#almost wrote it the french way

[16woodsequ]

What do usaAmericans call toques if they don't call them toques?

#what am i supposed to write it as in my marvel fics huh? #also #almost wrote it the french way #tuques #i never realised it's spelled different in English #toques

[randomuzerthelozer]

Do you ever make a full on essay post about something happening that proves a point you had, but then you realise you miss read the post you got the orignal info from and basically your full entire point falls apart(EVEN THOGUHT YOU CAN CLEALRY TELL YOUR ON THE RIGHT TRACK)

(IF YOU WANT TO SEE MY POINTS INA SAMLLER WAY GO INTO THE TAGS I WENT INSANE BRO)

#WARNING THIS HAS A LOT OF TAG RAMBELING #do you all know onf (that one blog/twt acc trying to DESTROY JNJ?) #yeah I made a full ass essay talking about how that youtube channel they put in a twt proves that their bait #but then I realised THE TWT WAS ACCTUALLY SAYING THAT'S NOT THEM #and I do belive them because teh youtube channel seems extremely off brand for them #alibet their hypocrisiy when it comes to animation epic could be a good starting point for my post #and how they don't noticed the fact adam katz theroically dose work in JNJ (VAing Nickel) #BUT I don't feel like rewriting that whole post #BASICALLY: OHF is most likely bait trying to epicly own JNJ haters #Unlike that one homophobic acc with the woody dabbing pfp they came out of nowhere #and not using a personal acc makes it even more convient imo almost as if they don't acctually havethese takes #also they might just be trying to get people to think the people they reblog are pro the movement* (dose it even classiy as a movement?) #expect that I don't think it's a kid since I don't think a kid would make twt their main platform of choice for this #it would most likely be youtube or something #and a adult who acctually had these takes would just use their main acc/ a alt(if they don't wanna post their takes on main) #and not try to be the french uprising or something #expect that they say very very extreme things in a very cartoonish way #as if their playing a role (HMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM) #it's almost as if they say these very extreme things and say them in a cartoonsih way to get... Attention? #Operation huang fall #BFDI #If your ONF on tumblr reading this (Since you seem to see all the posts about you) then uhh Hi :3 #Randomuzer's random rambles #OHF #EDIT: INGORE THE FACT I WROTE ONF QS OHF I WAS TIRED

[lafcadiosadventures]

From the Cathedral, my companion and myself proceeded to the Tower of St. Michael, where there is a vault which possesses the power of mummifying the bodies placed there. The lowest story of the tower is inhabited by the keeper and his family, who cook their victuals at the entrance of the cavern, and live on a footing of the most intimate familiarity with their frightful neighbours. The man took a lantern, and we descended by the worn steps of a winding staircase into the funeral vault. The corpses, about forty in number, are placed around the vault, with their backs against the wall. This upright position, so different from the general horizontal posture of the dead, gives them a horribly phantom-like appearance of life, especially in the yellow and flickering light of the lantern, which oscillates in the hand of the guide, and causes the shadows to change their place every instant. The imagination of poets and painters has never produced a more horrible nightmare; the most monstrous caprices of Goya, the raving productions of Louis Boulanger, the diabolical creations of Callot and of Teniers, are nothing in comparison, and all the most fantastic writers of ballads are here surpassed. Never did more abominable spectres rise from out the night of a German mind. They are worthy of figuring at the midnight orgies of the Brocken with the witches of Faust. Their faces are distorted and grinning; their skulls have half the flesh peeled off; their sides gape open, exposing, through the grating of their ribs, their lungs, dried and shrivelled up like sponge. In one instance the flesh has crumbled into dust, and the bones protrude; in another, the parchment skin, no longer sustained by the fibres of the cellular tissue, floats round the corpse like a second windingsheet. Not one of the heads possesses that impassible calmness which death imparts, as a last seal, to those whom it touches. Their mouths gape frightfully, as if drawn asunder by the immeasurable weariness of eternity, or grin with the sardonic grin of Nothingness which laughs life to scorn. Their jaws are dislocated, and the muscles of the neck swollen. Their fists are furiously clenched, and their spines writhe in the contortions of despair. They appear enraged at being moved from their tombs, and troubled in their sleep by the curiosity of the profane.

Description of the crypt under the tower of the Basilica of Saint-Michel, Bordeaux, from Théophile Gautier’s Travels in Spain.

Edit: here’s Hugo’s version. (could only find it in french) It’s a nice contrast, Hugo explicitly touches on the christian “vanity of human passions” guilt, mentions the contrast of the outward beauty of the façade and the horror of the crypt (which gautier perhaps didn’t notice bc he arrived there at night) and mixes technology (the telegraph (!) in his visionary description of the bodies, and his desire for communication beyond the grave

#tw: corpse #this is damn well written #the description is not even over there but this is my favorite part #what follows is a really curious paragraph where gautier talks about the mummies almost as if they were art #(well he’s doing this here with the comparisons to callot and goya and co. but he gets specific about the different mummies next #if you look at the basilica and the photos of the cript #the contrast between the luminous beauty of the church and the corpses is very violent #the whole chruch works as a memento mori/vanitas situation in a way #and I’m usually touched by that impossibility many romantics have: they can’t look at life as separate from art #they cannot witness an event or see an object or a person and not draw a parallel with a work of art #theophile gautier #french romantics #travels in spain #the grotesque in romanticism #(wikipedia points out hugo visited this too i wonder if he wrote smthing as well)

[starkwlkr]

heyyy! i love your fanfics so so much and had an idea for one, charles x reader where the girl has to go to watch the rolex monte carlo masters on finals day because his sister dates one of the tennis players who would play there, her place ends up being next to charles and he notices the confusion of the girl next to him every pass, she knows nothing about tennis so charles gently explains what happens in the game and she recognizes him for being a fan of formula one... pierre appears and charles gets up to change places without first inviting her to accompany him

go sports | charles leclerc

again so sorry for the wait!! i’m slowly catching up on all the requests :) I’m assuming that y/n’s sister is dating on of the tennis players so I wrote that in

Y/n sat in her seat, unsure why she was even separated from her sister, but she just accepted it. Y/n watched as more seats were being filled by people. A few minutes before the match started, Y/n took her phone out and started texting her sister. She continued to do that until a guy sat beside her.

“Bonjour mademoiselle.” He greeted.

Y/n just smiled at him. “Hi.” She regretted not taking French in school.

She didn’t mean to stare at him, but he had such a familiar face. A second later, she realized that none other than Charles Leclerc was sitting right next to her. Soon, the match started and Y/n tried her best to keep up with it. She never quite understood the basics of tennis, but she watched the ball bounce from one opponent to the other.

From the corner of his eye, Charles watched as she made a confused face. Her eyes followed the ball, she sometimes gasped when one of the players almost hit the ground from running.

“Who’s your pick?” Charles leaned towards her.

“Is it dumb if I say whoever wins?” Y/n said to him.

“I don’t think it’s dumb. That’s what I said when I saw my first tennis match.” Charles replied. “Did you know that in tennis, ‘love’ means zero.” He said, almost whispering it in her ear.

As the match went on, Charles kept telling her what was going on. She nodded, keeping track of every rule Charles was telling her. Halfway through the match, Y/n sort knew what was happening.

From a distance, Pierre Gasly watched his friend talk with the woman beside him. “This guy.” He chuckled as Charles pointed to the tennis court. He then realized Charles was explaining the game to her.

Is this his way of flirting? Pierre thought. He then watched Charles pull his phone out and hand it to her. Pierre’s girlfriend, Kika, sat beside him watching as well.

“Are they exchanging phone numbers?” Kika whispered to Pierre.

“Holy shit, Charles actually knows how to talk to women.”

#formula 1 #f1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #f1 x you #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc one shot #cl16 x reader #ferrari #f1 one shot #charles leclerc imagine

[mirohlayo]

HATE YOU LOVINGLY | LN4 (pt2)

( you hate him just as he hates you. but maybe it's just his way to show he fell hard for you. )

warning : jealousy, slight angst, fluff

note : i spent my whole evening writing this but it's worth it. also wrote once again more than 5k words i surprised myself because even in french i don't write that much

word count : 5.1k

↳ part 1

!! english is not my first language !!

this season's debut is tough for you. being a new f1 presenter is not as amazing as it looks. of course it's a wonderful job, you couldn't have dreamed better because it's the job you so wanted. you're very passionate about it, but it requires a lot of work and to be honest you're feeling a bit tired since some weeks now.

but the thing that disturbs you and makes you really tense is when you interview lando. actually just lando. of course you still don't like him, but you're sure you don't hate him anymore. you thought you would never say this but you definitely started to appreciate him. because of the post race interviews.

you mostly interview the mclaren drivers. it means that you can share some time with your best friend oscar but it also means you have to face lando. and when it happens it's the most stressful and strained moment. because you can't fully concentrate yourself on the questions.

it's the way he looks at you with this intense gaze, which makes you burn inside of your body. his distracting look always finish to fall on your lips at one point of the interview. it makes you go crazy. he would stare a bit at them before looking you in the eyes like nothing happened.

but to revenge on him you would ask him the most tough questions. about the race, about qualifying. you somehow always manage to prick his weaknesses by asking questions whose answers are almost impossible to find. and he always scoff, he lets a laugh out because he perfectly understands what you always try to do.

and fans notice it. they notice the way you two interact on camera. they'd say both of you look like are going to murder each other with the difficult questions from you and the sassy comments and answers from lando. but if they really analyze the situations, they can caught and feel a link between you. a special link which connects you. they notice lando's wandering eyes on your lips and the way you look at him. and laugh at his jokes.

it seems like you try so hard to show everyone you hate each other but it ends up watching two fools being secretly in love.

but you're still sure lando hates you and he's thinking the same for you.

now the australian grand prix will take place this sunday, and today it is thursday. which means conferences and media duties. the mclaren media team has planned a new sort of video. they want to try different types of content for both the drivers this year. and they organized a video with lando and you as guests. the idea of the video is to make lando choose an outfit for you and you'll try it. it can be a good way to show mclaren's fans your relationship and also lando's style and taste.

"y/n will arrive in a few minutes" stephanie, who oversees media and PR functions for mclaren, informs lando that you'll be here soon. the curly haired just nods and fixes his hoodie's sleeve. his expression is impassive, nobody can't tell what emotion he's feeling right now. however, some of the members are aware of the complex relationship between you and lando so they profoundly hope the video will not be a mess.

you guys just need to cooperate and fake it, fake your emotions only for the video. because it is your jobs.

lando laughs with the makeup artist who is adjusting his makeup. he lifts up his eyes and then he sees you walk in the room. you smile and greet the staff, waving your hand to some acquaintances. and in this moment he daydreams. he stops himself on you. your smile, the way you act with people around you with the kindest words and purest actions. he's mesmerized by you. and he hates it.

you make everything so difficult for him. why do he constantly have this problem ? this need to keep an eye on you, to lay eyes on you at least once a day. to be sure you're present and if you're not then he's always questioning himself, he thinks about you. why he's so attracted by you ? he thinks that he always hated you, that he was sure that this curiosity he had for you at the beginning had turned into hatred. but ultimately maybe he was lying to himself.

he only wanted to protect himself from his lack of self-confidence from trying to approach you without any result, and he decided to bury his true feelings under a shell. he created this false illusion of hatred so as not to hurt his ego, not to remind him that he is completely in love with you. because deep down he always saw you as an inaccessible woman and he always wondered how a guy like him could say a word to a woman like you.

he was too insecure and you seemed to avoid and ignore him, so it hurt him because he wanted to exist in your eyes. and that's why he started to hate you. but this feeling of hatred is simply wrong. it's an excuse to hide his feelings towards you. but he realizes that. he doesn't deny it anymore, he knows how fucking bad he's in love with you.

"lando ? you're still with us ?" your voice rings in lando's ears and he comes back to reality. you're standing next to him, and the staff is ready to start the video. "yeah sorry. i'm ready" he says and gives you a decided look. stephanie checks everything. she adjusts the little details to make everything look perfect. but she frowns when her eyes fall on you. "can you please try to be more relaxed and act like you're actually like each other ?"

she walks quickly over you and put her hands on your shoulders "you need to be closer to him, the framing looks horrible on the camera" she says while moving your position. your feet walk by themselves and you're so close to lando now, your shoulders almost touch together. you have never been so close to him. you can even smell his cologne.

he looks a bit uncomfortable now, he shifts his position and clear his throat. he can also smell your perfume too and he's completely hypnotized by it. and by the closeness of your body. stephanie take a look on the camera and she thumbs up. "perfect !! now we can start the recording. please no noise!" she sits on her chair and gives you the signal.

you inhale deeply. it's going to be funny right ?

"hello everyone !! today we are here with the driver lando norris and we're going to play a little game together" you smile to the camera and then turn around to talk to the driver next to you. he does the same and when your looks meet, his heart starts to beat faster. you continue to speak and explain the game but he doesn't listen, he's stuck on your hand on his shoulder. you have never touch him before, because if you dare brush him you know he'll be so pissed off. and you either don't want to graze his skin.

but it's all for the work, so you have to do it and to obviously fake it.

lando doesn't want to show you and people that he's surprised by the touch and that he actually likes it. so to shield himself he keeps a straight face and glare at your hand before taking a step back. you would be lying if you said he hurts you with this sudden move. but what, you also need to fake your hatred towards him. so you react like nothing happened despite the way your heart pangs.

"so are you ready to choose me an outfit ?" you ask to the driver and he doesn't ever bother to look you in the eyes. "yes, i think i'll do a great job". you try to hold back a roll eyes and you smile while nodding. but stephanie claps and sighs "no it's so bad. i know you two can't barely stand each other but you guys need to grow up and understand that you need to work together. it looks like you're going to fight. please be serious and mature and make an effort to show that you are at least close"

you sigh and nod to agree with her because you know she's right. you can't act like this in front of the camera and millions of people. "we're sorry. we're going to fix this problem and do our best" "who "we"?" lando says and shoot a black look to you. you bite your cheek from the inside and roll your eyes. now you're getting annoyed. "shut your mouth and stop being stupid. do your job." you murmur to him with frowning brows.

"don't talk to me like that. we're not friends and we'll never be" he adds. he says that to look pissed off, but the truth is that he hopes you'll never be friends. because instead he hopes you'll be his girlfriend. "i ask no more" you scoff and you sound genuinely honest and sincere. which twist his heart and feelings. wouldn’t he have said that ? now he starts regretting what he have said. do you really want him to remain your enemy?

he can't argue back because the recording is taking up again. the recording is going pleasantly well and it surprises the staff as much as you two. lando seems to choose with precision and care your outfit. he does his best to match the clothes and he picks up the best items. and it feels like he's doing it not on purpose, but sincerely. it feels like he truly wants to see you well dressed and it kinda disturbs you.

you go change yourself into the outfit. and it's really beautiful. the clothes match perfectly and you can't lie, he did a good job. you found yourself admiring your reflection in the mirror. you're wearing an outfit chosen by your enemy - no wait by the man you secretly love, and you like it a bit too much.

it's time for the outfit reveals. the camera still records and you're hidden behind a curtain. "okay lando are you ready to see the final result ?" you ask a bit excited about it. "yes show me" he only replies. you pull the curtain and lando's eyes immediately land on you. ohh.

wow. he stopped to breathe. he stopped to talk. is it legal to be this pretty? no because you're taking his breath away and it's not good at all. the outfit fits you perfectly, and he's even more proud because he was the one to choose it. but seriously, he sincerely thinks you look gorgeous that he doesn't even realize you were talking to him. "so how do i look ?" you ask with a smile.

he's flustered. he starts to blush so hard and he rapidly looks away. he tries to say something but he stutters so much over his words. you're making him loose all his senses. he doesn't even know how to talk anymore. "y-you look... i mean it looks good". he pulls himself together and names the outfit rather than you because he doesn't want to admit that you are incredibly beautiful.

"yes i agree with you, it definitely looks good" you reply and smile to him. but not a fake smile like you'd usually do. no, it's a sincere smile, the one smile he loves seeing. he blushes even more and he clear his throat. some staff members notice how lando looks destabilized by you and they laugh. he is unmasked. but you see he's starting to get embarrassed and you decide to end the video now.

"you were perfect, thanks for your hard work" stephanie says and the others members thanks you too. the record stops and you rush to go get changed. you don't even glance at lando, you just look like you can't wait to leave the room and the driver. and the curly haired feels a little disappointed. for the first time he really wanted to talk to you and say a few words to you.

he hesitates to follow you. it would be weird if he suddenly come and talk to you when you can't even look at each other properly.

but he doesn't care. he wants to be confident. he rushes to follow you and before you could walk away from him he grabs your wrist. your second touch. it gives him shivers. and you too because he notices how your skin reacted to the sudden touch. wait, do you feel the same as him ?

