?” He inhales deeply. “Please.”  

Needless to say, the car ride home is quiet and tense. Charles acts like he doesn’t care, but you know deep inside that he is bothered by what happened and is probably overthinking the entire situation. The one thing you are grateful for is the fact that you didn’t drive to the venue but instead opted for a car service, thinking that you’d both be drunk by the time event ended. However in reality, neither of you are drunk and you are fairly sure Helen is going to send you a very angry text the next morning because you left early. When the driver announces that you’ve arrived at the hotel, Charles thanks him before exiting the car and you do the same before you lean over to open your door, but Charles is quicker than you and he does it for you. 

He is quiet the entire way up to your hotel room, but he has an arm around you and you place your hand right on top of his in an attempt to sooth whatever negative emotions he is feeling at the moment. He is also quiet when you get to your room, and he helps you pull off your coat and his jacket underneath the coat. He smiles for a split second, seeing his oversized jacket on your frame, but the seriousness returns as he helps you out of it. 

“Charles,” you say his name, “please talk to me.” 

“I’m okay, chérie.” He sighs and places a small kiss to you forehead. “I’m going to take a shower before bed, okay?” He leaves before giving you an opportunity to speak, and you are left behind, thinking about the last time he called you that pet name a few hours ago, and how he was smiling.

Instead of pushing him to talk about his feelings you decide to let him cool down, hoping that he would be more open to having a conversation about what happened after his shower. So, you take of your shoes and your dress – although you struggle to find the zipper for a while – and you take of your make up on the small vanity the hotel provided for you after you put on your pyjamas for the night. By the time Charles is out of his shower, you are waiting for him sat on the edge of the bed, playing with your fingers. 

“I thought you’d be sleeping by now.” He mumbles, weaving his hands through his wet hair. 

You can’t help the small frown etching on your face. “We never go to bed angry at each other.” 

You can see the change in his eyes, but even though his eyes soften at the sight of you, his tone is firm when he tells you, “I’m not angry at you, Y/N.” 

“See, I find it hard to believe that right about now.” You mumble, your eyes falling on your lap for a second. 

He lets out a frustrated sigh. “Just go to sleep, okay? We’ll talk in the morning.” 

“What? Why?” You ask, your voice wavering at the last syllable. “Where are you going?” 

“I’m just going to go over some statistics in the living room.” He doesn’t look at you, or let you protest. He picks up his computer from the abandoned backpack in the corner of the room and presses another light kiss to your forehead before going into the living room to try to get rid of the anger by working it off. 

And thus, you try to go to sleep – mainly because you know just how stubborn Charles is. His mother always tells you stories about when he was a kid and refused to go to bed in his pyjamas because he didn’t want to take off his karting suit. But you see how much he’s stubborn every single day, when he makes you get out of bed in crack-dawn of the day because you told him you wanted to start exercising with a “no, mon amour, you said you wanted to start running!”, or when he makes you eat your vegetables because “you can’t live off of chicken nuggets for the rest of your life, you’re in your twenties!”. But most importantly, you see how stubborn he is every time he pushes himself to be better; a better man, a better son, a better driver and even a better boyfriend. So, it breaks your heart to think that he is outside the doors of the bedroom, alone and contemplating things he shouldn’t have to because he knows just how much you love him. So, you get out of the bed, which isn’t very hard in the first place because it feels too empty and cold without Charles in it, and you march your way through the bedroom doors and into the living room where a certain green-eyed Monegasque driver is hunched over his computer in the low light. 

He looks up and his eyes go wide when he spots you, sleep evident in your eyes and there is a permanent pout on your lips. There is a silent communication between the two of you as he pushes his chair slight off the table for you to place yourself on his lap and consequently wrapping yourself around his sitting figure. 

“Chérie, you should be sleeping, it’s late.” He speaks in a low voice, encouraging you to go to sleep, but you know him well enough to read between the lines. 

Your voice comes of muffled because you cuddle against the side of his neck. “I couldn’t sleep because someone refuses to talk about his feelings and made me become accustomed to his cuddles over the past year and a half.” 

“Mon amour,” he sighs, “I am fine, you don’t have to worry about me. Okay?” 

There isn’t any emotional strain in his voice, unlike before, but you still don’t like the fact that he refuses to acknowledge his feelings. So instead of pushing, you pick your head up again and focus on his green eyes, “You called me by my name, and you never call me by my name unless I’ve done something wrong.” 

“That’s not true.” His voice comes off as a whisper this time. 

“It is and you know it.” You untangle one of your arms from around his neck to cradle his jaw and let your finger wander around. “Please tell me what I’ve done wrong so that I can fix it.” You think for a moment. “S'il vous plait.” Please. 

Charles lets out a frustrated breath and tightens his arms around your frame – involuntarily, or maybe not, but who cares, really? “It’s mine,” He grumbles. 

“What is?” You ask, tilting your head with genuine curiosity. 

“The song.” Now it is Charles’ turn to pout. “It’s my song, you wrote it for me. I was there when you recorded it and you told me so.” 

“Oh, Charles.” You coo, bringing your other hand up to his face and gently caressing his face as you straighten yourself up on his lap. “It is about you, my love, he was just joking.” 

You let out a chuckle as you hear him mumble, “Well, it wasn’t funny to me.” 

“Is this about more than the song?” You ask, continuing the movement of your hands. You smile as he lets out a dissenting mumble, “Good, because I would hate it if you thought I have eyes for anyone other than you.” 

“You would?” He mumbles, leaning into your touch. 

“Oh yes, I would be very upset.” You nod, leaning in to press a soft kiss against his lips. “And Charles?” You ask. 

“Yes, chérie?” He asks right back, his eyes not leaving yours even for a moment. 

“I’m sorry for making you feel that way.” 

“It’s not your fault,” His eyes become serious for a second again, but they soften at the sight of you quickly. “Don’t blame yourself, chérie.” He mumbles as he kisses you softly on your lips. “Okay?”

“But still,” You mumble, “I’m sorry for making you feel that way.” 

He sighs, but it is not a sad sigh like before. Which makes you think it is an improvement. “I’m sorry I can’t write songs about you.”

“What?” You ask, voice shaky. “What do you mean?” 

“I’m not– I can’t put my feelings into words that way.” His hands occupy themselves with the string of your pyjama pants. 

“I don’t need you to write me songs, Charles, and I don’t want you to change.” You press soft kisses around his face, making him smile involuntarily. “I love you just the way you are, you stubborn stubborn man.” You thing he’s about to say something, but can’t finish your train of thought because suddenly you’re being lifted off the chair and you’re in the air. You let out a shriek, “What are you doing?” 

“Taking you to bed,” Charles replies, and rolls his eyes as your expression changes. “To sleep,” he emphasises the second word, “méchante fille” naughty girl. You laugh as he puts you back on your side of the and tucks you in before turning off the lights and getting into the bed himself. He is quick to pull you towards his arms and cuddle you under his weight, which you’ve become accustomed to and helps you sleep better. “Go to sleep, mon amour.” He kisses you on your forehead again. 

“Charles?” You ask into the night, and continue once he lets out an affirmative hum. “Je t'aime.” I love you.

“Je t'aime aussi, mon amour.” I love you too, my love. You hear him say as you’re falling to sleep. “Tu es l'amour de ma vie.” You’re the love of my life.

#monzabee #requests open #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 smut #formula 1 #fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #imagine #fluff #angst #harry styles makes an apperance

[sinofwriting]

Figlia Mia - Charles Leclerc

Words: 6,231 Summary: When she had met Charles Leclerc for the first time in 2017, she watched as her grandfather gave him the impossible task of restoring Ferrari’s greatness and her the task of making sure he does so. Note(s): This was a lot of fun to write. I got to do a lot of digging into Ferrari’s history in motorsports and F1, and make sure that the changes I made to the history of Ferrari made some sense. I also got to reignite my love for stats and things. I spent a lot of time looking at different circuit stats (which will be relevant in the second part of this fic) and just driver stats. Used a translator for the Italian but not google translate. Also, I shouldn’t have to say this but: How I write the drivers in these fics is not based on my feelings for them, it is just what I need them to be. So, please don’t send me hate because your favorite driver says or acts or is regarded in a certain way. Thanks! Hope you like this!

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Figlia mia - my daughter stella - star

2017

She eyes her grandfather wearily. He had called her home early from her classes and she had rushed home to Maranello.

“Nonno, what is the matter?” His gaze turns to her and he smiles, the solemn look on his face gone as he sees her. “My stella. You are back home.” His accent is thick as it wraps around the English words, always willing to indulge her. She sighs, leaning down to hug him. “You called me back. Did something happen?” He shakes his head, patting her hand when she straightens. “No, I have a meeting that I want you to attend with me.” She frowns. “It is late in the season for a meeting. Did Vettel or Räikkönen break contract?” “No. It’s for the team, but more of a future prospect.” Her frown deepens. “If it’s Hamilton, he won’t leave Mercedes and you shouldn’t entertain him, Nonno. You only have so much energy.” “I don’t want to take him from Mercedes. He wouldn’t be able to win with us anyways.” He groans as he thinks of how long it’s been since his team has won, and has achieved the greatness they are supposed to. “I just want your opinion, they should be here any minute.”

An uneasiness sits heavy in her stomach at how cryptic he’s being with her, something he never is, but she sits in the chair beside him. Taking his hand in both of hers and breathing a sigh of relief at the strongness still in his hands, no shakiness to be found. He was in good health, she reminded herself as they waited. He hadn’t even had a cold for three years, but still her mind worries.

“Mr. Enzo, Stella, your guests have arrived.” Anita’s voice says through the intercom. He presses the button to talk. “Please have Andrea get them and bring them back and tell him to stay as well.” “Andrea is here?” He hums, “I asked him to come. I have an idea.” She doesn’t say anything else to that and keeps quiet as she waits for whoever to arrive.

There’s a slight relief in it not being either Vettel or Räikkönen, she wasn’t keen to meet them for the first time right now, not when she had rushed home. She also didn’t want her grandfather meeting them now for the first time, so late in the year where he could catch an illness.

A knock sounds on the wooden door and she turns her head to look at it. Releasing her grandfather's hand from hers and moving to stand behind his chair. Her normal position in such meetings.

“Enter.” He calls and the door opens. “Signor.” Andrea greets, as he steps into the room, two, or rather one man and one boy following behind him with wide eyes. “I have your guests.” “Please sit, the three of you.” He tells them and they all quickly do.

Her eyes narrow as she recognises the familiar face of the man who is currently running the Ferrari Driver Academy and the just familiar face of the current F2 champion. The sight makes her want to lean down, to question why a F2 driver of all people is being allowed to meet her grandfather. A luxury he hasn’t afforded a single F1 driver since her father died other than Michael Schumacher. And even then he had won a championship first with them. But such a thing isn’t not her place, especially in front of guests, so she keeps quiet as her grandfather does as well, clearly waiting them out, letting the tension in the room build.

“Charles Leclerc.” Her grandfather says and the boy practically jumps. “You started winning in karting before you were even ten in 2005 and never stopped. A second place in Alps, then fourth in the European F3.” She watches as he winces at the reminder of what he clearly views as failures. “But you won your first year of GP3 and now have won F2. Truly impressive.” His eyes are still wide and they dart to the left before returning. “Thank you, Signor.” Her eyebrows raise at the way the Italian term leaves his mouth. He clearly had invested time in his Italian lessons. “Don’t thank me. You’ve done well for yourself. And now you have an F1 seat.” Her eyes darted to Andrea, “Nonno.” She hisses, stepping forward. “Andrea has signed the appropriate NDA’s and contracts, stella. There is no need for your worry.” This meeting seemed to be nothing but worrying for her. And suddenly the employment contract she had seen in her inbox for Andrea makes all the sense, especially since it had been sent to her directly, not cc'd.

“You will be joining Sauber this coming season. Are you ready?” “I hope and believe I am.” “And you have a team? A trainer, your own PR manager? A assistant?” Charles shakes his head, cheeks red. “I’m afraid not. I only signed the contract two days ago. I haven’t made arrangements.” “And your plans for the 2019 season? Still at Sauber?” “I only signed a one year contract with them. So I hope to stay with them if I can.” He hums and the tone if it tells her everything she needs to know and it takes everything in her to not show the horror she’s feeling. “There will be a spot open at Ferrari for the 2019 season. Show me you can handle an F1 car and perhaps it will be yours.” The three sitting opposite stare at him with wide eyes and Charles’ mouth is open, jaw dropped. “And Andrea will be your trainer. I have a good feeling about you Charles Leclerc, prove me right.” He then nods his head towards the door and the three scramble to stand and leave with rushed goodbyes.

She stands behind him for a moment before walking around the desk and flopping down in one of the seats.

“That boy is going to get destroyed.” “He is a boy to me. Barely a year younger than you, I believe.” She scoffs, “please, nonno. You have just put the biggest weight on his shoulders. Prove to me? And what if he speaks of this? Of getting to meet the great Enzo Ferrari when the man doesn’t leave his house and hasn’t met any drivers or even team principals in person since Schumacher.” “Then you will handle it, I suppose. And I will be proven wrong about the boy since he had to sign an NDA. Not a word of this meeting or this trip to Italy.” “And if people ask about Andrea? How they met? How he came to work with him?” “The academy put them in contact together. And no one will think anything of it. He is too distantly related to think that we have anything to do with it. Nor has he ever spoken of us.” His eyes soften as he really looks at her. “Everything will be fine, stella. I have a good feeling about this one.” She looks at him, worries still sitting heavy in her stomach, horror too, because god what if her grandfather had just sentenced him to forever chasing a dream he can’t have and faith in them that they are unable to deliver. She knows already that both Räikkönen and Vettel are feeling that way, their faith in Ferrari wavering if not gone. “I won’t be able to do anything to help him. Not for years.” “You will be able to help. Not as much as you will in a few years time, but you can still help. We still make decisions for the team and sign off on things.” “And if he leaves before then?” “He won’t.” His voice is quiet, but filled with unwavering faith. Faith she wants to feel herself. “He will be what our team needs to become champion and he won’t leave until he gets that.”

2018

“Vettel is not happy that he wasn’t told before about getting a rookie as a teammate.” She tells her grandfather, looking over the top of her laptop at him. “Sebastian will deal.” Enzo coughs. “And he won’t have a rookie as a teammate.” She makes a humming noise, looking at all of the articles about the announcement of Charles Leclerc joining the historic F1 team before opening her email again. “Should I cover Andrea’s costs again?” “Yes. As long as you aren’t in power with the team, I want Charles kept close.” “That won’t happen until the end of the 2023 season. You want us to pay for Andrea that long?” “Andrea is also family.” He reminds her, before lips twitch into a smile. “And there is a reason he doesn’t receive as large of a Christmas bonus as everyone else anymore.”

2020

“They want to sign Sainz for a two year deal.” He snorts, “and for what? Let me guess sponsors?” “They’re serious about this, nonno. His team has already approached us about a two year contract.” “And he can’t go to Aston because Vettel is going there for two years.” “And he’ll never go back to Red Bull. Mercedes won’t entertain the idea.” “But we are?” He groans, running a hand over his face. “God, what has happened to this team? He hasn’t gotten a single podium, a win! And he’ll hit a hundred races this year. That is who they want on the team?” “He was sixth in the driver standings last year.” “Could he handle it?” She frowns. “Maybe. We wouldn’t know until it happened. He’s older like Vettel, has more experience as well than Leclerc. But Leclerc already has wins under his belt, managed to get fourth in the standings in only his second year. He was teammates with Verstappen in his rookie year, so it’s possible he could handle it.” “A two year contract, huh?” “Two years.”

2022

“Sainz wants to be extended.” She rubs at her forehead, the email, moreso the wording was troubling. “And why should we?” “Because he finished ahead of Charles in the driver's standings last year.” “By less than ten points and due to our own team's failings. They way they embarrassed him in Monaco.” He shakes his head, the rage he felt that day watching it happen coming back. “Four podiums to one. And neither got a win.” “Who needs a seat?” “There’s rumors about Schumacher.” “No.” He shakes his head, fingers beginning to tap against his desk. “Maybe in a few seasons, but not now.” “Bottas, Guyuan, De Vries, Hulkenberg.” He scoffs at all the names. “A friend at McLaren said they’re looking to drop Ricciardo.” His fingers stop. “Ricciardo. He’d understand his role.” “And as long as we treat him better than Red Bull did or how McLaren are, we’d have him.” “Why do they want to drop him?” “Underperforming. Norris is doing better.” He looks at her disbelief. “Please tell me that’s a joke.” She shakes her head. “He gave that fucking fake British team their first win in a decade!” “He’s older and despite his knack for giving good development advice, they’re ignoring it for Norris’.” He rubs at his forehead. “Write him down. Maybe we can get a talk with him before another team manages to snatch him up. Who else?” “It’s all reserves and formers now. There’s Piastri who's serving as Alpine’s reserve this season, wouldn’t shock me if they’ve already signed a contract with him for the next year but haven’t announced it though. We or Haas really has Illot still under contract as a reserve.” He shakes his head. “Leave him in Indycar for a few seasons. Might try him in 2024 when we’re looking for another driver.” She nods, writing his name down with 2024 beside it. “And Piastri?” “No. Alpine probably has something signed with him already. They’d be stupid not to.” “That leaves Ricciardo and Sainz.” He frowns. “Reach out to Ricciardo. We nearly had him for 2021, we should’ve taken him.” “Understood.”

As she begins to type out her email to Ricciardo’s team and she wonders how Blake will react to seeing an email for Ferrari, Enzo speaks.

“How is Charles?” “Nonno.” “I can’t ask?” “You are fishing.” She replies, not looking away from her laptop. “But he is good. Ready for the season to start.” “Hmm. And will he be coming for dinner?” She pauses her typing, looking at him. “Are you asking him to come to dinner?” “I’d like to meet the boy that has made my granddaughter so happy.” “Oh, nonno. It is not a boy that is making me so happy. Just you. You have been in better spirits for the last year.” She laughs. “And isn't it interesting that it was only when you started seeing him that both of our spirits rose?” Her eyes narrow. “Don’t make me take the Leclerc name.” It’s a high insult to the Ferrari name, one that her grandfather has made sure that she knew better to even joke about, but he doesn’t react with his fiery temper, just smirks. “It’s serious enough for marriage but not for you to bring him to meet me?” Blood rushes to her cheeks. “You have met him.” “When he was a boy.” He counters. “One you had distaste for.” He reminds her not that she has ever forgotten.

She had told Charles on their third date about it, watching as his mouth gaped at her, unable to believe that the boy he was at the age could be distasteful. Now, he likes to tease her about it. About how she didn’t like him but as soon as he left the room and she was issued the challenge of making sure he got to Ferrari she did.

“I haven’t met him since. I haven’t met him as your partner. And we both know that you’ll be taking each other's names.” “It is too early to say that.” She tells him, voice quiet. “But I’ll message him. He’ll love to meet you.”

2023

“This is ridiculous!” “I told you that this would happen! You put your hopes and dreams on a boy and look at what has happened!” “I did no such thing!” “You did! And I told you that you would ruin him. That he would lose faith just like the ones before and now look.” She waves a hand at the TV in front of them, playing the lowlights of the season. “He didn’t just go to that meeting with Red Bull and then shut it down like he has before, he entertained it.” She scoffs, shaking her head. “He should’ve left us for them when they first fucking offered.” “You do not mean that.” “Look at what our team has done to him! Look at what you have done! I have no power there and barely do you. I get to vote on what drivers we add to the team, but it is one vote, against six others. Same goes for the general direction of the car, which we both were out voted in. And that is it, that is my power! I don’t get to give him the Ferrari team he deserves, that we deserve, because you signed it away when my father died until I turn twenty-seven!” She turns away from Enzo, taking in a shaky breath, before turning back to him. “And you will not ever bring it up to Charles that he considered leaving us or if he does. Because I set up that meeting with Red Bull for him.” He looks at her resigned, saddened, but not surprised. “You would let him leave?” “I don’t let him do anything. I love you, nonno. I love this team. But it is not just Charles that they are disappointing and letting down. It is our fans, our people, our family, our legacy, me, you. Next month, I get to finally take back our families power in the sport and it is already too late for this season and nearly too late for the next. I can’t even guarantee a good first season with me in charge because of where the car is already developed too. And the upgrades.” She shakes her head. “None of it would matter with the team that is working there.”

“What do you want to do?” She looks at him, struggling not to cry, and she folds herself down in front of him, taking her hands in his. “A new structure and house. The voting can stay, but it has anonymity, we don’t talk about who is going to vote for what, only after the votes have been cast we talk, discuss, but with us having the power to veto if decisions are being made too much on outside factors like money and perceptions. Drivers who have multi-year contracts starting next season can be present for the votes, hear why we voted for what we did and even jump in on discussions if they feel inclined. We change. We have been stagnant for too long. We need new blood and beliefs.” He starts to shake his head and she squeezes his hands.

“Nonno, please just listen to me.” She pleads. “We need a complete overhaul of the team, you know it and have said it yourself. I can’t just hire Italian first, not when that has ended with us where we are now. I can offer everyone severance packages, pay for it all myself, but no more Italian first. We take who is best suited for the team and hope they are Italian. Maybe we baptize them if they aren’t.” His lips quirk into a smile. “The strategy team needs to go, PR, social media, the race engineers.” “Sainz likes his race engineer.” “Sainz also likes to say that he comes up with the strategy used in the races but as soon as they fail, he backtracks. He is a fair driver, but he needs to be retrained in PR.” “His family needs a gag order.” Her grandfather huffs. “Yes, but that is not something we can do. What we can do is get him retrained and get a new PR manager for him, same with social media. Charles will be getting the same. He needs an image refresh.” “This is what you want?” “Yes. I want to bring our team back to greatness. I already have the people I want for the team, I’m just waiting for your approval and for the next month to pass before I start sending out contracts.” He sighs, looking in pain. “Can they at least speak Italian?” She smiles, standing to press a kiss to his cheek. “They can learn and they will quickly.” Another sigh leaves him but he smiles, warm and gentle at her. “Mia figlia, la mia stella, fai quello che devi. Il mio supporto è tuo, sempre.” My daughter, my star, do what you must. My support is yours, always. “Thank you, papa.”

