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koenigami · 2 months

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➵ WRIOTHESLEY

synopsis : when old wounds reopen, he's relieved to have found solace in your presence wc : 1,4k tags : fem!reader, reverse comfort, fluff, little angsty bc of wrio's past

Wriothesley feels it brewing like a storm. It starts in the noon, when a light headache makes his temples throb, when his chest seems to tighten, and his scars ache as if someone is about to rip them open again.

He knows that sleep tonight won’t come easy. He always does. So instead of tossing and turning beside you, robbing you of your own rest, he prefers to stay the night in his office.

“Got some paperwork to finish. Will probably stay the night here. Love you.”

That’s the message he lets deliver to you when the dreadful feelings return like a supposedly defeated enemy. Everything seems fine until it is not. Until his concentration tends to drift off into another dimension overflowing with darkness. His thoughts leave him irritated, and unable to interact with other people without scaring them off.

At night, Wriothesley eyes the couch in his office. He contemplates whether he should try to at least close his eyes. Maybe this time he’ll fall asleep.

But he knows that a night without the vivid, gruesome images flashing before his eyes is only wishful thinking.

Instead he plunges himself into the dark space of his past. He watches small patches of blood form along the surface of the punching bag. The pain is almost impalpable, inexistent compared to what’s happening inside him right now.

His breaths are laboured as he throws jabs into the bag, one after another rubbing off more and more skin from his knuckles. There’s sweat trickling down his face and back after only a few minutes, and he realises that he’s already drained.

His thoughts, his fears, his past. They've all caught up with him in a matter of hours, pulling him left and right, almost tearing him apart.

You have to keep on fighting, Wriothesley. You can’t let them win.

Clouds obscure his vision until all he can see is red, all he hears are screams, and all he wants is peace.

But he’s not aware that oftentimes, the one thing that you need the most is already right in front of you. He’s not aware that he could have lessened the pain of his restless nights a long time ago.

The mechanical sounds of sliding metals and working machinery catch his attention, and the doors open. The clouds suddenly disappear, and what remains blinds him.

Like a miner getting out of the deepest parts of a humid cave, he feels the rays of light warm his skin, and he swears it makes him shiver in delight.

“One of the guards told me I’d find you here.” Your voice bounces off the walls as you approach him slowly. The ring in the middle of the room is empty, though a single glance at Wriothesley is enough to conclude that he comes down here to engage himself in different kinds of fights.

“Y/n? Love, what are you doing here?” His words sound garbled as he speaks, and he’s reminded to take a few gulps from his water bottle.

“Could ask you the same.” You eye him carefully while wrapping your jacket tighter around yourself. Just like the sea, the temperature inside the Fortress of Meropide seems to drop drastically at night. “Is this your so-called paperwork? Or have you already grown so tired of me that you prefer your workplace over our shared bed?”

Your words obviously carry no malice as you offer him a lopsided smile. Wriothesley can tell that you’re worried though. And tired.

“You know that’s not true.” He watches you pluck a handkerchief out of your pocket, and sighs when you use it to wipe away some of the sweat beading his hairline. “It’s late, you should have stayed at home.”

“You should have come home, Wriothesley.” There’s a change in your tone, and just your entire demeanour, when you spot the raw flesh and bruised skin on the back of his hands. But you swallow the sadness that the sight of him brings you. You push aside the disappointment of him not wanting to share his burden with you.

You suppress the anger and resentment that you hold for all the people that have let down Wriothesley’s younger self. The people who have hurt him, the monsters that still haunt him. Wherever they may be right now, you wish them nothing but utter agonising hell.

“What am I going to do with you, hm?” Your eyes skim over the damaged knuckles before you pull him to the edge of the ring on which he leans against.

“You should have seen the other guy.” He smirks while his gaze follows your form wandering around the room, looking for some clean bandages and a bowl to pour water in.

“Sure, his Grace has done quite the number on a sand-filled bag.” You roll your eyes as you find your place back between his legs, wetting and wringing a cloth out. “And on himself.”

Watching you tend to his roughed up skin with utter gentleness, Wriothesley’s again reminded how well his big hand fits into your smaller one. Hands that have destroyed so much, harmed so many, held by hands that look so delicate and which are used for mending and caring. The times that he has felt undeserving of them, of you, have been way too many, though he knows that you’d get upset if he told you so.

It catches him off guard when the sensation of your soft, pillowy lips spreads along his freshly bandaged hands. Like a light breeze in the morning, you sweep away the remaining clouds from the previous stormy night, leaving the newly risen sun in your wake. The only difference is that the sun does not choose its target. You do, and you chose him.

Something about him makes him worthy of your love, of your time, of your touch. He’s not sure what it is, because to be frank he has never deemed himself as someone with extraordinary qualities and talents. He’s just an ordinary man with a less ordinary past. But maybe it’s exactly the former one that has made you choose him. You chose Wriothesley. Not the Duke. Not his Grace. Not a former criminal. Just him and all of his rough edges.

“Let’s go up and sleep, hm?” His hand cups the side of your face, the other settles on your waist as he pulls you in closer until your chest is flush against his. Wriothesley’s cheek nestles over your collarbone, and you feel his warm breath fan over your skin when he heaves a deep sigh.

“I want to stay like this for a while. Is that okay?” You hum approvingly and watch his body relax against yours as the tension slowly but surely leaves his shoulders. A small groan slips past his lips when your fingers start tracing the muscles along his back. Like a map, you have memorised all his sore spots, all his ticklish spots, and the ones that are the most sensitive.

Wriothesley feels one of your hands slide further up to the nape of his neck. You start twirling his hair around your fingers, combing through the messy and sweaty strands, and lightly scratching his scalp in a way that makes his eyes droop, and body feel heavy.

You hear him mumble incoherently something beneath his breath and you laugh softly.

“What was that?”

“You’re amazing, you know that?” He says it so effortlessly as he gazes up at you with hooded eyes that seem to hold the entire world inside them. The corner of his lip twitches and you wonder if it is because he can feel your accelerated heartbeat.

“Well, you aren’t bad yourself either.” It’s when your chest quakes the slightest bit beneath his head, and when your sweet laugh reaches his ears-

It’s right then that he knows that he’s fine. For now, he’s fine.

And when you’re later on lying on the too short and too uncomfortable leather couch in his office with your body draped over his. When his past flashes in front of his eyes in form of nightmares. And when you hold him through every single one of them, caress his arms and chest in hopes that it will calm him down and ground him.