"what ?" your frown and glare at him. he removes his hand from your wrist and looks away. he wants to speak but his words are running away. why he's like that around you ? "huh... i just wanted to say that you are actually... really pretty in this outfit" he says and blushes so so hard. you stop yourself. are you dreaming ? is this even real ?

is it really lando ? it's not a false lando norris right ? you blink, and he can clearly tell you're surprised. like very surprised. which is stressful because he starts to regret what he have said. he is sure that you will take his compliment badly and that he will be able to go fuck himself. but no. it's not your reaction. "oh... thank you lando. i guess ?" you stutter a bit, you don't even know how to react at this point.

your reaction make him laugh softly and for the first time since you met, a positive interaction took place between you. it's like a dream, it can't be real. you thought you couldn't have a good talk with him. you genuinely thought you and him couldn't make it together. but it seems for once that you are able to do it.

"let me change myself now please" you say because you're too flustered to stay with him right now. it's kinda awkward though. "oh yes sorry" he only replies and walk away without anything else.

now this one was truly surprising. first you managed to work perfectly well together and then he complimented you ? something is off. he couldn't have change in a day no ? it's just so strange. but yet you don't complain. you're happy about your interactions today. because it finally seems that you both can now try to be more friends and to know how each other.

-

two months passed since that day. and surprisingly everything was getting better with lando. now you great each other every day, the post race interviews are definitely entertaining and you both enjoy them now. he's making jokes sometimes when he's around you and he's always excited to record new content with you. your relationship really improved these past months.

and lando is still so fucking in love with you. he fell even harder for you since you started to interact more with him. now he only has eyes for you, you're the only girl he thinks about, the only girl he wants so bad. and you feel the same too. your love for lando doubled and the only thing you wish for is to be with him. to be his girlfriend. just as he wants to be your boyfriend.

today you need to attend a gala. most of the drivers will be there and lot of your colleagues and others presenters will be there too. it's an important event so you need to dress well and of course you must attend it. you finish your hairstyle and spray perfume on your neck. you're ready.

you make it to the place and you're welcomed by a huge crowd of people and fans. a lot of them try to reach out the drivers. every drivers and presenters are on the huge red carpet. there are many cameras and journalists too. it is very vibrant, very lively. flash come from everywhere and you try to find faces you know. and then you find your best friend.

you rush to oscar. he spots you too and he walks towards you. "y/n ! you took a long time to come" he says and hugs you. you wrap your arms around him too and pull back after. "sorry, there was traffic" you reply. he looks good. he wears a suit with a tie and it looks perfect on him. because he's not the kind of man to pull out costume. so seeing the boy you grew up with in this outfit is shocking. it makes you wonder if his teammate is wearing the same as him ?

lando finishes his interview. he gives a small smile to the journalist and joins carlos and charles over there. he's scanning the crowd. he's looking around. he recognizes some f1 presenters and he wonders if you are here too. he wants to see you. he wants to talk to you. but the only person he sees is his old teammate daniel walking to the group of drivers.

"hello guys. how you all feeling ?" he asks and shows his best smile. "good. though i'm tired of these infinite interviews" charles jokes but the boys all know there's some kind of honesty about it. "long time not see" daniel says as he pats lando's shoulder. "c'mon man you played games with me this morning" he rolls his eyes but grin. daniel laughs and wink at him.

a gap settles between the two but it is filled by the voices of the ferrari drivers. and then daniel speak again. "she's pretty" he only says. lando frowns and turns his head to look at his friend. "what ?" "the woman there. she's really pretty. i think she's a presenter. i often see her the paddock" daniel says and a silly smile take place on his face. lando follows daniel's gaze and his look falls on the one only girl he hoped his friend wasn't talking about.

you.

you're laughing so hard with his teammate that you almost trip and you have to hang on to oscar to avoid falling. and yes, indeed you are beautiful tonight. not that you aren't every day because he could literally spend the whole day admiring you but this long black dress which perfectly highlights your body has a lot of effect on him. but he knows he's not the only one you have an effect on. his jaw clench. no, his friend can't be interested in you. he does not have the right. lando was here first, he's the one for you not daniel. he needs to do something. he needs to keep daniel away from you.

"hah, there's much better mate... like this one girl over here, she's prettier by far." lando says in a nonchalant tone, and he points to a brunette who is also one of your colleagues. lie. it's a lie but he needs to do it. "really ? i prefer my girl. but i didn't know you had your eye on this brunette. good to know boy" daniel gives a wink to lando.

my girl ? did he really called you my girl ? jealousy fills lando now. daniel can't allow himself to call you like that. he does not have the right. only lando can call you my girl. you're his girl. well not really actually but still in his eyes you're his precious and favorite girl. he needs to try something else. "no that's not what i meant" "don't worry lando i'll try to get her number for you" he adds with an implicit smile.

the situation gets worse. it's not good at all. "no but i know her and i already know you won't like her. her name is y/n. you know she's horrible and she is like super super annoying. plus she has a terrible sense of humor. doesn't match with you." he ramble about you like you are the most mean person on earth. daniel looks confused but his eyes suddenly sparks. "oh it's the one girl you hate right ?" he asks.

lando hates his behavior now but he needs to save his opportunity. "yes that's her. i wish she could stop existing" he jokes but he's genuinely shocked by his own words. he wants to slap himself. how he hates himself for talking about you like that. he doesn't deserve you at all. "you know what i'm gonna talk to her"

and without realizing it, he sees daniel walking to you. lando's heart skipped a beat. no no no. it can't happen. you're his girl. you don't need daniel. jealousy is running in his blood and he swears he have never been this jealous over someone. he doesn't want to see you talk to an other man than him. he doesn't want to see you laugh with his old teammate because he perfectly knows you love his humor. no you can't give your attention to daniel. it is lando first.

"hello y/n !" daniel greets you with his white teeth smile. you stop talking with oscar and mirror his smile. lando rushes over and joins you. now there are three boys surrounding you. "hello daniel. hi lando !" you say and your smile widen when you look at the mclaren driver. his heart melt from your reaction, he notices how your eyes sparks when you look at him. "you look beautiful" daniel says then he adds "but lando thinks this woman over here his prettier than you. i think he might have a crush on her. but don't worry i'm here for you y/n".

lando sees red now. why daniel said that ? it's fucking bullshit, you're the absolutely only woman he has eyes for. he almost yells at his friend but he pulls himself together. he just hopes you won't listen to his bullshit. he's really pissed of now. you feel strange. like your heart painfully pangs. because you think now that lando already has an other girl in his mind. and it hurts. you thought you were somehow different for him. but you guess not. you try to change the topic because you're getting upset and sad. "wait how do you know my name ?" you frown confused and daniel laughs softly. "lando told me about you" he replies.

your gaze shift on lando. he talked about you to daniel ? it must have been positive then. you show your best smile to him and you can't help but giggle a little. but lando looks impassive, he doesn't even smile to you back. no, he's glaring at you. just like before. just like two months ago when he was hating on you. you don't understand. "oh and what did he say about me ?" you ask curiously.

daniel pats his friend's shoulder with a desolate look. of course it is part of the joke. "well he told me you're the most horrible and annoying person to ever exist. oh he actually said he wish you could stop existing but he was joking about that." daniel laughs but you are not. what ? is that true ? "excuse me... he really said that ? did he actually mean it ?" you ask to be sure.

lando knows he's in shit. he fucked up. he wants to say something but daniel cuts him off. "i think so because he literally said he hates you. but i think you already know that don't you ?"

daniel wasn't doing it on purpose at all. he knows that you both hate each other, which is why he allows himself to joke about your relationship. but he doesn't know that you've gotten a lot closer lately. lando didn't tell him about his feelings for you because he didn't want to show that he loves you. he kept pretending to hate you when he was with daniel and now this is what shit he's in.

"i... sorry i thought we got along well? that our relationship was better..." you look at the driver you love. he shows no expression.

so is he really like that? a big asshole to the end. you felt that he had changed, that he was starting to like you but in the end he is still the same idiot as before. he played with your feelings. and your whole being hurts. your heart pang so hard. "well if you believed it then maybe i should become an actor then" he scoffs and look at you up and down.

what is he doing? his behavior is truly shit and pathetic. he is losing the girl of his dreams because of himself. he is destroying the only person important to him. the only woman he wants to chase. he's so fucking bad he can't even take off this hateful role in front of daniel because he doesn't want to show that he fell in love with the girl he was supposed to hate. he's such a terrible asshole.

oscar doesn't understand either. because unlike daniel he knows lando's feelings towards you. he knows that his teammate is madly in love with you. so why this behavior? why is he doing all this? why is he hurting his best friend ? he looks at lando with a confused and angry gaze. "i'm sorry i need to get some water" you're about to cry in pain. you disappear quickly because you don't want to stay another second next to him. you have never felt like this before. you feel shit for believing in him. now he broke you in pieces.

daniel doesn't understand either what is happening. but some journalists are calling him for an interview and he excuses himself, saying he'll be back soon. now there's lando and oscar who remain together. "fuck" the curly haired curses. "fuck fuck fuck. shit. fucking shit. i fucked up everything" he curses more. oscar sigh and runs a hand in his hair. "indeed you did yes". his teammate looks like he's about to burst into tears. he knows he really did you wrong and shitty.

"see what you have lost" oscar says and shrugs. but him too is pissed off, he's mad at lando because this guy literally hurts in the most painful way his best friend. "why did you do that ? why did you mess up everything? i thought you really loved her!!” "because i do !! i do love her, she's my everything. she's the only person i care about. she's the only one i think about and she's making me loose my mind and i don't see my life without her oscar. for fuck sake i'm so in love with her and i know i don't deserve her"

lando goes around in circles. he's getting tired of it. "you really disappointed me you know. but it makes me feel sorry to see you in this state, so even if i don't like it, go chase after her" oscar pushes his teammate in your direction. he doesn't want to see lando desperate like this. he knows you love him and that lando loves you too. he can't stand seeing you two suffer when you're literally fighting for each other.

lando finds you in a hidden spot. you let a sob out of your mouth and it breaks his heart. his whole being even. he sees tears falling down on your cheeks and he curses at himself for being the reason of them. he carefully approaches you but you notice him. you're about to walk away but he grabs your wrist before you could run. "y/n"

"no. go away. i don't want to be near you" you bluntly pull back your hand from his grab. "no please y/n listen to me" he tries once again. you scoff and roll your eyes. he thinks it works like that ? "what ? i don't want to listen to you." you struggle to not yell at him. "i didn't intend to say theses things you have to trust me"

he digs himself in deeper. "oh what, now i need to trust you like i used to trust you when i thought you liked me ? you're shit lando" you start to walk away but he stops you once again. "leave me. i don't want to hear your excuses" you try to release his hand from your arm but he doesn't let you go. "no. listen to me. i don't even know why i acted like that and you don't realize how much i hate myself right now. this is not what i wanted to do. this is not what i want"

new tears fall on your face but you don't care at this point. you don't even have the energy to argue back. you can't stop crying. "so what do you want then ?"

"you" he answers without hesitation.

oh. you didn't expect this answer. his other hand grab gently your arm and he takes advantage of your lack of reaction to pull you into his arms. "now really listen" he starts and wipe a tear from your cheek. "i know i'm a piece of shit that don't deserve you. i don't even deserve to talk to you. i'm really a dick because i hurt you so bad and trust me it truly breaks my heart because i'm the man who broke your heart when i was supposed to take care of it"

"i never hated you. never. i was always attracted to you and i know i fell in love with you since the first time i laid eyes on you. every single day i begged to have a chance to talk to you. but i wasn't confident enough and i preferred to act like i hated you when all i wanted was to beg you to give me just a chance" he feels your body relaxes and he pulls you even closer. you can fell his breath on your neck.

"you're not even a little annoying. you are the complete opposite of horrible, you are the kindest and most caring person i know. i want to slap myself for saying i wish you didn't exist. because it's a fucking lie. i can't live without your existence. i can't imagine my future without you. you're taking my breath away and you never leave my mind and thoughts. i know you're the love of my life and i waited for you this long. and i'll never let you go now that i found you." he finishes in a sob and you hide your face in the crook of his neck.

"lando..." you hum. "shhh don't talk. it'll be alright baby" he murmurs against your ear. he strokes your hair with one hand and your back with the other. he places a soft kiss on your head. "i fell very hard for you baby. i'm so in love with you. i'll never stop loving you i promise" he says and you just nod. "i love you so much too lan" you simply answer.

"and that one brunette girl daniel talked about ?" you ask with watery eyes. he laughs softly and cup your face "oh babe i don't even remember who she is. but don't worry love i only have eyes for you" he says and you simply smile widely. "i hope so".

he smiles too and look at your lips. "now kiss baby" he says in a whisper and leans in to kiss you tenderly. the kiss is so sweet and gentle, his lips moving perfectly against yours. he's delighted and he softly bites your bottom lip. you pull back and peck his nose. "so do you love me or do you hate me ?" you ask as he wipes away your last tears. he smiles bright and think before speaking again. "i think i hate you lovingly".

and his lips meet once again yours in a passionate kiss...

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x you #ln4 imagine #ln4 x reader #ln4 x you #ln4 fic #lando norris fluff

[deltaromeo3]

ᴛʜᴇ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ʟᴇᴄʟᴇʀᴄ ⋆ Lando Norris

pairing: Lando Norris x Leclerc!reader

warnings: crap french as always. this is a long one yall!

✿ A/N: I enjoyed writing this although it took me a while due to the writer’s block (sorry!). hope you enjoyed this!

requested by: this ask 🫶🏼

“Oh shit! I’m so sorry!” You stood frozen as the driver quickly hands you a napkin to wipe the drink that had now made it’s way to your top.

He continues to apologise profusely and you keep on assuring him its not a big deal.

“Are you sure? Is there any way I can make it up to you?” He says, looking up hopefully at you.

“Well I was gonna go to the bathroom and clean myself after this. Any better suggestions?”

He pauses, thinking for a second. “I have spare clothes in my motorhome. Not as fancy as your top though but it’s clean.” He looks at you, awaiting for a reply. He really looks like he was sorry that he ruined your top.

You smiled, “Yeah yeah that sounds good. And anyways a dry top is better than a wet one.”

He returns back the smile, “Okay cool. Come with me.”

You followed the driver all the way to his motorhome and thankfully it wasn’t far from the cafe.

He hands you a T-shirt, which was obviously too big for you but it’s not like you had any other choice anyways. You took the shirt and he exits the motorhome, giving you privacy to change.

You exit the motorhome and thanked him.

He smiles, apologising to you again. He really felt bad.

“Please let me how I can repay you for the damage I caused.” He says, almost like he was begging.

You chuckled, “It’s fine! I can just send this to the dry cleaners.” You say as you held up the top. “Don’t worry.” You reassured him again.

He snaps his fingers, almost like a light bulb lit up in his head. “Yes! That! Let me know how much it costs. I’ll gladly cover the expenses.”

You chuckled again, “If you insist.” You walked away, but quickly stopped in your tracks, turning around to ask him how the hell should you get in touch with him. But he was nowhere to be seen.

You quickly rushed down to Ferrari’s garage, now donned in someone else’s clothes.

You scurried as you were already late and your brother was expecting you any minute now. You placed the headset on your shoulder.

“Mon petit!” Your brother yells as soon as he spots you. He immediately engulfs you in a hug, but as soon as he pulls away, he takes a good look at you…. mostly eyeing your top.

His eyebrows furrow. “What happened to your pretty blouse?”

“Nothing much. Lando spilled his drink on it.” You sigh.

“Quel?! What?! Lando spilled his drink on you?”

You nod, laughing at your brother’s reaction.

“Oui. But it’s fine. It’s not a big deal, he gave me this shirt to wear so don’t go and hunt him down okay?”

Charles squints, unconvinced at your comment. “Okay.”

The race was finally over and you just reached your hotel room. You took off your shoes and plopped yourself on the bed, letting out a heavy exhale after the long day you just had.

You laid down for a good minute, afterwards sitting up as you had to take a shower. You were all sticky especially after getting a drink spilled on yourself.

You sat up, turning to the bedside table to charge your phone when suddenly you noticed an envelope with your name on it, leaning up against the lamp.

Curious to as what it was, you quickly opened it. And to your surprise, it was a cheque, written to you. With the cheque came a note that wrote:

“I’m sorry for ruining your top. Hope this enough for a new one x”

You smiled to yourself. Lando Norris, how thoughtful of you. He really was remorseful, huh?