October 23rd, 2023

She stands facing the back wall of the room, listening as the door opens and people trudge in. She tries to count the pairs of feet she hears. She knows how many are supposed to come to this meeting, how many she asked to come, but it wouldn’t surprise her if someone let slip that the new boss, and the big boss at that, had arranged a meeting that a few people would try tagging along.

It’s the sound of the door shutting and then locking from the inside that has her turning around, giving a nod of thanks to her bodyguard, Roman, who inclines his head before retreating to the left front corner of the room.

“I see you all made it.” She says, her Italian accent barely noticeable around the English words and she can see a few faces turn confused at the English. Ferrari was Italian, they spoke Italian, had meetings in Italian. And more importantly, she was not just Ferrari, but a Ferrari. One that only three people in this room had ever met in person, and only two others had seen her face because of video calls. “Good, let's talk about the dumpster fire that was yesterday.” She can see a few faces balk at her words, but it’s Sainz’s that gets her attention. “You don’t agree?” “It was an unfortunate thing that happened to Charles, but I still ended up in P3.” “Due to a disqualification. Which is also what happened to your teammate. This also is the third time you’ve ended up on the podium due to such a thing. Let us also not forget to acknowledge that while the FIA didn’t check your car, like they should have after finding that two of four of the cars they checked had issues with their planks, doesn’t mean we didn’t.” He frowns and so does a good majority of the room. “I don’t understand.” “Your planks were just like Leclerc’s. Just barely under what they should be. But still enough for disqualification.” Eyes widen and she continues. “Not that it matters, because I won’t be alerting the FIA of such a thing. Not when the teams didn’t get enough time to set up the car because of the sprint format and I don’t think we need to give McLaren more of a jump on us.”

Walking around the room, she nearly pauses behind Charles' chair. Wants so badly to squeeze his hand, to offer him comfort or a way to get his frustrations out, but she continues until she is at the front of the room.

“The FIA won’t get rid of sprint races, but myself and a few other team representatives, will be going to them with a new sprint format for the next season hopefully or for at least starting the 2025 season. I expect both of you,” she looks at Sainz and Charles, “to voice your support. And I’m sure Red Bull, Williams, Mercedes, McLaren, Aston Martin, Alpine, and Haas, will be saying the same to their drivers as well.” “You want us to support a format that could be worse?” Charles asks, and she can see a few shakes of the head at him. “No, I want you to support one that is better. For Sprint weekends, you will have free practice one and the sprint shootout on Friday. On Saturday, there will be the sprint, followed by second free practice, then qualifying. Sundays of course will just be race day. Does that sound worse?” “No. You think the FIA will go for it?” “The FIA won’t have much of a choice. And besides next year allows each team to have more tyre’s allocated, they’ll want something extra to help burn through them to make it more interesting.”

“Now,” She lifts the lid of one of the two file boxes she has. “Leclerc, Sainz.” Both grimace at the use of their last names, but she catches a glimpse of amusement from Charles. “I have meetings with both of your management teams after this. Sainz, you’ll be getting a new PR manager, Ana. She or her assistant Val, will be with you for every event, interview, or anything else PR wise. Sometimes they both will.”

She turns her head to look at Charles. “Leclerc, you're getting an image refresh. I’m not letting a driver for this team have a vast majority of people thinking there’s nothing behind your apparently good looks.”

“Why isn’t Charles getting a babysitter?” She raises a brow at the tone and question. “Ana and Val aren’t babysitters, they work in PR. They will be retraining you. Because at the moment I could be breaking your contract right now with four races left in the season due to the public clause and if you have to ask why, you need more help than I thought.” He looks at her in shock and she can see a few people in the room shift uncomfortably. “Also concerning both of you, you both will have new race engineers in Mexico. Your previous engineers were lacking.” They both look uncomfortable with the decision but don’t say anything and she turns her attention to Fred.

“Fred.” “Ms. Ferrari.” She smiles at the title, though there’s nothing polite or happy about it. “This is your team is not?” She gestures to the drivers, the heads of different departments that all sit in the room with them. “Yes.” “Then, why am I doing your job for you and handling them?” With that she starts throwing out the severance packages onto the table. When she runs out of ones in the first box, she takes the lid off the second and just tips it over, letting them spill out.

“Severance packages.” She states, seeing some people's confused looks. “Some are effective immediately. Others will be given after the last race.” “Fabio’s name is here.” “So is Gualtieri and Cardile. They have been given generous severance packages.” She reassures. “You will meet their replacements either later today or in Mexico.” “They are heads of their departments!” “And they have failed at their jobs. As has everyone who has been issued one of these.”

—

“How did they take it?” “Safe to say I haven’t made any friends.” “So, it's going well.” She snorts, smiling at Charles as he enters her hotel suite. “I’m fairly certain they all would like to burn me at the stake.” Charles frowns. “Not Charles of course.” “Is he there?” “Just got here.” She confirms. “Do you want to talk to your grandson?” She teases and predictably Charles flushes. “Yes, yes. I want to make sure that he’s taking care of you, protecting you.” She rolls her eyes at the last part but passes the phone to Charles, pressing a kiss to his cheek as she does before stepping around him to her open laptop.

Leaning against the desk, she stares at the list in front of her. A list of drivers, currently on the grid, reserves, and not yet on the grid. Before the halfway point of the 2024 season she’d either have to sign contracts for one new driver or two for the 2025 season and now it just came down to who she wanted to reach out to.

A good amount of them are already on the bottom half of the page under the bolded words, not an option.

Verstappen was there, both Mercedes drivers, Bottas, Hulkenberg, Magnuessen, Alonso, Ocon, Stroll, Perez, Norris. She chooses not to look too closely at the fact that she doesn’t have Piastri there. She’d buy out a contract if need be and she knew Mark. If she proved that Ferrari could improve and be a winning team under her, he’d be willing to help her break a contract or two.

She jolts when a pair of lips presses themselves to her forehead, her phone being set down next to her laptop. “Your list is interesting. No Antonio?” “He’s a good development driver.” She says, typing his name out under not an option. Charles hums, sitting in the chair and then pulling her onto his lap, carefully pulling her legs to hangover the arm of the chair. “You have two Indycar drivers under possible.” She shrugs. “I’ll watch closely as the first few races go for them. They only have contracts for the 2024 season.” “Not that it would matter.” She grins, huffing out a laugh. “Not that it would matter.”

She watches as he peers at the list, his hands rubbing at her calf. “You have a lot of no’s.” His eyes narrow as he scans it again. “Mick, Ollie, and Vesti all under maybe?” “Vesti’s done well for himself, Mercedes is just going to waste him. Especially if he’s any good in an F1 car. Bearman’s had a strong first season in F2. Schumacher,” She hesitates. “I’m not keen on the idea. Especially with two seasons out of F1, but there is the opportunity to put him in Alfa Romeo.” “But Valterri and Zhou.” “Valterri knows he won’t be promoted back up. He’s doing good for being at Alfa Romeo, but he also has a lot of other ventures and pursuits. I’d like to keep him for another year or two after for development if I can.” He hums, “Alex and Schwartzman?” “Albon is sticking to Williams like glue. Which is understandable after Red Bull, but there’s hope.” She doesn’t mention that she’d think that he’d be a good teammate for Charles. “Schwartzman is already under contract with us. Just as a reserve and for testing, but who knows.”

He presses a kiss to her shoulder and he reads the top of the list, the possibles. He had only skimmed it before, but now he gives it his full attention.

“I’m on here.” “Yes.” “But,” “You don’t have an extension with us. You are only contracted with us for this next season. And as much as I’d like to keep you as would the fans and nonno, we haven’t proven that we deserve to have you here. I have to keep my options open that there will be two drivers I have to sign for 2025.” “I don’t like it.” He tells her, frowning. He didn’t like to think about not being at Ferrari, at the possibility of it, especially now with her at the helm and already making drastic changes. He didn’t know yet if those changes were good or not, but it felt like they were, he hoped that they were.

Piastri, Ricciardo, Drugovich, and he blinks as reads the last name, saying it outloud. “Sargeant. You have Sargeant under possible? Not a maybe but possible?” “Sargeant would sign a contract with us in a heartbeat, no contracts to break. 2024 will be a one year for him.” “Something has been signed?” She shrugs, “it’s common sense to keep him. Otherwise they’d just be dealing with a whole other rookie.” He sighs, jaw twitching. “I don’t like it. He has only scored a point because of my disqualification.” “I know.” “He has cost them much.” “I know.” Charles pouts, “he is American.” She lets out a laugh, running a hand through his hair. “That will be your issue with him? His Americanness?” “Yes.” “Well, it’s just a possibility.” She smiles, before leaning down to press their lips together in a quick kiss. “Now, tell me out of everyone in the maybes and possibles who you’d want as a teammate.” “And what? You’ll make it happen?” “If I can give you a good season next year, I’ll do everything I can.”

He eyes the list, taking in the names he mentioned before and the few he didn’t.

Pierre would end in a dumpster fire and he was selfish enough to say that he didn’t want him as a teammate so they could keep their friendship, one so close to his heart. Lawson was an interesting idea, he had performed well for having to suddenly jump into a car. Alex would be a good teammate as well and he knew that Alex would also love the development side of things like he did.

He didn’t know enough about Drugovich or either of the Indycar drivers really. They had performed fair in F2 and were doing well in Indycar, but it was unknown. He could see them both though at Alfa Romeo. Ollie was too young to step into such a huge seat, maybe for him also Alfa Romeo in 2025 and by 2028 he’d be ready to step in and then take over a seat.

Oscar and Sargeant are both interesting for completely different reasons. He wishes that she had gotten power in the beginning of 2022 and when the Alpine drama happened, snatched Oscar up.

But there’s one name that he keeps on looking at, that’s circling in his head.

“Daniel. If I could have anyone, I’d want Daniel.”

There’s a shared pained history there and Charles knows that he took what was going to be Daniel’s seat in 2019 before Ferrari really started gunning for him while Renault took a keen interest in Daniel.

Charles could still remember around the fifth race of the 2020 season when Daniel had cornered him, looking nervous to be around him for the first time since their accidentally shared Vegas trip that made them break the ice. Daniel seemed so much smaller as he asked Charles if he’d be okay with them being teammates next season, and had seemed shocked by the relieved and happy grin Charles had given him.

She hesitates, “I never said anything, but I tried getting Daniel for 2024 and even 2023 when the rumors about McLaren dropping him started up.” “But Carlos?” “He asked for an extension, but nonno and me wanted to present a different option. But by the time I reached out, Red Bull had managed to snatch him back up. He’s only with them though for 2024. He’s free after that.” “So, you are saying?” He hopes. “I’m saying that, I’ve already reached out as of yesterday. Red Bull isn't in any hurry to get him under contract for 2025 and Blake has made it clear that Daniel isn’t signing any contracts until May or June to them and us.” “Which is enough time to prove that the team is improving.” “Yes.”

He stares at her wide eyed speechless. “What does that mean?” “If we improve?” He nods. “We sign you and Daniel until 2027.” She pauses, hesitating, but she won’t lie to him now. “We let you two battle it out at the beginning of the 2025 season. If Daniel is scoring more points, higher on the podium than you by break, you defend. We’ll ask you to let him pass if both of you can get on the podium or he has better pace and can get on it. We let him become world champion first. And it would go the other way around as well.” He rolls the idea in his mind, lets it sit in his stomach. “Daniel Ricciardo the 2025 world champion and Charles Leclerc the 2026 world champion.”

He lets them sit in the air, the idea of practically another three seasons before it could happen. Could he wait that long? Watch as Daniel got it before him? Watch as his teammate got it before him? Could he let himself be sacrificed for his teammates gain again? He thinks it over, because it is not fair for her to ask, to say, but that is what driving in Formula One is. It is not fair, with unequal machinery and only twenty spots available. To have to worry not just about your race but also your teammates depending on where the point standings are at.

But she is offering him something that he wasn’t before and with clearness, transparency. Not something that will be dropped on him in the middle of the race or as he’s about to finish lap ten or fifty. She’s telling him now what to expect and how it will go. She’s letting him know that it doesn’t matter which one is in the lead for the championship, just that whichever one isn’t when they come back from break, will be defending and he thinks now of her emphasis on the word. Not sacrificing, but defending. She wouldn’t let either of them be compromised so badly that they drop either low in the points or out of the points completely, but she would ask that they defend the other.

“I want it. Even if I do have to wait an extra year. It’d be worth it.” “And if you won in 2025 and then Daniel in 2026?” “We could trade off years, but I want it, I want that.” She smiles and there’s something sweet and dangerous about it. “Then I’ll make it happen.”

@eleetalks @cixrosie @badbatch-simp24 @darleneslane @fanboyluvr @teti-menchon0604 @eugene-emt-roe @gemofthenight @peachiicherries @lpab @copper-boom @topguncultleader @iloveyou3000morgan @boiohboii @benstormy @bibliosaurous

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #f1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #f1 x reader #figlia mia - charles fic

[skylarsblue]

this isn’t really a request or anythin’, just a thought. 141 havin to deal with a southern team member who only gets progressively more accented the more they get mad.

100% projecting here

pretty unaccented, American, whatever —> ✨ anger ✨ —> Memphis called they want their “oo-ol” back (translation: oil).

i have no idea if they’d be annoyed, charmed, or just confused.

✦141 + Los Vaqueros With A Southern!Teammate✦

(My first C.o.D request and it's for pEOPLE LIKE MEEEE, southern traassh! This my shit. Fair warning, I've never played one of these games cause I don't have a console, so if they're ooc, please tell me how I can improve writing them!)

✦Random headcanons, Southern slang, GN!Reader, Race neutral as well but American, implied to be Oklahoma/Texas style southern, aggressive cursing because I have the mouth of a sailor, a bit of Google Translated Spanish(forgive me), Rudy doesn't have a color cause I ran out I'm so sorry precious boy✦

✧Simon Riley✧

He's not real fond of Americans, admittedly. He's got a little voice in the back of his head that automatically associates Americans with betrayal, but he'll keep quiet.

He cringes at your accent at first. He's not fond of Americans, even less so of most American accents. It's a very thick drawl and after being in the team for a while, he'll tease you about it, telling you to "Speak English" like he does with Soap.

He shuts up when you bring up his Manchester accent being illegible sometimes. It's all in good fun though!

After proving you're trustworthy, he'll basically call you his "special American", to show you're an exception. He will never stop poking fun at you though, just as you do to him. Particularly when you say something intensely American.

"Look at her ass, out here pitchin' a bitch fit with a tail on it." "...What in the hell is that even supposed to mean?"

He'll give you one thing, you treat beef well, which he appreciates. Given he used to be a butcher's apprentice. Americans from the southern states know how to make a hamburger and we know how to cook a steak, that's like...the one thing we can brag about.

If you're like me and you dunk on your own country, he thinks those moments are really funny. Especially when you sound so American.

He probably enjoys you being angry the most. He loves it so much, he thinks it's extremely entertaining. Especially if you're a more small, non-intimidating person on the surface.

"Fuck off! Out here makin' a damn mess of the place, runnin' around like a chicken with its head cut off, wrecking my shit! I outta whoop yer ass!" "Should we step in?" "No no, let it go on a little longer..."

Probably tries to make your call sign something heavily American stereotypical, in a funny way. (ie. Bald Eagle, Stars(JILL!), Shotgun, etc.)

A bit hypocritical but if you have a farm with cows on it, he doesn't really wanna see them. His first thought his how to butcher them from years of training, and if they're not butcher cows, he feels kinda bad for thinking it.

Congrats! You're the only American Simon likes, aside from maybe Alex but I don't know for sure.

✧Johnny MacTavish✧

Laughs when you first speak. He apologizes but like, he laughs at you, I'm sorry.

Definitely asks if you have a cowboy hat, and he will lose his fucking mind if you do. The more cowboy shit you own the more he's entertained, especially if you wear them around base/on field.

He understands you super well but no one understands how or why. Johnny explains that it's just because he's good with accents. He'll hear weird euphemisms and, though it may take a second, 9 times out of 10 he'll get it.

"Fucker's so cheap I bet he pinches quarters til they scream." "What?! What does that mean!?" "Means he's a penny pincher! He's cheap. C'mon, that one was obvious, keep up, yeah?"

If you're a woman/female leaning, he'll call you cowgirl. If you're male/male leaning, you get the nickname cowboy. Non-binary/Genderfluid/Etc.? He calls you partner, and he'll always say it with a shitty imitation of your accent.

Asks you a buncha questions about American-Southern stereotypes to see if they're true. If they are, he gets really giggly about it.

If they ever have a mission in America, he'll insist you lead them everywhere. He likes seeing how you interact with people, especially if you're in a big city where some nutsos are. This man would have a blast watching you in a Waffle House. It's the only time he likes seeing you yell in public, thinks it's hilarious.

If you have any farm experience he's gotta see it. He needs to. I don't care if the farm is your great grandpa's and you haven't been there in a decade, you better take him to see the cows and tractors right now, immediately. Especially if there are chickens. He loves chickens.

He makes fun of your accent but he thinks it's really hot sometimes and he's very annoyed at himself for it. Particularly when you speak softly, trying to console/comfort him, slipping in a typical southern pet name.

"You alright there, sugar? Took quite a hit there. You need anythin', sweetheart?" "...I uh, uhm, ahem. N-no, no I'm alright." "Are ya sure, sweetpea? Your face is goin' redder than a tomato."" NO, I'M GOOD."

Manages to get the entire team to call you a southern callsign, whether you like it or not. He'll force it to stick. Most are animal-based too. (Cowboy/Cowgirl, Chick/Rooster, Bull/Heffer, Big Tex, etc.)

Your accent grows on him significantly. While he thinks you're very sexy when you're angry, he's really affected when you're soft and sweet. (bonus note; if you're faux sweet when you're mad? The whole "Oh...bless your heart" type thing? He's prolly gonna pop a boner, not gonna lie.)

✧John Price✧

He's not American but there are a lot of American things he likes, admittedly. Specifically, old western stuff, horses, ranches, etc. That whole aesthetic is something he's always enjoyed. He won't say it, but he has a particular fondness for your accent when he first hears it.

Doesn't understand you when your accent gets super thick but he thinks it's entertaining nevertheless. Unlike Ghost or Soap, he doesn't comment on it, because he doesn't think he has room to talk. Maybe he'd do it once and then you'd throw it back at him and he'd realize that...yeah he has no room to talk.

He's a calm individual but he will yell when necessary. But, what he finds admirable is when you jump in and yell for him. Like you can read his mind and he can save his throat, watching the people who were pissing him off jump back at thick southern curses being yelled at them.

"I outta jerk a damn knot in your fuckin' tail, ya fuckin' dumbass! Didn't ya momma ever teach you respect?! You ain't ever gonna talk to my damn captain like that again or I'll skin yer fuckin' hide!" "Ahem, thank you, sergeant, that's enough."

Buys you a cowboy hat if you don't already have one, for sure. Whether you take it as a genuine gift or you take it as a light jab at your roots, he'll get a lil' dopey smile if you decide to wear it. Gaz definitely makes fun of you two. Soap points out that Gaz also wears a hat religiously and he & Ghost start callin' you the hat trio.

Man melts at southern-drawl-spoken pet names. He truly does. Much like Soap, there's something about it that makes the tension leaves his body, though he's not really sure why.

"You alright there, Cap? You're lookin' bout ready to drop..." "I'm alright soldier, just need to finish this." "Captain, it'll be there in the mornin'. How bout a nap instead, huh? You can't go workin' yourself to the bone, hun. It ain't healthy."" ...oh alright, just for a bit though." "Sure, sugarcube, just long enough to have some tea."

He'll probably pick up on a few pet names and call you them. Whether you wanna take it as platonic or not, it's really just a sweet gesture that he wants to return. Pet names are kinda just...a staple of southern slang. It's part of the accent that he really enjoys, therefore he wants to return it.

If he ends up helping you with a call sign, it's going to be a really sweet & nice one. Or perhaps something that's from an old western he's seen. Probably based on something you've said before. (Sugarcube, Lasso, Hun/Hunny.) Bonus points if you get a super sweet name that doesn't match your stature, he thinks it's funny if it throws people off.

Piggybacking off the last one, I think it'd be real funny if your call name was "Sugarcube" and you're like...a 6'0"+ buff dude with a deep voice. That shit would be funny. Anyway!

If you own/live on a ranch or farm in your off time, he'll feel honored if you invite him to see it. Don't worry, he won't laze around and just appreciate the cute animals. (Looking at you Soap) He's got a little bit of experience with cows & horses, so he'll do his best to help you move the hay and such. Don't let him drive a tractor though, it's one of the few things he just can't do.

John doesn't play favorites, he's fair and precise to his entire team. But...off the field? ...you might get a little favoritism, he's got a weakness for bein' sweettalked through southern drawl. Don't let that go to your head though!

✧Kyle Garrick✧

Kyle doesn't care too much, he thinks every country has shitty stuff and cool stuff. He's a pretty big believer in silver linings. While America is far from his favorite country, and he knows the common trope of uh...less than tolerant people from the south, that doesn't affect how he sees you at all.

He does snicker at your accent sometimes, but only when you say something really aggressively southern. Especially making up random southern phrases that he doesn't understand at all. He finds it endearing.

"We just gotta haul ass and go tear shit up, run through like a buncha Tasmanian devils, right?" "...I understood...some of those words. Uh, sure, right." "We need to move our asses and fuck shit up." "Ah, okay. Could've just said that, but alright."

Thinks you're kinda scary when you're mad. He'll be the type to try and calm you down, but he understands if it's someone who deserves it. Not that he doesn't find your drawl fun to listen too, especially if someone was being an ass, but he doesn't like seeing you upset.

If the person you're yelling at was being a real big ass, he'll let you yell for a little, but step in. However, if you're doing condescending rage? Oh, go for it, do it all you want. He thinks it's hilarious.

Finds it particularly sweet if you're angry on the teams/his behalf. He can fight his own battles but he thinks it's a big sign of trust, friendship, etc. that you feel the need to defend him.