It’s right then that he realises that he’ll be fine as long as he has you by his side.

#wriothesley #wriothesley genshin impact #genshin wriothesley #wriothesley genshin #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley fluff #wriothesley drabble #wriothesley x you

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lovings4turn · 9 days

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𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 — send in someone i write for + a prompt(s) and i'll write a lil blurb

oscar piastri + going in for a kiss and either bumping noses or foreheads!!!!

steph this is so fucking oscar coded it's actually mind-blowing to me omg ,,, thanks so much for sending this in sweetheart , loved writing it <333

is it possible to face medical complications from enduring an excessive amount of excitement? you’re sure you’re about to find out.

because oscar, your oscar, has just won his first formula one grand prix, and your heart is fit to burst with pride. so many years of hard work, long nights and early mornings, and determination have finally paid off. on top of that, you’re lucky enough to be there to finally witness the fruits of his labour.

when he clambers out of the car, face still obscured by his racing helmet, you can picture the beaming smile hidden beneath, brighter than the sun currently beaming down onto the racetrack.

along with the rest of his team, you’ve rushed over to the pitlane, secured a spot front and centre to bear witness to his adrenaline fuelled celebration, his fist pumping the air with a vigour you’ve never seen him possess.

despite the chaos going on around him, oscar’s eyes instantly dart to you, somehow able to pinpoint you in the crowd of people shouting his name and whooping.

he wastes no time.

within seconds, oscar is right in front of you, tugging his helmet and balaclava from his head before pulling you into a tight hug. you’re babbling, spewing a jumbled speech littered with praise and congratulations, yet oscar looks at you like you’re reciting poetry.

perhaps it’s the excitement, or the camera inches away from his face, but when oscar leans in to press a celebratory kiss to your lips, he misses. instead of lips meeting, his nose bumps your own, the movement clumsy yet endearing.

the both of you groan, and all oscar can do is laugh. of course his first race win would be eclipsed by his inability to land a kiss to his girlfriend’s lips.

lando will never let him live this down, especially not when the whole ordeal has been caught on camera; oscar just thanks god that his overtaking today was far smoother than his attempt to initiate a kiss.

he’s rushed off quickly after for his post race interview and podium ceremony, and through his hazy cloud of excitement, you’re still at the forefront of his mind.

so yeah, he may have fumbled this celebration, but god, will he make it up to you later.

#𑁤 becca’s 1k fright fest !#.° ༘🗝️⋆₊ becca’s drabbles #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri x y/n #oscar piastri blurb #oscar piastri drabble #oscar piastri fluff #op81 #formula one x reader #formula one x you #formula one x y/n #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n

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bitter-and-queer · 2 years

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#gotta love that election night anxiety #my housemate has the live elecorate updates going #idk whether I wanna know every single thing abt every elecorate or whether I wanna just leave it until everything is counted #bc a huge amount of in person votes haven’t been counted let alone postal votes #it does seem like labour are going to win even if it’s a minority gov with progressive independents #get absolutely fucked scomo and the coalition #lmao I’m Anxious As Fuck #just auspol tings I guess #my old electorate which has been a Lib safe seat since the dawn of time has gone independent tho which is good!!!#(oh also lib in this context is the liberal party which is not liberal in the progressive sense they’re the centre right party)

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thearchercore · 1 month

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Max had to deal with the insane child that was Charles all throughout karting. And Max loved karting and dreamed of F1 because if the competition in karting was like that, F1 must be even better!

But then he goes to F1 and realizes everyone treats him like a kid and there isn't a deranged monégasque boy trying to send them both into the barriers and he realizes F1 is not the same.

Three years later Charles joins F1 and Max is grateful he has his rival and equal back and now all he wants to do is hang around him all the time because Charles is the only one who understands the kind of competition they once had.

Max is chatting to him all the time like "I missed you, you don't know what it was like before you came along" and Charles is like, "I missed this too, you don't know how slow those F2 guys were."

i meaan, charles and max are the same age group so when max started in f1 as a 17 yo (jesus christ, child labour really), he was the youngest and because most believed his seat was not deserved (he skipped f2 and did not do the classic feeder series lineup like charles did), he did not really get the same treatment as, let's say, ollie who just became the youngest ferrari driver at the age of 18.

so even if charles seemed like a true menace that just made max's life incredibly difficult (caused them to dnf, they had to get together the "fairplay talk", or even the infamous story of max being left at the gas station by his dad includes charles in a way -- max made a mistake in the race and charles ended up winning). so truly, their karting years were more linked together than many assume.

so it's natural that when he was not met with open arms by other drivers, he was just waiting on charles to make the jump to f1 (and as we found out, that man was SURE charles would make it)

meanwhile you have mr. leclerc who had the biggest amount of doping tests because no one could believe he was That good in f2.

so yeah, then max got other drivers his age in f1 and he became more comfortable as he was no longer the singled out "child" of the grid that no one took seriously. but overall, max seems to believe only charles can match up to his level and be an equal rival so at the end of the day, he got over charles' peak evil years as a child lol

#lestappen #charles leclerc #max verstappen

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tragedynoir · 7 months

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— introducing 009: CELESTIAL BODIES + [ link ]

until October 15th 2023: stand a chance to win a free copy of this template by joining the giveaway!

a google doc template made for planning a novel or piece of writing that is inspired by space. this document features 9 pages of celestial illustrations that I drew especially for this template. this template contains a lot of functional elements (e.g. dashboard with to-do-list, drop-down menus to track progress), and is also made to flexibly accommodate any length (including large amounts) of writing and planning. every purchase of this template comes with a light and dark mode. the template and static previews can be found in the link above or in the source code.

features:

two templates for one — light and dark mode versions of this template

13 total 8.5" x 11" pages, with 9 unique pages of celestial illustrations I drew especially for this template

a dashboard first-page with a daily to-do-list and milestone tracker that can be sorted by priority or level of completion

plot points section, research sections, locations section, character sheets, and ideas vault / free section that is made to accommodate any amount of writing, including long amounts of prose

individual character sheets and individual research sections that can be easily copied and duplicated for more

you may edit to your heart’s desire. Change the colours, replace, add or remove elements and images etc.

you may remix pages with pages from my other templates.

you may not remove the credit from the templates.

you may not copy, sell or redistribute my templates whether wholesale, in part (i.e. taking out certain pages) or remixed (i.e. modified).

you will also receive an additional guide with images on how to use and edit google doc templates! if you have any problems or issues, feel free to leave an ask or join our discord server.