You went to look at the amount he wrote on the cheque, immediately going wide-eyed.

Let’s just say you can buy one top and still have enough left.

That’s a really pretty top. I’m glad she got a new one after I ruined one. Oh! She even has new sneakers! She’s got good taste in shoes. She looks so pretty to-

“Why don’t you just talk to her?” Max nudges me, bringing me out of my trance.

“Huh?” I turned my head to look at Max.

Max chinned towards her direction, “You seem to like her an awful lot,”

Did I really just out myself? Is it really that obvious?

I chuckled. “I can’t, she’s with Charles.”

Max bursts out laughing, like what I said was hilarious, absolutely hilarious.

“What! Why are you laughing?” I smacked him in the arm.

“Mate,” He pauses. “Don’t you know?”

“Know? Know what?” I looked at him, even more confused than before.

“She’s Charles’ sister.“

Sister. Somehow that hurt more than hearing ‘girlfriend’. But hey, i’m Lando Norris. I’m always up for a challenge.

I quirked my eyebrows, my interest immediately peaked, “Really? How come I haven’t seen her around before?”

“She was studying in the States and i’m pretty sure it was in Mechanical Engineering. You’d know that if you talked to her,” Max says, almost like he was proud with the information he just provided me with.

“You seem to know everything. Do you know if she’s single then?”

Max chuckles, “I’m sorry mate but I don’t. And why would I ask her that? I have a girlfriend,”

I shrugged.

“Why don’t you go and find out for yourself?”

“Maybe I will.”

“Vous êtes sûr? Are you sure? You’ll be okay on your own?” Charles asks.

You chuckled at his concern. I think Charles seems to forget that I studied overseas, so being independent isn’t much of a problem to me.

You nodded in response, “Go go! Have fun. I’ll catch a taxi back, pas de souci. Don’t worry.”

There was still a look of unsureness in your brother’s face, like he was really debating if he should leave. He asks again- if you’re sure. You nodded, reassuring him once again. He smiles and kisses your cheeks, telling you to send him a text as soon as you’ve reached your hotel. You agreed and he leaves with Carlos and a few other workers.

You wave him goodbye and proceed to walk off towards the direction of the exit but was stopped by a familiar figure walking my way.

I’m intrigued, he’s always with Max but this time he’s alone.

He walks your way as he recognises it was you.

“You’re not here to spill your drink on me again are you?” You joked.

“Oh no, I’m ‘fraid not,” He laughs at your comment. You could see him look around you, like he was looking for someone.

“What are you doing here all alone?” He asks.

“Charles left with some of the team to have some drinks. I’m actually headed back, gonna catch a taxi or something,”

His eyebrows furrow, “A taxi?”

“Yeah, a taxi. Why?”

“You don’t happen to stay at the Hilton, do you?” Again, with the look. The same look he gave when he spilled his drink on me. Those goddamn eyes I swear.

“Actually, yeah I am. Why?”

He smiles. “Good! Cause same. Come, I’ll give you a ride back.”

“Oh no, it’s fine rea-“ You try to decline his offer but he was quick to cut you off.

“Don’t be silly, it’s the least I can do for you.”

The least? Wasn’t the cheque enough? I’m not complaining though….

He starts walking off, but you still stood in your spot, in disbelief.

“You coming?” He turns his back.

You nodded and walked with him to his car.

The whole way back was surprisingly not awkward. You actually chat with him while he was driving, which was surprising because you often find yourself quiet around people you weren’t close to.

You were on the elevator, now on the way up to your room.

“By the way, you look great in that Quadrant tee. I’ve got a new collection coming so I’m thinking of sending some stuff to you. Would you be okay with that?”

You swear you could feel your brain going ‘??!!!???!’

Okay? OKAY? It’ll be more than okay.

You were smiling to yourself, but quickly stopped in case Lando caught on.

“Y-yeah!” You stuttered. “I wouldn’t mind.”

“Great!” He says with a smile on his face. “Why don’t you give me your number so I can reach out to you for your details?”

You were blushing inside, but you did as you were told.

“Okay, I’ll be sure to text you,” He says as the elevator doors open and you exit, walking off to your room.

As you were about to tap your keycard, your phone vibrates. That was fast.

Text from: Unknown number.

- It’s me, Lando.

You laughed at the obviousness, not forgetting to save his number.

It was a normal Monday afternoon. You were in Charles’ kitchen, stocking up like you always do. He insists that you don’t need to do that but what were you supposed to do? You were free now that you’ve graduated and you didn’t feel like reading again.

You were enjoying the peace and quiet when suddenly he comes barging in.

“Y/N,” He says.

He never calls you by your name… so you must’ve done something wrong.

“Hm?” You responded, but you didn’t turn to face him. You continue to stock up his shelf.

“Dis-moi pourquoi je viens d'apprendre par Carlos que tu sors avec Lando? Tell me why did I just hear from Carlos that you're dating Lando?”

You gulped, stopping in your tracks. How did this reach Charles’ ears? Which motherfluffer snitched?!

You turned to face your brother slowly. He just stood there with a stoic look on his face.

“Surprise…?” Was all you could say.

“Unbelievable,” He pinches the bridge of his nose and shakes his head.

Did you expect your day to take such a sharp turn like this? Absolutely not. It was going well until just a few seconds ago when the news broke. Now, you were on the receiving end of his never ending nagging.

You were about to walk away when you heard Charles’ phone ring. It was Arthur and Enzo. Such great timing.

“Ca va!” He yells at them through the phone.

“Do you know our sister here is dating Lando?” The camera turns to you. You just gave them a tight lipped smile and waved.

A sea of ‘what?!’ came rushing. Charles turns to look at you, giving you the side-eye.

He proceeds to spill to them about how he found out. Apparently Carlos accidentally let it slip.

Of course, Enzo was perfectly fine about it but Arthur on the other hand was teasing you like no tomorrow.

“Lando needs to get his eyes checked, there’s something wrong with his eyesight.”

After what seemed like eternity, the call finally ends. There was bickering back and fourth between you and Charles but it wasn’t something you weren’t a used to. He was overprotective of you and with good reason.

You groaned. “This is why I didn’t want to tell you,”

Charles sighs, “Êtes-vous heureux? Avec lui? Are you happy? With him?”

You nod, “Très, very,”

“Good. Because if ever see you crying, I know who to find,”

You smiled. “Je t’aime, I love you,”

“Je t’aime aussi, I love you too,”

You walk over to him, pulling him into a hug.

“N'oubliez pas d'utiliser une protection, dont forget to use protection, I don’t want to be a grandpa at 25,” He says while hugging.

You laughed, “Okay.”

#f1 #f1 x you #f1 imagines #deltaromeo3 #charles leclerc #lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris one shot #lando norris fic #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x you #f1 driver #lando norris imagines

[scudevils]

vienna — CL16

pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader

warnings: smut, some sad stuff, a prequel to “when it rains it pours”, swearing, just finished this after starting it a whileeeeee ago, google translated french (soz), this is old (as in mid 2023 old), not a good representation of a relationship, not proofread!

synopsis: what really happened the night you bumped into charles at the monaco grand prix [6.0k]

a/n: im backkkk bitches!! jk i don’t wanna jinx myself but who woulda thought it would a charles fic that got me out of my slump. anyway, please be nice, i haven’t wrote in like 3 months properly 😭😭

you stayed true to your words, keeping your distance from charles.

you hadn't seen him in months, not since you'd left him in the kitchen that night. you hadn't been temped enough to check how he was doing in his races or where he was in the standings, not once.

and your friends knew better than to tell you, so whilst you could see they were obviously celebrating something, wether it was a win or a podium, you kept yourself away from anything relating to him.

the way he looked at you when you were in the kitchen was still burned into your memory, the smug and almost mocking expression on his face, as if he didn't believe the words that you told him, as if he knew you'd come straight back to him.

you told yourself after that, that you'd be stronger the next time, that you wouldn't give into his glances or taunting looks he gave you. that you were stronger than him and whatever gave me was playing.

although all it took was a win at one of the most iconic circuits on the calendar to break down the walls you'd so carefully built up.

you'd inevitably learned through a mutual friend that charles was a contender in the championship, that ferrari had been having a 'wonder season' with their monegasque golden boy, a miracle was what the media was calling it. a potential to win the championship since they last did in 2007.

monaco was the next race around the corner, the exclusive circuit de monaco one of the hardest to get tickets to, even for the countries natives, although it did help living basically around the corner from it.

whilst you were with charles it had became some what of a tradition to attend monaco with him, every year of his career, you were with him for your home race. despite the rumours of the curse, wether you being with him was the cause, it never stopped you from going.

you'd ruled out attending this year without a second thought, letting your friends know that too, pierre being the one to offer your entire friend group paddock passes for the three days.

it took days of your friends grovelling, your many no's and them constantly assuring you that the thousands of people attending would be the ones taking over much of charles' attention, before you finally gave in and agreed.

after all he was the home boy, everyone loved him, men wanted to be him and women wanted to be with him, and he revelled in knowing that.

monaco had a special way of bringing out the other side of you, the partying side that never seemed to be able to sit down or the side of you that made the bad decisions, that wouldn't listen to anyone unless they were putting a drink in your hand.

it was a 50/50 coin toss on which one people would get.

the first two days had gone by in a blink of an eye, everything running just as smoothly as your friends had promised and you were actually having fun, the most shocking thing of all.

you had somehow managed to avoid him the entire weekend, and you were about to go three for three when charles had found you watching over the alpine mechanics as they worked on the final preparations of the race day car.

it was obvious to anyone he had came around looking for pierre, although he couldn't say that he was disappointed to see you instead. "was wondering where my number one supporter was," his voice was like nails on a chalkboard for you, a graining sound that wouldn't leave your head and you hated how much you missed it. you chose not to acknowledge him as he spoke, continuing to look at the mechanics and even pretending to understand the data on the screen. "shame you're not in the ferrari garage, we used to have so much fun in there."

"fuck you, charles." standing up from the chair, you moved to walk past him the ferrari driver blocking the way as he tilted his head down towards you. he opened his mouth to say something before an engineer from the ferrari garage found him, needing him for something with the car.

charles removed the cap from his head, placing it on yours, and it felt so right that you wanted to shoot yourself for how much you loved it, he laughed lightly at how quick you were to take it off again. "i'll find you after the race."

just as you'd anticipated, the race too wasn't too action filled, but you couldn't lie and say you were paying it all your attention, the rare occurrence of a red bull strategy error allowing the ferrari's a larger gap to a 1-2. a mclaren crashing into the barrier had brought out a safety car with just under 10 laps to go.

with only 5 laps, it was inevitable who the winner was, the winner who was about to win the monaco grand prix, and break his home race curse in one go.

fans and employees alike gather around the podium, the winning car followed by second and third place displayed in front of them. the drivers came out one by one, celebrate with their teams because after all they're on the podium of the most presidential grand prix, each of them standing at their designated step before charles, accompanied by the cheers of his home crowd, took the top step.

soon they were each awarded their trophies before the monegasque anthem rung out to the crowd. charles stood proud as he took everything in, he had beat the curse and won at his home track.

you watched from afar with your friends mixed in with the alpine engineers and other workers, trying to push down the proud feeling you have bubbling inside of you. each celebrated as if their own team won, it seemed that truly everyone had a soft spot for the ferrari man.

with the majority of celebrations over the fans began to leave the track, all of you going back to your apartments to get ready for what inevitably was going to be a long night of celebration.

you couldn't help the memories flashing in your head of the pictures shown to you just over two years ago, charles' hand on the brunette girls hip as his mouth was on hers. a couple others in the background jeering them on as though it was something to celebrate. you hadn't gone out in monaco since, everywhere reminded you of that.

however, you shook the thoughts from your head. tonight, you were going to go out with your friends tonight, get drunk, then end up back in your own bed.

people were spilling out of the clubs onto the street, different songs blaring out of each one. your friends had settled on one you’d been going to since your teens, the purple strobes hitting you as you got in, memories of every bad decision you’d made in there coming back to you, taunting you.

it was just shy of full, people on the dance floor with a drink in their hand as they danced up against someone, spilling whatever filled their glasses. guys sat in booths with girls around them, their company lasting as long as they had money in their wallet.

a drink was quickly placed in your hand, your simple order one that your friends were used to by now. you were in your usual spot, the leather seats still pristine as the day you first sat on them when one of them had spotted pierre in another booths, the frenchman calling you over before making room for all of you.

one drink quickly turned into two, then three before you were both finally tipsy enough to get to the dance floor, this was the side of you that your friends loved to see, fun, carefree, living in the moment. your body pushed up against someone behind you, long gone were the thoughts of the monegasque who’d plagued your life, the feeling of his hands firmly on your hips had you pressing further back.

his grip on you was enough to keep you to close to him, his breath hot on your neck before his lips began to explore your exposed skin, open mouthed kisses littered across your collarbone. leaning into his touch you wrapped your arms around his neck, bringing the man closer to you, giving into the feeling.

the alcohol flowing through your veins built up the courage for you to turn to look at him, a small gasp falling from your lips as your eyes met the familiar ones of pierre, looking down at you with his arm wrapped around your waist, unapologetically looking over your body. "you know he'd be mad if he saw us."

you hated that you still let him have this control over you, that with another man wrapped up around you, you still thought about how he felt. despite the noise, pierre could hear your words clearly. his lips continued up your neck from your collarbone, reaching just below your ear, teeth lightly grazing your earlobe. "good thing he isn't here," the frenchman placed a small kiss on the soft skin. "charles doesn't know what he's lost."

every inch of your body shouted to give into him, to be the bad guy and fuck his best friend with no remorse, after all where was his remorse when he’d left you in that kitchen, when he’d been in another womens bed?

but even then, something stopped you from letting yourself fall into pierre's arms, something still held you back. nothing could explain what prompted you to step away from him, offering him a quick apology before going back to the booth, the warmth of his lips a long forgotten feeling.

at that point you hadn't even wanted to continue with the night, ordering one last drink before you told your friends you were ready for an early night, an early night for monaco anyway.

the walk from the club was barely 10 minutes to your apartment, the times when you were thankful to live in a small country. you rounded a corner, mimicking the cars that had been on the track hours prior, feeling your body hit into another's as they quickly apologised.

"are you everywhere?" you groaned seeing who you had bumped into, the very person who you wanted to see least in that moment.

charles rolled his eyes at your comment. "monaco is a small place," he looked behind you waiting to see your friends following suit, frowning slightly when he saw you alone. "where's everyone else?"

“dancing and drunk." you gave him a short answer, moving past him to continue home when you heard his footsteps behind you, cursing under your breath, your patience was running thin. "is there something you need, charles?"

"what kind of gentleman would i be if i let you walk home yourself drunk?" scoffing at his choice of the word gentleman, you started walking away from him, already aware there was no hope of him giving up, you’d learned over the course of your life to just accept he did things at his own accord.

the rest of the walk to your apartment was in an awkward silence, although you could see charles was desperate to say something, the way he’d take a breath as if he was about to speak before holding off, and you’d been so close to screaming at him to just get it out before you saw your complex entrance.

"why did you want to walk me home?" the question had been eating away at you; lingering in your mind the whole time he was besides you, needing to know the answer.

"i told you, i don't like the idea of you walking home by yourself." charles spoke nonchalantly, as if it was a daily occurrence for him, seeing his ex girlfriend who he’d so delicately fucked up.

at his answer you let out a sarcastic laugh. "we both know that’s bullshit charles, you don't care about anyone who's not you," you eyed up the monegasque, searching his usually poetically handsome features for any reaction. "you never did care."

that struck a nerve in charles, his voice raising slightly as he spoke. "of course i fucking cared about you, i wouldn't have kept you around just so i could fuck you."

it took all your self restraint not to slap him in that moment, instead hoping the glare you were giving him was enough to kill him. swinging the door to your complex open you heard it slam behind you, wishing that it closed before he was able to get inside.

unfortunately though, your wishful thinking was just that and you could hear his footsteps just behind yours, echoing against the tiled walls, ringing in your ears like a sirens song. "go celebrate charles."

"i want to talk to you,"

"too bad." you replied, throwing him a bitter smile over your shoulder as the door to your apartment unlocked.

"just give me five minutes." no part of you wanted to turn to look at him, knowing the second you saw his eyes you would cave in. ultimately though, he didn’t even need to look at you before you conceded.

the door was opened just as quickly as it closed, charles' eyes scanning the apartment, which looked just as it had whilst you were together. in fact, you still had the miniature helmet he wore for his first win in spa, and the smaller replica trophy from his monza triumph, keepsakes of his success that you hadn’t bothered to throw away.