"Bless your heart, your brain ain't firing off on all cylinders is it, hun? Tsk, that's a shame..." "Excuse me?!" "You're excused, sweetpea. You're not gonna talk to my team that way, but you can turn your happy ass around and walk away. I ain't gonna have you disrespectin' the people who've been fightin' the good fight. Have a lovely day!" "How can you sound so sweet and yet so angry at the same time?" "Southern livin', sugar. Southern livin'."

Gaz is a bit of a foodie type, he likes trying cooking from any area he can go to. Southern cooking would...it'd be a new weakness for sure. A lot of it is unhealthy, yes, but he doesn't give a shit. It tastes good. Sometimes he thinks American food is an absolute sin and a disgrace, and he'll state it as such. Usually, it's stuff you agree on. Like bacon-covered donuts or fried butter. That shit's egregious. But things like southern-style chicken or rib-eye on a grill? You're gonna make him swoon with them roasted vegetables. Cooking for him is a surefire way to make you an unapologetic favorite in his book.

He won't say anything at the little jokes that people jab at you for your accent, but he will tell someone off if they say something that's clearly not funny and upsets you. Like trying to imply you're stupid because you come from Texas. (Speaking from personal experience) He thinks it's such a dumb thing to give someone shit over and he won't hesitate to say they're an idiot for trying to use it against you.

Hates sweet tea, I'm sorry. It's just tea but he can't stand it. He'll drink the unsweetened tea you make, but he'll make a dramatic face if he mixes them up. Something that you always laugh at.

He's great at driving basically any vehicle. Helicopters to mini coopers. He's never controlled a tractor before, but if you sit him in one and tell him the levers, it'll take him like...three minutes to get it down perfectly. Definitely gets a smug ass grin if you show you're amazed.

If he helps get you your call sign, he won't necessarily make it based on where you're from, it'll probably be based on a nickname, skill, or crucial event in your career. (Crash; you were thrown through a window, Hotshot; skill for sniping, etc.) But if he were to have one based on your southern ways? Sweet Tea, both for the fact you make it and the pet name you sometimes call him. (sweet pea)

✧Alejandro Vargas✧

Like Ghost, he's not super fond of Americans. His experience with most Americans are annoying tourists and Graves, leaves a pretty bad impression. He comes across unintentionally snappy when he first meets you, but Rudy will point it out, and he'll correct himself.

You aren't the annoying people he's dealt with and he knows it's not fair to say you are. Definitely talks shit on America though, and he'll honestly give you respect if you do the same. Since he's used to the kind of Americans that think being American give them a right to treat others like shit. He hates entitlement.

If you speak Spanish, he's gonna try really hard to not laugh at how your accent affects some words, but it's really hard. He means it in kind and if you're still learning when you meet him, he's proud when he hears you doing well in comprehension and sentences. Still, sounds just a lil silly.

He loves when your accent gets thick from rage, but he his favorite thing is if you speak Spanish in a rage, with your accent on top of it. It's a combination that fills his brain with serotonin.

"Eres un maldito idiota. ¡Tan útil como las tetas de un toro!" "Wha- Haha! What does that mean?!" "Did they say some super weird analogy?" "Si! They did!" "Yeaaah, they do that a lot."

He's notorious for having a naturally flirty personality, it's just how he's always been. Hence why not much phases him, but he does get a quite wide & genuine grin if you flirt back, making your accent extra intense. Especially with the pet names, another man who likes sweet words.

Thinks you having a southern call sign is really cute, especially if it's something your team calls you exclusively. He thinks it shows your endearment to your team. However, if your call sign is something you insist is only for friends, he'll get super giddy about being allowed to call you it.

If he were to pick? (Belle; Like southern belle whether you're fem! or not, Rodeo, and he might call you Americano- but like, in the coffee way. Like it's a sweet nickname, not just him saying your nationality)

Southern hospitality is something he is not used to. Again, bad experience with Americans. So if you explain all the various manners and nice gestures that are considered expected in your home state? He's completely confused, wondering why the Americans he's met don't keep that attitude up when they leave home.

Again, really likes it if you use southern pet names. Especially if you're trying to console him after a really tough day/mission. For some reason it really helps, like a cup of warm coffee on a cold morning.

"Aye, don't stress yourself over it, darlin'. Bad things happen that we can't control, you did everything you could and you were great at it. Don't let it eat at'cha, honey-bun." "Gracias, Bella. Lo necesitaba…" "Anytime, big guy. Now, you wanna see me try and fail again to open a de la Rosa without breaking it?" "Aha! How about I show you a trick to do it instead?"

Again, like Ghost, you're his special American. Gaz calls you his emotional-support American once and he thinks it's really funny, he'll call you as such every now and then.

✧Rodolfo Parra✧

Sweet darling man. He has nothing against you being American, nothing. But...he cannot understand anything you're saying. He's doing his best but he really doesn't know. He can feel his brain frying every time you bring up something super southern, trying to understand.

He'll have to lean over to your team to ask for a translation, anyone but Soap & Price will tack on an "I think, I'm not sure" at the end of their explanation. If he hears you use a phrase more than once, he'll add it to a little list of notes with the translation underneath it. Treats it like a whole different language. It's adorable.

Like Alejandro, he thinks it's funny if you speak Spanish with your accent. He'll keep a straight face because he knows you can't help it, but man is it fun to hear.

He's not very fond of a lot of yelling if he can avoid it, Rudy prefers disputes to be handled with calm words if possible. But he understands that sometimes it's necessary. Still, he'd want to try and calm you down if you're yelling. But, if you're just acting sickeningly-sweet, kind words that are clearly dripping with venom? He'll just watch. He thinks that shows you handle yourself very well and it's pretty attractive to him, not gonna lie.

"Awww I'm so sorry you're upset, poor thing. God bless you, sir, you have a lovely day. I hope that stick up your ass doesn't hurt too bad." "¡Soldado! No digas eso…" "Shh, sugar, it's fine. He wants to be rude, I can be rude back. An eye for an eye. Don't worry your pretty lil' head bout it, sweetheart." "Dios, a veces me asombras y me aterrorizas."

He's really hesitant about American food. It smells great sometimes but all he hears about American food is that it's greasy, or too salty, etc. Still, he won't deny any meal you make. He thinks it's rude to deny food unless it's something you're allergic to.

He ends up liking a few things, but he is biased to his home cooking. But if you start making his favorite foods, or somehow combine the styles in an honoring way? Oh, those are his favorites. He's particularly fond of American sweets though!

Please bake for this man, bake for him, I beg. Apple pie is an American staple for a reason and he'll jokingly claim he'll move to America if it means he can have apple pie every day.

"Rudy, that's your fourth piece! Ahaha, if I knew you liked it so much I woulda made ya more." "Ay, please do! ¡Fue enviado desde el cielo!" "Alright then, hun, I'll be sure to make you all the apple pie ya want."

Rudy really likes if you wear stuff like a cowboy hat. He's not really sure why, he just thinks it's really cute. If it's a staple of your whole look(like John's hat), seeing you protective over it, he thinks that's really cute. If you're protective of your cowboy hat but let him hold it/put it on his head to hold it, it's gonna fluster him. Even if your guy's relationship is completely platonic.

If you live near the border of Texas & Mexico, it makes visiting you pretty easy, so he'll have no qualms about going back and forth when off duty. He'll be more comfortable in his home but he won't turn down the offer to see your home, especially if it's a ranch. He's got a soft spot for farm animals. (Particularly goats)

If he has any control of how you choose your call sign, he'll likely pick something the same way Gaz does. But, if you have a thing about what certain people call you - like how only Ghost can call Soap "Johnny" - He feels really warm and fuzzy if he gets a special privilege.

(Translations; "Eres un maldito idiota. ¡Tan útil como las tetas de un toro!" - "You're a fucking idiot - as useful as a bull's tits/about as useful as tits on a bull!" "Gracias, Bella. Lo necesitaba…" - "Thank you, bella/beauty. I needed it." "¡Soldado! No digas eso…" - "Soldier! You can't say that..." "Dios, a veces me asombras y me aterrorizas." - "God, sometimes you amaze and terrify me." "¡Fue enviado desde el cielo!" - "It was sent from heaven!")

#call of duty mwii #call of duty x reader #call of duty #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #soap mactavish x reader #captain john price #john price x reader #kyle gaz garrick #gaz x reader #alejandro vargas x reader #alejandro vargas #rodolfo rudy parra #rodolfo x reader

[00-hawkboi-00]

Make a Mercy Out of Me

Part One

Paring; König x m!reader

Word count; ~6k

Warnings; uhmm.. violence and a whole lotta google translate

(this is my first time using this platform for fics, so please bear with me-)

--- "far from home" ---

You were not a fan of public spaces. Or people in general. You were especially not a fan of overcrowded, rowdy bars - with slippery bodies pressed so close together you could barely take a breath without inhaling someone else's CO2.

You found slight reprieve at the counter, seated farthest from the door and chin propped up on your gloved palm, watching the bartender race around mixing drinks and chatting politely with customers who definitely didn't deserve her kindness. It was a little entertaining watching the woman balance glasses while simultaneously putting on a show for her drunk viewers.

You didn't like being in public, but the bartender in front of you made it a little more worth your while. Besides, you were here for a reason. You had a job to do.

A job that should have arrived almost half an hour ago. They were late, typical. You had expected this; he always pinged you the location for drop-off hours before the person arrived. In fact, you had specifically chosen to wait a good few hours after the initial message for this very reason.

You still ended up being early.

A few more minutes passed before you felt a shift in the atmosphere of the room. Felt the searching eyes land on you, burning a hole through the side of your masked face. You resist the urge to turn around and look for them, knowing they would be by your side soon enough.

A brief moment later - probably the person trying to maneuver through the sea of sweaty bodies - an inconspicuous person seated themselves to your left, dressed in civilian clothes with nothing but a darkly colored medical mask to obscure their identity. They gave a bright smile to the woman behind the counter and waved off her inquiry for a drink.

"So," They began, "how's the weather back home?"

As they spoke, they kept their focus floating around the stuffy room. Expression relaxed and elbows planted firmly on the wooden surface of the bar.

"Bright and sunny." You reply simply, letting the other person know you are alone. That you haven't been followed, your identity compromised - that the last mission had gone well.

"No overcast?"

"None." Your voice is pitched low, almost gravelly as you respond. You trail your gloved fingers along the lip of your own, untouched glass, waiting for whatever this person has in store for you.

"I see," their tone shifts, still keeping on that laid-back persona, to something more professional before they slip into your native tongue.

"Na túto misiu cestujete do zahraničia. Niekde pozdĺž americko-mexickej hranice."

"Dosť ďaleko od domácej základne, nie?"

"Áno."

"A ona mi verí, že sa o to postarám?"

They glance over at you briefly, before their eyes flicker away again.

"Of course."

You nod, pulling out enough cash to cover the drink and placing it on the counter. Moving to stand, you take your drink with you.

Taking a clumsy step forward, as if you had drunk enough to kill a small deer, you stumble into the person sitting beside you. Spilling the contents of the glass all over the front of their shirt in the process.

"Shit!" You exclaim, reaching over to grab a handful of napkins. You begin frantically pressing the thin papers to the person's clothes, muttering apologies under your breath.

"I'm so sorry- really, I am! It was an accident-" you continue to ramble, adding an exaggerated slur to your words as you speak. Their hands reach down to assist you in your frantic movements, the chaos in which your two's hands are moving distracting from the moment the other person slips a small, folded paper into your jacket sleeve.

Once you feel the press of the note against your wrist you pull away, tucking it into your pocket. The glare in their eyes speaks volumes as you back away, even as they mutter a quick;

"It's fine."

Was it necessary? Absolutely not. Was it a delight to see the person splutter and tug the drenched fabric away from their skin as you slunk away into the crowd? Yes, yes it was.

You reach the exit and pull out the door, mentally laughing to yourself at the look on their face before you'd left. Payback for making you wait so damn long. You draw in a deep breath, the air chilly even through the cloth of your mask. It was refreshing, a breath of fresh air after having been stuck in that filthy establishment for a little over an hour.

When you decide you've walked far enough, fingers reach into your pocket. Your pace doesn't falter, continuing at a lazy waltz as you unfold it with one hand. A car's headlights light up the paper as it passes by, illuminating the digits on the note when you bring it up to inspect it.

Coordinates, lovely. Because your handler was nothing if not a fan of the dramatics.

27.5036° N, 99.5076° W

You huff a small sigh, rolling your eyes before pocketing the paper once again. Welp, better start moving.

You get dropped off a few miles south of the city, a little ways away from the river, because apparently flying a helicopter into the heart of it would be 'too suspicious'. Meaning you'd now have to walk through muggy plains for a good hour or two.

Not even halfway out the heli and you were already mourning the loss of the freezing tundra that is your home base. You sling your duffle bag over your shoulder, not bothering to look back at the pilot who brought you into the pit of hell.

The Heli takes off not even a moment after, leaving you completely alone. With a drawn-out sigh and a roll of your eyes, you begin the long trek through this godforsaken hellscape.

The sun is just above the horizon when you arrive at the outskirts of the - now that you're here - fairly large city. Peaking over the edge of the small hill you mentally groan. People.

Not only did your handler send you across the fucking northern Atlantic ocean, but she sent you into one of the most populated cities along the damn border!

When the sun finally begins to set - a pretty mix of purples and orangish hues as the ball of fire disappears over the horizon - you pick up your bag once again and take off down the hill, carefully maneuvering over the uneven ground.

After a few minutes of wandering aimlessly through the streets bordering the city, you manage to find a cheap, sketchy-looking residence for shelter. All it takes is a couple of bills, some broken Spanish, and a fake identity and you're walking up a creaky flight of stairs to your home away from home for the foreseeable future.

Upon twisting the key into the door and hearing that satisfying click sound, you push the door open slowly. Your eyes flicker around the room for a minute, scoping out the space for anything sticking out of place, before you finally step in. Shutting and bolting the flimsy door quietly behind you.

In the room lies a small bed frame, a thin mattress on top, and a worn wooden side table next to it - pushed up against the far left corner. There's a tiny window fixed into the center of the wall, to the right of the bed. Pushed up against the opposite wall is a dusty, wooden dresser. A dirty mirror dangling above it. Farthest to the left of the room is a half bathroom, the door propped open. This allows you to see almost the entire interior from where you stand near the entrance of the room.

You heave the duffle off your shoulder and onto the dresser, taking out a small bottle and then leaving it there as you turn to make your way to the bathroom. It wasn't exactly the most hygienic, but splashing your face with water and using the last bit of your cheap shampoo to clean the sweat out of your hair was as good as it was going to get. After that you exit the tiny room, heading straight for the lumpy mattress near the door.

You grab the fleece blanket from your bag on the way over, discarding the sheets already wrapped on the bed onto the floor - there's no telling what caused those colorful stains, and you weren't too keen on finding out. You place the blanket on top of the now bare mattress, as you figure the heat of the air would keep you warm enough as you sleep. You remove your shirt, balling it up and using it as a pillow as you get comfortable.

As you lay there, eyes flicking around the dark, unfamiliar room, your stomach churns harshly. It had been a while since your last meal, but you weren't exactly eager to fix that problem. Nor did you really have the means to at the moment.

Choosing to ignore the insistent rumbling of your stomach, you nuzzle your face into your makeshift pillow and close your eyes. It takes a little while, but after laying there for an extended period of time, with nothing else to occupy your mind, you eventually drift into a light slumber.

— POV: König —

Capture. No kill.

Those are his orders - and the rest of the team, but that doesn't matter right now. What matters is the very real man - he'd overhead Soap talking to Gaz, wondering if the fabled fool even existed - walking dangerously close to a frail woman under the cover of a thick, noisy crowd.

They'd gotten tipped off to your location by an anonymous caller. Something about you being the infamous man the crew had been hunting these past few years - leaving mutilated bodies in your wake. You didn't discriminate against your targets, but that wasn't what made you so dangerous. No, it was the fact that they didn't know why you killed.

If it wasn't for the sporadic timeline in which you did it, and that your targets weren't specific to a certain city or country - added to the fact that the majority of your killings were either political leaders, or their affiliates (which wasn't limited to the people in power, but included their wives and children as well) - you wouldn't even be on their radar. You would've just been another psychotic serial killer.

In their eyes, you were simply another terrorist. One with no known rhyme or reason for your methods; unpredictable. And that was far more dangerous than your typical run-of-the-mill terrorist. At least they have - no matter how separated from reality - ideals and morals. At least they were predictable.

You had had them chasing your tail going on for two years straight now, leaving them to pick up your breadcrumbs and discover the carnage you left behind.

This all came to a close when one random Friday afternoon they got a hit on where you'd be headed next through the way of a call to Laswell's office landline. They, of course, had wondered just how exactly the man on the other line had known your location - and if the intel was even authentic - but the call had cut to dead air before they could interrogate him. Besides, if this was a real tip, it was far too good to pass up.

And, after a lengthy flight, now they were here. Watching. Waiting. For anything. For you to make a move, for you to materialize from what seemed like thin air. Gaz had had the hunch that, though you would try to blend in, you would be easy to pick out of the crowd. He, on the drive here, had reasoned that though someone like you was likely a master at his craft - there had to be a fault somewhere.

Why else would all of your kills take place under the blanket of the night? It clearly wasn't just to avoid witnesses or catch your victims off guard. Your kills showed great strength, and the places where you left the bodies weren't always exactly… hidden.

Gaz had drawn the conclusion that you must just not be a people person, or that there was something about high-traffic areas that put you on edge. König couldn't fault you for that, he too - as well as some of the others - wasn't exactly the most sociable either and didn't blend well with civilians. You, however, he had said that you would stick out like a sore thumb. Unable to hide the tension in your body, or the urge to fidget with whatever you could get your hands on.

He was right. Here you were; tapping the tips of your left fingers against your thumb incessantly and jaw clenched so tight, König was sure it would snap.

"Got him." Soap spoke into his ear, the man himself being a good few meters ahead of you - tucked away near an alley, leaning up against an old brick wall. The others, after a short moment of silence, muttered their affirmation. Five people had their eyes on you, and yet you seemed to be so blissfully unaware. Too caught up in your anxieties to notice the men stationed on every side of you, waiting for the opportunity to strike.

König watches as the old lady stumbles into you, watches as you scramble to pick up the items that had tumbled out of her shaky arms from the impact. They wait. Wait for your next movement. Wait for you to get away from so many innocent civilians, to the thinner part of the herd.

The moment comes far too soon, you hurriedly shove the fallen objects back into her hands, muttering what is most likely an apology under your breath. After that you look up, eyes flickering around the exposed area you seem to have found yourself in - and that's when it happens. Your icy glare connects with his own, unwavering stare, and your body seizes up.

"Spotted." He grunts out, shifting off of the large crate he had been perched against to disguise his height. "Target headed your way Soap-"

He barely gets the Scots name out, barely has the time to lift his chin to keep his eyes steely on you before the screaming starts. König goes flying backward at the strength of the blast, catching himself at the last minute, inches from getting up close and personal with the clay underfoot.

He gets a glimpse of you - knocked off your own balance and struggling to right your footing - before the cloud of dust and smoke becomes too thick, obscuring you from view.

— —

You wake up before the sun does, covered in a thin layer of cold sweat despite the heat of the room and feeling more tired than you were the day before. The first thing you do is stumble off the bed and to the duffle bag you had left open on the dresser last night. You pull out a change of clothes - a thin t-shirt and a pair of well-worn pants - then zip it back up.

After you change into the new clothing and roll up the dirty, used ones to stuff into the far corner of your bag - you lift the duffle, carrying it over to the bed to tuck it underneath. With nothing else to do but get on with your day, you leave. Making sure you lock the damn thing behind you. You didn't want any unwanted visitors going through your shit, after all.

The sun has risen now and it's time to find out just what your handler sent you out here for. It better be worth it - this damn heat made you want to tear your skin off.

You travel the outskirts of the city as long as you can, trying your best to ignore the crowd of people milling about and just get what you came here for. Hopefully, the what in question would make its appearance soon enough.

You've never been… good at blending in with your surroundings. Sure, you could manage yourself - you were a professional, after all. But being around so many unknowns made you uneasy. A feeling you're certain even the most socially unaware of the crowd could pick up on.

Eventually, though, you have to make a right and dive into the busy streets. Your phone pings in your pocket, letting you know you're getting closer to your destination. You pass by an ungodly amount of bars - seriously, why are there so many? - on your way. Now and again there's a tiny buzz from your phone, stronger as you inch closer to the designated drop-off. Or, at least you think it's a drop-off? What else could it be? There are only so many possibilities in the midst of a populated city.

Thankfully, the what makes its entrance in the form of a suspicious old lady walking your way. Well, suspicious to you. Not as much to the other people around you, as they continue about their morning without even sparing her a glance.

You adjust your mask as she approaches, trying your damn hardest to seem unaware of the person currently beelining her way towards you. A small huff of breath escapes you at the impact, the lady's tiny body carrying much more weight behind it than you had assumed it would, various fruits and other small items coming crashing to the ground.

You scramble to retrieve the fallen objects, spotting another small folded paper in the mix.

"Mis disculpas, señora." You mutter under your breath, silently wishing you'd paid more attention when learning this particular language (at the time you hadn't considered the possibility that you'd ever use this specific dialect).

"No te vi allí." You speak again, the woman uttering her own exaggerated apologies - arms flailing about. Holding most of the objects in your hands, you begin to shove them into her arms; eyes pinpointed on one small white square, getting closer to it with every item you pick up.

When your fingers wrap around the flimsy paper you stand up, passing the last few things - seriously, how did this woman carry so damn much? - to her you lift your head, scoping out your surroundings.

It went against your training, but fuck training right now- because you were pretty damn sure you were being watched, a prickly feeling at the base of your skull. Slipping the folded paper into your pocket, you turn around. You spot them instantly, locking eyes with a giant, blue-eyed man. His eyes are all you see. And they are all you need to see before you're flipping back around and speeding up to a fast-paced walk.

You only get a few steps away before you're launched sideways; crashing shoulder-first into a brick wall. You feel the distinct movement of bone dislodging from its rightful place, and you don't have to look down to know it's likely dislocated. Teeth dig into the soft flesh under your mask, tasting metal as you fight to suppress the scream building in your throat.