I am absolutely thrilled to be sharing this template, it's really a labour of love and I've poured many hours into this! this was so fun to make, and I am so happy with how it turned out.

I hope you enjoy this template, and all likes + reblogs are always appreciated. ♡

#writing template #google doc template #google docs template #nanowrimo #fave #m pr #rp resource #m #writeblr

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lieutenant-rasczak · 1 year

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On the incredible danger of the quaint, English village....

Although I live in Texas, thanks to various streaming services I get to watch a great deal of British T.V. I have noticed that these shows (Midsomer Murders, Dalziel and Pascoe, Waking the Dead, Shakespeare and Hathaway, Vera, Rosemary & Thyme, Wycliffe, etc.) share a common theme.

And, after a certain amount of research I discovered that, believe it or not, the third leading cause of death in the UK seems to be "Moving to a quaint, country village".

While “Getting murdered in a quaint, English, village” killed slightly fewer UK Residents in 2021 than "Cancer" and "Heart Disease" it was distressingly close. Even worse it came in only slightly ahead of "Attending a weekend party at a stately country home", which is in itself a fairly lethal pastime. In fact “Attending a weekend party at a stately country home” WAS the second leading cause of death in Britain between 1919 and 1939, but began to decline after the war as the Labour Govt. raised taxes and the number of country homes dropped drastically; thus causing a steep decline in the number of weekend parties one could be murdered at.

In any case my research indicates that IF you are British, AND you are feeling down, depressed, and suicidal, there is no reason for you to run your car off a cliff, or take a trip to Switzerland. In fact, you need only do the following

1) move to a lovely, quiet, English village where nothing ever happens, but the murder rate is (adjusted for population) is far higher than that of South Chicago or East L.A.

You might think that such a village would be hard to find, but apparently England is simply teeming with them. Places with highly competitive flower shows or bleak, cliff filled coastlines seem to be particularly deadly.

2) Change your will, and make sure to mention this to the former beneficiary. (This is vitally important!) Also make sure to let them know where the new will is kept. The top drawer of your desk is probably the best place, no need for locking file cabinets or bank safety deposit boxes!

3) Develop a keen interest in local land titles and/or genealogy. In fact you should probably announce that you are writing a book on the subject. (It is suggested that you do so in a crowded pub.) In any case make sure to spend plenty of time at the local public records office researching this while receiving vaguely threatening remarks from various upset neighbours. If you receive any threatening notes make sure to save them in an easily discovered drawer somewhere, but do NOT mention them to anybody, and certainly do not heed any warnings you are given about a need to “back off”. That last one is ESSENTIAL.

4) Stand against the most popular member in the election for Parish Council. Threatening to win the local flower show is also a good move.

5) Always leave the door or doors unlocked at night. (This includes your car.) Even if you have lived in London for decades, discard any habits you may have about locking up as soon as you move to the quaint, country, murder hole.

6) Never close any curtains or blinds, that way your future assailant always knows exactly where you are and what you are doing.

7) Either don't have a phone or keep it in an inaccessible or hard to find place.

8) Never, ever have any useful weapons nearby or if you do ensure you lose of drop them immediately on seeing your assailant.

Do this, and you’re guaranteed to be pushing up daisies by Christmas.

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monzabee · 1 year

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you'll change your name or change your mind - cl16

masterlist

Summary: The one where you find your way back home, even if the journey takes longer than you think.

Pairing: charles leclerc x fem!bianchi!reader

Word Count: 5.9k

Warnings: mentions of jules and his accident, ANGST, talks about college acceptances in the US but it’s not accurate because i’ve never applied for US schools, mentions of alcohol and underage drinking/clubbing (only in the US though), mentions of a fake id, mentions of cheating, fighting, charles being stupid and not realising it, talks about processing grief, GRIEF, survivor’s guilt, talks of therapy, friends to lovers y’all.

Request: “The Charles fanfic was so good!! Can you write more angsty but happy needing Charles? I think it’s be cute for a man who loves Monaco so much to got to wherever his girlfriend lives Ike London or nyc often and deal with that. Maybe she hates monaco lol” + “if your requests are still open, max or charles + “you have to promise you won’t fall in love with me.” thanks!”

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! i decided to give into the whole angst thing and i can honestly say that i’m having a great time. i wanted to include Jules somehow in this one because i’ve been seeing some edits on tiktok and let me tell you proofreading was a bitch because i kept crying. also, my spotify kept bringing up lorde and hannah montana songs, so there you go. this was definitely a hard one to write and i know it’s messy, but all feedback is appreciated. 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.

Monaco is full of memories. It’s filled with memories of your childhood, your parents picking up you and your siblings from school in Nice, and getting the train to Monaco for your brother to compete in karting races. It’s filled with laughter, and ice cream, and friends. It’s also filled with fears, loss and uncertainty, and you suppose that’s why you didn’t ever want to go back. But you find your back there every time, even if it is only for a couple of days at a time. Although it reminds you of the bad times, it’s hard to erase the good ones completely.

Charles is just one of the people Jules brought into your life. He was right there since your birth – apparently, the Leclercs were visiting your family in Nice when your mother suddenly went into labour. You will always be thankful to Pascale and Hervé for stopping Jules from choosing your middle name to be Michael Schumacher. Neither Charles, nor you will forget the type of shenanigans you got up to as little kids, there is only a year difference between the two of you after all. There’s that one time you stole Charles’ kart and tried to go down the road, in which he caught you but instead of ratting you out to Lorenzo and Jules, who were supposed to be looking after you by the way, he helped you get it down the stairs and passed you his helmet as he explained how to go about it. Neither of your brothers were impressed by your ability to go fast or Charles’ sudden interest in maybe becoming a race engineer if the whole driver thing doesn’t work out. There was also the time when the two of you, along with Arthur, snuck out from a family friend’s wedding to only get lost in a city in the South of France; Charles got so stressed that he forgot how to speak French and proceeded to ask how to get back to the venue in Italian for the rest of the night. Needless to say, the two of you are there for each other no matter what; you stayed together through heartbreaks, wins, losses, losing Jules and Hervé, funerals, weddings and much more. The majority of your time together is spent in your family’s house in Nice. Charles doesn’t mind the half-hour journey, an hour if he decides to go back but he hardly ever does. Sometimes, he manages to convince you come to Monte Carlo for the day by bribing you with promises of sunsets and ice cream, but he will always drive you back if you insist you want to go home without any complain.