"you kept them?" you could hear in his voice he was surprised, charles had half expected to see them in a burning fire before he ever saw them in the same position on your mantelpiece.

your eyes drifted to where he was looking, a lump threatening to grow in your throat, part of you forgetting they were even there since they’d become a constant in tour apartment. "i haven't had a chance to clean, not been at home much recently." you would be lying if you said you weren't missing monaco, after all it was your home, your families home and your friends home.

charles silently nodded at your answer, the apartment falling into a deafening silence as you mulled over what to say next. "so anything new with you? any boyfriends?" he prepared himself for the inevitable 'yes' that you would answer with.

however that never came, shaking your head no as you questioned him with a confused look, still not entirely sure on why he was still standing in your apartment, or why you were even entertaining him.

"really? I didn't-"

“charles, is there something you actually want?" you cut him off abruptly, with him you never did have the same patience you did with others in your life.

"i told you i wanted to talk to you," you responded by raising your eyebrow as if to say 'about?' "pierre told me you went on a date and i wanted-"

you were beyond mad at this point, not only had he essentially followed you home but also had the audacity to ask about a date you had. "fuck off Charles, and tell Pierre he can fuck off too."

“so, did you?”

you owed him nothing, you knew that, he knew it too and yet something inside of you wanted to let his know, still felt obligated to tell him. "yes charles, i went on a date, and i'm sure you'll be happy to know it was shit."

"why? what happened?" he was pushing his luck and he knew it, one wrong word, a question to far and he was asking for a slap from you.

a part of you did want to slap him for continuing to ask these personal questions, he was nothing to you anymore, he wasn't apart of you life and he didn't deserve to be. But the other part, the half you'd hidden away the last few months, wanted him to know.

and unfortunately for you, that part won. "he couldn't get me off, there, happy? now can you fuck off?" you walked towards the door of your apartment, about to hold it open when you felt his fingers wrap around your wrist.

before you could think your back was against the wall, charles' body flush against yours, his eyes finding yours instantly and you hated the way your stomach erupted in butterflies when they did.

you tried to wriggle away, charles' grip on your hands to strong for you to even budge. "poor guy couldn’t get you to come?” you responded with silence, not wanting to give nto his taunting. “told you i'd ruin other men for you, didn't i?" the monegasque couldn't hide hide smirk, watching as you rolled your eyes at the implication.

scoffing at his words, you tried to break free of his grasp again, ultimately stopping when you made no progress, his hand held you own two above your head, his other lingering somewhere across your stomach. "you flatter yourselves charles, really, more than anyone else does."

he rolled his eyes, testing the waters as he leant in to press a singular kiss against your neck, a self satisfied smile spreading across his face when you tilted it back against the cold wall, allowing him for access. "always knew you could never stay away for too long. how long was it last time, 2, 3 months?”

truly, in that moment you hated yourself for giving into his advances, but it didn’t mean that you were going to go quietly. "last i checked you followed me, seems you’re the desperate one."

"and who's the one letting me fuck her after her date couldn't?"

"who said anything about you fucking me?" instead of answering Charles bit down into the skin on your neck, a small whimper falling from your lips, quickly shutting you up, as he soothed over the redness with his tongue.

each movement of his was controlled, calculated, he knew where he was going to touch you, when he was going to, almost as if he knew it was going to happen. something about the way he was slightly smiling when he brought your lips in for a kiss made you short of breath, knocking the air out of your lungs, with your skin tingling at the long forgotten play of intimacy. you melted into his embrace, every sense on high alert.

red flags went off in your head. he cheated on you, and you took him back. it was a viscous cycle where neither seemed strong enough to let go.

it was almost like you were drowning in the moment, in him, sinking so deep you were sure to meet mariana’s trench.

at this, you pulled away, your face was red hot, watching as his smug exterior faltered slightly, his cheeks fading a small hue of redness. your hands rested on his chest, his eyes slightly red from the lack of sleep he must've gotten. "you can't keep doing this, charles, it's not fair." your voice was weak as you spoke, not having the strength to look him in his eyes.

"if it's not fair, then why do you keep coming back to me?" the question was warranted, yet there was a slight part of you, deep inside that section of your heart reserved for him that thought this could work, that you would get back together and all would be right in the world.

you had no real answer for him, nothing you could offer him that you hadn’t said already, and you knew he wasn’t bound to change his mind about you now. "because i want to believe it'll work, even when we know it doesn't." charles' lips were millimetres away from yours, able to feel his breath fanning them as your eyes glanced down at them.

delicately, charles slid his hands over your hips before squeezing the skin, noticing the quick look to his lips he longed to kiss you again, to stay like this for a moment, it was easy like that, to forget he had to make a relationship work outside of kissing you. it was when you decided to look up, the memory of your kiss making your insides warm were you leaning forward to place another tender smooch on his lips, savoring it, may it be your last.

you knew you were making a mistake, but if you truly wanted to let him go, it was one you had to let yourself make. this was on your accords, not his.

charles' touch softened at your quick action, a faint blush forming on his cheeks. "I always knew you were the obsessed one" with the sudden whisper you voiced, he smiled sheep it at you. you held off from smiling back at him, allowing him to take you, holding your hand in his when you walked towards your once shared bedroom, nostalgia feeding the delusions that this wouldn’t be the last time.

the nights in monaco were never quiet, the weekends increasing tenfold and for the first time in years you welcomed the buzzing night life of your home country. his hands on your body were a sensation that brought back memories, good and bad, and you didn't even realize how much you had missed him on you.

for the past few months you’d tried to convince yourself and everyone around you that you didn't want him, that you were fine on your own but charles, as always, saw right through it. "i know you missed me, chérie, it's okay to admit it," he punctuated his words with a kiss on your cheek. "tu m'as manqué." i missed you

he had broken you a long ago and the only person who can pick up your pieces and make you whole again, was him.

"shut up and fuck me, charles." your hands found the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head with no protest from him, in an attempt to get him to speed up.

"thought we didn't say anything about fucking you?" you hated the way the cocky smile on his face made a warmth pool in your stomach, turned you on like no one had before or after him.

you ignored his comment, turning round to let charles unzip the dress you had been wearing. his hands danced across the back of your shoulders, goosebumps rising on your warm skin as he slowly unzipped your dress. he leant in, placing a kiss in between your shoulder blades, undoing it fully and watching as the material fell, black against the stark white sheets.

maybe it was symbolic, yin and yang, sinner and saint, darkness and light, charles and you.

underneath you had a matching red set on, the red lace complimenting your skin tone more than any other colour. "even when i'm not around your still wearing my colour." you rolled your eyes at his goading when he cupped your breasts, squeezing the soft skin slightly.

"red was always arthur’s favourite colour on me." your voice was shallow as you spoke, sighing contently as squeezed your soft skin, thumbs grazing over your nipples. your words were a call back to when you and charles had started dating, the last year of high school, arthur only 15 and you and charles 18.

it was a running joke in the family of his crush on you, the younger leclerc taking after the rest of his family in that he was never shy to let someone know how he felt, especially the girls.

you saw charles' eyes darken at the mention of his name, quick to bring your mouth in for another, much shorter, kiss as his hands ran up and down your body. with each passing minute you melted into him, his lips peppering your neck with wet kisses while travelling further down your body, nibbling on your tender skin downwards. the room was dimly lid, yet you could clearly view his eyes on you, locked on you like a predator with his prey, pupils blown out in a crazed look.

quickly, charles cleared the soaked lace that was in his way, leaving no barrier between himself and your bare cunt. "don't get shy on me now, chérie, open your legs."

you couldn’t you resist him much longer, or maybe you didn’t want to, spreading your legs as he placed himself right in between you, hiking your leg over his shoulder. his lips drifted down from your calf, closer and closer to the inside of your thigh before you could feel his breath on you, hyperaware of everything.

"fuck, you're so wet." your skin erupted with goosebumps with his first of many kisses on your clit, the tingling nerves anticipating further care from him. charles prodded his tongue out, flicking it over your sensitivity, pitiful sounding whines falling from your lips.

"don’t tease me.” you pleaded with him, watching as his eyes flashed up at you, a mischievous smile on his face before turning away again.

charles flattened his tongue against you, licking a stripe up the middle, working his mouth against you whilst also placing his middle finger against your clit. he circled your clit with his tongue, whimpers falling from your lips from the pleasure. your eyes were screwed shut, hands clutching at the bedsheets when you felt him push two of his fingers inside of you.

"look at how good you take my fingers, mon amour, just as you always did."  Your thighs shook slightly when he pressed his tongue against your clit again alongside pumping his fingers in and out of you. your significant wetness was coating him, fingers easily moving as you clenched around them.

his mouth explored your every inch, his nose messily bumping against your clit when his tongue wasn't on it, your hand digging into his hair, keeping him there, pulling on the dark strands as groans sounded from him.

in between his taunts were words of praise, every second getting you closer and closer to the release you so desperately needed. your lips slumped into mindless pleading, with charles obliging, knowing full on well what you needed, he always did.

"forgot how good you taste." he made no attempt to tone down his crude language, making your cheeks rise up with heat, to have you writhe underneath him, not to mention with you succumbing to all of his attention on your neglected cunt.

you let out a louder moan, whining as he added a third finger, stretching you out more; more than you had been for at least a few months now. "charles, i'm so close." your pleading was futile, knowing charles was always the type of man to make you wait until he wanted you to come undone.

the clenching around his fingers made it even clearer that you were close, so close you were practically dancing around your release. "cmon, let go for me, chérie.” charles spoke in a low voice, his warm breath tickling your skin.

he help you ride through your first orgasm, his name the only thing on your tongue as your thighs shook around his head, your hands grasping at the grown out strands of his hair, charles letting his eyes glance up at you when you came. your back arched off the mattresses of the bed, the heels of your feet digging into charles' shoulders.

just when you thought he’d stop he didn’t relent, his fingers still moving inside of you, tongue pressed against your clit as he slowly circled it, you could hear the sounds of his fingers moving in and out of you, any other time and you’d be embarrassed by it. “s’too much, charles.”

“too much? one orgasm and it’s too much?” you nodded your head pitifully, hands reaching down to wrap around his wrist but it didn’t stop the movement of charle’s fingers. “what happened to my good girl? used to be able to at least give my fingers two.”

you knew where he was going with this, he wasn’t going to stop till you came again, wether it was on his tongue or with his fingers, and you whined when you felt them curl inside of you, feeling fuller than before somehow. already hypersensitive, it wasn’t long till the familiar rush came back to you, building in your stomach, the coil tightening till it once again snapped.

"never gonna be able to forget how good you sound moaning my name." his voice was tainted with, drawing out sloppy kisses on your belly, then breasts, wherever you let him he left marks in his wake. you let him explore and spoil you, shameless as he tenderly wrapped his lips around the erected nipple while rolling the other one between his fingers.

he puts out his hand for you, bringing you to match his height, moving to kiss you again now that your breathing was less erratic. "i want you to fuck me," you say almost breathlessly against his lips.

he hums against your lips, helping you up so you both can move atop your bed. he lays you back against what once was your neatly set up pillows, still hungrily kissing you, hands running down your thighs, but you move to grasp them. "fuck, i want you so badly right now." you knew it was wrong but you revelled in his confession, that after everything he was still yearning for you.

charles pauses looking at your eyes, still despite everything looking for any shade of regret in them. when he sees nothing he takes the opportunity to make one of his snide remarks. "remember when you told me this wasn't going to happen again? always knew you were a good liar."

you craved the stretch of him, the stretch that no many years together could prepare you for and the burn much like before that lingers in your throat and was so good that it made you forget how to think.

charles pushes inside of you, moving as slow as possible but you encourage him to fill you up completely. your eyes roll back into your head at the feeling of his cock stretching you, your hands coming to grasp onto his shoulders, nails digging in to his lightly tanned skin. charles' breathing staggers as he groans, moving forwards to place kisses along your jaw.

he stills once he's in you fully, but you shake your head slightly. "don't fucking stop charles,” his face stays tucked in your neck, his hips rolling against yours forcing a moan from your lips.

“even wore my favourite perfume, were you planning on fucking me when you got ready, chérie?" he’d just picked up on it there, the same signature scent you had wore throughout your entire relationship being the first one you reach for, a sweet smell that he thought reflected on you perfectly.

"shut up." he swallows a laugh when he hears you cry out, featherlight touches against your skin, gently, enjoying the sounds that rose from you with the way slammed into you.

he held your gaze, your eyes overcome with desire, lust, sensing nothing but your hammering heartbeat on his chest.

his lips slightly parted after every thrust, he knew he needed this as much as you did, taking advantage of the momentary peace to try to catch his breath with your nails holding onto his back, branding his skin with crescent shaped indents.

his little words of praise worked contradictory with his continuous taunts, teasing you as he nipped at your exposed skin.

your hands raked over his taut muscles, earning a grown from the man above you as your nails scratched against his back. charles pulled your hands in his own, placing them above your head before increasing the rhythm on his hips, steadier, deeper, not to mention pushing you closer to your release.

charles bought his face closer to yours, his lips just lightly brushing over your ear. "i want you to ride me, put on a show."

you couldn't help but moan at his words, nodding your head before switching positions, charles staying inside as you straddled his lap, knees locked in on either side of his thighs, his eyes meeting yours and you could see how desperate he was in that moment.

he was sat further up on the bed, your nails raking down his chest, leaving more, deeper, marks sure to last. lips pressed against the side of his neck, biting down on the skin before soothing over it and moving onto another place.

his adams apple bobbed as you took more of the control, setting your own pace despite his hands on your hips trying to make you go faster. charles brought his thumb down to your clit, circling it which had your thighs shaking around him.

charles' name fell from your mouth more than anything else, him and your pleasure your two sole focuses.

he could see the tiredness start to come through in your movements, choosing to take more control wether you complained or not. he began thrusting up into you with his hands on your hips, his thumb still rubbing circles on your clit determine to make you come at least once more.

your thighs tried closing around charles' midriff from the overwhelming sensitivity, although he was there to keep them open, a hand on the top of both of your thighs forcing them open.

clenching around him one last time you felt him release inside of you, the warm feeling of him so deep inside of you making you whine. charles let out a string of curse words, your name at the forefront when he let out one last groan, slumping back against your pillows altogether his hands didn’t stop the movement of your hips.

within the whirlwind of emotions, you desperately clenched around him, with this position your heart was racing, dipping into the mattress with soft gusts of breath departing from your lips. the raw drag of him was somehow more extreme, pursing your mouth when you felt a bead of sweat rolling down your temple.

his own orgasm brought on yours, your bodies in-tune with each other as if he’d never left. you were completely ruined, mind going blank as you felt yourself losing full control of your body to charles, vision a blinding white as your body felt hot all over.

the monegasque brought you in for a short kiss, leaving for the bathroom when you rolled off of him and coming back with a dampened towel, helping you clean up.

you both knew it was the last time you had together, the last time you would ever share a bed together, the last kiss.

and the thought of that had you clutching onto each other in your sleep just a bit tighter.

although before you did eventually fall asleep, you heard charles whisper one last thing in your ear, his confession bringing the smallest of smiles to your face.

"je serai toujours à toi."

tag list:

@irmpyrz @tempo-rary-fix @formulas-bitch @yunnie-f1 @julesandro @itsjustkhaos @janeh22 (a year later and i finally have something to tag yous in!!)

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc blurb #charles leclerc one shot #f1 #f1 fluff #f1 smut #f1 one shot #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #charles leclerc x reader

[lokideservesahug]

Always that good?

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Warnings: Swearing some French but I didn't use translate so it's probably all wrong. One mention of 'the deed' but it's brief. Brief mentions of drinking/being tipsy. I'm sorry if you have a pizza/garlic bread allergy😔

Notes: Its white fast paced and I'm not as happy with this peice as I have been wit others but here we go... 1/4 SMAU 3/4 writing so sorry if that's not your thing. Also I don't think I wrote this with anything gender specific but pls tell me if it isn't gender neutral!

Summary: You've been best friends with Arthur for over a year now... so why does his brother look so good?

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For a man who supposedly strictly sticks to his diet, Charles was all to eager to get his hands on the greasy concoctions you brought with you. He also didn't seem to dislike spending the evening as just the two of you. Neither did you but part of that was because the garlic bread was to die for.

As the night progressed, the Monagasque brought some beers from the Arthur's fridge. Despite you chastising him for stealing from his brother, Charles said that his brother wouldn't care and the beers could always be replaced. So, the two of you began to drink some beer along with your dinner. At some point along the way, the television was turned on but you weren't paying attention to it at all. All you could focus on was Charles. The way his eyelashes fluttered to a close as he took another sip; the way his addams apple bobbed slightly at the same time.