You have to get out of here. You need to get back to that damn room and call your fucking handler before these men have the chance to get their grubby hands on you.

You push off the wall, blinking in an attempt to clear the dust out of your eyes. You stumble a bit, nearly toppling over an unmoving body at your feet, but quickly right yourself. Boots hit the muddy ground with reckless abandon, not caring about the sound you're making any more - not worried about being seen as out of place.

Survive. That's the only thing on your mind. Survive and make it to your room. Make it to your room so you can scream bloody murder at your boss. Survive, make it to your room, cuss out your handler, and make it back to the tundra that is your home. You can do that.

You can do that.

You continue running, hand clutching at your injured shoulder to hold it in place. You loop around buildings, twisting and turning every which way as you try to regain your bearings - to find a way out of this maze of alleys. You come to a stop at a dead end, a tall wire fence separating you from the freedom you oh so desperately crave.

Your breath comes out in sharp bursts from your nose, heating up under your mask to the point it has you contemplating ripping the damn thing off. This is compromised by tugging off your gloves and shoving them into a pocket. You're snapped out of your thoughts by the sound of gravel crunching behind you.

You flip around, eyes wide as you catch sight of the man standing behind you. He's not too tall, plainly built, and covered head to toe in makeshift gear. You consider just jumping the damn fence despite the burning in your arm, and not dealing with this guy at all. Before you can decide that, the man is charging at you - screaming out vile half-Spanish-half-English words as he does so.

You don't have time to dodge, too caught up in your head, and the next moment there's a searing pain in your already wounded shoulder. You look up, teeth clenched, glaring daggers at the man. You pull the throwing knife out of your flesh, preparing for when he finally reaches you.

The full force of his weight knocks you off balance, and you both come careening to the clay-packed ground. You manage to roll before that happens, the man beneath you taking most of the impact. You don't have time to stew in your minor victory before he's thrusting another knife at you - this one nicking you in the face, blood welling up and dripping into your eye.

You fight to stay on top, reaching for your own blade that lays tucked away in your civilian outfit - the one you pulled out having gotten lost in the brunt of the attack. Your struggling provides the man with the opportunity to flip you two over, cursing at you and wrestling against your waning strength. Your arm gives in, and he pins it above your head, still shouting directly into your face.

He reaches back and at the same time he drives back down to land another strike on you, you managed to wrangle your knife free. Your hand flies through the air, coming to rest in the juncture between his neck and shoulder at the same time he wedges the blade into the muscle of your thigh.

You pull the weapon out, blood already bubbling to the surface and spilling out, and thrust back in. Over and over again until his grip on his knife loosens, no longer digging the damn thing into your poor thigh, and his body goes limp. You scramble to push him off before you are crushed by his weight, crawling away backward on your hands.

You take a moment to catch your breath, chest heaving with the effort to get as much oxygen into your lungs as possible. After sitting there for a brief second longer, you remember the man you had seen at the city square, and you're hit with another burst of adrenaline.

You clamber to your feet, planting them firmly on the ground a little bit apart to stabilize yourself. Taking another deep breath you look up at the looming fence. Fuck it, you decide, limping over to it.

You struggle to gain any sort of footing at first, but using the pile of crates in the far right corner you manage to scramble halfway up the wire fence before you have to rely on pure upper body strength - not that you have much of that at the moment - to heave yourself up. By some miracle, you succeed. Now sitting unbalanced at the top, you squeeze your eyes shut and bite down on your tongue.

Flinging yourself over the edge, you brace for the impact - aiming to spread the force throughout your entire body instead of breaking your legs. No amount of bracing could prepare you for the mind-numbing pain of your feet hitting the ground - shooting up into your thighs and cutting through your stab wound. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, a muffled cry tearing through your throat.

Your legs tremble, threatening to give out beneath you. Cracking open your eyes you take in your surroundings. You know this place. You're close. So close.

You leave bloody footprints on the stairs as you climb them, bracing yourself heavily on the railing. When you reach the top you're gasping for air, hands fumbling with the key before you insert it in the lock - turning it sharply to the right. You nearly vocalize your relief when the door clicks open, granting you access to the dingy room.

You hurry over to the bed, collecting your blanket, and pulling out the duffle bag from beneath the bed. Unzipping the bag you shove the blanket inside, zipping it back up just as fast. You drop your weight onto the now bare mattress, sitting down as you rush to retrieve your phone from your left pocket.

Blood has seeped out of your wound and through your pants, running down your leg and dripping onto the floor. You ignore it, crimson-stained hands tapping ferociously at the cracked screen of your cell. Somehow managing to type in your handler's number, you wait for her to pick up.

When she does, you're furious - shouting unintelligible expletives and pressing the device close to your ear.

"WHAT THE FUCK, VIK?" You finally find the ability to say more than string after string of curses and threats.

"Calm down, soldier." She speaks, voice low and frustratingly relaxed.

"Calm down!? CALM DOWN!?!?" You yell, blood thrumming in your ears. "Don't tell me to calm down, dammit. I just got blown up, then fucking ran down and stabbed. You need to pull me out of here- I need to get out of here."

"Did you get the target already?"

"Target? Are you even hearing me!? I'm bleeding out in this filthy rundown complex, and you're talking about the fucking target?"

"What do you want me to do about it, Myš?"

"What do I-" you cut yourself off with a disbelieving snort. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

"Get. Me. Out. Of. Here."

She sighs on the other line, the sound of that damn office chair of hers squeaking in the background. "No can do, soldier. You have a job to do, do it."

"Job? You cannot be serious-" The line goes dead, and you see red.

"She did not just hang up on me." You grit out, grip on the phone tightening. She did.

You seeth, and - not your brightest moment if you're being honest -, in a fit of rage you wrench back your arm before swinging it forward. The phone goes shooting out from your hand, smashing to pieces against the wall to the right of the bathroom door.

You take a minute to think; you are still very much not safe, and no one is coming to help you. You are entirely on your own, you have no one to depend on but yourself.

First things first - you are still very much bleeding out, and your dislocated shoulder isn't going to relocate itself. You stand on wobbly legs, walking until you reach the nearest wall. Propping yourself against it you take a deep breath in, brace your other hand on your shoulder and push. A sickening crack emits from it, along with a burning pressure before it gives way - locking back into its socket.

You let out a strangled whine, exhaling the breath you were holding harshly. Catching your breath you take a minute before limping back over to the mattress.

After sitting down you reach for your duffle bag, lifting it and setting it on the bed beside you as you search through it. You don't have much, but a few pairs of clean shirts should be enough to hold it, right?

Now you just needed something to hold it in place… aha! You reach in for your trusty roll of duct tape - you should really invest in another roll, this one was running on fumes. You never went anywhere without this. Never knowing when it could come in handy. Like right now.

The good thing about duct tape was that it was sturdy as hell and, most importantly, could be easily ripped with one hand and a set of teeth.

You tear the shirt into one long usable strip first, deciding the blood gushing out of your fractured arm was more urgent than your leg. You make sure to wrap it tightly, a sloppy job would only cause more harm than good. Once the torn shirt is firmly packed around your upper arm, you reach for the roll of tape. After fiddling a bit to unravel enough to start, you bring it to the cloth and begin looping around it again and again - until you're satisfied with your now metallic-covered limb. Using your good hand, you pull the roll taut. After which allows you to use your teeth to tear off the end of the tape; fastening it down tightly.

Looking down at your mutilated thigh, you groan softly to yourself. From what it appeared - the man hadn't caught any major arteries. That was good news at least. Not so good news was that the entire upper portion of your pant leg was now soaked with your own blood. You didn't have time to change clothes, didn't even have time to rip open the cloth to get better access to the wound.

Grabbing another mostly clean shirt - at this point, you were going to run out of wearable clothing - you rip that one as well. Similarly to the way you had wrapped your arm, you secure your leg. By the time you finish covering it in duct tape, the roll is empty and you huff. Great.

You go to zip up your bag, only to be interrupted by a knock on your door. Your heart rate picks up immediately, ears straining to hear any commotion coming from behind the door. The door creaks open slightly - had you forgotten to lock it?? -, accompanied by the sound of metal clinking against the faux wood floor.

Hindbrain kicking into first gear you grapple for your duffle, slinging it over your good shoulder and dashing for the bathroom. You slam the door shut behind you, bracing against it. The telltale sound of a timer going off then the impact of shrapnel hitting the other side of the door erupts nearly seconds after the door forcefully clicks closed.

You only have seconds to think as the loud, gruff voices of men fill the room you were just in mere moments ago. You scramble to get your duffle off your shoulder, dropping it to the ground and rifling through it once more.

You pull out a small pistol and pray to a god you don't believe in that the damn thing is loaded. Your fingers curl around the cool metal, and your nerves settle as the feeling grounds you into the present. This is life or death. You've trained all your life for situations like this. And one thing is for certain - you're not going down without taking out as many of these fuckers as you possibly can.

You yank the door open and take open fire. You don't care where the shots land. You just hope they hit something. When the fog settles and you can see again, you take a look around. There's one patchwork armored man on the floor, clutching at his chest as crimson soaks through and envelopes the cloth. One other is gripping his arm, glaring at you with gritted teeth.

He lifts his gun to aim at you, blood seeping through the wound and dripping on the floor. There's a bullet through his skull before he gets the chance to pull the trigger. Deciding to put the other man out of his misery, you load another into his skull as well.

You grimace at the bodies laying in growing pools of their own blood. You honestly felt a little bad for the poor maintenance worker that would have to deal with your misfortune. Oh well, it's a good thing the flooring wasn't carpet.

After retrieving your duffle bag from the bathroom and shuffling out into the hall, you begin to descend. Making your way to the back exit - as you assumed the front door probably wouldn't take too kindly to your presence.

Halfway down the stairs, you hear muttering in the front room. Damn these stars and being placed so close to the front office…

You grit your teeth and try to make yourself as inconspicuous as possible. Something that isn't an easy feat when you're covered in your own blood, have a mystery bag on your shoulder, and a mask obscuring your identity. Still, you somehow manage to pass by undetected. The woman at the front desk keeps her answers vague, and you are a little grateful that past you chose such a sketchy place to take shelter in.

When the voices fade to nothing but background noise you let out a small breath of relief. Your arm aches and the burning in your thigh isn't letting up. You don't know how much longer you can do this, how much longer you can even walk before blood loss plunges you into darkness.

Vision fuzzy around the edges and breath labored under your mask, you stumble around the maze of hallways. You didn't even think there were this many - how many rooms could possibly fit in such a tiny building? You brace one hand on the closest wall, trusting it to support the majority of your weight. Time passes and you're starting to feel a little hopeless that you'll ever make it out alive. Lightheadedness kicks in at the same moment you hear muffled talking around the corner.

"-ooks like he-" One of them says. Your ears are full of cotton, and you cannot decipher their words fully.

"-eah, and he left the carnage for us-"

"- like him-"

You know that you are the him in question. You know they're looking for you. But who are they? Are they with the man from earlier? If so, what do they want with you?

Whatever it is can't be good, you decide. You turn away, opting to go down a different offshoot of the hall to avoid them. Your footing is uneven, shambling down the dimly lit corridor blindly.

Eventually, through some grand miracle, the neon-lit sign comes into view. Your saving grace is in the form of a flickering 'exit' sign anchored above a metal door. Renewed fervor erupts and your chest and you move faster. You're so close- only a few feet away from your salvation.

Granted you still had to get out of the city, and somehow find a way back to your home base… But that didn't matter right now. What mattered was your shaky, bare hands reaching up for the panic bar. It gives way with little resistance, and sunlight fills the darkness that had swallowed you. You breathe in the thick, humid air and find yourself almost grateful for it. Then the overbearing heat returns at full force to remind you why you hate this place so much.

You take a step forward, peaking your head out to check the back alley before you continue - fingers flexing around the grip of your handgun. Seeing that the coast is clear, you open the door more, slipping out onto reddish brown clay. It's a welcomed contrast to the dingy laminate wood flooring you had been stumbling around mere seconds before. Adjusting the duffle bag a bit, you move to fully exit the building.

Your fractured arm is wrenched behind your back before you make it any further. A cut-off yelp escapes you, breath catching at the cool press of metal against your throat.

"Drop it."

You don't register the words at first, too enraptured by the sound of the voice - distinctly of German descent - to cipher the meaning. Low, rough, and oddly appealing.

"Drop." The hold on your arm tightens, the blade inching closer. A silent threat. "It."

The words finally click and decades of rigorous training go out the window, your pistol clattering to the ground.

_____

Next | Masterlist

#call of duty #könig cod #cod x male reader #male reader #könig x male reader #gay pride

[rainybubbles]

How do you meet COD men ? part I

Ghost, Soap, Price, Gaz and Alejandro

G H O S T :

-You were a cashier.

-Who was terrified.

-Because you had this one regular client at 2 AM, every day, who was only coming to bought rope, knives and scissors.

-So you googled

-"How to know if someone is a serial killer?"

-But the only answer was :

-" you know it when they kill people."

-Which didn't help you honestly.

-Because the man could kill you just with his thighs but also with what he bought.

-But he also could fix something in his house or...

-Do some sexual things ?

-It's not the first time a client asked your help to find a rope that doesn't irritate the skin after all.

-But he must be very active in this domain judging by how often the mysterious man bought all of these things.

-So you just stared at him when the night came.

-Searching for some blood or maybe some smile.

-But he had a mask.

-Which reinforces the theory of the killer, reminded your mind.

-But you ignored it.

-Maybe he was just weird and-

-A hand was in front of you.

-You jumped, scared by the intrusion, and you shouted.

-"SIR I- I PLEASE DON'T KILL ME"

-"I don't kill people." he said with a raspy voice "At least not here," he added.

-You stared dumbstruck.

-"See you tomorrow, Y/N." he said before leaving.

-The bastard was messing with you.

-But you haven't known it yet.

-Because the only thought was "HE KNEW MY NAME FUCK."and "WHY, AM, I ATTRACTED TO THIS BUT SCARED AT THE SAME TIME"

-In fact, he had read your badge name.

-yeah.

-You're not very clever sometimes, Y/N.

S O A P :

-During a mission, some secrets files were found.

-The problem was they were written in French.

-And even if they could use some online translator, Laswell and Price wanted to be sure of what was written.

-So they called you, the translator.

-(Sorry if you don't speak French :')

-You presented yourself before working on the files and giving the informations.

-It took a long time.

-So guess who wanted to know better the new face on the base?

-Soap.

-And how did he sympathize?

-Trying to speak French.

-Based on Alejandro and Ghost advices.

-"Ton père a-t-il un beau cul ?" he said.

- I-

-He asked if your father has a nice ass in French, persuaded he was asking "how are you ?"

-You stared at him and frowned your eyebrows in confusion, before replying :

-"He gave me half of his DNA so if you want to know if he has a nice ass, take a look on mine Captain."

-Blushing mess.

-Many apologises.

-While in the background Gaz, Alejandro and Rudy were laughing.

-(Ghost too but it was a smile that nobody saw)

P R I C E

-Price is a stubborn man.

-It's a fact.

-So when his team is in danger, he protects them.

-But during this mission, he ended up severely injured with some gun bullets.

-The 141 called the medics.

-And you were a medic.

-So your first meeting was him covered by blood, trying to reassure his team while you ordered him to not move and stay calm for two seconds.

-After few hours when his life was not anymore in danger, the adrenaline down and the 141 asleep,he thanked you.

-You answered it was your job.

-And weirdly you both started to talk.

-In reality you knew, he tried keeping his mind busy with something while he rested.

-So you offered him the entertainment.

-Which was unfortunately recurrent because you seemed to work together from mission to mission.

-And weirdly fighting with guns does not end up with hugs and unicorn, but with blood and injuries.

-It was so much recurrent so that you ended up being the only one to cure him.

-Who knows you'd end up getting into his heart by tending his body?

G A Z

-You were assigned a mission together.

-You were on another task force, and your teams had to work together for one mission.

-So you met on the field.

-During an infiltration mission.

-You just checked out a supposedly headquarters by playing some innocent civils in the street.

-The problem was that one of the guards found you weird and walked towards you.

-You looked at him, asking by your stares what were you doing.

-"If we're busy to do something, he will step back," Gaz said.

-"In case you didn't notice, we have nothing to do. Apart if you take out a fucking Scrabbles or chess from your ass."

-"We have mouthes."

-"And lungs, if we're going to list our body parts-"

-"If we kissed, he would step back. Nobody interrupts a lovey-dovey couple."

-"Tells this to my grandma."

-"Wait, what did she interrupt on you and your-"

-You kissed him.

-Deeply.

-It had to be a looooong kiss.

-The kind that makes people look away because it feels too private.

-"He's leaving." Price said in your earpiece

-You stepped back, so Gaz did.

-You stared at each other.

-Not knowing what to say.

-"Mission". You reminded him.

-"Yes mission." He answered.

-Let's just say your thoughts at both of you were not on the mission, but how your lips were feeling against each other.

A L E J A N D R O

-Talking about infiltration missions.

-This one needed specific microphones and earpieces not detectable, despite the lack of clothes the soldiers would wear.

-It was in an illegal prostitution club.

-The boss was the target of Los Vaqueros and 141.

-But the security of this club was too high, and starting shooting will only cause civilians deaths for nothing.

-So they had to enter without being remarked.

-And for this Alejandro, Soap and Gaz were infiltrated as waiters.

-The club was pretending to have a restaurant part to hide the other business, while in reality the only thing which was eaten there was genitals.

-Coming back to the outfit of the waiters, it was...a bunny outfit.

-In latex.

-Meaning the only place to hide the micro was next to their intimate parts, because their back was exposed as their shoulders, legs and arms.

-As said before, it was specific microphones.

-So they called technicians to be sure to set them up in the right way and to program them.

-And here you are, our little technician.

-At first you thought you would put some micro in a normal way.

-Then you saw them.

-You saw Alejandro in a bunny outfit.

-Asking yourself how you ended up here.

-He greeted you and started to undress, so you could put the microphones.

-It was awkward.

-You knelt down with your microphone trying to not die of embarrassment, while he was looking at you firstly interested in the technology, then amused by your reaction.

Yes your first meeting was you setting up a microphone next to his balls.

...it's...romantic...I guess?

Sorry for the mistakes, English is not my first language (but French is, meaning I have at least one sentence correct grammatically :')

Don't hesitate to tell me if there are any mistakes !!!

If you want more : my masterlist

#cod x reader #soap x reader #captain price x reader #alejandro x reader #cod headcanons #mw2 x reader #gaz x reader #ghost x reader

[yanderehsr]

Hi dear! I am currently working on your request so I thought I would send you one too! :)

How about yandere Furina with a reader that doesn’t mind that she’s a yandere and gets really flustered when she speaks French?

If this breaks any rules please ignore! 😁

Oui, lady french herself, hope you'll enjoy😄

Trigger Warning: Yandere, Obsessive behaviour, Possessive behaviour, Kidnapping, google translate french (I'm sorry)

Furina's yandere tendencies only heightens with a willing darling, she becomes so much more clingy and even better, you love it, you love her touches and how she forced you to look at her, you love it when she sends people to prison for touching what's hers.

Furina speaks french when she gets flustered which you seem to be able to do with ease. "Je sais déjà que tu m'aimes, arrête de le dire autant", it becomes evident quite fast for Furina that you seem to like her french speaking, you started blushing and stammering afterwards. She loves whispering french in your ears to see you get goosebumps, it's just so entertaining.

Whenever Furina notices your attention starts to slip from her she will cling to your arm and start talking french, she loves how you practically melt whenever she does it, oh she loves you more than anything and she knows you love her more than anything as well.

"Mon amour, is this trial boring for you, you seem to be looking at me instead of it... you know what you're right it's much more entertaining watching you"

[an-aroaces-harem]

Ellis Twilight Chapter 1

DISCLAIMER: I just deepl and google translated my way through this because I wanted to know what’s going on, so there are definitely mistakes but I believe I managed the general gist of the story. Anyway, it’s just a fan-made translation solely for entertainment purposes. Ikemen Villains belongs to Cybird.

Another note: I know Ikemen Villains is set in victorian London, but I will use the japanese suffixes because I prefer them.

What is happiness?

It is like a twilight sky that changes color as soon as it is burned into the eye ...

It holds your heart forever and never lets go, but you'll never have the same one again.

Time, stand still, and let not this happiness fade away.

(From today onwards, my life will be monitored by the members of the assassin organization 'Crown' who control evil with evil.)

(As a 'fairytale writer', it is my duty and my only lifeline to record their sins.)

I get myself ready in front of the mirror and reassure myself that I am ready.

(I am honestly afraid to see this 'sin' again, but ...)

(I've handled a lot of complaints and deliveries at the post office in the past, and I've also worked in busy and crazy situations.)

(Don't worry. I'm sure I'll manage.)

Kate: Only one month. You can do it, you can do it ...

I said to myself like an incanation, opened the door, and took a vigorous step forward.

???: Whoa.

Kate: Ah!?

I bumped the tip of my nose against the chest of someone standing in front of the room.

Kate: I-I'm sorry ...!

Ellis: I'm sorry, too. ... Does it hurt.

(Ah ... that person ...)

--flashback--

Last night, I discovered th secret of Crown, an assassination organization und the direct control of the Queen.

Harrison: ... And? What are you going to do now that I've explained it to you so thoroughly, Victor?

Victor: Hm ... yeah ...

Ellis: Shall we kill her?

(Eh ...?)

Ellis: She doesn't seem happy at all, but I'll take care of that business.

--flashback end--

(He was the first person to suggest killing me.)

(But, then ...)

--flashback--

Ellis: I'm Ellis.

Kate: Ellis ... -kun. Nice to meet you.

Ellis: Hmm ... nice to meet you. Jude and I often go out for outside work.

Ellis: I'll make yo as happy as I can while you're here.

--flashback end--

He was the same guy, but he calmly said something like a marriage proposal ... a slightly different person.

(Why did Ellis-kun come in front of my room ...?)

(Oh, right. Surveillance has already started.)

If I do a bad job, they might kill me.

I remember the fear I felt last night, and I'm sure I stood up straight.

(We shouldn't be in the same mood as we were before.)