The first time you bring up the topic of moving, you’re in your last year of high school; by that time, Charles is already racing in Formula One, so your time together is limited to breaks between the races. However he tries his hardest to be there for you, from talking you through breakdowns that occur after long study sessions, to looking up pre-med programmes for you to apply all over the world. You never wanted to live your entire life between Nice and Monte Carlo in the first place, so is he is more than happy to help you explore your options. Your application results arrive when he’s on break between the races, so the two of you sit on the small table in his Monaco apartment’s kitchen, the light from your laptop lighting up both of your faces as you open up the emails one by one. You’re most anxious about your application to Columbia, which is 3.462 miles away from Nice, and 3.993 from Monte Carlo. By the time you finish opening up all the emails, both of you are sitting there with a silence between you. The acceptance letter still open on your laptop is congratulating you for your offer to join Columbia’s pre-med program the following September.

“Yes,” He looks at you expectantly, “Accept it, Y/N, you shouldn’t be even thinking about it!”

“Yes?” You let out a nervous laugh. “It’s not that simple, Charles–”

“But it is!” He argues, a big smile on his face. You can tell he is proud of you by the look in his eyes and the way his emotions carry through his voice. “It’s your top choice of school!”

“It’s also in New York, it means that there will be an entire ocean between us!”

He shrugs. “So?”

“So?” Your eyes widen in surprise, you start staking your head a little without being aware that you are doing it. “Doesn’t that scare you?”

“Chérie,” Charles coos, pulling your chair by its leg to bring you closer to him and wrap a supportive arm around your body. His chest rumbles from his low laughter as he presses kisses to your hair. “We’ll be fine, look at everything we’ve been through, and we’re not even that old.”

You scoff, hitting his chest in an attempt to get away; you start furiously typing on your computer. “You are old,” you point to him with a tilt of your head, “I’m not, though.”

He rolls his eyes and turns his concentration to the tab still open on your computer, “You’re going to accept the offer, though, right?”

You end up accepting the offer. Charles and his family is there alongside yours to send you off on a plane to New York City. Both your mother and Charles’ have tears in their eyes as they say their goodbyes, with your father giving you a similar look. Being the youngest of four siblings, it must’ve been hard to send their youngest all the way across an ocean, but they let you know that you have their support in every step of the way. With Charles’ schedule for the remaining races scattered all over the world, he tells you not to force yourself and to enjoy your first months as a college student.

You surprise him in Austin, though. Arranging this surprise is definitely not the easiest, but you ask Lorenzo for his help and he is more than happy to make arrangements for you. It’s the end of Friday’s last practice session when you surprise him in the Alfa Romeo garage. He almost walks past you, to get rid of his helmet when you say his name, but once he realises it is you he quickly pulls in for a hug. “What are you doing here?” He asks you while laughing with glee.

“Heard there’s an immunology seminar in town about the effects of talking a shower and then going out without drying your hair.” You answer with all the seriousness you can muster.

“Really?” He asks in confusion, taking his helmet and balaclava off and trying to fix his sweat-soaked hair.

You hit the back of his head lightly, shaking your head in disbelief. “No! I came here to see you race, you idiot!”

He shakes head in understanding. “Oh, oh!” His eyes widen once again with recognition this time.

“Yes, oh, now come on, we’re going out.” You’re quick to add, “To dinner because airplane food sucks. We’re going out clubbing after the race, though.”

True to your word, you go clubbing after his race on Sunday, which Charles is not entertained by. He’s paranoid by the fact that you are in the club with them in the first place, which should not be happening because you’re underage. He keeps silent as you show the bouncer your id, which he knows is a fake, by the way; as he sends Lorenzo an incredulous look, his older brother’s reaction consisting off a shrug of the shoulders makes him more paranoid.

“Y/N, you should not be drinking.” He voices his concern, as you’re on your second drink of the night. “This is wrong.”

“How is this different than me drinking back at home?” You argue with your eyebrows raised. “You don’t tell me I can’t drink when we’re back home.”

“Because it is legal for you to do so there!” Charles exclaims, somehow gathering the attention of some of the clubbers nearby, but he offers them an apological smile and then turns back to you with his voice lowered. “You’re not twenty one, ergo – you shouldn’t be drinking.”

“Pfft,” You shrug him off, “You’re stupid, and I’m bored. You want to dance?”

You help Charles to move into his flat in Italy when he starts racing for Ferrari. Though he still lives in Monaco full-time, he rented a small place in Maranello to stay when he’s travelling. It’s an emotional event, which has both of you sitting on the floor of his new apartment going through boxes of old photographs. He finds one of his brothers and Jules with you, standing in front of a karting ring with big smiles in all of your faces. You fingers involuntarily trace over your brother, your eyes misting when you think about the day.

“He was so young,” You whisper, having to swallow a sob which threatens to escape.

Your eyes linger on the photograph for a while, and Charles quickly understands that you were not talking about the photograph as the tears you were trying to hold back find their way onto your cheeks. “He was.” He agrees; there aren’t enough words in the world to describe what losing a family member does to a person, and he understands you in a way most people cannot.

You offer him a sad smile through your tears. “He would be so proud of you.”

“He would be also so proud of you,” He whispers right back, leaning closer to you so that he could wipe away the few stray tears. “In fact, I am pretty sure he is.”

“Stop it.” You laugh softly through your tears as you push yourself to get off the floor, and dry under your eyes with your fingers as you look across the room. “Oh my god, Charles, we have so many boxes to go through.”

He gets up after you and looks around the dusty living room as he attempts to get rid of the dust on his clothes. “We do, don’t we?” He watches as you kneel in front of an unopened box and slice through the tape with a knife, and starting to go through the items in the box. He watches you go through the items silently for a while, noticing how seriously you take the task. His eyes linger on the frown on your face for a while, the way your eyebrows scrunch in question, or how you tuck a stubborn piece of hair, which escapes from the braid in your hair, to the back of your ear. He stalks closer, gently gripping one of your wrists and pulling you to your feet. “Dance with me.” He asks – which comes off less as an ask and more of a demand, which causes you to playfully roll your eyes at him.

“Charles, the boxes–” You try to argue.

His laugh is laced with mischief. “The boxes will still be there, chérie, just one dance won’t change anything.”

You try to come with arguments in your head but all your attempts are quickly thrown out the window when you realise just how green Charles’ eyes actually are. “We don’t have any music.” You try to offer as a measly argument.

Charles raises his eyebrows as he wraps his arms around your waist after making you wrap yours around his neck. “We don’t need any music, Y/N.”