If you could get away with it, you would would stare into his eyes forever. They were captivating. The same man you were admiring then begins to break the silence by starting up conversation.

"This is very nice pizza. Where is it from?" "The pizza parlour just down the road, they've only just stared allowing people to take meals to go though." You see him nod in understanding at your words.

Before you can find yourself staring at him any longer and risking making it wierd, you turn your attention towards the television. As the programme changes, you find yourself gasping. You can almost feel the man next to you giving you a curious look but as the title to your favourite television show comes on screen, he laughs in understanding.

This pulls your attention back to him and you ask "What?" He doesn't even miss a beat before he replies "Nothing. You're just endearing" he finishes the remark with a smile. You can feel your cheeks heat as you respond "Sorry. It's my favourite show" this pulls a laugh out of him. "No need to apologise chérie and like I said, it's sweet."

This causes you to look down. You turn and face the television but continue to speak to the man next to you. You occasionally turn to him whilst speaking. "It's been a very long time since I've seen this. Arthur pays for different channels to me and with everything these days, the rights shows are always swapping between people and channels."

You didn't catch Charles' smile drop but you did notice his slightly deflated sounding tone "I'm surprised you dont live with him then." This causes you to pause. I mean yeah Arthur's your best friend but that doesn't mean you should live together- especially not with your difference in music tastes. You'd probably strangle him for listening to the same, boring, simple songs for hours on end before you could even finish the first week of living together.

"Hm? Why would I do that" Your enquiry causes his brows to furrow and he asks "Oh. Are you not at that stage in your relationship yet." Relationship? What does he-? Oh no...Oh no... Oh no.

You simultaneously visibly deflate and start laughing after his words sink in. Charles, who clearly finds it nowhere near as funny asks "What. Why are you laughing?"

"You- you" Unable to finish your sentence without it ending in a fit of cackles, you laughing some more, take some deep breaths and clarify the source of your amusement. "Charles, Arthur and I aren't dating. You know that right?" His lips form an 'O' and he looks down almost embarrassed as he shakes his head.

"But I've heard you saying that you ahd a thing for a Lecle-" He stops and grins as you both come to the realisation of what he's saying. Now it's your turn to look down in embarrassment and his to start laughing.

"Shut up." Your words clearly hold no weight and when you find him looking at you, eyes gleaming. You find yourself falling for him even more.

"So Chérie...you have a thing for Leclercs?" His eyebrows wiggle and when you both split into bursts of laughter, you could tell have dreamed of a better way to spend your evening.

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Thank you for reading! As always, likes, reblogs and especially feedback is always welcome!

Also my inbox is open if you ever have a request!

Taglist: @nikfigueiredo @mysoulispainted @leclercings @d3kstar @hiireadstuff @a-beaverhausen @nichmeddar @lozzamez3 @stinkyjax @marymustdie @littlesatanicassholebitch @mehrmonga @insanedeathwish @ems-alexandra @a-disturbing-self-reflection @cherry-piee

#f1 #formula 1 #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 fanfic #f1 smau #f1 one shot #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc smau #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x gn!reader #charles leclerc x gender neutral reader

[answer2jeff]

ready for another lie?

// carmen berzatto x reader

song: Diet Mountain Dew.

pairings: nyc chef!carmen x journalist!reader

mdni!! i'm not responsible for your media consumption.

warnings: smutty smut, VERY DETAILED, fem!reader, oral and fingering (f!recieving), porn with plot, drinking, cursing, kinda subby carmy, praise kink, alludes to piv but it doesn't happen, complete and utter filth, i'm giving the people what they want don't look at me!!!

essentially a prequel, 1 year before the start of season 1 of The Bear.

"Fuck youuuuu! It's Friday, loosen up!" A groggy voice yelled from across the bar, cursing you for declining another drink.

You watched your friends flirt with the bartender over the course of 2 rounds of shots; causing harmless fuckery with the several guys who tried flattering them. You were actually bored for once. It made you sick.

You waited for something, anything else to impress you. You tried convincing yourself you didn't have to leave, that your friends wanted you here, and that nights like these were "good for your soul," but there seemed to be no hope.

"Just two vodka tonics. Oh, and a white Negroni. Uh, yes— yes, thank you." You caught a blonde curl from the stool next to you in the corner of your peripheral vision, and you dared to turn your head. You were met by the sight of an oddly familiar guy—and then it hit you like a semi truck.

The man you wrote your final thesis on "the senses creating art," about. Food & Wines best new chef, as of late.

You'd spent an entire year and a half traveling the world (after finally making a name for yourself as a journalist, and snagging a place in Food & Wines top writers) and interviewing the faces of all forms of modern art, representing one of each of the 5 senses.

Casey French, a fragrance designer as the face of "smell." Christopher Knowles, a fashion designer who specialized in optical wear as the face of "sight."

The list went on, until it ended at Carmen Berzatto, on "taste," just 6 months ago. It was September now, and you almost forgot about the 2 and a half hours you took from your day to sit down and talk to him in that studio. Your heart dropped to your stomach as you felt the pores in your palms release a nervous sweat.

You blinked rapidly, wondering if you were really seeing him— out of all the other Friday nights, when he could've visited all the other bars. But he chose this Friday, at this bar, next to you. You needed to say something.

"I'll take a Negroni too, actually. And you can just close out my tab for tonight." You handed the bartender your card after you anxiously fished it out of your wallet, trying to seem completely oblivious to Carmen's stare. Carmen clenched his teeth, his eyebrows raised in surprise as he kept his gaze focused on you.

"Holy shit! Is that—" A slightly younger man nearly yelped while he inappropriately pointed at you, quickly being shut down by his peer, and being told to "shut the fuck up," but Carmen stayed silent. He was dumbfounded at the sight of you.

"Uh, hi. Funny seeing you here," you croaked, swallowing hard when you realized how much of a horrible excuse of a "hello," that was. Carmen didn't seem to mind, dragging his head out of the clouds and smiling back at you as he received his glass.

"Oh my god, yeah. Wow, I— it's good to see you."

Carmen glanced down at your drink, watching you trace your fingertip around the rim of the short glass. He gazed at your fresh manicure, the beautifully layered rings on your fingers, the diamonds on your wrists, the black dress with a slit that exposed your leg up to your mid-thigh. Carmen always thought you looked nice, only being used to your blazers and gorgeous vintage pants that he was a little jealous of, but this was different.

And as if you weren't already anxious enough, Carmen's "friends" immediately arose from their stools and made their way to an empty table, leaving the two of you alone again. Just looking at him and his clean suit and tie made you nervous, especially with the ink on his hands still visible.

"Good to see you too, Carmen," you smiled, cheeks aching as you tried desperately to hide your excitement. Admittedly, you admired him. That wasn't new. But that feeling in your stomach, that aching, yearning feeling was.

"I don't usually do these things," Carmen mumbled, taking a sip from his glass and licking his lips.

"Me neither. It's kinda— I don't know, icky."

You knew Carmen avoided big gatherings like this, but they were usually tolerable thanks to people who "knew him" enough to let him hang around their groups in silence while they practically screamed at each other. But his free time just never seemed to align with anyone else worth talking to... until tonight.

"Icky. Couldn't have worded it better," Carmen tried not to laugh at your expense, keeping his tongue between his teeth as both of you fought back a smile.

"You get it! God, anyway—how've you been?" You inched closer to him, resting your chin in your palm as your elbows were propped up on the counter. You made sure to keep your stare on him and only him, glancing from his nose, to his lips, and back into his eyes. You knew exactly what you were doing, and it was too late to stop now.

Carmen paused, his mouth gaping open slightly as he thought of what he could possibly say to convey that he could be doing better, without completely ruining the mood. He sucked his teeth as he took a deep breath, his eyes glued to the floor until he finally looked at you again.

"Alright, I guess. Managing. How're you?"

"Managing. But really though. Like, has anything changed?"

Carmen thought about your question, realizing how much he seemed to relax tonight—while simultaneously being the most nervous he'd ever been outside of work in the last year. Was it being out and public after a long week? Was it the fact that he still felt so stupid for not getting your actual number, and instead only having access to your business email which was provided by your agent? Was it the smell of your perfume? Was it just you?

"Uh... yeah. Yeah, I guess some things have changed."

He couldn't help but awe at the way you did your hair and your makeup that night, appreciating the tiny details your jewelry and purse of choice added to the look. He hardly ever thought twice about the attractive women he'd run into; making small talk and watching them get bored with his interests.

But now you were here; his fantasies, his desires were here, right next to him; wearing a dress that flattered your cleavage and cinched you at the waist, black heels that tapped against the footrest of the barstool. It made his head foggy, and he couldn't even wrap his head around the encounter.

After finishing your Negroni's over the course of 3 separate conversations that left you with a cramp in your side and your cheeks hurting from smiling—basically hitting it off like you were actual friends, you decided to pull the classic...

"You wanna get out of here?"

Two successful, somewhat well known adults in their lines of work were allowed to be human, right? They were allowed to share deep belly laughs with someone they didn't originally plan to see outside of a work setting, right?

Wrong. It was unprofessional, inappropriate, unwarranted: everything you promised you'd never be around him.

Carmen knew this.

But he was eye-fucking you in that goddamn interview. His tattooed hands rubbing against his thighs as he sat in front of you in the white light of that studio, his gentle voice contradicting his large, almost intimidating arms—it was all you could think about when you wrote your thesis. And now you were gonna be alone with him.

And despite his worries, despite the nervous sweat beading on his forehead, despite his growing anticipation when he admired your figure like a horny teenager, Carmen agreed. The smirk on your face and your manicured nails in between your pearly white teeth was convincing enough. He knew it was risky, given the fact that you still wrote for Food & Wine every couple of months: being more than capable of ruining his career with one wrong, but so right move.

"Yeah, actually."

Unprofessional, inappropriate, unwarranted.

Fuck it.

Carmen closed his tab, gently helping you down from the barstool by your hand. You held your purse close to you while waving a shy goodbye to your friends, who were drunkenly squealing in excitement for you. Carmen's peers seemed to be out of sight; therefore, out of mind. You felt your cheeks go hot, every part of your body tingling. Neither of you knew where you were going. Just not here, and not with everyone else.

He couldn't even think about the fact that he would be back in the glowing white light of the kitchen that following Monday, and you completely forgot about the paper you had to start by Sunday night. And it was way too late to care about any of that now.

You decided your apartment was best.

"Fuck.." Carmen grunted under his breath, his eyes hooded while he felt his pants tighten against his throbbing length. He spread his legs wider as you palmed him, trying to ease some of his tension. You hovered over him as he lied down, sprawled out on your leather couch. His hands were clawing at anything he could reach; your hair, your thighs, the straps of your dress until he pulled it down to your hips, and finally the clasp of your bra.

His bare chest heaved, red and covered in sweat. His dress shirt, tie, and jacket were somewhere in the mess of your apartment. He was honestly too desperate to care.

"You okay with me takin' this off?" Carmen whispered as he cupped your cheek, keeping his fingers prepared to unclip your bra with your permission. He admired every inch of your flushed face as he waited for answer.

"Mhm," you soothed him as your hand moved up and unbuttoned his pants the second your lips moved onto his. Saliva pooled in your mouths with every kiss, turning into a sloppy mess of tongue and teeth. Carmen struggled, but eventually tossed your bra onto the living room floor, his mouth just centimeters away from yours as he exhaled heavy breaths.

You sat up straight, pulling Carmen up by his shoulders and smashing your lips back into his. He pulled sway to breathe, taking it upon himself to peel the rest of your dress off. His tattooed hands gently caressed your plush thighs, his calloused fingers sliding under the hem of your lace underwear. He practically worshiped you like this, planting open mouthed kisses along your jawline and neck.

Carmen needed to hear you, feel you, taste you.

"I wanna taste you, if–if that's alright," he placed one last kiss of gratitude on collarbone before he looked up at you through lust-blown, half-lid eyes.

Your entire body began to heat up again, and Carmen's words went straight to your needy cunt. You could feel yourself dripping through your panties while you put a hand over your mouth in embarrassment, nodding frantically.

"Please," you begged, a mixture of a moan and a silent cry escaping. Carmen's hands detached from your thighs, your hips writhing up from the loss of contact. Without another word, he nodded his head, letting his hands travel down your hips as he got down on his knees in front of you.

Carmen took a shaky breath, glancing from your pleading eyes and back down to your bottom half. He hesitated, choosing to plant one more line of kisses from your tits down to your navel before giving you one last look for permission. He put his hand between your inner thighs, asking you to spread further. You blinked slowly while he peeled your panties off of you, wondering if he would notice how wet you already were.

Unprofessional, inappropriate, unwarranted.

Carmen licked his lips, admiring the sight of your puffy slit in hesitation. With your body sprawled out in front of him, your pretty face looking down at him...how could he not eat you out right on that leather couch?

"I've got you, baby," Carmen cooed, his eyes wide as he nearly drooled over the glossy puddle in your underwear. He gently placed your calves over his shoulders, his calloused hands scooping the underside of your thighs.

Carmens wet tongue licked a bold stripe from your hole up to your soaked clit, not a drop of your arousal going to waste. You grew impatient, the kitten licks he gave your sensitive bundle of nerves driving you mad.

"C'mon, Carmy, I—" You whined, pleading that he'd pick up the pace. Carmen decided not to hold back, giving your throbbing clit aggressive sucks that he'd later soothe with slow, flat-tongued licks.

You bit down on your hand while the other entangled in his hair to muffle the sinful noises you made. Carmen felt his stomach turn at the sound of his name falling from your gaping mouth.

Carmen took note of how much you loved his tongue diving into your weeping hole, earning whimpers and cries of "please," and "oh, fuck, Carmen." He groaned into your pussy when you caught a grip on his hair, placing his head even deeper between your thighs. He moved his hands from your thighs and up to your waist—forcing your jerky hips down on the couch. He wanted to make sure you didn't miss a single bit of pleasure.

"Can I.. uh, can I try something?" He stammered, picking his head up with his chin shiny with your liquids as his hand crept back down, prying between your folds. Carmen needed to keep every part of him busy so he wouldn't have to focus on the aching bulge, already leaking precum in his boxers. He felt his thighs clench as he fucking whimpered beneath you.

"S–sure.." You nodded frantically again, tossing your head back as Carmen carefully inserted a digit into your core. You whimpered in slight discomfort as he stretched you out, which he immediately reassured softly.

"Shhh... you're alright. Jus–just relax f'me, yeah?"

Carmen waited until you whined again; his fingers started at an agonizingly slow pace until he heard your moans getting a little too quiet for his liking. He picked his pace up, sliding another thick finger into your hole and ramming into your g-spot. He hesitated, afraid to hurt you—but you quickly dismissed his worries when you urged him that you needed more. Carmen aligned his tongue back with your pussy, sucking hard before comforting your desire with lapping at your clit.

"Oh my god, Carmen," you felt that familiar knot in your stomach, your grip in his hair tightening while your moans grew louder and louder. You didn't care if your neighbors could hear you through the thin walls of your apartment. You didn't even think about what this would look like the morning after—because none of it mattered. Not with Carmen's head between your thighs.

Carmen could tell you were close, prioritizing your pleasure before he could even register how badly he wanted to cum into his boxers. He couldn't help but buck his hips forward, begging for friction while every noise you made just inched him closer to his release... but he needed this to last.

"You close? Let me take care 'f you," he mumbled, breathing heavily against your pussy while he tried his best to stay still. It sent shockwaves through your body, and you tried desperately not to scream his name.

"So... so close.. Fuck, it's too much," your useless protest was cut short by a loud moan, muffled by the sweaty palm of your hand. Your heart pounded in your head as your walls clenched around Carmen's fingers. You weren't used to anything feeling this good in months.

"C'mon baby, you can handle it. You're alright. You're doing so good. Takin' my fingers so fuckin' good," Carmen's raspy voice comforted you. His tongue finally came back to relieve you, his fingers slowing down so as to not overstimulate you, as much as he wanted to.

"Carmy!" Your eyes screwed shut as your thighs shook. You chased your high, practically grinding into his face as his nose bumped your clit while his fingers remained at work.

—

"Jesus..." You panted, grunting in disappointment when you felt Carmen slide his fingers out of you. He licked them clean while your eyes were screwed shut as you tried to recollect yourself. Carmen planted a kiss on your temple the second he sat back up onto the couch, pulling you into his lap by your waist. You felt his erection against your crotch, his already sticky mess combining with your wetness yet again.