(I've already stepped into a different world.)

Kate: Ellis-kun, right? Please take care of me from today.

Ellis: Yes, Ellis Twilight. Come on ... don't be so stiff.

Ellis-kun laughed lightly and looked into my face with concern.

Ellis: ... your nose is turning red.

Ellis: I'm sorry. I was just about to knock when the door opened and I couldn't avoid it.

A long, slender arm holds the door.

Behind his habitual hair are the one and only twilight-colored eyes of his namesake.

I gasped at the unexpectedly close proximity and hurriedly apologized.

Kate: No! I'm sorry I was too enthusiastic and stepped out too fast.

Ellis: Spirited? Why?

Kate: Eh!? Umm ...

("I was afraid of living with you guys, and I was trying to get my mind off of it.")

(How ... can I say that?)

Kate: It's like being transferred to a department you don't know at all, so ... it's ...

Kate: Oh, yes! It's like that ...!

Ellis: Oh, yes ...

Ellis-kun blinks his eyes.

(Hmm, too unnatural ...)

Ellis: ... You're such a cute person.

Kate: Um ... it's okay if you don't follow me ...

(I should have been to have an excuse, but it's kind of very embarrassing ...)

As I averted my gaze as if looking for a place to hide myself, Ellis-kun returned to a straight face and said something in a loud voice.

Ellis: I'd like to ask Hana-san to do her first job in a new department.

Kate: ... Wow ...

(Beautiful garden.)

I was taken to the courtyard of Crown Castle ...

There was a beautiful garden there that had been meticulously manicured in every detail.

Seasonal flowers are in full bloom and smell good, like paradise.

(Although last night I felt nothing but majesty and danger in the towering castle ...)

(There are some places that are so restful.)

I followed Ellis-kun along the path, admiring the beautiful gardens, until we came to a pavilion.

Tea and scones are prepared on the table as if a tea party is about to begin.

Ellis: Go ahead.

Kate: Uh ... T-thank you very much.

I sat down in the chair, puzzled by Ellis-kun pulling out the chair and waiting for me, and he sat down on the opposite side of the table.

(He asked me for a job. But I'm not sure I can do it ...)

Kate: Do we do my first job here?

Ellis: Yeah ... your first job is to have breakfast with me.

(... Eh?)

Ellis: Tell me about you over a nice meal. I'll tell you about me too.

Ellis: If you record it, it will be a record as a 'fairytale writer', won't it?

Kate: That would be ... honestly very helpful.

Ellis: Good, I'm glad I could be of service.

It seems like he is serious and trying to help me.

Ellis: I'll tell you about the other members of Crown.

Ellis: I think it's a bit scary to live among people you don't know at all.

Kate: ...!

(I never expected this 'first job' to be ...)

Kate: Did you ask me out to relieve my nerves?

Ellis: ... kinda right.

Kate: 'Kinda'?

Ellis: It's also so I can talk to you, which is ... a little incorrect.

A soft, faint smile is on his lips.

(I wonder if the first impression I had of Ellis-kun last night was a misunderstanding.)

Just by being near him, the temperature of my body feels cooler ...

... it is as if something is peeking at us from the blurred open darkness ...

... I'm sure I felt that kind of anxiety last night ...

(I don't feel such anxiety from Ellis-kun in front of me.)

(Maybe that was because that was right after I saw the murder scene.)

I quietly brushed aside the strange feeling that was surely brewing in my chest, and decided not to look at it.

... In hindsight, this was a mistake.

(Anyway, since Ellis-kun arranged this for me ...)

(With all due respect, let's hear what you have to say.)

Kate: Thank you very much, Ellis-kun.

Ellis: I didn't do anything for which you could thank me.

Ellis: Do you like sweets? These are the scones Victor baked this morning.

Kate: What? Victor bakes ...?

Ellis: Yeah, it tastes really good. Al is also a good cook.

Ellis: The clotted cream is something I learned from Al and made it myself.

Ellis: Liam recommended this jam, so he bought it for me.

Ellis: Maybe it's because he's a stage actor, but he knows what's trendy.

Ellis: This meat pie is from a place Roger-san used to take me for lunch. He often writes about it.

Kate: W-wait a minute. I want to write down what you just told me ...!

I took out my pocket notebook.

Ellis-kun told me all about the people of Crown, and I was very impressed.

Kate: I know this apricot crumpet store! There's quite a line, isn't there?

Ellis: Harry and I bought them side by side. Harry has a sweet tooth and loves a good sweet store.

Kate: Hehe ... I see you are all good friends at Crown.

(I've always felt like I lived in a different, though.)

(I feel a little relieved to know that we are the same people who live in London ...)

(Thanks to Ellis-kun.)

Keeping the overflowing smile on his face, he spreads cream on the scone at hand.

Ellis: Kate-san.

Kate: Yes ...?

Very naturally, Ellis-kun's large hand reached up to my face.

Ellis: ... It looks like cream is on your hair.

Kate: Eh? Ah ...

(Really, I didn't notice.)

Ellis-kun scooped my hair with his fingertips and gently pulled it over my ears.

Kate: Thank you very much.

Ellis: You're welcome. Was it so good you got carried away?

Resting his face on one hand, Ellis-kun looked at me and smiled.

Kate: ... Yes, it's delicious.

Ellis: Good.

(I can't believe you can do this casually, Ellis-kun seems to be ... popular.)

Realizing that my heart was pounding, I tried to calm down my erractic heartbeat.)

Kate: You prepared a seat like this for me, you cared about me ...

Kate: Why are you being so nice to me?

(I don't even remember doing anything to Ellis-kun that would make him be this nice to me yesterday ...)

Ellis: Kate-san, you didn't look happy all last night.

Ellis: I just want whoever is around me to smile as much as possible.

(That's it ...?)

(To Ellis-kun, I'm a stranger who knows nothing about him.)

Kate: Do you do this for everyone? Even if you have never met them before?

Ellis: Eh ...? Hm ... I guess it's no good.

His naive doubt, on the contrary, made him look puzzled.

(Ellis-kun is a bit of a strange person after all.)

(But ...)

Kate: ... I was happy.

(I'm sure Ellis-kun made me feel better.)

Ellis: I see. ... I'm glad you don't mind.

... By the end of the harmonious breakfast, my guard was completely down.

Ellis: Do you enjoy the theater?

Kate: Yes, I do. In fact, last night, I took an unfamiliar night shift because I wanted money for tickets ...

Ellis: Fufu ... quite passionate.

I chatted with Ellis-kun endlessly, as if we were new friends.

Then, the sound of footsteps echoed.

Victor: Hey, hey, it's so exciting!

Ellis: Victor.

Kate: ...! Good morning.

Victor: Oh, don't get up! I don't mean to interrupt your pleasant banter.

Victor: Ellis offered to take care of breakfast for me, but ... have you relaxed a bit?

Victor smiled at me and looked at me probingly.

The shado of unfathomability I felt from him last night has faded, and I sense warmth and concern in his jewel-like eyes.

(Maybe it was because I enjoyed my 'first job' with Ellis-kun so much that I was able to relax.)

Kate: Yes, thanks to Ellis-kun and the delicious scones Victor baked for us.

Victor: ...

I smiled gratefully, and Victor seemed a little surprised.

But soon after, he smiles like a blossoming flower.

Victor: Yeah, yeah. Your open smile says "I'm so happy to be Crown's exclusive fairytale writer"!

Ellis: ... Didn't you say that much?

Kate: ... Hehe.

Victor looked at me with a small shake of his shouldered and narrowed his eyes.

Victor: Well, I have two requests for you, fairytale master. You must keep the secret, and you must write down the sins.

Victor: The former is fine, but I didn't want you to be lost as to what to do about the latter.

Victor: Can I explain a little?

Kate: Yes, by all means.

Victor: It's not that hard. I want you to take a good look at the people in Crown and write down what you find sinful.

Victor: I'll leave it to you to figure out how to do it.

Victor: You can see mutiple people on different days, or you can focus on one person and work with them.

(Observe the Crown members carefully, the methods and partner are free ... I see.)

Kate: I understand. ... Um, what is the extent of my surveillance?

Victor: I don't want to restrict your freedom of movement except to go out alone.

Victor: I may ask to accompany me on missions, but you can spend the rest of the time however you like.

I'm a little relieved because I thought I'd be under more intense scrutiny.

Kate: I understand. Thank you for your explanation.

Victor: ... I have to admit, I was a little surprised just now. I didn't expect to see your smile so soon.

Victor: We showed you a terrible scene and we are an evil organization that can't even say that you can rest in peace.

A joking wink ...

Then Victor squinted his eyes to watch the dazzling sunlight.

Victor: Hopefully, this will not take away your smile and the darkness that will inevitably touch you.

Strangely, I didn't think the words he told me were a lie.

(The people at Crown are no doubt dwellers of the darkness, horrible people who are willing to lay their hands on people.)

I thought that if I looked into the depths of their hearts, I would be able to understand their feelings.

Victor: I'll leave you to it. The Queen's aide is quite busy.

It seemed that he was just there to see how things were going, and Victor quickly left without getting on the tapes.

(To note a sin, you must first take a good look at the person in Crown, huh?)

Then I'd like to know more about Ellis-kun first.

Such feelings come very naturally.

Kate: Um, Ellis-kun ... what are your plans for today?

But my voice is interrupted by a swarthy voice.

Jude: You have to work, right? Why are you slacking off? I'll kick your ass!

Ellis, Kate: !

The dusky voice makes me jump up and down.

(That voice ...)

Fearfully, I turned around to see Jude-san standing in the courtyard with his arms folded, looking exasperated.

(Oh, he is angry ...)

Ellis: Sorry, I'm coming.

Without even standing up, Ellis-kun leisurely turned his gaze towards Jude-san and answered.

(So carefree ...)

Jude-san clicked his tongue and quickly flipped his cloak and went.

Ellis: ... today's schedule, as you can see.

Kate: You work for a trading company, right?

(Jude-san was the president and Ellis-kun was his assistant ...)

(I was going to observe Ellis-kun, but maybe I should change the day.)

Kate: Thank you for taking the time for me. Good luck with your work.

Ellis: ...

Ellis-kun stared at me, thinking about something.

Kate: Um ...

Ellis: If you want, you can come with me.

#ikemen villains #ikevil #ikemen villains ellis #ellis twilight #resa translates something for once?

[1ivinqdeadqir1]

Headcanons for Lalo being his SO’s first please <3

Lalo being his SOs first:

A/N: I’m assuming you meant first time as in sex but I’m gonna list a few other first-times just in case you meant otherwise

Fem!reader (I can try to make a male! Version if you guys want? Lmk!)

WARNING(s): sexual stuff as well as just general Lalo shenanigans and my bad google translate/duolingo basic Spanish

First relationship:

I feel like Lalo would be very entertained by the fact that he’s your first ever experience in a relationship

I think maybe the more manipulative side of him would like that as it means he can sort of bend your interpretation of things

Though that’d hardly ever happen, only when he’s talking about business because other than that, he’s a really good boyfriend!

I can imagine him being very attentive, not in s submissive way but more in a ‘ I must protect you and look after you ‘ kind of way.

He probably worries a lot about you going out alone so he’d make sure to have guys nearby to where you are just to make sure you’re safe

‘Make sure they get home alright, hm?’

He probably also has a few of your friends on Facebook or has their numbers just in case he can’t get a hold of you ( I don’t imagine he’d talk to them otherwise, he likes to give you your own space)

A lot of teasing and kisses when you’re at home with him

“Eres tan suave, amor” he’d mutter whilst pressing his head into your hair or “¡Yo quiero comerte!”

Whether you understand Spanish or not, you certainly find his ramblings adorable

( if you don’t understand Spanish, and you ask him to teach you, he’d make a point of speaking Only in Spanish sometimes and not translating just to test your apprehension!!)

“Lo siento, amor, tienes que practicar, ¿no?”

It would sometimes get very annoying but as you understand more, you’d come to appreciate it greatly

I can imagine you picking up the swear words easily, and probably littering them around, to which he’d scold you for your language 🙄

Best believe he’s taking you on all the best dates, romantic and relaxing just for you both

First Kiss:

I think first kiss goes hand in hand with first relationship, so this would probably come more naturally

Say you’re about to leave after a date, and he leans in, you hesitate for a minute so he asks:

“You okay?”

To which you reply and explain that you haven’t kissed someone before,

He finds that really sweet, and also fuels his ego a bit knowing that he’s your first EVER kiss.

He’d probably leave you with a simple peck that night, and perhaps a few extra kisses on your cheeks and forehead.

like most I imagine he’s not fond of PDA, though can make an exception when dropping you off… is it really PDA if it’s at your doorstep or in his car?

That brings me to /proper/ kisses and making out

Probably happens in his car to begin with, like you’re feeling kind of needy so you give him a peck on the lips

He’d be really surprised that you initiated it ( he usually does ) but would go in for another kiss

You’re not sure how to make-out so you just go along with what he’s doing,

He’s pretty slow at first, and gentle just easing you into it

When you both pull back he’d comment on how good you were, even if you were pretty shitty at kissing or shy- just to get your confidence up

“you sure you haven’t done this before?”

You’d huff a laugh and shake your head, cheeks all warm and flushed

To which he just pinches one of them gently with his finger and thumb

“Eres muy lindo”

First time having sex: (nsfw)

He’s really gentle with you, seeing as he’d probably initiated it after a make out session

‘Are you sure you’re ready? I don’t mind waiting until you are’

You’d tell him you’re ready, and if you’re feeling bold you’d touch him up a bit after saying that- just to get him a little riled up

He’d be really gentle with you, and try to give you the whole 5 star experience to begin with.

He’d start by eating you out, and you’d try not to focus on how good his stache’ feels between your legs

(I can imagine that being a whole turn on icl)

He’d be pressing really soft, gentle kisses along your thighs and chest, though I don’t imagine he’d leave hickeys on purpose (he thinks they’re kind of trashy, plus he doesn’t need to mark you to let people know that you’re his)

For your first time I don’t think he’d use a condom, just because he’s heard how some people find them uncomfortable, though his pull out game is strong so don’t worry about him getting you pregnant

Unless you’re into that kind of think, definitely let him know if you want him to cum inside because otherwise, yeah

He’d probably purchase your contraceptives, though don’t get this mixed up with him not wanting kids he definitely does, he just doesn’t want to be too hasty about it

Lalo puts the love in lovemaking, he’s really sensual and attentive to your needs the first few times you do it, though as you become more adhered and comfortable to him, he’d get a bit more bold

Think different positions and being rougher with you in bed, especially if he’s had a bad day and you let him know that you’re down (whether subtly or not)

Because I can imagine you teasing him on days where he has a lot of pent up anger and frustration, which leads to the most drawn out, rough sex you could ever imagine

Though yeah, Lalo is good, admittedly so. He’s confident in his ‘abilities’.

Aftercare, for your first time and in general is something he really likes, and sometimes maybe even gets off on?

Like just washing you or seeing you all tired out after sex can get him riled up on a bad day (or even a good day, depends on his mood and what’s happened etc)

He’d lay with you for a while after sex, toy with your hair and talk to you about nothin in particular, just general ramble of his inner thoughts

If he’s feeling romantic, whilst cuddling ( he’s the big spoon. No exceptions) he’d talk to you about how happy you make him, and how he’s going to marry you one day.

He’s very affectionate in general, though it probably comes out more post-nut. He’s a sentimental guy, okay!

“You make me so happy, amor…”

“I’m gonna marry you one day, when you least expect it I’ll propose and we’ll have the most amazing wedding...”

Kisses and cuddles with Lalo truly are the best

He may even sleep for a little while after!

With you in his arms, it’s tempting to just stay there all night/day long

Especially in the colder months!

A/N: ahhh that was so fun to do!! Please send me more hc requests for Lalo, he’s so bbg it kills me

#lalo salamanca x reader #better call saul x reader #eduardo ‘lalo’ salamanca x reader #lalo salamanca #lalo x reader #tony dalton #better call saul #tony dalton x reader #eduardo 'lalo' salamanca

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

diasomnia, 1 — 19

***Spoilers ahead!!!***

Note: this is just a general summary of what has happened so far and my initial reactions to those major events. I focused my comments on whatever interests me the most (ie lore and funny character interactions), so there are definitely details that were overlooked and lines that were simplified to make a joke; please do not rely on this as a translation.

Big thanks to @shuuenmei and @curekibouka-writing for clarifying the more confusing tracks of the story (some parts were difficult to follow the sequence of events for) and the details of the✨ deep lore ✨ It was fun screaming with the both of you—

Ah yes, Yuu’s Sleeping Beauty dream right on cue. Finally starting to put together the puzzle pieces, huh (Yuu goes to check on the Great Seven statues to confirm they saw the Fairy of Thorns in their dreams)? About time—

As expected, Sebek loses his mind and tells Yuu to not abuse Malleus’s kindness. He’s also super pissed that Malleus and Yuu act familiar with each other (and over the nickname). Yup, that interaction went about as well as we all predicted…

Not Lilia being the “I’m an anime boy late for anime school (the internship meeting)!” trope 😂 All he needs is some toast in his mouth!

Crowley talks about boring things how the internships will work and we hear more about the areas of interest for the third years.

Lore ✨ Each internship “semester” is 3 months and you can only take certain internships if you qualify for them via your grades, credits, and electives. You can choose to do 3 separate internships (again, 3 months each) or do 1 internship (for all 9 months). A B or higher is needed on two of the “semesters” to graduate. Students must also submit reports each semester. Some places additionally require interviews and/or special tests to be passed before a student is accepted as an intern. Placements are not first-come, first-serve; you need to earn that spot.

Trey says he wants to do something related to pastries or agriculture; basically, things close to food production 🌾 He wants to take advantage of his opportunities as an NRC student while he still can!! Trey said he wants to work right after school rather than go to university.

Cater is interested in the entertainment industry; he mentions magazines and videos?? It seems he isn’t interested in higher education.

HELP they randomly mention that Ace’s older brother interned in the entertainment industry too (it gets brought up when Cater was considering a theme park for his own internship)??? TRAPPOLA NII ALSO CURRENTLY WORKS IN ENTERTAINMENT????? When do we get to meet him, Ace—

Vil is continuing to advance his own career in film. He already picked out a studio to apply for, and expresses an interest in magical pharmaceuticals (though he doesn’t intend on going to college). Very fitting specialties for everyone, I must say!

Rook is interested in archeology so he can learn more about the world! After learning about S.T.Y.X., he realizes there’s so much more he doesn’t yet know. According to Trey, Rook does appear to intend to pursue college/higher level studies.

LMAO at Trey constantly having to translate Rook-isms for everyone 😂 Classic Science Club…

Unca Weona is cwanky cuz the talking is disturbing his nappy—

Leona’s going to a mining and energy facility in his home country. It’s an option offered only to those with high grades. Leona wants to be a lazy ass 🦁 “They won’t fail their prince, lmao”

Idia is doing an software engineering internship at Olympus Corp (ie TWST Google) 👀 This is huge because back at the end of episode 5 (ie the episode 6 preview), Idia was actively rejecting offers from Olympus Corp, claiming that he wasn’t welcome anywhere. Character growth… Idia isn’t welcome back at S.T.Y.X. because of the Overblotting and how it nearly exposed the organization to the public eye LOL 😂 Absentee Shroud parents upset with him cksbskwbkcnfke

Malleus doesn’t seem to be interested in picking an internship; he says that, to him, 3 months is too short a time to really learn anything (temporal dissonance strikes again). In the end, he is going to research historical ruins?? He can hang out with the Gargoyles 😎 and Rollo/j

BRO WHAT ???? Lilia is dropping out of NRC??? THE FUQ,,,,!.’sveksbskebkzvczbvvv?$$$&85inmw I had to hard stop at this scene because it caught me by surprise.

The first years are talking about Mickey (like if there are certain conditions to get him to appear??). Oh god, they're planning a Mickey Mouse stakeout????? AND ORTHO IS INCLUDED IN THE GROUP AWWWW 🥺 He searches his databases and uses his cool robot tech to look for more information about Mickey but finds nothing.

GRIM MAKES A SUS COMMENT ABOUT HOW ORTHO IS MORE HELPFUL WITH THIS (Mickey and Yuu's worlds perhaps being tied or related to one another) THAN CROWLEY IS.

They overhear Sebek shouting in the cafeteria; he’s in disbelief that Lilia is dropping out of school.

So anyway, Lilia’s magic has, in fact, weakened significantly (he was almost late for the internship meeting because he woke up and found that he couldn't teleport). He plans on retiring in the Land of the Crimson Dragon (Mushu???? IS THAT YOU).

Interesting??? It seems that Lilia has been progressively losing his powers since even before Sebek and Silver were born… It’s not a super recent occurrence.

Sebek and Silver are understandably upset and mention that while it would be easy for either of them to visit Lilia, it would be almost impossible for Malleus because he will be so inundated with his royal duties after graduation. Malleus is distraught as well, but he insists that they respect Lilia's decision. AND HE’S LEAVING IN LIKE A WEEK? That’s barely enough time to mourn or to emotionally prepare for the fallout…

Malleus pitches an idea to talk to his grandma to not overwork Lilia (vice dorm leaders being overworked? What? In this game? Nooooooo/s).

Malleus's grandma is name-dropped (Maleficia)??? Is everyone in the Draconia family just Mal-something????

LOTS OF OMINOUS DIALOGUE ("Time is running out", "Fate cannot be defied", etc.)

After that whole conversation it’s clear that something isn’t right (despite Malleus maintaining his calm in front of Diasomnia). As soon as he’s away from them, the weather instantly turns stormy AND we see Malleus's blot accumulating as early as 7-13 in what I assume will be a very meaty episode.

Sebek and Silver help Lilia pack; Silver finds this tin in Lilia’s room. There is an old bracelet of acorns and thread inside.

Lilia shows up and says that it’s the most precious item he’s ever been gifted??? But it’s not clear who it’s from.

There's another item in the tin (the ring on a chain)! It has a weird effect on Silver?? I think it makes him sleepy???