So you give up in any attempts in stopping him, as he starts to slowly sway both of your bodies from side to side. You let out a chuckle when he stars, terribly, humming to an old song you used to hear on the radio. “This is stupid.” You mumble as you keep up your pace with his movements.

“You seem to keep calling me that.” Charles recalls, making both of you laugh in recognition. “I need to tell you something important.”

“So tell me,” you encourage him, motioning him to continue.

“I met someone.” He announces, a small smile playing on his lips.

You breath get stuck for a moment, in which you remind yourself that Charles is waiting for your reaction – most likely a supportive one at that. “Wow, Charles.” You breath out and give him a smile, which you successfully manage to pass off as a supportive one, hoping he doesn’t notice the way your voice breaks off in the end. “I’m so happy for you.”

You’re not stupid – thinking that either of you could stay single forever is an unrealistic one. But it hurts to imagine him with another person while he looks at you like that makes a part of you crumble up into a ball on your bed and cry. And that’s just what you do when you go back to the hotel that night (because the house is still unliveable when the two of you decide you’re done for the day). You try to keep your sobs as quiet as possible because you know Charles is in the hotel room next to yours. As you’re looking out the window, watching the night sky light up with stars in Maranello that night, you tell yourself you, somehow, need to move on from your best friend.

The next time you see Charles is during Christmas time. You have a tradition – Lorenzo, Charles, Jules and you, a tradition, which Arthur joined once he was old enough. It’s a peculiar one. While it’s not uncommon for most families to watch Christmas movies during this time of the year, your choice of movie has not Christmas elements in it at all. Every Christmas, the four of you watch The Sound of Music. It’s a silly tradition which was born out of boredom and lack of movies one Christmas, but it’s a tradition you managed carried out every year.

You can still remember Lorenzo complaining because “It’s three hours of songs about whiskers and bass clef.”

While Jules gives his best friend an unamused glare, both you and Charles try to mimic the Frenchman who you idolise. “It has nuns, songs, Nazis and familial love, Lorenzo, what more could you ask for?” He shrugs as he turns his attention back on screen, “Plus, Julie Andrews is hot.”

“Why would she be hot?” You remember asking, the woman on the screen not seeming uncomfortable by the weather.

“No reason,” Jules assures you, wrapping one of his arms around you.“Watch the movie, shortcake.”

And yes, while it might be stupid to watch the same movie, which has no Christmas value at all, every year on Christmas day, it’s a reminder that you have each other even if you’re not always together. So when you sit down to watch the movie that Christmas, there is a bad feeling in your stomach when you realise Charles is not there to watch it with you. If his brothers also find it weird that he’s not there they don’t make a comment, neither do you, for that matter. You try to push it to the back of your mind and enjoy the moment, telling yourself that even if this is a tradition between the four of you, it’s not the end of the world if you fail to do it. So you smile, and have fun throughout the day – when you’re watching the movie, or when you decide to hold a gingerbread house competition (Arthur wins, by the way), or when you sit down to have dinner with your families, and it makes you feel a thousand times better.

It’s late when he comes home that night, Lorenzo and Arthur have already passed out on the couch with you trying to read the anatomy textbook on your lap in the low light.

“Hi.” He greets you as he gives you a tight-lipped smile.

“Hi.” You whisper back, trying not to wake up the boy sleeping next to you. “Did you have fun?”

“Yeah, it was a good day.” He answers truthfully, and then motions the book resting on your knees. “Aren’t you going to go to sleep?”

“No, I think I’m going to stay here tonight.”

He doesn’t argue as he presses a kiss on your temple. “Okay, good night, chérie.”

One thing about Charles, is that he is very secretive about his relationships – to the point where he won’t introduce someone to you or his family if he doesn’t think the relationship is going somewhere. So, when he brings over Charlotte for lunch the next day, there is a buzz around the house. The lunch goes well, you think. Charlotte is sweet, and the two of you talk about many things including your universities; she’s very impressed that you want to go into the medical field and you tell her that architecture must be a pain in the ass to study and she agrees with a loud laugh.

When Pascale asks them what they did for Christmas yesterday, Charlotte leans against Charles’ arm as she answers, “Oh, nothing. We just stayed home and watched that old movie – what was it again?”

“The Sound of Music.” Charles answers, his eyes are focused on his hands, and you know this, because your eyes don’t heave his frame until Arthur forces you to carry the dishes into the kitchen.

“We’ll do them, maman,” he announces when Pascale attempts to tidy up the dishes, “Y/N will help me, won’t you?”

“Yeah, sure.” You nod, the voice coming off from you not matching the sunny disposition you present to the rest of the room.

You carry the dishes Arthur passes to you to the kitchen, holding your breath in an attempt to keep the tears at bay, and you succeed, too. At least until Arthur comes after you, carrying more dishes and places them next to the other ones near the kitchen sink. You start scrubbing them with intensity, your sniffles and the sound from water whooshing around in the sink filling the room. Arthur pulls you against him as you lean your forehead to his shoulder, or where you can on his arm due to your height-difference, as you start quietly sobbing. Arthur turns the tap on as he lets you cry into his shoulder.

The two of you return to the dining room after the dishes are done, and continue the conversation as if nothing happened. After Charlotte announces that she should be on her way, you walk her to the door with everyone, the two of you exchanging numbers as she makes you promise to go shopping with her the next time you’re in Monaco. You agree with a chuckle and tell her only if she teaches you how to draw because your “Anatomy notes are seriously suffering.” After she gives Charles a kiss and leaves, Charles turns to you.

“It’s just a movie.” He says in a low voice.

“You’re allowed to have fun with your girlfriend, Charles.” You assure him and pat his shoulder for good measure. Then, you turn to Arthur, who is watching the exchange with a confused look on his face. “Want to play a round before I leave?”

“Sure,” he agrees and the two of you move into the living room to play a round of F1 on the PlayStation. He sets it up for you as you try to get comfortable on the couch, trying to get rid of the feeling of unease as Charles watches you from the other side of the couch. “Who do you want to pick?” Arthur asks you, the cursor hovering over his choice – who is of course his brother.

You stay quiet for a moment and answer him in a calm voice, “Give me Max.”

Charles scoffs from the other side and pushes himself off, his arms crossed over his chest. “Rich, Y/N, just rich.”

“What?” you ask him with faux innocence and a shrug of your shoulders.

His voice is accusatory when he snaps, “Stop being childish for a moment.”

“Oh, I’m being childish?” You ask him, getting off the couch as well.