"You okay?" Carmen cupped your cheek, pushing any sweaty strands of hair out of your face. And just when he thought he couldn't have felt more proud of you, he melted into the feeling of your lips against his.

You didn't know if you'd ever see him again, you didn't know if this night would magically become niche hot gossip within your respective groups; all you knew was that you wanted him. His lust blown eyes on you, his hands gripping your waist as he bent you over your kitchen counter and fucked you dumb, the sound of sex echoing through your apartment.

Maybe some other Friday night.

#AHHHH i'm screaming #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto smut #i need him biblically #hope u guys like this it took way too long #nyc chef!carmen #he's such a cutie #i need him to eat me #carmy berzatto #jeremy allen white #the bear x reader

[moneymartin]

🦌- impatient

summary: lottie comes home from work and sees you playing games 👾

warnings: this is smut so mdni :p oral and fingering (r!receiving), praising, extremely touchy lott, and lil bit of french from lawtie. she’s a little meanie when it comes to u but still super soft. also title probably doesnt make sense dont laugh. ok thats it

i wrote this in like 2 hours so if it sucks dont hate thankz 😢😢

1.4k words

both characters are aged up.

saturdays were never the greatest days; lottie was out doing her dumb side job for extra cash, despite the fact she was probably set for life. she had been providing for the both of you, and it was only cause she never wanted her parents to do everything for her in the first place.

the only thing you could really do at the house was play games on that xbox she surprised you with on your birthday. it was the first console you’ve ever owned and you were more than grateful, playing on it all the time and letting her join whenever she wanted to. although she was never that supportive after you continued to play almost every hour of every day. but even if she sucked, you were willing to teach her.

while she worked her ass off at work you decided to play games without her. you opened up fortnite, hopping on with a few friends from uni and getting lost in time. it was your favorite game after all. hours and hours passed by quickly when the chime of your guys’ door started ringing. lottie stepped inside, a soft sigh escaping her lips, and that big familiar smile on her face when she saw you on the xbox.

“hi, baby..” she mumbles lowly and kicks off her shoes, waving a hand in your face. it distracts you for a moment and you take off one of the headphone muffs.

“y- yeah, hold on.” you grumble and try to look to the right side of her body to see the tv screen. “please move…” you whine. your friends start snickering into the mic when they hear you struggling to play the damn game. lottie knows how they are when it comes to you two and it’s the worst thing ever.

she stands in front you again, continuing to cover the screen and trying to mess you up. “do you not know how to look at your girlfriend or something?” she huffs out and grabs your shoulders, a grunt leaving your lips when you end up getting knocked. “all you do is play that damn game.” she sighs.

your eyes dart up to hers and your lips pout when the laugh of your friends fill up your ears and her words still sit in your head. she’s right though. you don’t do anything but play on the damn xbox… “i know, but you got me the thing anyways,” you say and tilt your head to the side. “and all of my friends are laughing at me!!! quit it!”

lottie’s eyebrows raise, but you quickly stand up so you can see the tv after your friend revives you. and so you can avoid that gaze she gives you when you give that little bit of attitude. “sit back down.” she orders, pushing you onto the couch again and sitting herself down on your lap. she stays there and doesn’t bother moving unless you do just to see the screen. all you can really hear though are the screams of your friends telling you to start shooting back, but it got real hard when she pushes her lips up against yours.

she’s kissing you with fervor as if she hasn’t seen your face in years. you can’t do anything but kiss back and it’s a shame that you’re incredibly obsessed with the taste of her strawberry lipgloss. all it does for you is fuel the need you feel when you kiss her. “lott, please. not right now..” you breathe out heavily when you pull away. “shit, i’m so sorry guys.” you tell your friends after you end up dying fully.

“don’t talk to them, talk to me.” she whines in response to you speaking to your friends instead of her. she grips at your controller and sets it on the armrest of the couch, clicking the mute button on your headset. she shifts a little against you and her hands find their way to your core, a grunt escaping your lips. “wow, you are so incredibly pathetic…” she says at your attempts to squirm and grab your controller. she palms you through your shorts, her movements coaxing you to move your hips up against her.

“fuck.. please,” you murmur, wetness pooling up in between your legs just because of her gentle touch and mean words. her other hand quickly tugs on the strings of your shorts and she yanks them down, the incredibly prominent wet spot on your panties right in front of her. your face flushed out of embarrassment from how wet you got so quickly and she can’t help but snicker. “all of this for me?” she hums.

the pressure of her fingers against your clit sends a chill down your spine and your teeth grit together. lottie sinks down onto her knees and you nod frantically, moaning when her lips make contact with your skin. her hands inch around your body and her fingers pull down the sides of your panties. she doesn’t give you a warning before she sticks two of her long fingers into you and they curl in just the right way. “my god. you look so pretty like that, angel..” she says, your eyes closing at the overwhelming feeling of her fingers inside of you.

“lott, please… please, please, please.” you whimper pathetically. her lips are kissing and marking around your inner thighs while her fingers continuously pound into the perfect spot, hips absentmindedly thrusting into them. she pulls her fingers out, shoving them into your mouth to let you get a quick taste of yourself and making your walls clench around absolutely nothing. “you’re such a little slut aren’t you? you can’t help but get wet around me.” she mumbles.

lottie’s lips attach to your throbbing clit and her fingers make their way into you again, your eyes widening at the sensation. it hurts so bad, yet feels so good. you squirm and move around constantly, lottie gripping onto your thigh with the other hand. “sit still or i’m gonna have to let all of your little friends hear you acting like a fucking whore.” she grunts into your centre and curls her fingers a little harder than before. the touch causes you to wince in pain a bit. “i’m sorry, i- i didn’t mean to ignore you!” you groan.

when you grip at her hair she slaps your hand away. “ne fais pas ça putain…” she growls. she’s getting aggressive but when she sees tears in your eyes she gets a little bit softer. her tongue is wrapping itself around your clit, sucking and biting on it gently while she laps up all of the wetness dripping down your legs. you haven’t finished yet but she’s eating you out like a starving animal. her face is practically buried into your pussy and the tip of her nose is grazing against the top of your core. her fingers curl inside of your pussy again and she knows that she’s hitting the spot.

“charlotte, my stomach.” you whisper out when the knot that formed in there gets a little bit tighter. she takes it as a sign that you’re close and moves herself a little bit slower to help you out. “juste comme ça… i got you, okay, baby?” she tells you as she looks up at you. the look on your face is what fuels her even more. your lips are parted out slightly and your face is furrowed while your hips just barely hump into her fingers again. a raspy moan escapes your throat when the knot in your tummy becomes undone and she shushes you, helping you ride out your high carefully with her fingers.

lottie’s eyes immediately lock onto the cum dripping down your legs and your drenched core. her first instinct is to clean. you up with her mouth. so she does, and she laps up every single drop that came out of you, rising up again. her fingers cup your chin and she wrenches your mouth open, sticking her tongue inside. all you can taste is yourself and you whimper in her mouth.

lottie pulls your panties and shorts up again, sitting next to you on the couch. her hands wrap around your waist and she gently pushes the back of your head into her chest, a small sigh escaping your lips as your heart pounds from the after feeling of it all. she kisses the top of your head and holds you there for a moment. “je t'aime, baby. je t’aime tellement.” she whispers softly and rubs at your back. you two sit there for a while in silence until she breaks it.

“sooo.. do you wanna play overcooked?”

#yellowjackets #yellowjackets x reader #lottie matthews x reader #lottie x reader #lottie matthews #lottie matthews smut #mdni #nsft fic #shauna shipman #misty quigley #nat scatorccio #natalie scatorccio #jackie taylor #lottie yellowjackets #hi if ur reading this first fic lolz #mine

[majora-is-lurking]

Get to know Pomme!

(or facts gathered by a french viewer who mostly follows french POVs) -Well behaved, polite and affectionate, especially towards her parents. She is very obedient and (almost) always listen to Baghera. She is not afraid to tell her parents that she loves them ♥

-Uses mostly these smileys: :D :0 o_o . For example, when Baghera gets in her room, she greets her with a joyful “Bonjour! :D <3<3<3”

-When she writes in her diary, her style is elegant and graceful. I would not be surprised if the person playing her wrote as a hobby. -Loves construction and builds! She helps Baghera and etoiles build their base, and often gives good ideas. Etoiles is especially grateful since he is a better fighter than a decorator lol.

-At first, she was quite fearful. Scared of the codes, of being alone… One time she left the egg shelter during an attack to join Baghera because she couldn’t bear to not be with her. She had an interesting discussion with Antoine about death, the meaning of life, the value of our time and how we use it… It reassured her about the whole situation with the codes.

-And now she is determined to fight in order to protect herself and the other eggs. She wants to become stronger and to live despite her fear. She asked etoiles to train her, and he does! Fighting became a fun practice game between these two. Her favorite weapon is the hammer.

-During her first days on the island, she was a bit shy. Nowadays, she shows more of her… “French side” let’s say. She groans when somebody interrupts her during her build (with the iconic French “ROOOOH” in all caps on her pannels). Sometimes, Bagz and/or etoiles will put a random block in the middle of a neatly paved way that she built, just to tease her…She becomes so angry, it’s so funny! And when they approach to do it again, she frantically writes “PUT THAT BLOCK AWAY NOW” in all caps. They call her their “little neat freak” ♥

-She adores Richas and considers him to be her best friend! And she finds Leonarda very nice and lovely, and would love to spend more time with them.

-She wants to form a musical band with the other eggs! (Especially Tallulah and Leonarda). And she would love Richas to paint their album covers since he does beautiful drawings ♥

-She would love to go on adventures and dungeons with Etoiles, but the French team is a bit worried that she will lose a life if she follows him on his dangerous quests.

-When asked “what kind of music do you listen to?”, she put “LEZGONGUE” from the ZZCCMXTP album (a collaboration between a looot of French streamers and some rappers too. Baghera and Antoine participated in it btw!). It’s very funny to see such a cute egg dancing on a song like this haha.

Feel free to add other facts/anecdotes about Pomme~

#qsmp #qsmp pomme #qsmp eggs #i thought it would be a cool summary for people who don't follow french povs #so they could still know stuff about our dear Pomme!

[morerawerbreath]

Fictional Men Ranked Least to Most Likely to Eat Pussy

When I’m bored my powers turn to evil. Happy to announce that @earlymodernlesbian is not only is an enabler but wrote a gay companion piece which you can and should read here!!!! 

10. Mr. Rochester — Jane Eyre

No chance of oral here. Sorry, I don’t think he puts Jane first once in this book. She’s too busy being a ministering angel to ever consider anything above and beyond her wifely duty and I don’t think Rochester ever really stops being a narcissist long enough to consider her desires or even, you know, her life. I bet his french mistress asked him to do it once and he was like “ew, no”

9. Rhett Butler — Gone With the Wind

Rhett says shit like “you ought to be kissed and by someone who knows how,” and then I bet would go down on you one time just to show you what you were missing out on, and then he’d tease you about how much you liked it for months afterwards and refuse to do it again. Imagine how much more normal Scarlett might have been if she was getting regular oral.

8. Konstantin Levin — Anna Karenina

Definitely knows about eating pussy and can’t stop thinking about it. I think he might even shamefully obsess about it in conjunction with his dirty peasant laborer fantasies. However, he also has the ascetic monk thing going on so I bet he hardcore represses his desires to actually do it. That being said, I think if he ever got over himself he’d be way into it.

7. Mr Darcy — Pride and Prejudice

I’m not convinced Mr. Darcy even knows going down on girls is a thing, but once Bingley had filled him in I bet he would try it. Elizabeth I’m sure would not object but I can’t see this happening more than once or twice.

6. Oliver Mellors — Lady Chatterley’s Lover

Mellors has the distinct advantage and disadvantage of being the only character from a book that actually describes sex acts. If it was based solely on what he said (being turned on by getting women off, not shutting up about Connie’s ass, talking about how much he wants a “real” woman with a “real” body), I’d say absolutely he wants to get down there and would use the cringiest words possible to describe it. However, they textually do almost everything else so I feel like if he ate her out DH Lawrence would have told us 😔

EDIT: he goes down on her in the most recent movie!!! vindicated

5. Jonathan Harker — Dracula

Jonathan is obsessed with Mina (rightfully) and loves her to the end of the earth, so of course he’d do anything for her, including eat her out. However, there’s so much putting women on goddess pedestals in Dracula that he might just like, repeatedly kiss her between her legs and and be like, “am I doing this right?” and Mina would be like “I love you so much Jonathan” but she wouldn’t actually get off, you know? 

4. Heathcliff — Wuthering Heights

Someone who is willing to dig up your grave would definitely be down to lick your pussy. Cathy and Heathcliff are so rabid about each other I bet oral is like, one of the least weird things they would have done to each others bodies if they had the chance

3. Gabriel Oak — Far from the Madding Crowd

Not intimidated by Bathsheba’s independence and position of power. Could take care of her and spoil her if she ever let him and they both know it. Plus, not afraid to get down and dirty and do farm work for her. If a man cures your sheep and saves your hay before a storm, what else will he do for you? 👀

2. Mr. Knightley — Emma

Mr. Knightly is the definition of a service top. 100% confident in his masculinity and completely comfortable putting Emma’s needs and wants first, but not gonna let her get away with being high and mighty. Excellent combination of obsessed with her but still in charge. ;) She would get neurotic about it and he would tell her to chill out and he’d be right.

1. George Emerson — A Room with a View

George chugs his respect women juice and is so turned on by the idea of women as individuals with unique desires he can’t stand to see Lucy betray herself by marrying a robot. “I want you to have your own thoughts even when I hold you in my arms” ?!? “The desire to govern a woman lies very deep, and men and women must fight it together before they shall enter the Garden” !! What’s not to love about a pro-Eve humanist who enjoys swimming naked and is constantly telling everyone to be less embarrassed about desire and the body? No question George is going to be eating Lucy out every day of their lives and getting off on it himself.

Bonus: 

Marius Pontmercy — Les Misérables

Shy, but also French. Not sure which one wins out here. 

#pride and prejudice #emma #wuthering heights #a room with a view #far from the madding crowd #gone with the wind #anna karenina #lady chatterley's lover #dracula #jonathan harker #mr darcy #heathcliff #rhett butler #jane eyre #mr rochester #marius #les mis

[fayes-fics]

When The World Is Free: Chapter 2 -  La Valse de Paris

MASTERPOST PREV | NEXT

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, WW2 AU.

Warnings: none

Word Count: 1.7k

AuthorsNote: Chapter 2 of new multi-chapter fic based on a request by the lovely @amillcitygirl! Please see the masterpost for a synopsis of this story. This details our reader settling into Paris and the outbreak of war. Benedict turns up next chapter. Thanks to @colettebronte for beta reading. Enjoy! <3

Paris, September 1939

Your first few weeks in Paris are a delightful blur. 

Spending late summer exploring the city - with Solène as your occasional guide and Eloise when she is not at work. You soak up every moment, from the windswept magnificence of standing atop the Eiffel Tower, your words being stolen by the wind, to the monastic silence of the Louvre on a quiet Monday morning. And everything in between - from Notre Dame's atmospheric incense-laden gothic darkness to the airy, resplendent glass dome of Galeries Lafayette that glitters like a prismatic jewel even on cloudy days. 

But perhaps your favourites are the little slices of city life: sitting watching the world go by at a corner cafe, the crunch and warm, pillowy softness of the first bite of freshly baked baguette as you wander back from the boulangerie, the lingering fragrance of the rose garden at the Château de Bagatelle in Bois de Boulogne... It's all pieces of a puzzle that fill your heart in ways that make your life before now seem drab, almost in black and white, like a photograph.

You have written to Stanley once since you arrived, effusive in your praise, a homily to your new home, however temporary. While proclaiming his happiness for you, his response tempered, a touch dismissive of your wonderment. I can scarcely believe any city could truly live up to the praise you so readily heap upon Paris, my love, he wrote back. That was a week ago, and your urge to reply has been muted. 

It's during an idle lunchtime by the Seine, eating a sandwich as you dangle your feet over the river wall, that you genuinely feel a local. An elderly French couple, likely visiting from the provinces, approaches you and asks you for directions to the Musée de l'Homme. Part of you aglow they think you sophisticated enough to look Parisian, and French. And you are able to help them, giving them the information in French, not fluent but sufficient that they are surprised when you confess “je suis américaine”.

In your third week, you secure the art gallery job Eloise had seen posted. An opportunity to meet many new people, primarily British and American, who share your love of art of all persuasions. You spend many a happy hour answering questions and building your knowledge of art, not just in your gallery but across the city. Part of you is wistful to study the subject in even greater depth than the books you borrow in copious quantities from the library where Eloise works.