The gem in the ring is the same color as Silver’s eyes; Lilia thinks its because his parents wanted his eyes to be forever unclouded and pure 🤨 That’s cute and all, but it makes me really suspicious that something super bad will happen later and I’m living for that—

This ring was tied to baby Silver when Lilia found him. He planned on gifting it to Silver when he's finally an adult... and now is that time 😭 Ain’t no way they’re giving us these heartfelt moments only to not tear it down later with something devastating… And?? With the ring being so fancy, there’s no way Silver isn’t descended from some rich family (or even royalty/nobility) himself??? Prince Silver real????/j cuz that ring sure does look like Princess Aurora’s crown…

Sebek pulls up with THIS fucking monstrosity?? It’s a weapon (axe???) Lilia used from back in the day (like, in war). However, nowadays he uses it to chop regular shit like wood. The weapon looks very similar to one that Maleficent’s minions use.

It's made out of a special magical ore! It’s called Mystium, and it changes shape according to the wielder’s magic.

Back to Yuu and co. staking out Mickey! Grim is finally realizing that if Yuu goes home, he’ll be alone 😔 Noooo, fur baby… Don’t be sad..

They wait for a while but get sleepy because Mickey is taking forever to appear. When Yuu wakes up, they see Malleus’s green lights and they go outside to find it’s snowing (again, because of his weird mood). He apologizes and makes the snow vanish, then confides in Yuu about his insecurities.

Malleus tells a story about how he froze the castle and some people when he was a little kid (omg Elsa core???) because because his grandma had promised to eat with him and was late or didn’t show up due to her royal duties keeping her busy. It sounds like even the palace servants were afraid of his power because of incidents like this. Like. It’s kind of implied Malleus almost killed them (Lilia says Malleus almost “lost” those people) with his magic.

Lilia was the only one who came for Malleus to check on him when he was upset, dried his tears, and tried to understand him. He comes over and frees the people that Malleus froze, then everyone starts preparing and eating shaved ice made from the ice encasing the castle (not randomly, I think it was Lilia’s suggestion).

Malleus gets jealous because he saw everyone enjoying food without him and/or he thought Lilia was angry at him. (This is the point when Lilia tells him he has great power so he has to be careful how he uses it, ie the “you almost lost the people that you’re now happily eating with at the hands of your own magic” talk.)

Lilia uses his weapon to make some shaved ice for Malleus and invited him to join in (I think this may be the same weapon Sebek finds in his room in the present???); this helped Malleus “connect” with other people, or at least invited him to join and do the same thing the others were) It’s because of Lilia that Malleus is okay with eating cold things. UM???? HELLO???? Is that why Malleus’s favorite food is ice-cream??? Or at least a part of it?

BTW LONG HAir PONYtAIL LILiA CANON yes I’m way more excited about this than I was about that entire ice story

Yuu calls Malleus lonely 💀 and Malleus is shocked because he’s so used to being alone that the thought never occurred to him…

Oh no, Malleus learned that Yuu has “found a way home” (ie Rickey Rat hunting) 🙃 he’s like. “You are leaving me as well?” AND RIGHT AFTER HE JUST LEARNED ABOUT LILIA GOING… Lilia, who has been with Malleus ever since he hatched from his egg…

Friends, family… everything and everyone he cherishes is leaving Malleus. “Even if I have great power, I have nothing. I gain nothing, I always lose. No one will invite me, not anymore.” No Lilia, No Yuu 😞 Malleus, your abandonment issues are showing—

NAUUUR not more ominous shit 😭 Not the “man, I sure do wish everyone wouldn’t go :(((( if only there was a way for me to have everything I want…” coming from the mouth of a super insanely powerful magician…

NOOOOO not Yuu unintentionally enabling Malleus… He asks if there was a way to be with your loved ones forever, would Yuu take it?????? YUU DOnT SAy YES YOU FUQQinG IDIOT… ENABLER Yuu didn’t learn from Trey/j

MaLLEUS MY duDE 😔 DOn’T PULL ANY STUPID ShIT PLEASE (ie we all know he probably will)

Aaaand that’s all for now, folks!! Lots of sketchy lines and lore centering around grandpappy Lilia 🤡

Overall, I like the direction episode 7 is going so far! I was really worried that it would focus too much on Yuu and Malleus’s relationship rather than elaborating on Malleus’s relationships with the rest of Diasomnia, but I’m glad that the main story actually touches upon how integral Lilia is to his found family—and to Malleus, of course. A lot of interesting plot points have been set up (especially surrounding Mickey and Lilia), and I’m really looking forward to seeing how those conclude 👀 I feel like we also got spoiled with character lore; I love that time is a Real Thing in TWST and the the boys are aging and thinking hard about their futures. Can’t wait for the angst to hit me full force like a truck 💕

#twst #twisted wonderland #Malleus Draconia #Diasomnia #Lilia Vanrouge #Sebek Zigvolt #Silver #Grim #Yuu #Dire Crowley #disney twisted wonderland #spoilers #notes from the writing raven #Sleeping Beauty #Trey Clover #Cater Diamond #Rook Hunt #Vil Schoenheit #Idia Shroud #Ortho Shroud #Ignihyde #Leona Kingscholar #Mickey Mouse

[lord-sharl-perceval]

Champagne Problems

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader Summary: In which Charles comforts a crying girl on a cold London night. Warnings: Mentions of death (made up friends & made up brother), angst, fluff, use of google translator for french curse word, overly romanticized for entertainment purposes. Notes: Also english is not my first language, so criticism is always welcome, but please be kind xx Word Count: 2.7K

Masterlist

Part Two: The Deal

Part Three: Karma Is My Boyfriend

Part One: The Sweet Stranger

»your mom's ring in your pocket, my picture in your wallet, your heart was glass, I dropped it. Champagne problems«

"Excuse me?"

You winced noticeably before you turned your head into the direction wherefrom the voice had spoken to you. Just a few meters away a young man dressed in a suit was standing there.

"Are you alright?" He asked with a worried expression on his face. Taken by surprise you nodded, assuring the stranger you were fine. However he furrowed his brows dubiously, not believing you.

"Are you sure? You're crying" he noted with a french accent, fishing a tissue out of the inside of his jacket and handed it to you carefully.

"Thank you" you mumbled, accepting the tissue, using it to wipe away the tears from your cheeks.

"Do you need to call someone?"

"No, thank you" you replied and turned your gaze towards the distance.

"Alright" he breathed, abutting on the blue railing of the Bridge.

"But I'm definitely not leaving you on your own"

"Pardon?" Perplexed you faced the young man, who just looked at you with raised brows.

"What?" He took a step aside.

"There you go, safety gap"

Still startled you simply stared at him, confused by what the man was doing. All you wanted was time to yourself to process the horrendous evening you had just experienced.

"Why?"

Anxiety started to pile up, of course you couldn't spend some time by yourself on the Tower Bridge at night without encountering strange men that wouldn't leave you be. Frowning the brown haired man scanned you from head to toe.

"Well, you're by yourself in the middle of the night standing on a bridge, crying, your heels are off. It's chilly and you're wearing a spaghetti strap dress without a jacket"

You gasped for air.

"Wait-, no-" you shook your head frantically but then looked down on yourself and quickly realized where he was coming from.

"Fair enough" you snorted, running your fingers through your thick hair in frustration.

"I do not want to commit suicide if that's what you thought" you responded horrified, although you couldn't help to feel relieved at the same time. The man apparently wouldn't go, because he sincerely wanted to make sure, you were fine instead of intending to harass you.

"I'm relieved" he breathed out.

"But still you seem to be upset about something. Do you want to talk about it? It can help to pour your heart out to a stranger" he offered and smiled softly.

"Don't you have somewhere else to be?" You retorted, wrapping your arms around yourself in attempt to warm your cold body. Melodic laughter escaped his lips.

"Coud say the same thing about you or do you always take strolls in dresses and higheels?"

The corners of your mouth twitched hardly noticeable at his words.

"I think, I've already embarrassed myself enough"

"This is your opportunity to embarrass yourself even more" the stranger responded sounding oddly encouraging.

Baffled you eyed the man, for the first time noticing how handsome he was. You couldn't clearly see his eye color due to the faint lighting of the bridge, but you already knew his eyes were your favorite feature of his face.

"I'm a stranger to you and you are a stranger to me. We both couldn't care less, if we made fouls out of ourselves" the brunette, young man reasoned.

"You frenchman are strange" you shivered, feeling your hands ache in the cold wind as you rubbed your arms.

"Thank goodness, I am not french then" he said, his smile broadening until the dimples appeared. After you flashed him a puzzled look, he started to snicker.

"I am from Monaco" he clarified.

"And that doesn't make you french?"

"We prefer being called monegasque" the brown haired man explained.

"Sorry" you shuddered.

"I didn't mean to be disrespectful"

The man shook his head.

"Don't worry about it" he assured you, observing shortly after that you were strongly trembling in consequence of your light clothing.

"You're freezing" the monegasque remarked and took off his jacket.

"May I step closer?"

You wanted to decline his unspoken offer, but instead you nodded, getting a whiff of the pleasant scent of his perfume as he came closer and put his black jacket around you.

"Very kind of you" you mumbled, shyly smiling at him.

"I'm y/n by the way" you introduced yourself, while extending your hand to greet him.

"Charles" the monegasque answered, shaking your ice cold hand.

"Sharl" you repeated the french and, in your opinion, more fancy version of the name Charles.

"So tell me y/n, what brings you here in the middle of the night?" Charles asked, after you both turned towards the River that reflected the lights of the city.

"I ran away"

Tears welled up in your eyes, as soon as you thought back on the unpleasant event that had happened earlier this evening.

"After my boyfriend proposed to me" you proceeded, while pulling the jacket closer.

Charles carefully watched your expression, you looked devastated and guilty. Tears ran over your cheeks again, staining your face with mascara. He could see how sorry you were, how much abandoning your boyfriend was nagging on your conscience. The pained expression on your face made it somehow easy for him to empathize with you, even though your boyfriend was the one deserving the empathy.

"And it wasn't even that we never talked about marriage, of course we did and I was convinced I wanted this, but I guess, I didn't know the real answer until he went down on one knee. Ironic, huh?"

You faced him, finally catching a better sight of his pretty eyes, nevertheless you couldn't put your finger on the exact color of them. Maybe they were green, maybe hazel, they could have been ocean blue as well.

"You must think, I'm a cruel person" you snuffled, using the tissue to stop the tears.

But Charles shook his head.

"I'm not one to judge" he assured, handing you another tissue.

"But if you talked about it, what made you run away?"

You inhaled deeply, crossing your arms in front of your chest, after you wiped your nose.

"I believe, that love isn't for everybody" you turned your head away from him, gazing into the distance.

"For a long time I thought, I was one of those people. That was until I met Will, my boyfriend. He was very patient with me, never gave up on me and made me slowly like the idea of marriage and starting a family"

With a deep sigh you then continued.

"But seeing him get down on one knee made me question our whole relationship, it made me realize that I never wanted this" your voice broke and once again tears were brought to your eyes.

"And hearing him say these words felt like hands around my neck, they suffocated me" you bit your lip.

"So I ran"

You paused and he couldn't find the right words to say.

"I understand" Charles then responded compassionately, taking a closer look at your beautiful but sad face. Your jawline was clenched, your cheeks rosy, the big eyes glassy.

Even while crying she was gorgeous Charles thought. You both kept silent. Charles thought of ways to make you feel better and you choked on your sobs, desperately trying to calm down.

"Let's walk a bit, we don't want people to think we're planning on jumping off of the bridge, do we?" Charles suggested after a short period in attempt to make you smile. And he succeeded as he managed to bring a smile to your face.

"I can't walk through the city looking like a Panda though" you sighed followed by silly laughter. Charles watched your face light up and as he did so, he couldn't detain chuckling as well.

"May I help?" He asked politely, whereat you had to smile brightly.

"Yes, you may" you giggled.

"What?"

"Is every monegasque guy as polite as you are?"

"Most of them are" he replied, carefully wiping away the mascara stains off your face with a tissue. Meanwhile the monegasque cleaned your face highly focused, you were able to take a closer look at his beautiful eyes, finally registering his eyecolor. They were hazel with blue flecks, by far the prettiest pair of eyes you had ever seen.

"There you go, no more panda eyes" Charles grinned confidently.

"Merci"

"De rien"

For a moment you both tensley stared into each others eyes, forgetting your surroundings and circumstances for a split second up until reality crashed in on you, brought you both back to here and now. Charles cleared his throat and nodded towards the way back to the city.

"Let's go"

Quickly you slipped in to your uncomfortable higheels and walked awkwardly next to the taller brunette.

"Why would you believe that love isn't for everyone?" Charles questioned to start another conversation.

"Because I've seen it" you smiled sadly.

"My parents were never happily in love, my mother spent all their marriage cheating on him with different men until my dad's had enough and divorced her"

Charles' curious expression swiftly saddened as he heard your parents story and started to understand why you were so troubled with love.

"I'm sorry to hear"

"And yes, it's my parents business, but while my father was clueless about my mother's infidelity, I knew all along, since I was 13"

"That must have been horrible. Didn't you ever tell him?"

You bowed your head in shame and shook your head.

"No, my Dad and I never had the closest relationship and it's not that I've admitted it to myself back then, I've supressed it for years" you explained, burying your hands in the pockets of the jacket.

"When you love someone, the least thing you want to do, is hurt them. My parents hurt each other pretty badly, all the time. They are incapable of love"

Charles remained silent, he wasn't convinced of your statement, but unlike your parents his parents had had a loving relationship. They had set the perfect example for him and his brothers, they taught them what it meant to love and to be loved.

"I can already hear them talking behind my back: she would've made such a lovely bride, what a shame, she's fucked in the head" you changed the topic and laughed scornfully. The monegasque shook his head, loosening the tie around his neck.

"It's okay to choose not to get married" he told you, shooting you a reassuring look.

"Although running away wasn't the ideal way to decline his marriage proposal" he joked, trying to lighten up the mood.

"Tell me, you were alone with him"

You couldn't help but to smirk at Charles' comment. You knew, it wasn't funny, that you had to take full responsibilities of your actions once you got back, but right now you just wanted to allow yourself for only a few minutes to laugh about it in order to relieve the stress that had built up.

"I wasn't" you confessed guiltily.

"He proposed to me on my party"

"bordel de merde!" Charles cursed in his native tongue in disbelief and bursted into laughter.

"I changed my mind, you are a cruel person" he bantered as though he had known you for years already. You didn't counter, you just laughed with him. Charles meant it as a joke, but you understood that leaving your boyfriend behind with all the guests made you indeed a cruel person.

"Now to you: what were you doing on the bridge?" You asked full of curiosity.

"I needed some fresh air, I've had a rough evening" he grinned, even though there was a glint of misery in his eyes.

"What happened?"

"My family and I hosted a charity event on behalf of my deceased brother and my best friend" Charles responded, slipping his cold hands into his pockets.

"I'm sorry, did they pass recently?"

"No, my best friend passed away 5 years ago and my brother 7 years ago" suddenly his voice sounded evenly.

"Does it ever get better?" You asked cautiously to which he just sighed.

"No" his lips formed to a small, but sorrowful smile again.

"Some days are just less tough than others" Charles ran his long, slender fingers through his brown, untamed hair, releasing another, deeper sigh.

"In 2019 I also lost another friend and ever since that this crippling anxiety has been haunting me, the fear that I might lose another person that I love. I wouldn't survive that" he loosened his tie another time and also opened the first two buttons of his shirt as though he felt smothered by them.

"I spent hours and hours contemplating if I ever wanted to start a family one day and the answer was always the same: no, because to start a family meant more to lose" Charles added, meanwhile tears had welled up and gleamed in his eyes. You didn't notice that a teardrop fell from your eye and rolled over your cheek. You were moved by his words. What Charles had been through was unimaginable.

"I'm honestly so sorry, Charles. I've been whining all night about my problems, that definitely seem like champagne problems compared to yours and-"

"Y/n! It's fine!" Charles interrupted and laid his hand on your shoulder to calm you down.

"I approached you, remember? I was worried and I wanted to make you feel better and guess what? You made me feel better"

Perplexed you looked into his handsome face, recurringly getting lost in those hazel eyes of his.

"Sorry" you whispered and felt blood rushing to your face, tinging your already read cheeks crimson.

"You've apologized enough for today, don't you think?" He said with a crooked smile on his face, hardly any trace of grief left.

"You're right" you agreed with the monegasque.

The rest of the night you two strangers spent talking about everything and anything. You gave Charles a little London tour, showing him the true gems of your hometown, at least that what could be seen at nearly 12 A.M. Like silly children, you had been fooling around, both forgetting what an awful evening you both had had. When it was slowly time to part ways, Charles kindly accompanied you to the next taxi rank.

For a few meters you and the monegasque walked silently next to each other through the illuminated city of London. Both lost in thought, enjoying each others company without the deafening silence that would have came alongside awkwardness.

"I think, I just proved, that I'm no better than my parents. I've hurt the person that I love the most. I'm incapable of love just like them" you muttered as the realization came to you.

"I don't believe that" Charles disagreed.

"Love is not just a strong feeling, it's a choice and sometimes people stop choosing and that is fine"

You didn't respond, the heavy weight of your heart made itself noticeable, causing a feeling of paralysis.

"Do you wish, you had accepted?"

"No" you whispered.

"Then you're already more self-reflected than your parents" Charles contended.

"Is he a good man?"

"The best" you responded without hesitation.

"Then be honest with him, you owe him that"

You nodded nervously, already scared of the utterly unpleasant, but necessary conversation with your boyfriend.

"Thank you, Charles"

"You're welcome, y/n"

Finally a taxi was in sight, that you quickly hailed with a hand gesture.

"Give me your phone" you quickly demanded.

Confused the monegasque handed you his phone, after unlocking it for you. As fast as you could, you typed down your phone number and gave it back to its owner.

"For when you need to completely embarrass yourself" you smirked at Charles, before you took off his jacket and returned it to him as well.

"Thanks" Charles laughed and opened the door for you.

"Goodbye, Charles Leclerc"

Caught off guard he widened his eyes and held the door open after you got into the car.

"You know my full name, it's only fair to know yours as well"

"Y/n y/l/n" you answered right before you closed the door and the taxi took off.

To be continued...

#Charles Leclerc #Charles Leclerc One Shot #Charles Leclerc fluff #Charles Leclerc Imagine #Charles Leclerc x Reader #F1 One Shot #F1 Imagine #Charles Leclerc Champagne Problems #Charles Leclerc Taylor Swift

[bababaka]

Shipping Wars - Bade x reader

The prompt:

Person A, B, and C are famous. Their fame is growing and they are hesitant to come out as a poly couple so they just pass it for a really good friendship. Thing is, the internet being the internet started a shipping war. Some ships A and B some B and C some A and C. It’s starting to do some fights online. One day, they get tired of being asked questions about it and decide to come out as who they are.

Warnings: Aged up Characters. My writing and grammar. Some anxiety but nothing too much. Me not knowing how Twich works. I didn't truly revised it so...

Word count: 3.143

An -> I tried writing in portuguese and then throwing it into the google translate. Lotta work, let me tell you. Nah. It was a valid experience, though.Don't know if i'd do that again. Anyawyas. Love Bade and yeah. Here it is.

You liked what you did.

Entertain and chat with people on the internet who have the same interests, while playing some silly game or one that you've waited your life to play. Was funny. Interesting. Laugh and freak out on the internet with others.

In your five years on the channel, you've created a loyal, funny, and comfortable community. But, well, things started to take a bit of a left turn after the channel's first year.

The shipping war.

And the more time passed, and your popularity increased, the bigger the fight became.

@Yn'slapdog

Jpg.net 

Get yourself someone that looks at you like yn looks at Jade.

-> @Thatonetheaterkid

uuuhm i wish! Thats real love right there! 

-> @Yn'slapdog

Yyyyes! They are the reason i believe in love!

-> @Beck'sBack

whaaaat? Why? They are not a couple! Stop being a delulu! Jade is dating Beck!

Jpg.net 

I mean! C'mon! Look at them people! 

-> @Badeisreal

duuuude! Yes! Their chemistry in that movie was just off the charts! And that scene was improvised by the way! 

-> @Jade'sbottom

it was IMPROVISED??? WHAT? OMG! THAT IS MY FAVORITE SCENE! THEY ARE MY FAVORITE COUPLE!

-> @Badeisreal 

Right? Same! Also, i heard they are going to play as a couple in a new movie AGAIN! 

-> @Jade'sbottom 

jsjfjrkfkekfjdkdjdk Santa is bringing my gift

-> @Yn'slapdog

...its may…

-> @Jade'sbottom 

….Santa is late…

-> @Astarion'slittlebitch

ok. Guys. Take a breather. It is a crime you guys haven't mentioned Beck and Yn. 

They are so darn cute in yn's streams! 

-> @Imyourfather

YEEEEES! BECK BRINGS YN SNACKS ALL THE TIME! AND EVEN PLAYS SOMETIMES! 

-> @Thatonetheaterkid 

...i don't watch their streams… not really my cup of tea. 

-> @Y/n'slapdog 

You should though! There's a lot of damning evidence there! INCLUDING JADE MAKING COMPANY TO THEM! 

-> @Beck'sBack 

we back at this again? 

-> @Thatonetheaterkid 

oh, please! Jade and Beck are actors!!! They are meant to pretend!!! Fake! If they played a couple and didn't seem in love they'd just be out of job.

-> @Badeisreal 

There's somethings you just can't pretend tho!

-> @Imyourfather 

yes. There is. Thats cinema for you.

-> @Theoficialdreamer

What if they are just all good friends though? I mean. They do live in the same house. Maybe just roomates. 

-> @Yn'slapdog  

...get off my thread….

- Boom! That's how it's done! Pay up, guys! I warned you not to doubt me. I am a god.

You got out of your chair, jumping in front of the camera and computer, which showed the end credits of the game.

"I can't believe it! How many people have zeroed in the first time like that?"

"Few. And now they're part of them! What a legend. Mad respect."

"Look at theeem! Dancing with joy! How cute! I can't even be sad about losing the bet."

Yourmom donated $500.

Spideeey donated $500

"Ah! Come on!!! Really?! Noooooo!"

"Just pay, man. Accept that it hurts less"

"Ugh. Next time, I'll win the bet."