“Yes, you’re being extremely childish right now.” He agrees, nodding his head. “Glad we at least agree on that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You ask again while narrowing your eyes.

He scoffs, “It’s just a stupid movie.”

“I didn’t say a fucking word about the movie, Charles.” You point out, mimicking his pose as you cross your arms over your chest. In reality, it’s a short attempt at trying to hide your shaking hands. “But it’s not a stupid movie, it’s tradition.”

“Traditions can be broken from time to time.” He argues.

“I didn’t say they couldn’t.” You shrug, trying to appear indifferent to the man in front of you.

“Maybe if you tried to stick around for more than three days at a time, you wouldn’t be so upset about these type of things.”

Your mouth hangs open in shock. “Excuse me?”

“Charles, maybe you should–” Arthur tries to stop his brother, but Charles waves him off.

“Sometimes I think ‘Did I do something?’, but then I realise that maybe the problem is not me–”

Though you’re shocked by his words, you find yourself assuring him, “It’s not, it has nothing to do with you.”

Both you and Arthur can see something snaps in him, causing him to raise his voice. “Then what is it? Tell me so I can fix it and you can stop running away!”

You shake your head, your arms which are wrapped around you becoming tighter as an attempt to provide yourself some sort of protection. “You can’t fix it, Charles.”

His arms become undone as his fists ball on either side of his body. “You don’t know that–”

“No you can’t!” You scream, somehow more tears flowing from your eyes. “You can’t bring Jules back because he’s dead, and you can’t fix me because I’m not a toy! You think I want to live this way? You think I want to go back every damn time I set foot in this city because I just hate it here? I can’t bear the thought of staying here because of the fact that my brother died while I was here and I didn’t get to say goodbye to him.” You point a finger towards him, your voice gradually becoming louder to match his. “He was dead by the time I got back to the hospital and they told me he couldn’t hold on any longer, how do you think that makes me feel every time I feel like I’ve overstayed in this city, huh?”

“You need to stop living in the past, Y/N.” He shakes his head. “Don’t you see you’re letting the past hold you back?”

“‘Letting the past hold me back’ do you even hear yourself right now? I am trying my best to move on!”

“By moving across the ocean?” He asks you, “By leaving the people you love you behind?”

“You– you can do this!” You scream as you walk towards him and jab your finger against his chest. “You told me to take the offer, you told me to move away because you were so sure we’d be fine.”

“Well maybe I was wrong.” He whispers, grabbing both of your wrists to stop you from poking him and curling his arms closer to his chest.

Your eyes widen with a furious look in them, which makes him realise he sees more of Jules in them than before. “Screw you, Charles.” You struggle against his hold, hitting his chest with your fists with every word as you scream, “Screw you for trying to dictate how I process my grief, and screw you for acting so indifferent.” You win your struggle in the end, taking advantage of the fact that he is both distracted and speechless to get out of his hold and quickly grab your things.

“Where are you going?” He asks you as you’re putting your coat on.

“Anywhere but here.” You snap at him, refusing to meet his eyes.

Arthur quickly comes near you with a concerned look, “You shouldn’t be driving right now, at least let me drive you.”

You give him the warmest smile you can muster up, “I’ll be fine, ThurThur,” your eyes find Charles’ as you continue, “Don’t ever change, okay?”

After the disastrous Christmas last year, you two didn’t talk for a whole year, even though the people around you tried their hardest to bring you to talk to each other. Even Charlotte tried to trick you into spending time, claiming that she had a work emergency just as you arrived at the lunch you two scheduled to find Charles sitting there – you quickly left without being seen and spent the day walking through the marina because “Fuck Charles if he thinks you can’t spend more than three days in Monte Carlo.” He spends Christmas with Charlotte again, but unlike this year, you don’t feel sad about his absence, choosing to call it growth when reality it’s actually packing it away to deal with it another time.

The two of you eventually do make up, though, when you go to one of Arthur’s races to support him and run into Charles on the track. You talk between breaks, both of you succumbing and apologising to each other for the things you’ve said – him more than you, but you still apologise for the way you’ve acted afterwards. Arthur has a strange smile on his face when he finds you, releasing a relieved breath when you told him that you’re fine and you’re going to take baby steps.

“Good,” he smiles, “maman was about to lock you onto Charles’ yacht.”

Your therapist calls is ‘survivor’s guilt’. Yes, you have one of those now because although you want it to be false, you think a part of what Charles said might be right. She explains to you that it’s a natural response where someone has suffered a loss and you didn’t. This confuses you, though, because even if the loss in question is the death of your brother, you weren’t there to experience it with the rest of your family. Dr. Gambini is there to explain that “Although it implies experience, it doesn’t necessarily mean you can’t not feel the loss of something you didn’t get to suffer.” So, you go through the therapy experience to try to understand your own feelings, which makes you think maybe it is what you should be focusing on in the first place. It’s an overwhelming feeling, understanding things about yourself which you didn’t before – the things you used to feel slowly gain meaning as you go about it. You’re proud of yourself when you talk about it to your parents, and they tell you that they are proud of you for giving it a go. Charles joins you in one of your sessions – it’s Charlotte’s idea, actually. He tries to understand why, and how he can help you – he leaves the session feeling proud of you for taking care of yourself.

A few months later, you get a phone call from him when you’re in the middle of the week when you are studying, while all of your friends are away for spring break. His voice is thick with tears as he tells you that it’s over between him and Charlotte, but refuses to give you a reason when you ask why. It leaves you confused in New York, but when he asks you if you can come home for the weekend, you don’t hesitate to book a ticket for the next flight out. He’s shocked to find you standing in front of his door, but pulls you in for a hug anyway. Neither of you care about the duffel bag that hits the floor at your feet, even when you’re stumbling over it to get to him. You don’t talk, but hold each other throughout the night. He offers to cook for you, but you decide that ordering pizza is a better solution than trying to each what Charles attempts to cook. So, you end up deciding on pizza and a movie.

You look at him confused when you realise which movie he’s selected, “It’s not Christmas, Charles.”

He sits down on the couch, and pulls you under his arm as he reaches for the pizza box sitting on the coffee table. There’s a nostalgic smile on his face which you cannot understand. “I owe you two screenings of this movie, Y/N. Now eat your pizza and watch it.”

So, the two of you watch the movie in silence – with silently laughing in relevant scenes and Charles even attempting to sing the Lonely Goatherd, which leaves you in tears because of how much you’re laughing. At the end of the night he walks you to the guest room in his apartment and pulls you for one last hug, whispering, “Thank you for coming,” into your hair.