You grow so close to Eloise so quickly that it’s as if you have known her your whole life. A sense of kinship, a near familial bond. You know, on some instinctive level, she will always be a part of your life somehow. Your evenings are often spent in lounge bars together—venues awash with art deco splendour as you listen to jazz through a cigarette haze and flirt aimlessly with a carousel of handsome men. Life seems so full of potential, a hum in your very being.

“What do you think the purpose of life is, y/n?” Eloise sighs as she flops onto your bed after returning from one such decadent night out.

“Aaaand we are done with the brandy…” you declare, taking the bottle of Martell cognac from her grip and placing it pointedly on the dresser, your high-handed point only mildly undermined by your own unsteady gait.

You collapse down next to her, the intricate ceiling rose around your light fixture swirling slightly before your very eyes.

“Love?” you hazard in answer to her question.

“Boo! Cliché!” she jeers, elbowing you good-naturedly.

“I don’t just mean romantic love,” you protest, “the love of family… friends…”

“Ah, yes, family. Endlessly large family. Don’t suppose you want an extra sibling or two, do you? I could be persuaded to let a couple go,” she squints comically.

“Depends… can I have the artist?” you jest.

“You have to stop staring at that painting; it's getting weird,” she opines with her typical bluntness, “and no, you can’t. You know he’s my favourite,” she pouts.

“I think he’s my favourite too,” you opine over a stifled yawn, any embarrassment about being called out for your unbridled admiration overridden by the sleepy state your comfortable bed lulls you into.

“If you end up being attracted to my brother, I will have to disown you, you know,” she pats your hand drowsily.

“Hmm, good thing he’s so far away…” you trail off with a lazy giggle, eyes drooping heavily.

It’s the last words you exchange before you both fall asleep on your bed.

–

Perhaps, as with all things that are too good, the idyll is temporary. It's the news you wake up to that following morning, September 4th, which throws everything into uncertainty. Solène knocks on your door early with an uncharacteristically sombre expression, wordlessly handing you the morning paper and flicking on the wireless on your mantelpiece, the fine lines on her face deeper etched, furrowed with worry.

‘La Guerre!’ the headline screams from the newspaper. And the voice on the airwaves, your ear more attuned to the language now, details how Britain and France have jointly declared war against Germany for their invasion of Poland a few days prior.

At the sound of the radio, Eloise emerges from your room, blinking and hair asunder, a little delicate from your previous night's revelry. You sip coffee at a loss for what to think or do. It’s an odd cognitive dissonance when life at once seems identical but also changed by an invisible shape - an undercurrent of fear, of the unknown, a punch to the pit of your stomach that you don’t know how to acknowledge - even as you go through the motions of your daily routine and head to work.

By the evening you are more phlegmatic about the situation. Your spirit dampened, yes, but not crushed. You feel an immense sense of privilege that conflict is not yet at your doorstep, but equally knowing being in the capital city of a nation that just declared war against a neighbouring country is not exactly safe.

You and Eloise splash out on dinner at an upscale brassiere that night, one you have both passed and commented you’d love to dine in some time. Both of you seized by the unspoken “what if”, the previous reluctance to treat yourselves entirely absent.

Talk on all the tables around you as you dine - on heavenly butter-soft steak - is about the war. What it could mean for Paris, fear of another major European conflict so soon after the last, the economic concerns - the bite of the early 30s depression just relinquishing its hostile grip on the somewhat bruised denizens.

Afterwards, you wander the cobbled streets back to your apartment, arms looped, bellies full, occasionally staring up at the starry night sky in mostly contemplative, sober silence. It’s a beautiful evening, but something in the warm breeze feels melancholic.

When you open the door to your building, Solène is waiting, rocking on her heels.

“Eloise, a telegram has come for you!” she announces, shoving a piece of paper into her hand. “And a telephone call from England earlier,” she adds, gesturing to the black rotary phone outside her place—the only one in the building.

Eloise gives you a brief glance and then opens the message. You watch her eyes ping across the text before her shoulders slump.

“My mother,” she sighs in explanation, “it appears she is summoning me back home.”

“What?!” the selfish reflex of not wanting to be left alone is the first thing flaring in you.

“It’s not fair!” she whines in a flash of child-like defiance before continuing in a more subdued tone. “She is sending my brother to come get me. She doesn’t specify which, but seeing as Anthony is a Lieutenant General in the Army and has likely been called to Churchill’s side, I'm presuming Benedict,” Eloise surmises. 

Your thoughts instantly fly to that painting hanging in your apartment upstairs. A strange flutter under your ribs at the idea you could be about to meet its creator. Quickly followed by a wash of guilt that you could even focus on such a frivolous thing.

“What will I do without you?’’ You fret aloud, grasping her arm tighter.

“There was a call for you too, y/n,” Solène pipes up. “Your father wants you to exchange your return ticket for a sailing home as soon as possible,” she relays.

“But.. I just got here!” your lament as defiant as Eloise’s. A frustrating sense you are losing a fleeting opportunity you already hold so precious - like a new toy being ripped from the meaty fist of a truculent toddler.

“Mes amis, what can I say?” that trademark Gallic shrug seizing Solène’s shoulders. “While Paris is safe for now, we do not know how much longer that will hold true… it is likely best you return home. Perhaps this will be over in weeks, and you can return?”

You know your parents have paid your rent upfront for a whole year, likely similar for Eloise, your landlady not impacted financially by your leaving, merely a wish for you to enjoy your Parisian adventures.

As you unlock the door to your apartment and wander in, both of you sigh; the illumination from the Eiffel Tower that refracts upon your window pane just adds to your melancholia, a sight that before had never failed to warm your heart.

“When will your brother get here?” your inflection dull.

“Tomorrow, most likely. It only takes a couple of hours to cross the Channel, and as you know, the train ride from the coast is just a few more. I expect he’ll be waiting for me right here when I return from work,” her tone is just as flat as yours.

You want to ask if she will pack tonight, but you stop yourself, seeing the flame that usually burns so bright behind her blue eyes dimmed. Wordlessly, you draw closer and pull her into a firm hug.

“I will miss you like a sister,” she whispers into your hair, returning the embrace just as fiercely, “maybe moreso.”

You nod and band your arms tighter briefly before letting go, bone-deep exhaustion overtaking anything else you see in her mirrored stance.

The last thing that captures your eye as Eloise turns to her room is that painting of her childhood home and, strangely, how it feels closer now than ever before.

Benedict taglist: @foreverlonginguniverse @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @desert-fern @starkeylover @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @amygdtjhddzvb @sya-skies @balladynaaa

#benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton #bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x female reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x female reader #bridgerton x you #bridgerton x y/n

[spiderfunkz]

✦ I LOVE THE SMITHS, AND YOU!

summary : you love the smiths, peter loves you.

word count : 0,8k

warnings : fluff, reader is oblivious & peter is just peter, not proofread btw.

a/n : based on this request!! my requests for peter are like always open so feel free to send in your thoughts <33 also this is inspired by that one scene in 500 days of summer but on a budget.

peter parker was in love.

sorry, correction, is in love.

he didn't know when this little crush started.

maybe it was in the 5th grade, when he was paired with you to do a project together, that's when he first met you. he remembered how he'd admire you as you glued those stupid looking dinosaurs on the cardboard.

he remembered how your overgrown bangs were almost covering your eyes. he remembered how he'd ask why you didn't cut it, and how you replied with — "i dunno, i don't want to cut it yet. my mumma told me hair holds memories. and i don't want to forget those memories."

he remembered how that reply made him smile. how he'd knew you two would get along somehow. and also, since then he became really picky when it comes to haircuts.

or maybe it was in the 9th grade. when you were one of the few people that wished him a happy birthday. he remembered that you gave him a really big smile, and he always noted how it was the prettiest smile he has ever seen, well, other than aunt may's of course.

or maybe it was last week. when you sat next to him in french class.

maybe it's because he noticed how your bangs were now blended with the rest of your hair, how he'd realized you never cut it since 5th grade. he wondered how many memories you have kept because of it. he wonders if he's in any of those.

he also wonders if you ever noticed that he liked you. how he'd always steal a glance when you're not looking, how he had your birthday marked on every calendar he has owned, or how he'd save up to buy you the things you looked at for too long.

maybe you did. and maybe you didn't know what to think of it.

to be completely honest, you were never much of a romantic.

never really. in your entire life you only liked two and a half things. the pasta your mom cooked, your hair, and sometimes, peter parker.

well, most of the time, peter parker. i mean he's your friend of course you like him! he's funny, he has nice soft hair that you just want to run your fingers through, he's smart and witty but he never brags about it, he cares for you, and his hand intertwines with yours perfectly.

okay, maybe you like him more than a friend. but that's another story you don't want to get too deep into.

"how about this?" you ask, holding peter's 'the smiths ; the queen is dead' cd in your hand.

you were supposed to do your english essay with peter today in his room, but like every other work you do with peter in his room, you both end up getting distracted.

"i forgot i had that, i loved it." he smiles, "put it on." he says, gesturing to the cd player.

"i love love this album! i can't believe you forgot you had this." you turn the player on as the song starts to play.

"you can keep it if you want, since you like it so much." peter says. "really?" — "of course." peter nods.

"thanks, peter. you're the best." you sat next to him.

peter hands you the paper you were supposed to do your essay on. "i wrote half of it with a pencil, you can just trace it with a pen." he smiles. "oh my god, peter. you know i could've done it myself." — "yeah but then it'll take you 5 hours and no sleep. besides, i'm almost done with mine too, so."

"aw, thanks." you lean your head on his shoulder as you read what he wrote on the paper. you focus on the paper, not noticing that peter's face is turning bright red.

a few minutes pass by and peter's calming down, he leans his head on yours. but when he does your head immediately jerk up. "oh i love this part!" you turn the volume up. "don't you?" you turn to peter, he nods.

"to die by your side is such a heavenly way to die!" you sang. "ugh, i love the smiths." you lean forward to grab a pen so you could finish the essay.

peter looks at you as you hum to the song. he notices your cherry tinted lips, and how your hair is clipped to the side with a clip that peter bought you years ago. he looks at you with such care and love. though unfortunately, you don't notice that.

you look to peter, "what do i have something on my face?". peter looks away, "oh uh no, sorry."

you furrow your brows. "you sure?" peter nods. "okay..." you laugh.

you continue to nod to the song, the pen in your hand overwriting peter's messy handwriting. "i loveee the smiths." you repeated.

"i loveee you." peter blurts out. he hopes it wasn't too loud, but you seem to be focused on the song and your paper.

"huh?" you turn to peter. "what? huh." peter awkwardly looks away, again. you look at him for a bit before smiling, "did you say you loveee the smiths too? i thought you weren't that big of a fan anymore." you clearly misheard him.

peter was dumbfounded, sure he didn't want you to hear that. but at the same time he did want you to hear that. "no i uh- i said, i love you."

"you love, me?" you ask.

"yeah, l-o-v-e."

"love love?"

"yeah. love love."

#tasm #tasm peter #tasm fanfiction #tasm peter parker #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!peter x you #tasm fluff #tasm x you #tasm x reader #peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #peter parker imagines #peter parker imagine #tasm imagines #tasm imagine #tasm!peter parker x you #tasm!peter parker x reader #tasm!peter #tasm!peter parker #tasm!peter imagine #tasm!peter fluff #spiderman #the amazing spider man #the amazing spiderman #the amazing spiderman fluff #andrew garfield!peter parker #tasm spiderman #spider man

[usetheeauthor]

Video Games (MDNI +18)

🎶I heard that you like the bad girls, honey? Is that true?🎶

Sub!Boyfriend!Arisu Ryohei x Dom!Reader

Summary: Your boyfriend games all day instead of paying attention to you. You know exactly how to get him out of his own world.

A/N: Wrote another sub!Arisu fic because I’m horny and I want to slut this man out. He’s so underrated in the fandom and I don’t get why. Do you see that innocent face? This man is begging to be folding like a pretzel.

Word Count: 994 words

Warnings: smut, handjob, biting, hair pulling, choking, kissing/french kissing, saliva as lube, spit kink, cum eating, dacryphilia, daddy kink

You knew the disadvantages of having a gamer boyfriend but you figured that Arisu was more than worth it. Now you’re not so sure anymore.

Just how is it possible that this man could stay in front of a screen for hours on end, mindlessly shooting enemies? Not once has he looked up at you to make sure that you’re still there. You just might very well leave.

Except you were incredibly horny.

There was something about your boyfriend that just made you so insatiable. You’ve never had a sexual appetite this intense before but whenever you’re in his presence all you want to do is tie him to your bed and use him until you’re both spent.

Sometimes, you wondered if your boyfriend felt this way, too. You get that he enjoys sex but it’s almost as if he’d rather game than make love to you.

You huff out loud. He glances at you for a moment, unaware of your lust-filled thoughts. You guess you should test your theory.

Standing up from your seat on the couch, you alert him enough for him to do a double take. Nonetheless, he returns his attention back to the game, headphones over his ears as he shouts commands at his team.

You approach him from behind the couch, removing the headset and throwing them off to the side.

“Hanii, I’m a little busy, here.” Arisu groans, frustration pickled in his tone.

“I know,” You whisper seductively in his ear. “But I want you.”

A shiver goes down his spine. “I can’t leave the guys. We’re right in the middle of a serious game.”

“I just wanna play with you for a bit. Why should you get to have all the fun?” You pout, leaning over the couch a little to rub his clothed erection. He’s already starting to grow in your hands.

“Please…” Arisu rasps.

You kiss and suck his neck, now exposed from lowering his hoodie. Continuing to palm his thick length, you could feel the faint motion of his hips rolling up in a circle.

“Should I stop?” You ask, teasingly.

“Uh-uh.” He protests, eyes closed.

“That’s what I thought.” You say, pulling down his shorts and underwear with his assistance and free him of his restraints. Your mouth waters at the sight of his dick. It was just so pleasingly beautiful. Thick and decent in length, he knew exactly how to use it to hit the deepest parts of you.

You hold your palm out in front of him, signaling him to spit. Arisu obeys, whimpering once you began coating his cock with his saliva and slowly stroking him. His ragged breaths fill the air and it takes everything in you not to ravish him. Your free hand grabs a fistful of his hair, turning his head to the side for a kiss. Upping the theatrics of the kiss, you massage your tongue over his while moaning. It was absolutely pornographic.

Sucking on his bottom lip, you drag it along with you before letting it go with faint pop. Your grip tightens around him, focusing your clenched fist around the sensitive tip of his cock.

His mouth parts, eyes squeezed shut and head thrown back. He looks so amazing. How was it possible that you were his first girlfriend with beauty like that? You clasp a hand around his neck, applying enough pressure to choke out a sob.

“Y/n…”

You bite down on his earlobe, stroking him quicker. “Ryohei, don’t hold back. Make some noise for me.”

Arisu does as you say. No longer afraid to be vulnerable with being subservient to you. With every tug, he makes a soft ‘uh, uh, uh’ sound. He could feel his balls drawing up, the tension in the pit of his stomach building up.

“I’m gonna cum.” He whines.

“I wanna see your eyes when you cum. Please, daddy.” You were surprised yourself that you let that slip out. You’ve never called a guy that before especially not when you’re the dominant one in bed. But you were just so desperate to please him that he’d earned the title in that moment.

You could tell that it was just what he needed to let go, eyes open as you stare back at him intensely. He lets out a guttural moan, back arching as he spills over himself. His warm cum spurts out and runs down your fist and his tummy. You continue to jerk him, wanting to extend his pleasure for as long as he could take it.

“That’s it, daddy. Let go. Make a mess for me.” You kiss up his neck some more, it slightly sweaty from the exertion.

He begins to shudder and sob at the overstimulation. His nails sink into the couch cushion under him, searching for something to ground him. You have mercy on him, removing your hand and he can breathe again.

You make a show of licking his essence off your palm and fingers before crawling up the overhead of the couch, rolling onto the seat beside him. You plop your head in his lap, his dick still out but long gone soft. He hasn’t moved since his orgasm.

You stare up at him concern. “My love?”

He looks down at you in his lap with a blissed out smile and his hair was messy. “I’m back.”

“Good to know. I was worried I lost you there.” You giggle, soothing his hair.

He snaps out of his daze when he hears the notification sound from the TV. He quickly takes the controller to open the message.

“Dude, if you were going to abandon the game to get laid, at least give us a heads up. Also, your mic’s on.”

Arisu blushes profusely, taking a throw pillow to shove in his face. He muffles, “We forgot to turn off the mic! They’ll never let me live it down.”