Mastermind donated $700

"You guys should just give up at this point. Yn is invincible"

Damn right i am! - you finally finished your extremely petty celebration. You did an event of ten challenges, and in each challenge, if you won, a group would pay you. If you lost, your subscribers would choose a punishment.

But, you were amazing. And didn't lose even once. Inside, you were scared to death of what they might ask. Your fans were cool. But they could cross some lines.

- So, that was the last challenge, right?

You waited and read the comments until you received a definitive answer from one of your moderators.

"Congratulations, Yn. You completed all ten challenges exceptionally."

Yn'srock donated $500.

- Sweet! I'm buying a new mattress after this! Mine broke.

Before the chat could react inappropriately to your speech, Beck appears at the door, out of view of the camera, but unfortunately his voice is audible.

- I heard screaming. What happened? - Normally, you would brush him off and get back to your stream, but, throwing caution to the wind, you turned your attention completely to him.

- What happened? It happened that I'm amazing and you owe me, baby!

- No.

- Ohohoho! Yes! - Beck joins you in front of the computer, the credits rolling on the screen. The actor's delicate, pretty face contorts, eyebrows furrowed, mouth contorted, and a defeated sigh. 

- How? You didn't even like AllSouls.

- Nope. But, a bet is a bet, I did it and now you gotta pay. The chat already did.

And that's when you turn your attention to your computer and notice the chaos in the chat.

Damn it.

This happened whenever Beck or Jade appeared on your streams. Sometimes it could be restrained. Like the times Jade remained by your side, almost sitting on your lap, throughout the stream. Or Beck would join and play with you. Your fans would get used to their presence.

But, well, there were moments, phrases, actions that turned your lives into a complete mess.

This was one of them.

"They are so cute!"

"Ooooh! Bet?? Bet what?"

"BABY??? I'm sorry, WHAT?"

"Bet, hm? The sexy kind?"

"Beck's so hot. Lucky yn"

"Wait??? Beck Oliver?? Wth? Im new someone explain to me"

"They live together. Jade West too."

"And they're also dating"

"Stop spreading fake news!"

"C'monnn! Admit it they'd look amazing as a couple"

"Guys! Stop! We don't know a thing! Respect their privacy please!"

- OK! OK! Let's stop, guys.

Beck laughed awkwardly. He had read the comments.

- Hi, chat. Long time no see.

"Yeah! You should come over yn's streams more often! 

"Oooh! You guys should play one of those games for couples"

"You should do pvp. I'd bet on Beck." 

- Ok! Ok! First. Stop betting against me. Learn your lesson, I'm the best. 

- Cocky. - He murmurs.

You continue, ignoring Beck. - And second, it's no big deal. Just because Beck played a million times and couldn't finish it without dying, he thought I couldn't. Well, you thought wrong, bitch!

-Okay, okay! I lost, you won. Satisfied? - Beck rolled his eyes, but the smile he had tried to suppress gave him away. And you couldn't stop smiling. 

- Not even close! - you had plans for Beck. Your back and neck were extremely sore, and your boyfriend had talented hands.

The internet and the outside world were unaware of your real relationship with Beck and Jade. They speculated, of course, but everything the three of you said was the same thing.

"Chat, we're friends. Stop."

"No, no. Beck and I are just good friends. It helps a lot when we play as a couple"

"We're not a couple."

"No."

"Just friendship."

"Are you stupid? Do you need me to draw? Friends!"

"F-R-I-E-N-D-S! We're just friends!"

It was a recurring question. Jade couldn't always stay calm. It was quite common for her to lose her cool actually. She was always like that, short tempered.

You met Jade and Beck in high school. And before you even finished your senior year, you were together. It was complicated. Painful. Difficult, but in the end, everything was resolved. And you have remained together ever since.

9 years later, and here you all were.

You've decided to try streaming. After 5 arduous years, you got your first million subscribers.

Jade and Beck pursued acting careers. And, along the way, they won a few awards here and there. Their goal was the Oscar. And you supported them more than anything.

They also created channels on YT. They weren't active like you, but every now and then they would record vlogs and other stuff.

Jade posts a "things I hate" videos series. And would terrorize unsuspecting civilians.

Beck talked about cars, and his hair for some reason. Both recorded backstage videos, and rarely, about life inside the house.

That was the problem. You appeared with a certain constancy on each other's social midias. Whether it was a video or a photo.

And that caused a stir. Which turned into ship wars.

- Hello, darling. - you threw yourself on the couch, next to Jade, who was smiling at the phone. - what you're doing?

- Ah, hey. - Without hesitation, she snuggled into your arms. - Nothing much. Just seeing how my last video is doing. 

- The cover one?

Yep. - She shows you her phone, a soft smile in her face, and her eyes just at ease. - You look cute playing a guitar. 

- Well, thank you. I agree. I should play more to you and Beck. - you say cocky. Jade huffs at that.

- Sure. 

- Anyways, babe, i was thinking. You, me, Beck, dinner? I'm cooking.

That got Jade's full atention and she stops staring at her phone to look at you.

- That sounds interesting.

- I was hoping to come off as romantic.

- It didn't.

- Not even if I say it'll have candle lights?

Jade cocks her eyebrow at this. 

- Kinda lame. Overused.

- Right. Right. What about me serenading you and Beck?

- Cute, but corny. 

- What about me doing your and Beck's favorite food, serenade you and make a reference to "the scissoring" at the end? 

Jade goes silent at this. And you realize that you had hit the nail on the head. You knew your girlfriend.

- Well, now i have expectations.

- Worry not. They will be met. 

- It better.

Lucky - cover by Jade West ft Yn

2.3 M views

140.787 comments

Thecurupira

Dude. I was just listening to this song! Definitely adding to my playlist. you guys ar releasing it on Spotify? I MUST LISTEN EVRYDAY

Littleprincess24

At this point they're just mocking us. WHY CHOOSE THIS SPECIFIC SONG??????

Zeldainmasteros34

KSNFKDNCKDNFKDNCKDNCKDK IM DYING JADE IS SO HOT! AND HER VOICE!!!! 

Whydidithavetobespiders

That's love.

Look at how they look at eachother.

I rest my case.

Kieranhotttt69

Yn can play the guitar??? And sing??? That's so hot of them ngl

Luke2385

Idk who i want to be. Yn or Jade.

The interviews with Jade and Beck all had something in common. The dreaded question.

- You are a couple in your newest film. Extremely in love. But, what about in real life, is there someone special?

Jade had improved a lot. The patience. Manners. And with Beck by her side, she could control herself.

- No. There's nobody.

- Really? But you are so beautiful and young.

Jade gritted her teeth. Fists opening and closing. Beck rushes in to interfere. He smiles, which many magazines call "the masculine charm".

- Haha. Life is like this. What can we do? We haven't found the right person yet.

The interviewer pauses. Her eyes slightly closed gains a manic shine. They had fallen right into the trap. It was like a predator, salivating at the sight of its defenseless prey.

- But, there are rumors that Yn, a famous streamer, who lives with you, has some involvement with one of the two. Is it true? Jade, on your channel, a cover was recently posted in which you do a very romantic duet. What can you say about it?

But, Jade West was never prey.

- Wow. You don't have intelligent questions to ask so you repeat the same question that a million people have asked? Do you think you will be the person to have a different answer? Do you think you're so special? Well, you're not. And I'm going to speak slowly, so that you can get into your fucking empty head, Yn and I are friends. Beck and I are friends. Nothing more.

The reporter was lost for words. She stuttered awkwardly and didn't know how to redirect the interview, completely embarrassed.

Beck sighs. Jade got better. She hasn't changed completely.

- I think this interview has come to an end. - Beck says. There's nothing he could do now.

The reporter didn't hesitate to jump out of the room. The silence that followed was uncomfortable. Jade crossed her arms. And she stared at the floor. Her leg starts to bounce. Nonstop. Until she can no longer bear the silence, the crushing feeling in her chest. - Are you angry? - she says, hesitantly. Beck sighs.

- No. It's okay. It was not your fault. She wasn't very kind.

Beck lifts Jade's head, his hand gently on her chin.

- It's fine. Come here. - and pulls her into a hug.

- This sucks. - Jade murmurs quietly.

- Yeah. It does...

- Hello losers. Another video. This time we're grocery shopping. - Jade starts talking to a camera.

- Do you really have to record it? It's just grocery shopping. - You asked. Not seeing why she would want to film your outing.

-I want to record so i will.

- Fine. - you shrug.

- Are you guys ready? - Beck comes into the living room.

- Yes. Say hi to the camera Beck.

- …Why are you recording? We are just grocery shopping.

- That's what i said!! - you chime in, excited to see you aren't alone in the matter.

- Oh my god! Because i want to! I don't have to, but i want to…You two are annoying. 

- Why thank you. I try my best. - you smirked. You did enjoy being a little shit.

- Fine. Let's go. Get to the car. 

Grocery shopping wasn't something you did together all the time. Mainly because someone was always busy. But it was faster when the three of you did it together. Beck was the driver, Jade was just picky about what she'd eat, and you were the muscles(though actually, you were the one who has more experience shopping. Jade just likes to try to spite you. Never works.)

- Ugh. I hate lines. 

- We know. - Beck answers it.

- But the public doesn't. 

- No, i think they do. You already made a video talking about it. - at this, Jade turns to the other actor.

- I did? Wait. You watch all my videos? 

- Every single one of them. 

- Uh.

- Why are you surprised? What kind of booy- Beck unmaskedly interrupts himself with a cough, and tries to recover. - what kind of roommate would i be if i didn't?

You thought that save was horrifying. And you tell Beck as much, mouthing it to him. He pushes you lightly, whispering a "shut up", you just chuckle and stay on the line. 

- Hey. Yn. What you are doing? - Beck asks. Interrupting you. Stoping you from beautiful and precious slumber.

- Napping. Or trying to. 

- You sound like an old person. 

- Perhaps because i am old.

- You are only 30 years old. Stop being dramatic.

- Nah. I need my old people nap. Bye. 

Unfortunate for you, Beck called Jade and they decided to take a picture of you. And make fun of you. 

Though Beck insists you look cute napping like an old lady. You didn't know how to take that. And Beck considered it as a victory. 

- Hello, old lady. - Beck greets you in the corridor to the kitchen. You huff, annoyed but also not completely awake. Until a thought comes to you.

- Wait. If i am your lover AND an old lady. Does that mean I am a cougar? 

You can hear Jade's booming laughter from the kitchen. 

Beck just rolls his eyes and gives you a peck on the lips. 

- Yes. It does. Good morning, by the way. 

You smile cheekily. 

- Good morning. 

You and Beck head to the kitchen then, where you see your gorgeous girlfriend still in her pajamas, brewing her black coffee, hair disheveled. Beautiful. 

She comes to greet the two of you, though when she gets to you she adds a little jab. Of course. 

- How is my favorite cougar? Slept well? No pain in your back? 

- Yes. I slept just fine. 

You decide to let it slide. You needed coffee first. 

Your breakfast at first was supposed to be calm. Quiet. Your phone however does not comply to it, beeping and beeping. 

- Hey. I thought we agreed on no phones today.

- Yeah yeah! Sorry. I just. Forgot to… - as you grab your phone and take a look at what it's bothering you and your partners, your humour just sours. 

Hundreds and hundreds of comments on your picture sleeping. On Beck's account. Just tagging you. Again. And again.

All fighting to know who was right about your love life.

Honestly, you were tired of it.

- Babe, are you okay? - Jade asks, noticing your change in mood, the frown, the twisted lip, the distant look. You look up from your phone.

- We should come out. - this quiets the kitchen. Jade with a hand on your arm, Beck still with a piece of toast in the air, on its way to his mouth.

- We should just come out. - you repeat. - I can't take any more of the speculation, the murmurs and buzz.

- Everyone would continue, even if we actually revealed our relationship. They would still gossip and be super invasive. - Beck replies, leaving the toast completely aside, and focusing on you. His face is serious. The lighthearted and fun atmosphere becomes more sober and heavy.

You have already discussed this. More than once, but in the end, you agreed that it wasn't worth the hassle, and you didn't owe other people anything.

And here you were again, debating the subject. This time, however, you found yourself unable to continue hiding.

- But, the media never stops talking and being invasive. It doesn't matter what we do. - Jade speaks up. She sighs, looking away for a moment. - I'm tired of having to lie. Aren't you, Beck?

Beck stares at the table blankly, letting his hands move repetitively along his legs.

- What if this affects our careers? - he asks. You quickly speak up.

- It won't get to that point, and if it does, it would only be temporarily. Our careers would recover. - you say, placing yourself next to Beck, Jade doing the same. And you try to lighten the atmosphere. - and if needed be, I can become your sugardaddy.

This makes them both laugh. And Beck turns to you.

- You'd make a terrible sugardaddy. - he says with a slight lift of his lips. Still stunned. He looks at you and Jade.

- Are you sure about this?

You and Jade share a look. You nod.

- Yes we are.

- With you, I can face anything.

You were in the living room. Your leg wouldn't stop shaking. The camera was in front of you. Jade was adjusting the lights, Beck was in the kitchen, getting water for you. It was now. The moment of truth.

Shit. What if you were making a mistake? What if you got ahead of yourself? What if it actually doesn't turn out okay? What if you are judged and shunned by everything and everyone? What if-

- Hey. - You were interrupted by Beck, beside you, placing a comforting hand on your thigh, and a charming smile on his face. - Everything will be fine. We are doing this together.

You allow yourself to breathe. Jade finally finishes the final adjustments and plops down next to you on the couch, while Beck hands you a glass of water. Your girlfriend snuggles next to you and kisses your cheek.

- I love you. - and all your tensions are gone. You melt into a puddle of love for your partners. You were together. You weren't going to face the public alone.

- I love you too. - you reply, completely smitten. You turn to Beck. - both of you. 

- You know I love you two. 

You shrug. 

- It's always good to hear. 

Jade laughs. 

- You are so sappy. - she says and you smile teasingly.

- And you love it. 

- Do i?

You push her and turn to start the video. 

- Hey, guys! Welcome! And today, we have something to announce. 

Yn, Beck Oliver and Jade West admit their relationship as a throuple and the internet goes crazy!

@Yn'slapdog

Ksjfjrnfjdnssosndkdksksjdksdbdj

@Beck'sback

...i guess this means we'll have to stop fighting…? Love wins…?

@Astarion'slittlebitch

...gotta admit this was not on my prediction chart bingo of this year…

@Badeisreal

Yn is one lucky motherfucker. Good for them. Hope theyre having fun living my dreams T-T

@imyourfather

The true bissexual dream lol

#bade x reader #Jade x reader #Beck x reader #victorious #Jade West #beck oliver #Poly #fanfic #my fics #Beck x Jade x reader

[fortune-fool02]

Prompt #16 for Luis? :D

Luis Sera x female reader

Prompt 16 - Thunderstorm

Summary: A thunderstorm rolls in and Luis takes it upon himself to comfort his beloved.

Warnings: No spoilers for RE4 remake, fluff and comfort.

Thank you for the request! Google translate helped me with Luis' Spanish so forgive me if it's inaccurate. Translations are at the bottom. Please enjoy!

***

The soft crackle of the fireplace was hushed by the sound coming through the T.V, a cheesy romance movie that offered a little more entertainment than anything else on. Warm glows cast from the dancing flames filled the room, pushing shadows against the walls and over surfaces, joined by the few lit candles around them.

Luis smiled at his handiwork, setting down another blanket he brought from their bedroom, adding it to the little pile on the couch. He had heard on the weather forecast that a thunderstorm was approaching, and he wanted to be prepared for it. Personally, he didn't really mind thunderstorms, it was more for [Name]. Thunderstorms had always been a fear for her. Something that she couldn't help despite trying, and the second a crash of thunder is heard closeby, any sense of relaxation is snuffed out.

He quickly grabbed some snacks and set them out as well, to save any awkward fumbling about in the dark if the electric goes out. A deep rumble was heard, not too far away from the house. The storm was closer than he expected. The sound of a car coming to a stop inside their driveway caught his attention, a warm smile lifting his lips as he stood by the door entrance of the living room, waiting for his beloved.

A faint rattle of keys, the lock clicking and the door opening.

"Bienvenido a casa, mi amor." The warm smile melted into one of sympathy when he saw the flecks of fear in her eyes, her breathing a little quick while her body trembled lightly. Luis walked over, his arms wrapping around her and pulled her close. Her arms immediately wrapping around his body, latching onto him like a lifeline. The light trembles vibrating against him somewhat.

"Hey, shh, shh. It's okay, [Name]." He whispered, pressing light kisses on her head. "Come on, let me get your coat. You rest, eh?"

"Okay..." her voice was quiet, thin threads of unease stitched into her words before another thunderclap was heard, making her whole body tense, burying her head deeper into his chest. Luis simply stood there, gently soothing her before he got her coat off.

Holding onto his hand, [Name] followed him into the living room, noticing the candles and the fireplace humming with a comforting warmth that chased away any nipping coldness from the biting winds outside. Luis guided her to the couch and set her down, wrapping the blankets around her body. Not too tight but not too loose.

It was perfect. The gentle, soothing mix of golden oranges, reds and yellows mixing together like a sunset surrounding them both. The icy, howling winds and roaring thunders outside pushing to try and be heard, but Luis ensured it wouldn't be.

Moving a little bit, he settled himself behind [Name], some of the blankets draped along his legs and hips, nuzzling lightly against her neck and prepping soft kisses on her cheek and head, little ways to keep her grounded with him.

"Thank you, Luis." [Name] turned her head to look at him, a few strands of hair brushing over his face, a relaxed smile on his lips. Mist-grey eyes gazing down at her, swirling with such admiration and love for such a cold colour. She never grew tired of his eyes. Well, she never grew tired of Luis in general.

"Don't worry about it, princesa." His lips brushed along hers lightly and then closed the last few millimeters.

***

"Bienvenido a casa, mi amor - Welcome home, my love"

"Princesa - Princess"

#luis sera #luis serra x reader #luis sera x reader #luis serra #resident evil #resident evil x reader #resident evil remake #resident evil 4 #resident evil 4 remake

[cheesy09]

[CN] Kiro's Screen Date

🌸 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date that hasn't been released on the EN server yet! 🌸

[Note: This date was translated with the help of Google Translate :>]

——*:･ﾟ✧——*:･ﾟ✧——

[PART 1]

Hearing the sound of pebbles hitting the window, I quickly look down.

Carla waves her hand and points in the direction of the back door of my house. I feel a sense of elation. After confirming that my parents are asleep, I carefully pick up my skirt, go downstairs and slip out the door.

Carla: We have to hurry up, or we'll miss the magic show. It's the hottest new thing right now!

Before I can say anything, she takes my hand and starts running with me.

As one of the few cheerful girls in the girls' church school, Carla is always taking me to experience all kinds of novel things at the moment.

If not for her well-informed sources and the dogmatic atmosphere at home, I probably would never have even had the chance to see the club.

With the town being as small as it is, we arrive at the newly opened club very quickly.

The waiter leads us inside, and the moment the doors open, the music is loudly amplified, mixing with a series of encores.

The man in a white suit takes off his hat to the audience and gracefully walks off the stage.

His blonde hair is particularly dazzling, like a figure walking out of a palace oil painting. People don't stop cheering until the figure disappears around the corner of the stage.

Host: Today's magic has come to an end, please enjoy the rest of the evening.

The music sounds again. The lights of the mirror-ball reflect on the dance floor and all kinds of men and women begin to dance.

MC: ...Is it over?

Carla: What a pity! I wonder If I'll be able to sneak out again during the next performance...

Carla lets out a regretful sigh and pulls me to sit in the booth next to her.

But after just one look behind her, she suddenly seems to have discovered something and her face livens up again.

Carla: You sit here for a bit while I go put my makeup on. Since I'm not interested in magic, I've got to find a handsome guy to dance with, otherwise these tickets will have been in vain.

MC: Wait...

When I look up, I see a pair of blue eyes behind Carla's fiery figure.

The man not far away is clad in a white suit. Before I can react, he walks up to me, and with a slight twist of his fingers, a flower suddenly appears, held between his fingertips.

Magician: The most beautiful flower, given to most adorable and charming lady in the room.

He immediately hands over the flower to me, his blue eyes particularly clear in the light, akin to shining stars in the night sky.

I am left a little stunned for a moment, hesitant on whether I should take the flower from him.

Magician: You don't like magic?

MC: No, I like it very much.

MC: It's just my first time seeing this kind of magic... I'm sorry, my friend and I just missed your show.

Magician: Do you still want to see it?

His slightly drawn-out voice carries with it a certain temptation, pulling me into its tide, and I nod almost subconsciously.

He smiles and sits down on the plush seat next to me, asking the waiter to serve us two glasses of wine. He then takes out a deck of playing cards.

Magician: Actually, magic can not only change things out of thin air, but can also provide many interesting forms of entertainment.

Magician: For example, in the this deck of cards, I can guess your heart.

MC: Guess... my heart?

Magician: If I guess correctly, you have to answer my question, if not... I will give you whatever you want.

Magician: Want to give it a try?

He holds the cards with a determined look on his face, and his blue eyes look straight into my heart with a hint of aggression and bewitchment.

My heart cannot help but beat faster, yet I deliberately raise my voice, unconvinced.

MC: Okay, please start.

Magician: Please choose a card from this deck. Remember the type and number, don't show it to me, and then put it back in again.

I draw out a 9 of hearts, then turn the card over and put it back, following his instructions. He shuffles the cards a few more times.

He puts his hand on the cards, as if sensing something, then takes one out and hands it to me.

After taking a good look at the card, I cannot help but widen my eyes. It is the 9 of hearts that I drew.

MC: ...How did you do it?!

Magician: I said I could do magic.

Magician: First question, tell me your name.

MC: Jenny.

MC: Please sir, what is your name..?

Magician: Kylo.

He raises his eyebrows slightly. At this moment, the stars seem to be condensed within his irises, rendering me unable to look away.

Kylo: Miss Jenny, shall we continue?

Kylo: Right now, everything has only just begun.

His slender fingers fingers fold the cards then, and the pile of cards dance regularly in his hands, drawing a beautiful arc in the air, and are then handed to me.