“Of course, Charles.” You whisper, turning your head and softly pressing a kiss to his shirt-covered chest. “Try to get some sleep, okay? I’ll see you in the morning.

He’s in the kitchen when you wake up in the morning, focusing so intently on something on his phone to notice you. You ruffle his hair as you make your way through the kitchen to make some breakfast for the two of you. “Good morning to you too, you grump.” You tell him, when you finish getting out the ingredients for the breakfast you have in mind.

“Morning, chérie.” He answers, in a non-committal voice.

“And to think I was going to make you pancakes.” You sigh as you halt the movement of your hands and lean against the counter.

A playful smile is on your lips when Charles excitedly raises his head. “Pancakes?” He asks in a soft voice.

“I was going to add chocolate chips, too, but you didn’t say good morning to me and now I don’t think I’m in mood to be honest with you.” You shrug, starting to put away the bowls you took out.

He quickly comes behind the counter to tickle some sense in you, and you use the bowl in your hands as a shield as you start laughing. He gives up after a while, pressing a kiss to your temple and fixing some of your hair which fell out of place during the ‘fighting’. “Good morning, how can I help you?”

“Wow, you actually want to help me cook for a change?” You coo, ruffling his hair again and hitting his hip with yours to get him out of your way. “Go wait on the other side, you grumpy baby.” He complies to your directions to sit on the other side of the island, but doesn’t bother with his phone this time. You make a motion towards his phone on the island with your head as you crack the eggs into the bowl. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, just some problem with the car.” He answers. “I might need to go to Maranello for a day or two. When is your flight back to New York?”

“Oh– I can change it if you know the date–” You start to say, but he quickly cuts you off.

“What? No, I don’t want you to go back.” He quickly says, shaking his head. “I just thought you might want to come with me rather than stay here.”

“Oh,” You say, looking around. “It’s not a problem, I can stay and study.”

There is a confused look on his face. “Stay? Here?” He asks over and over again. “Here? Stay? Alone?”

“Yes, Charles, I can manage to stay by myself.” You sigh. “I did it last summer for a month, you can trust me, alright?”

“You were in Monte Carlo for a month, last summer? How did I not catch you at all?”

You let out another sigh, “In case you don’t realise, I’m very good at avoiding you.” You continue when he gives you yet another confused look as you start mixing the batter. “Charlotte told me to meet her at a restaurant but it was a set up for me to meet with you, so I got in the car and drove away. It was probably the closest we got to each other.”

“Wow.” He looks at you with wide eyes. “Just, wow.”

You roll your eyes and glare at him. “Stop looking at me like that. My classes are all online this semester and Dr. Gambini thinks it’s good for me to spend more time here; it’s supposed to help me get closure, or something.”

He gives you a big smile. “I’m proud of you, Y/N.”

“Yeah?” You ask him, his smile quickly mirroring on your own lips.

“Yeah.” He breathes out. “And you can stay here all you want! And cook me breakfast, you know.”

You let out a laugh this time. “I can get my own place, Charles.”

“But then who will cook me breakfast?” He asks with a small pout.

“You are a child, Perceval.” You laugh at the way he looks at you, with his elbows bent over the counter and his upper body leaning over the stove. “I’m only cooking you breakfast; you have to promise you won’t fall in love with me after this.” You joke.

You turn around to look in the cupboard for the chocolate chips as you hear him mumble, “Too late.”

You almost hit your head at the open cupboard door when you turn right back to look at him. “What?” You walk towards the island as you mumble out, “No, no, no, no, don’t say that. You just broke up with your girlfriend, Charles.”

“We broke up almost five months ago.” He announces, no hint of joking in his voice. “Right before the Abu Dhabi race.”

“That’s not true.” You say, shaking your head. “I spoke to Charlotte; she told me everything was fine.”

He shrugs, then offers you an explanation. “We announced it a couple of months later, but we’ve been broken up for a while.”

“But then why did you call me a couple of days ago to tell me it was over?” You ask him, visibly confused.

He looks guilty as he admits. “I– I don’t have a good answer for that.” He stalks over to the other side of the island again to trap you between himself and the marble in an attempt to prevent you from evading. “All I can say is that I love you.”

“Oh, wow.” You say, suddenly you can find the right choice for words. “Say that again for me?”

“I love you, Y/N.”

“Now in French?”

“Je t'aime.”

“In Italian?”

“Ti amo.” He laughs this time, leaning down towards you to bring his face towards yours. “You done?” You nod your head with a giggle escaping past your lips. “This would be a perfect time to say something, you know.”

“Oh, right.” You nod in acknowledgement. “Thank you.”

“What?” He asks in horror.

“Yeah, thank you. You know, for the–”

“Chérie!” He exclaims with his eyes wide.

You continue your giggles as you place your hands on his cheeks and pull his face towards you, resting his forehead on yours. “I love you too, chez moi,” my home/place. The pancakes are long-forgotten when you pres your lips on his to give him a kiss, somewhere in the universe your twelve year-old is high-fiving with herself, but you are happy to be finally home.

#monzabee #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 #smut #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc angst

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l-e-e-woso · 6 months

Text

Movin’ - Alexia Putellas

Italics = Spanish

2x Ballon D’or winner Alexia Putellas is set to move to Chelsea from Barcelona.

Fans are shocked to find out that Alexia Putellas is leaving Barcelona after 10 years.

Chelsea signed Alexia Putellas for a world record transfer fee of £700,000.

Alexia Putellas Instagram Post

“To all the fans, I will always love Barcelona with my whole heart but I need a new challenge. I was at Barca from a young age being there shaped who I am today, I would not be where I am today without the coaches and players of Barca. Especially the fans without you none of this would be possible.

To my Barca family, just know that I will always support you. You have my full support as long as you are not playing against Chelsea. I am only a phone call or text away, I will always be there for you all. You are all my family and I love you.

To Chelsea, I look forward to playing in blue, I’m told it brings out the colour in my eyes. I’m excited to win more trophies and have a new challenge. I cannot wait to meet my new teammates and training staff.

Thank you! Forca Barca! Forca Chelsea!”

Hear what Chelsea manager Emma Hayes has to say…

“I never thought the day where I would be able to sign Alexia Putellas would ever exist. Everyone knows how amazing of a player and person she is, she will fit in perfectly with all of the girls.

The way that she plays and how confident she is on the pitch is what we need in the team right now.