“I’m sure they enjoyed the show.” You wink, rubbing his back.

#aib arisu #aib imagines #arisu alice in borderland #alice in borderland smut #arisu x reader fluff #arisu x reader smut #alice in boderland x reader #alice in borderland fanfic #alice in borderland #kento yamazaki #kento x y/n #kento x you #arisu x reader #arisu imagines #imawa no kuni no arisu #ryohei arisu #arisu ryohei x reader #arisu smut #arisu imagine #dom reader #dom!reader #sub!arisu #chishiya imagine #alice in borderland fandom #aib headcanons #aib x reader #smuttyfic #fanfiction #ao3 #aib fic

[yrluvjane]

A Perfect Fit

James Potter x lawyer! muggle reader / Part 2

Note: (Mature sexual content in bold!)

Tired and exhausted, James Potter returned back to his house with the mind to peacefully fall asleep in his lover's arms. It was way past midnight and there wasn't a sound in the air. While normal jobs allowed you to return home at a decent hour being an Auror didn't.

He softly unlocked the door of the fairly large, two story house, hoping that the sound didn't wake any of the inhabitants.

He walked into the house, quietly slipping off his shoes and placing them by the door. He squinted his eyes trying to adjust to the darkness in the room before feeling his way for the light switch on the wall.

With a soft click a soft, yellow lamp illuminated the room, making his dress change much quicker and convenient. James took off his Auror robes and hid them in a secret compartment behind the fireplace after using a quick cleaning spell.

James didn't like secrets, he didn't like lying to the person he loves but he couldn't exactly tell his muggle girlfriend about magic or about the Wizarding world without breaking The International Statute of Secrecy.

The lies and the secrets tore him apart, from secret missions and fumbled up excuses, he knew that Y/n knew they were lies but still trusted him enough to not ask. And the amount of trust she had in him is what made it horrible and heart-breaking.

This is why he and Lily broke up, they fell out of love and lied to each other trying to make their relationship work, they were too young and Lily didn't want to have a child at 21.

A few months after Harry was born he and Lily signed their divorce and she had gave him full custody over Harry, she now lives on the other side of the country with some Artist with a weird French name.

James would be lying if he said taking care of Harry was easy; he was eternally grateful for his friends and parents and all their help. It was hard and exhausting, he stressed and worried over every little thing, balancing life and work and there were moments were he felt like he was being pulled in so many different direction he didn't know which way to turn.

It was on the one blessed day, that he met Y/n on, did he truly felt at peace.

Harry was two and James had a day off at work, so he had decided to take Harry out to a park a little further than the local one.

One moment Harry was in front of him throwing sand everywhere and giggling with the other kids, the next he was panicking all over the park desperate to find the little raven-haired boy.

He was running around like a bird, lettering his parents, screaming and shouting. He almost gave them a heart attack considering the fact all he wrote to them was 'I lost Harry' making them assume the worst of things.

He only calmed down and took a deep, thankful breath, when he heard his young son's adorable little laugh, he immediately rushed towards its direction only to see the boy on a beautiful woman's lap, coloring on a blank piece of paper.

James had sighed and walked over to the two, ready to take Harry home and apologies to the lady. Though when the lady had looked at him, it was as if his brain froze.

She was utterly gorgeous, her hair was slightly disheveled from the breezy air and she didn't have much make up on but the mascara and liner she did have on on was slightly smudged under her eyes.

He remembered her putting her hand out and introducing herself, him stuttering, making a fool of himself and her apologizing for worrying him about Harry.

She had invited him to sit over and just like that all of James's plans were thrown out if the window. They couldn't talk long because she had a busy schedule and swamped for the day. It was by sheer luck did he manage to man up and ask her out by the end of their meeting.

And James has been thankful for that day ever since.

James slipped on a pair of sweatpants and a loose sweater that were folded with the rest of the laundry on the couch.

He softly walked up the stairs to the main bedrooms, avoiding any creaking steps and checked Harry's first. "Hey Prongslet." He whispered, smiling as he kneeled down at his son's sleeping figure.

When Harry had officially turned four, James allowed Harry to completely remodel his room to his liking. It had red walls (thanks to his dad and uncle's) and had golden snitches painted on, which Y/n didn't understand but still admitted was cute.

He's bed had blue sheets and was decorated with four animal-shaped pillows that were made after the four infamous animagi.

Harry was wearing little red pj's with small deer’s imprinted on it, that was a gift from Y/n, and it melted James's heart more than it should. Harry had absolutely loved them and refused to take them off; Y/n had actually bought two more pairs just so Harry could be happy and wear them again.

He adjusted the blanket the small toddler slept with before bending down and kissing the boy's forehead and ruffling his messy hair.

He tipped-toed out the door and softly closed the door, making his way to the master bedroom, where Y/n would be asleep

The master bedroom was huge, almost three times bigger than Harry’s; it had its own bathroom. a walk in closet and its own balcony.

It was decorated in soft grey, black and streaks of good ‘ol Gryffindor gold. Some of the windows were opened, letting in some cool air as Y/n slept soundlessly, unlike James, on the large bed. All of her - except her head - was covered under the duvet, giving James an adorable view.

He quietly slipped under the covers, immediately enveloped by warmth and comfort and raised Y/n head into a comfortable angle. As if sensing his presence, she turned around so that she could lie on side.

He took off his glasses and placed them on the nightstand not before seeing her eyes flutter for a moment, still heavy with sleep.

“Good day?” She asked her voice hoarse and quiet. James hummed, wrapping his arm under her waist pulling her into his chest. “You?” He questioned, brushing her hair out of her face.

She sleepily nodded; she raised her head and kissed his throat, “Sweet dreams, James.” She whispered before falling asleep once more and it was small things like this that turned the Gryffindor into a puddle of love. He wished her a good night and kissed her head before drifting into darkness.

The next morning James woke up at around eight, which meant he had around an two and a half hours to get to his work meeting. He turned to his side, wishing to find his girlfriend but it was empty causing him to groan.

He pushed himself off the bed, put on his glasses and made his way to his son’s room, where he expected Y/n to be; trying to get the toddler to wake up.

The door to the room was ajar giving James the opportunity to peek and spy. Y/n lied on Harry’s bed, the latter snuggled into her side as she tried to wake him up with a story. “…And then your dad spilled the tea all over the table!” She said as Harry giggled.

A very embarrassing story, James noted. “Daddy’s clumsy.” Commented Harry.

“Yes he is.”

“I thought you were on my team! Way to sell me out buddy.” James said as he pushed the door and revealed himself. “Daddy! Were you spying on us?” Harry questioned as he sat up and narrowed his eyes at James, glasses slightly askew.

“I’m going to have to second young Mr. Potter’s question, James. Were you spying on us?” Y/n joined in her professional voice with a raise of her brow.

“Me? Never!” James defended as he walked over to his son and sat next to him on the bed. James grabbed the giggling boy an attacked him with tickles. “No! S-t-oo-p!” Harry pleaded between hysterical laughter. James let the small boy go. And Harry didn't waste a second grabbing his stuffed dog and burying himself into Y/n’s side.

"Traitor." James whispered.

The elder man got up and walked around the bed towards Y/n, leaning down and bringing her lips into a sweet kiss. “Eww..” Harry commented. James pulled out mirroring Y/n’s smile, “You need to brush your teeth.” She said.

“And to take a shower.” Harry added, his voice muffled. Y/n let out a laugh as James gaped at them. “I can’t believe this.”

“You go and get ready, while me and Harry make breakfast.” Y/n said, running her hand up and down the four-year old's back. Harry raised his head and stared at Y/n with big, green, hopeful eyes. ”Can we make waffles?”

“What’s the magic word?” James asked.

“Please?” Harry added, sheepishly.

Y/n chuckled as she ruffled the boy’s already messy hair, “We can make whatever you want.”  She said. Harry stood up and pulled Y/n’s hand, “C’mon!”

“Why don’t you take out the ingredients and I’ll follow you in a sec?” Y/n suggested as Harry nodded adorably and frantically, his stuffed dog still in his arms as dashed out the room. “Don’t run down the stairs!” Y/n shouted warning the boy.

“Okay!” Harry yelled back.

Y/n nodded and got up, robe falling all the way down to her ankles. She faced James and smiled, “Morning.” She greeted.

“It’s a great morning.” James whispered as he wrapped his arms around her waist, leaning down and kissing her neck.

Y/n chuckled, running her fingers in his hair making James groan. "I don't have to go to work day, all I need to do is review some transaction documents; so I can stay and watch Harry till Sirius and Remus pick him up."

James hummed into her neck as one of his hand's slipped into her robe and slid up her thigh, pushing up her slip nightdress.

Y/n's fingers comb through the mess of James’ brown hair, getting thick curls out of his face as he tucks his head into the crook between her neck and shoulder, inhaling her scent deeply and leaving open-mouthed kisses on her skin; allowing her to let out a breathy moan.

"Y/n! Dad!" Harry's voice shouts as James groans into Y/n's neck, forcing his hand away and back to his side. "Sometimes I can't wait till he leaves for school." James jokes, standing up, arms still wrapped around Y/n's waist.

"I'll meet you downstairs." Y/n said leaning in and giving him a small peck on the lips before the two departed into different areas of the house.

Walking down the stairs, Y/n heard Harry's incoming patter of feet. She chuckled, when he stopped right in front of her, panting, his stuffed animal in one arm.

Knowing what he wants, she knelt down and grabbed from under his arms, picking him up and hoisting him at her side.

"Got everything?" She asked as she walked to the kitchen, one arm holding Harry and the other picking up her bag.

"Couldn’t reach the flowers."

"It's 'flour' not 'flowers'. Same way of pronouncing but different meaning."

"Flour." Harry said with a big smile, showing his baby teeth.

She placed her bag on a far away counter to avoid it getting dirty and sat the boy on the counter, opening the higher cupboards to get the missing ingredients.

"What's that?" Harry asked from behind.

Y/n turned to face him, his finger pointed at a hidden object. "That is a gift." She said with a grin placing down the bag of flour and watching as the toddler's eyes widened behind his glasses.

"Is it for me?"

"Maybe..." Y/n teased, she grabbed a bowl and began cracking the eggs.

"Can I see it, please?" Harry pleaded, pouting.

"Well you have to do somethings first: brush your teeth, wash your hands, comb your hair, have breakfast and do your homework. Then I'll give it to you." Y/n said, looking at the boy, who stared back with narrowed eyes then crossed his arms and pouted.

"But I don't want homework."

"I have homework too, and the trick is to not think about homework. Think about getting to open the present later on; we can even bake cookies if you finish early." She tempted with a raise of her brow.

The younger boy, bribed with cookies and presents, ran out of the kitchen with lightening speed eager to finish his part of the bargain.

One cold shower later, James slipped on a pair of trousers, red shirt and a black leather jacket (Gifted from Sirius). He shook the towel through his hair trying to dry it out enough to stop dripping. He ran his finger through the curly locks, watching as they fell and stuck to his forehead.

He gathered his worn clothes and threw them into the laundry basket before jogging down to the kitchen. There he saw Y/n with Harry on one hip and a whisk in the other, teaching him how to make waffles.

James let a smile tug on his lips as he walked over to the duo, wrapping his arm around Y/n’s waist. “Daddy, Y/n got me a pre-pra-”

“Pre-sent.” Y/n said breaking down the words, so that Harry could pronounce it correctly. “Oh, do I get a present?” The elder, male, brunet asked looking down at woman. “But daddy, you’re too old for presents.”

“Old? You’re never too old for presents. I’ll have you know, Prongslet, Y/n gives me a present every night;  just after you go to sleep.” James said, winking and ducked when Y/n made way to hit him with a whisk causing Harry to giggle.

“You don’t get waffles.”

“I’m sorry, love. It was just a joke. I’m sure I can make it up to you in other ways.” James teased.

Y/n placed Harry down on the counter and chased James around the kitchen island with a drying cloth.

Harry giggled watching the two, he leaned over, opening a drawer and grabbing a hidden camera that his father stashed after a failed camping trip with his uncles that ended with Sirius drunkenly threatening a bear.

Harry raised the camera and snapped pictures of his dad and Y/n and some of him and ‘stuffed Padfoot’.

“Okay, you got me, I surrender, your honor.” James said swiveling around last minute and trapping Y/n in his embrace. “You don’t sound as though you feel guilty.” Y/n said narrowing her eyes, she turned her head to face Harry, who seemed to be playing with a drawer.

“Harry, do you think daddy feels sorry about his actions?”

James smirked at the nickname before giving his son a pouting look. “No presents!” Harry declared, Y/n let out a laugh that grew once met with James’ shocked one.

“I object.” James began, "Overruled!" Harry shouted.

Y/n let out a suprised laugh, turning and grabbing Harry's face in her hand, shaking it as she peppered his face in kisses; the smaller boy giggled.

“You heard him.” Y/n teased and in that moment James couldn’t feel anything but happiness and love. Seeing Y/n and Harry laugh together, it made James think of what a family looked like.

Harry, Y/n, Remus, Sirius, Peter and his parents, that was his family. This was his family.

Waking to Y/n in his arms, reading Harry a story to sleep, making breakfast together (Even if James almost never helped due to his rushed work) and laughing with eachother.

James let a large smile take on his face, he walked over to Y/n and hugged her from the back. “Hey! You can't try and butter up the judge. That’s illegal y’know.” Y/n joked.

He buried his face in her neck and inhaled the floral smell of her hair. “I love you.” He said, his voice muffled.

“It would be quite awkward and weird if you didn’t.”

“Dad, Y/n, I finished, can I play for a little, please?” Harry asked, eyes wide and green. His mouth smeared with cream and crumbs.

“Sure, just wash your hands first and get ready for your uncles today, they should be here in an hour or two.” James replied.

Not a second later, Harry disappeared out the room. Y/n chuckled holding onto James’ hands that were wrapped around her waist.

“Something wrong, James?” she asked, after a moment of silence rang.

“Y/n...” James moaned against her neck, turned around and pushed her against the kitchen island.

He moved his hand under her thighs and sat her on the table, silencing her gasps with a heated kiss; pushing his tongue through her lips and parting her thighs with his hands.

In quick motions he undid the robe, letting it slide down Y/n’ shoulder, revealing her red slip. James groaned at the sight, one of his hands cupping her breast, the other rubbing her thigh. She grabbed his shirt and pulled him closer.

Breaking the kiss, Y/n moved her lips to his jaw and trailed her kisses up to his ear, sucking spots behind it, granted to leave marks.

"So wet..." James teased, as he lightly bit her bottom lip. His fingers made their way to her clit, causing her to moan into his mouth as he started to move his fingers.

“James.” Y/n warned.

"We should stop .." She said as she trailied down kisses on the unbuttoned spot of James' neck.

His only show of response was thrusting a finger into the muggle, eliciting a moan out of her.

James kissed her one last time before he got down on the marble floor, getting down on his knees and placing Y/n's legs over his shoulders; spreading her open for him.

His tongue ran up and down her soaking cunt making her moan and run her hands through his hair pushing it out of his face.

James’ lips suctioned around her clit as she tugged at his hair, making him groan. The vibrations sent waves of intense pleasure through Y/n, making .

"Jamie...so good." She praised as he let off her clit with a pop before removing his finger and fucking her with his tongue as his free hand, started circling her clit.

"Fuck, James!" she huffed out, her eyes closing and back arching; the hand in his hair slipping to the back of his neck, rubbing delicate circles and pulling at the small hairs.

James’ lips sucked on her clit once again moaning against it, he moved his hand once again, his middle and ring finger moving in and out of her as he lapped at her clit.

"James, please- James!" She cried tugging on his hair with one hand while the other clenched the tablecloth, scrunching it in her palm.

James raised his hand, playfully pinching Y/n's nipple causing her to moan and buck her hips against his mouth making him groan.

"Let go, love." He said pulling away, before sucking on her clit again. He could feel her clenching around his fingers.

"James! I'm-I'm gonna-" She cried out, pressing her cunt against him trying to make him go deeper before releasing into his mouth and on his hand.

After a minute he let off her clit and gently pulled his fingers out of her, as tried to catch her breath while staring down at him with hazed eyes.

James teased her one last time before getting up and licking his fingers clean. She narrowed her eyes at him playfully.

"When will you be back?" She asked, watching James as he walked to the storage closet and got a towel, running water over it.

He spread her thighs and wiped them gently, "Around one, maybe two." After he cleaned her up, he threw the towel into the washing machine and stood between her legs, his arms wrapped around he waist as her hands layed around his neck.

"I love you." She said, flicking one of James's dark locks back and running her fingers through his hair.

"I love you too."

.

@morwap

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