The inadvertent contact of our skins leaves my fingertips with a slight burn.

Just when I am about to take over, the cards fly obediently into his palm in the next second.

A slight smile appears on the corner of his mouth and he waves the cards in front of me again, his mischievous movements making me even more eager to try.

We play like this one game after another, chatting more and more speculatively with each magic trick, until the waiter comes to remind us that the club is about to close.

What occurred just now was akin to a beautiful dream, but now that I have woken up from this dream, I am a little ashamed to find that Carla has disappeared without me knowing when.

I quickly search the surroundings with Kylo, but even until everyone has gone, she is nowhere to be found.

Waiter: If you're looking for the lady who came with you, she and another gentleman have already left.

After listening to the waiter, we are left with no choice but to walk out first.

The street lights are turned off in the early morning, and a few crows can be heard in the distance every now and then, making the already dark night even more eerie.

Kylo chuckles into my ear. He seems to have read my thoughts.

Kylo: I'll take you home. I want to hear more interesting things about your school.

——*:･ﾟ✧——*:･ﾟ✧——

[PART 2]

Kiro: This is my first playing the male lead since I started acting. It's truly great being able to work with my senior.

In the dressing room, Kiro takes off his top hat, straightens his jacket and then sits down not far away, slightly reserved.

He is the best among the newly signed actors of the company. Although his qualifications are still relatively young, he will definitely go on to become a good star in the future.

MC: Don't say that. We both belong to the same company, so there will be many opportunities for us to work together in the future.

Assistant: Miss MC, your coffee.

MC: Betty, also...

Just when I am about to ask my assistant to make another cup for Kiro, the door of the dressing room creaks open.

Assistant Director: This is the script for the next scene. The screenwriter has just revised it. It would be best for the two of you to walk through the scene in advance after reading it.

Assistant Director: We plan on deleting Carla's part to make the rhythm more compact. After finishing the shots, we will shoot the entire scene from the doorway to the end.

Taking the script, I glance at it briefly and then frown slightly.

MC: It's a bit different from the previous content...

The previous scene where Kylo sent Jenny home is changed to that of an intimate one, with the inclusion of hugging and kissing scenes that are somewhat bold nowadays.

Kiro, who is standing on the side, is also left stunned. He looks at me with a bit of hesitation and then quickly averts his eyes.

Although he has deliberately turned his head, I could still make out the slight blush on his face.

Assistant Director: This is the version that has been approved by the higher-ups. Though it's somewhat challenging, I believe that the two of you will definitely give us the best of your acting skills.

Assistant Director: If you want to finish the shoot before dawn, focus on this... and...

After a few more explanations, the assistant director leaves, taking my assistant out, leaving us alone with the scene.

Apart from the roar of the fireplace, no other sound exists in the dressing room.

After I read the script again, I adjust my mental state, get up and walk to Kiro.

MC: Relax a little. After all, this is a required course for actors. Let's try the dialogue first, shall we?

Although I am a little nervous, as an actor with more experience in the industry, I try to keep my tone as relaxed as possible.

After hearing what I said, he nods slightly and stands up, taking a deep breath, as if he has made up his mind.

Kiro: [slowly exhaling] Okay.

I pick up the script, flip to the revised scene and clear my throat.

MC: I'm home, Mr. Kylo.

Kiro: Then I wish you... sweet dreams.

Kiro's voice during the dialogue is clearly a little softer, and his hands grip the edge of the script rather unnaturally.

He doesn't dare to look at me with his twinkling eyes. After repeating the lines again, he hesitates and does not continue.

Though it is also my first time shooting such a scene, and I can't keep my face from feeling a little hot, for the sake of moving forward, all I can do is calm myself down and let myself take the lead.

MC: Here, put your hands on my waist, pull me into your arms and kiss me.

As I speak, I take his hand and put it on my waist, taking the initiative to move closer to his arms.

Kiro: MC...

Surprise flashes across his face for a moment, obviously not expecting me to do this. He is about to pull his hand away, but I pull him tighter towards me.

MC: Let's focus on the script. Here it says that the magician wants to kiss... Jenny.

MC: If you're not used to it yet, we can turn off the lights first.

I try my best to control my stiff fingertips, raise my hand to turn off the light in the dressing room and breathe a sigh of relief.

This way, the growing heat on my face will not be exposed to him.

I am unable to see his face clearly in the darkness, only an overlapping and ambiguous silhouette outlined by the firelight emitting from the fireplace.

Everything is magnified. I can clearly feel the heat of his palms transmitting through the thin lacey fabric at my waist.

The close distance makes his breath fan across my face.

His eyes are like a deep sea. The moment our eyes meet, there is a touch of aggression and anticipation within them that makes my heart tighten.

After a brief silence, I pout and am about to say something, but my lips are suddenly enveloped with a light warmth.

He kisses me.

His warm breath occupies my lips and my breathing grows chaotic. It takes me a while to murmur that sentence.

MC: That was my first kiss, Mr. Magician.

We embrace each other in an extremely intimate posture. Beneath the beautiful light and shadow, he is a little closer than before, completely encircling me within his arms.

I put my hands on his shoulders and breathe against his warm lips, as if the two of us are melting together into the sea.

His breaths are a little fast, and his heartbeats beat rapidly against his chest. For a moment, I cannot even tell whether they are his or mine.

Although I am left momentarily stunned, I keep telling myself in my heart that this is an act.

However, I am not the only one left stunned at this moment.

Kiro: [dazed murmur] ...That was also my first kiss.

His words fall between our intertwined breaths, seeming to cause the temperature around us to suddenly rise.

MC: ...You got the wrong line.

A trace of what is left of my sense of reason makes me realize that this isn't a line, and I quickly change the subject to cover up my restless heartbeat.

My words clearly make him panic. Kiro quickly lets go of me and quickly turns the light back on.

Perhaps because he got caught in the embarrassing situation of "getting the wrong line", his face turns a little red, and he turns around, looking down at the lines in the script that he is supposed to say.

And because of this, I am glad that he isn't able to notice my reaction--

I am also breathing rapidly, my face heating up.

Likewise, he won't know...

This was also my first kiss, Mr. Kiro.

——*:･ﾟ✧——*:･ﾟ✧——

[PART 3]

Kylo: Good evening, everyone.

Kylo: It was fate that allowed us to meet on this night.

On the club stage, the red velvet curtains are drawn to both sides with the music, the spotlight drawing the audience's attention to the young magician.

Kylo appears on the stage in a well-tailored white suit. He takes off his hat in greeting and then a rain of flowers showers down on the venue.

The next instant, he waves the magic wand in his hand. A cluster of firelight rises and the flowers disappear.

Kylo: Are you ready to join this miraculous feast?

I see him throwing his hat into the sky, and then the dazzling ribbons explode, the hat changing from one to three.

Kylo raises his chin in the face of the bright spotlight and takes one of the hats with great confidence.

He takes his time making his next move. His blue eyes look around calmly before he opens his palms--

Under the intense drum beat, a snow-white rabbit emerges from the hat. It shakes its ears and jumps into his palm.

The audience then exclaims and cheers, stands and applauds, and several people in fancy attire throw gold coins at the stage.

At this moment, I play the role of Jenny and sit in the booth somberly.

Sommelier: It's quite a pity that you just missed Mr. Kylo's performance, miss.

The sommelier on the side vividly describes to me the performance I had just missed while clearing out the glasses.

I turn to look at Kylo and smile shyly.

MC: But I don't think this is the only time Mr. Kylo will perform. I'll arrive early next time.

Kylo: Then I will reserve the best seat for you.

He says, putting on his hat and bowing to me like a gentleman.

Kylo: It's getting late, and I honestly can't find any reason to keep the lady.

Kylo: So, let me escort you home safely, alright?

-

Kylo and I walk side by side on the way home, and I sneakily look at his profile in the moonlught.

Perhaps it's because it's my first time being so close to someone of the opposite sex, but every time our eyes meet, my heartbeat keeps speeding up uncontrollably.

After hesitating for some time, despite my embarrassment, I finally ask the question that made me most curious.

MC: Mr. Kylo, someone like you... must already be in a relationship with a girl, right?

Kylo: You guessed wrong. I don't have a girlfriend.

Kylo: However, at his moment, I'm encountering a beautiful love, so maybe I'll have one soon.

Like some kind of invitation, he takes advantage of the situation and takes my hand.

All of a sudden, my face feels hot and my heart pounds heavily.

His palms are warm and dry, and somehow, I let him hold me until I reach the door of my house.

MC: ...I'm home now.

Kylo: Then, I wish you sweet dreams.

MC: The same to you.

I nod and prepare to open the door, slightly reluctant, but his voice comes from behind me again.

Kylo: I have never felt time fly so quickly...

Kylo: Perhaps the romantic night calls for a romantic farewell.

His whispers are carried to my ears by the wind. I try to steady my mind and look at this person who is still able to be eye-catching even in the dead of night.

MC: [blushing] Mr. Kylo...

Before I finish speaking, he takes a step closer to me, a smile on his face, and immediately puts his hands on my waist, drawing our breaths closer.

Kylo: We need some romance, right?

This is clearly a line in the script, but looking into his eyes, I feel as if I have fallen into a deep sea.

He puts me in a trance, and I am unable to tell whether this is a part of the act or not.

MC: [blushing] I...

In an instant, all those unspoken hesitations are swallowed up by his kiss.

Different from the shyness in the dressing room some time ago, his breathing closely intertwines with mine, as if wanting to loose himself in the sensation with me.

Kylo: [murmuring breathlessly] Tell me...

He asks me softly, as if he were bewitching me.

My breathing is a little chaotic, and I begin to respond to him involuntarily, slowly snaking my hands around his neck.

MC: Yes...

A trace of tenderness suddenly flashes in his eyes, but he does not let me go because of this, only continues to deepen the kiss.

It isn't until the camera lights not far away flash that I am suddenly brought back to reality and stroke his cheek.

MC: ...That was my first kiss, Mr. Kylo.

Director: Cut! Come in earlier and come again!

I quickly take a deep breath and nod to the director.

MC: Sorry, director. I'll adjust my state.

After responding to the director, when I turn around and look at Kiro before me, my originally calm heartbeat starts to race again.

MC: ...Well, you've made a lot of progress from what you did in the dressing room.

Kiro: Yeah?

Kiro: But I don't think it's enough.

Kiro: When facing the person you like, you have to make her feel it more clearly.

Kiro says it so candidly that I have to blink in surprise for a moment.

There is clearly no change in his facial features - it's the same as ever.

And his behavior at this moment is completely different to that of the shy young man who was in the dressing room half an hour ago.

But he doesn't give me a chance to ask for an explanation. He nods to the director and indicates that the filming can start.

With the sound of the film machine turning, I pick up the hem of my skirt again, as if I have already transformed into that young girl who doesn't know much about the world, immersed in that alluring golden light.

A newcomer whose acting skills have improved so quickly--

I think I want to get to know you again, Kiro.

Director: Action.

MC: That was my first kiss, Mr. Kylo.

Kylo: Then I must be the luckiest person in the world.

MC: Do you say that to other girls?

Kylo: No, you're the only one in front of me.

As he speaks, he takes off his coat and puts it on me, tightening it around the collar.

I startle, looking at the coat he put on me so naturally.

This isn't something that's in the script.

I am unable to keep myself from looking up at him, but he just looks at me with a smile and tucks my wind-blown hair behind my ears.

The coat is stained with his warmth and gradually merges with my own, prompting me to take a step closer to him under the heat.

At this moment, I am no longer confused about whether I am Jenny or MC.

I just obey my instincts at this moment and place a gentle kiss on his lips.

He immediately hugs me tighter, his hands wandering around my waist, and then gently strokes my back.

I gently close my eyes and what follows is a longer and more lingering kiss from him.

God knows how bold such a performance is. We are expressing love in front of everyone as if no one else was around.

Looking at him in front of me, feeling his breathing and touch, I gradually am unable to tell whether these emotions are real or a performance.

Since we have to shoot different scenes and angles for editing, we kiss like this countless times.

And I have drowned in that deep sea countless times.

By the time the director shouts "Cut", the sky was getting brighter.

Watching Kiro pack up his luggage alone in the distance, I suddenly feel a little uncomfortable.

Maybe I need to process what happened today.

I don't say anything more to Kiro. When I am about to leave in the car, he comes and knocks at my car window.

Kiro: Miss MC, can I have your contact information?

Different from the wandering look he has during filming, his eyes are pure, and shine in the morning light.

He makes my heart skip a beat again.

MC: Certainly.

I don't want him to see anything, so I lower my head take out the lipstick from my bag. With feigned nonchalance, I write my phone number on a piece of paper and hand it to him, and then ask my driver to drive away.

Looking at that figure gradually disappearing in the rearview mirror, a faint anticipation starts to spread in my heart.

——*:･ﾟ✧——*:･ﾟ✧——

[PART 4]

But ever since that day, he has never contacted me.

Another day of shooting ends. As soon as I open the apartment door, the apartment manager on the first floor pokes his head out.

Manager: There's no call for you today, Miss MC.

MC: ...Thanks.

Manager: God, this is the first time I've seen you care so much.

Manager: You've been waiting for this call for three weeks, right? Tell me, what kind of person is this "Mr. Kiro"?

Seeing his look of interest, I smile politely in response and hurry back home.

The anticipation I felt when I handed over my phone number and name a few weeks ago has now turned into a slightly gnawing irritation.

The memory of that sweet and raw kiss has appeared so many times in my dreams in the middle of the night, that it honestly felt more like a dream.

Could it be that he is an expert? Not only is he an eloquent magician on-screen, but he's capable of leaving people anxious and sleepless at night off-screen as well.

Thoughts come to my mind, so I simply kick off my high heels and throw myself onto the sofa with a sigh.

To be honest, I could just contact him through the company while he is filming in other states.

But what is the point of contacting him like this? If he really thought of this as only a temporary emotion, then I might as well extinguish the flames that have ignited in my heart as soon as possible.

MC: Go ahead and film your movie. If you don't want to contact me, then don't contact me!

-

Kiro: Miss MC! Long time no see!

The next time I meet him is a month later on the set of a commercial we are co-producing.

As soon as I arrive at the beach we are filming at, the man who cast me aside and ignored me for more than a month immediately runs towards me.

He still smiles at me as brightly and warmly as the sun, and his eyes as blue as the sea can still easily take away my soul in an instant.

I turn my head away as if nothing has happened, deliberately not looking at him.

While I had some begrudging thoughts at the prospect of filming with him, the company has spent a lot of money to get this soda commercial.

Neither the reward in front of me nor my professional ethics has given me the chance to refuse.

Kiro: The response to the movie was very good. Everyone recognized our characters during the filming.

Kiro: People keep saying that we're a perfect match, a real couple!

My heart, which has been anxious for quite some time, becomes incredibly light. The corners of my mouth helplessly long to rise along with his, but I pull them down again.

I calmly straighten my back, raise my neck pretentiously and gracefully respond to him with a sideways glance.

MC: Yeah?

Kiro: I met a few movie fans a few days ago who asked me about your latest whereabouts...

As he waits with me for the camera to be set up, he talks about the daily happenings of this period, as if nothing has happened.

The irritability that has been with me for a long time lingers around me, mixing with the happiness of seeing him, and becoming more and more and complex than I am used to.

Kiro: How are you lately?

The "culprit" in front of me blinked his sincere eyes, an innocent look on his face.

Photographer: The props are ready! Come over here, you two!

Before I can answer, the photographer interrupts us.

But that was alright, otherwise I didn't know if I could maintain my composure on the surface.

After all, other than him, filming a summer soda commercial on a winter beach is sad enough.

Photographer: This set of promotional pictures needs to highlight the concept of drinks being incorporated into life. The two of you can chat about anything and find that casual everyday state for yourselves!

I sit under the parasol and make a cute gesture of enjoying the sunshine. Kiro is half-lying next to me clearly, reaching out to pick up a bottle of soda as if to drink it.

"Click--"

Photographer: Great! That's it! Keep going!

I straighten up and gesture to get something from the picnic basket. He changes his posture in response and looks back at me.

Kiro: You and I haven't seen each other for about a month.

Kiro: Like the photographer said, what should we talk about?

Photographer: Next one!

I am so angry that I hear the photographer's voice in my ears, so I immediately open my eyes wide and put on a sweet smile.

Kiro also raises his hand to put on his sunglasses, his face glowing.

"Click--"

The moment the camera moves away, my expression immediately collapses and I can't help but stare at him.

MC: Want to chat with me now? Did you take my phone number and forget about it a month ago?

Hearing my words, a trace of panic flashes across his eyes. He closes the magazine and is about to take my hand, but I cleverly sidestep him.

Photographer: Look at each other again! Smile... a little more sensationally!

I raise my eyebrows and look up at him, our eyes meeting in mid-air.

Kiro closes one eye and raises the corners of his lips in a teasing arc, though he is unable to remove the panic from his eyes in time.

"Click--"

This time, his outstretched hand grasps a hold of my wrist.

The warmth from another person irons my skin and is enough to warm my heart in this cold.

Kiro: I haven't forgotten. I've always kept your phone number!

Kiro: It's just... I haven't found the time yet...

MC: It's just a phone call. Do you need to find the time?

I can't help but complain quietly.

All I want is to know what he thinks of me, and meet with him and chat with him outside of the camera.

Kiro: Because it's a very important matter... so I've been thinking about how to tell you.

Kiro: Later I finally realized that I should tell you in person rather than on the phone.

He pulls my hand hard and prompts me to fall directly into his arms. Then the sound of the photographer pressing the shutter comes, one after another.

Kiro: What do you say?

Kiro touches my cheek with one hand and lowers his head.

The distance between us suddenly shortens and I fall into a clear ocean.

His breath gently brushes the side of my face and I breathe it in, along with the air.

Kiro: Will you go on a date with me?

"Click--"

I don't know if I had time to adjust my expression in the final photo and give a smile that met the requirements.

-

I don't even remember how I said goodbye to the photographer, thanked everyone at the scene one by one, and retired to the break room.

Involuntarily, my heart is roaring, and my cheeks have turned crimson.

Even after I wrap myself in my coat, my breathing still doesn't calm down.

A mischievous sound comes from beside me and a golden color that is more dazzling than the sun breaks into my line of sight.

The tip of his nose is still stained red due to the sea breeze. When he stretches out his hand, a piece of crystal clear fruit candy appears.

With another wave of his hand, the candy in his palm turns into a flower.

The corners of my lips rebel against my reason and raise due to this familiar scene.

MC: Is this also a trick by Mr. Magician?

Kiro places the flowers in my hand with immense care. He slows down his voice and speaks softly.

Kiro: You are the magician who has cast a spell on me.

Kiro: During the time I haven's seen you, I've thought about you every day.

Although I am slightly aware of his intentions, I still childishly choke him.

MC: ...It's been more than a month and you still haven't broken the act?

Kiro: Whether on or off screen, I have missed this lovely and charming lady.

Kiro: Rather, it was because I wanted to distinguish whether it was the you on screen or the you off screen that I couldn't forget...

Kiro: That's why I took on that scene that was shot out of town. I already knew your number by heart, and I had passed by the phone booth hundreds of times, but I still never called you.

Kiro: Because I realized that I couldn't just seek you out - I wanted to stand higher in order to be close to you.

Kiro: So when I came to know you were going to be shooting for this commercial, I worked hard to get the opportunity for this as well.

Kiro: Whether she's an innocent and lovely young lady on-screen, or a professional celebrity who hides her nervousness off-screen.

Kiro: Or the vibrant and lively MC in front of me, who secretly glared at me several times.

Kiro: As long as you are in front of me, you leave me fascinated.

He looks straight at me, slowly but not allowing me to refuse, and leans forward, pressing a little warmth to my lips.

Sweet, and just as raw and clumsy as that night.

Different from the master magician, standing before me is the sincere and passionate Kiro who belongs only to me.

I close my eyes and give him the same unskilled kiss.

The fire in the break room crackles, propping up a corner of spring flowers in winter.

Kiro: Will you go on a date with me?

He lowers his voice and whispers into my ear, sending a steady stream of heat that leaves me dizzy.

I put my arms around his neck and peck him on the cheek.

MC: Isn't it happening right now?

[END]

——*:･ﾟ✧——*:･ﾟ✧——

✨ Trivia: The 9 of Hearts card that MC drew in the start of the date symbolizes satisfaction and joy. All misfortune is reversed or mitigated by this card. It gives the message: enjoy today and stop worrying about tomorrow.

Translation Masterlist: HERE

#mlqc #mlqc cn #mlqc spoilers #mlqc kiro #feels surreal to see mc more experienced than kiro in terms of acting...

[sad-cinnamongirl]

when people find out I was a child model/actress, I often get asked what they can do to become one/help their child become one. I have one tip: wait until they grow up. putting your child in that position is basically guaranteeing that they will be exposed to pedophiles, abusers and gain some sort of mental illness. all of the people I befriended around my age in those industries have suffered. and ALL of us have developed some sort of mental illness from that. ranging from depression and substance abuse, to PTSD and EDs.

this industry (especially for girls) just shows them from a young age that they are meant to be entertainment and to show off their face or bodies, that they are meant to appease men. it really just shows girls that even if you have a talent, you still must be performing femininity, and wearing makeup. this is such a harmful thing to instill in girls from a girls and is seriously grooming them into using their whole existence to please men.

when I first got into that industry I was just passionate about acting and I loved it as a child, but after pursuing it as a child, my interest is completely gone. its not that I don't love doing it, its that its traumatizing to even have to think about reliving any of that. the experiences I've faced in those industries have made me lose passion for that.

i wanted to make this post to talk about my experiences that many radfems I haven't seen talking about this.

(sorry for any grammar issues I translated using Google translate)

#radical feminists do interact #radical feminism #radfem #radical feminist community #radblr #radical feminist safe #radical feminst #rad fem #radical feminist #terfs please touch #terfsafe #terfism #terfblr #gender critical #child acting #child abuse #sexism #child actress #child model #ed mention #sa mention #radical feminists please touch #radical feminists do touch #rad fem safe #anti beauty industry #anti beauty culture #anti beauty standards