From what I know Alexia had a lot of teams trying to sign her but she chose Chelsea for a reason. To win trophies, to be challenged in a new way and she was really intrigued with the WSL. The WSL usually has about three or four teams that are very close on the table which no other country has. I think the fact that the result could change at any moment makes Alexia ecstatic to play here at Chelsea.”

______________________________

Alexia was very nervous when she got to the entrance of Chelsea’s womens training centre but she saw you leaning against the side of the building making her smile widely as she hadn’t seen you in awhile. She walked over to you wrapping you in a hug and kissed you passionately.

“I missed you.” Alexia says as a tear or two fell down her face as you held her against you. “I missed you too. Don’t cry!! You’ll make me cry and I won’t be able to stop cause of these stupid hormones!” You say as you wipe Alexia’s tears with the pads of your thumbs.

“How is my cariño?” Alexia says as she rubs her hand slowly over your stomach which was rather big since you were now 8 and a half months pregnant, you could literally go into labour at any moment.

The way that Alexia treated you now that you were pregnant made you fall in love with her even more than before, it made you even more excited to see how she was going to be with your daughter. You saw how little kids looked up to Alexia as a footballer and how she treated them like the most precious people in the world.

“Oh y’know apart from constantly pressing on my bladder making me need to go to the toilet every five seconds, she is all good!” You said as you lent into Alexia’s side as the two of you caught up before you would both have to go inside so Alexia could meet the rest of the Chelsea girls.

“I’m glad. I never thought we would finally get to start our family. I am so excited to meet her.” Alexia smiled at the thought of finally meeting the little girl that you were currently growing in your womb.

Alexia knew that her mother, Eli and her sister, Alba could not wait to meet the baby girl either. Eli had been waiting for a grandchild since you and Alexia got married three years ago which you understood in a way because you knew that Eli thought that she may never have a grandchild so when you told her you were pregnant she was ecstatic. Alba was also over the moon when she found out you were pregnant, she looked up to both you and Alexia so much so having a mini version of the two of you combined was amazing to her.

“Ale, you know you are going to have to speak English around the girls? None of them know a word of Spanish. I tried to teach them some but they found it too complicated. I think the only people you may need help understanding is Erin and possibly Sam but other than those two you should be fine. Plus I find it hot when you speak English, I love your accent.” You say to Alexia as you start to pull her into the training building by her hand and wink at her which makes her blush. It wasn’t that she couldn’t speak English she just preferred speaking Spanish because it made her less nervous, she also knew that she was more likely to fumble her words in English.

“Yes I know, mi amor. You have told me many times, almost everyday…Good to know maybe I’ll talk to you in English more often.” Alexia smirks as she sees you turn towards her and you glare at her playfully before continuing down the hallway.

______________________________

Eventually, you arrive at what everyone likes to call the team bonding room and you look at Alexia, she has a never expression as she grips your hand tightly.

“They will love you okay? I’ll be there the entire time. We most likely won’t have much time before you go to training.” You tell Alexia as she takes a deep breath to calm herself down which helps a lot.

“Okay thank you, mi amor. Vamos!” Alexia smiles at you, giving you a quick kiss before you open the door to the team bonding room which is filled with most of the Chelsea players.

Some of the girls looked up from their conversations, giving the both of you a quick smile before returning to their conversations. They didn’t want to overwhelm Alexia because they knew that she was nervous about meeting them due to you talking to them before Alexia had arrived.

The first person to come up and talk to Alexia was Magda. “Welcome to the team! It’s about time we get a Spanish person on this team.” Magda tries to lighten the situation which had clearly made Alexia really nervous, she hadn’t been to a new club in ten years so she had forgotten how it felt until now.

“Thank you. I’m excited to be here, not so excited about the weather though, it’s a big change from the weather in Spain.” Alexia says as she catches a glimpse of the rain through the window and grimaces slightly at the thought of training in that weather.

“I bet.” Millie laughs from where she was sitting talking to Sam and turns to look at Alexia. “Guess it’s time to get to know you, Alexia.” Magda says as she gestures for the both of you to sit down and you quickly do as you sigh in relief.

“Jesus, I swear this baby is gonna be the size of Bigfoot by the time she comes out.” You mutter unaware that Fran who was sitting next to you had heard you and she bursts out laughing. “Did you just call your child Bigfoot?” Fran chuckles as you glare at her before playfully hitting her arm and she goes to playfully hit you back when you grab her hand. “Feel this.” You mutter as you unzip your jacket and place Fran’s hand on your stomach where the baby was kicking like mad, making her eyes go wide in amazement.

Alexia watches you with a loving gaze as she talks with a few of the girls who wanted to know more about her. “How come you choose Chelsea? From what I understand you had a lot of offers.” Sam asks Alexia with curiosity and everyone wants to know the answer.

“The main reason is that we are about to start a family and I wanted to be here for all of it, I didn’t want to miss more than I already have. I also need to get out of Spain to have a new challenge and I’m sure that will happen here. I want to push myself as much as I can to help to win more trophies.” Alexia explains to everyone as they all nod along to her answer while smiling at her. Then Alexia looks over to you like she was asking permission to tell the team something to which you nodded.

“Also…after my contract ends in four years time, I’m going to be retiring. Dios mio, I will never get used to saying that..” Alexia mutters the last sentence while her new teammates looked at each other in shock that Alexia would be retiring and she chose Chelsea to be her last team. “Your going to retire?” Erin said kinda shocked, it isn’t everyday that a world class player announces that she will finish her career in four years. “Si, I have been thinking about retiring for quite a long time but that's not for a while.” Alexia said with a smile on her face as you held her hand to comfort her.

“Time for training!” You shout, scaring a couple of your teammates and everyone starts moving to the training field. Alexia grabbed your hand to help you up from your seat and walk with you slowly to a seat on the sidelines of the training pitch.

______________________________

Alexia was doing really well while training with her new teammates at Chelsea and was having fun, joking around with them and getting to know them.

She was laughing with Magda and Pernille when she heard her name being shouted by you on the sidelines making her face drop because it sounded like you were in pain, which you were since you were now in labour. She looked to Emma who just nodded and motioned her to go with you, she sprinted over to you.

It didn’t take long to get to the hospital, you weren’t sure that she went the speed limit but at that precise moment in time you didn’t care much about that you just wanted to get this baby out of you.

It was surprisingly quite a quick birth, at 7:48pm you gave birth to a beautiful baby girl called Elena Putellas Segura.

—————————————————

Taglist: @sofakingwoso @xxforeverinadayxx

#woso #woso x reader #barca femeni #woso fanfics #woso community #woso imagine #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas

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