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greatlydelirious · 1 year

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𝐃𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐬, 𝐊𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐬

Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Reader

wordcount: 6.1k words

summary: The night that death granted you mercy you swore to never let yourself become vulnerable again. That was until you started to be haunted by a man who knew your feelings all too well.

warnings: smut, mask stays on, slight breeding kink, angst, injury, mentions of past trauma, super fluffy, established relationships, (Ghost is highkey obsessed with you)

“Who’s your crew?” Laswell asks while sighing, exasperated by Price’s persistence. He swipes up the stack of files she got for him before going through them.

“Sergeant Garrick.”

“Kyle?” she recalls.

“They call him ‘Gaz’. He never said anything.” Laswell looks over the front of the file before he pulls out another. “John MacTavish, SAS. Sniper- demolitions. Goes by ‘Soap’.” Once again Price hands it to Laswell.

“Why?”

“That’s classified.” Price’s tone is even before he moves on chuckling. “There he is… Simon Riley.” When he places this one down, Laswell’s eyebrows knit, “There’s no picture.”

“Never.”

He softly whistles before saying your name, “… but she only answers to ‘Rose’.”

“Rose? That’s a delicate name.” Laswell arches a brow when Price lets out a dry laugh.

“Anything but.” Price taps the photo attached to the folder. The woman was mean mugging the camera with a hardened expression that made even him shudder and was the envy of any of the men who joined her ranks.

“Now the rest…” Price swipes the files back while staring down the CIA station chief across from him. “That’s need to know. Unless we got a deal.”

Laswell stares back at him equally stoic, “What are you calling this task force?”

A light smirk plays on Price’s lips, “1-4-1.”

Sweat percolates from every inch of your skin as you make your way to your designated post. The heavy fatigues and protective gear that use to bother you now act as a comforting weight. A reminder of where you are and the mission you are about to accomplish with your team. Not some sissy team, but Task Force 141; a special operations task force military unit that housed the best and… wildest.

Wildest was far more apt than the word brightest to describe the band of seasoned soldiers Captain Price brought together. He recruited you from the United States military special force known as 75th Ranger Regiment. Anyone who has met someone you fought alongside knew the female killing machine that holds the moniker “Rose”.

At first, you wanted to decline Price’s proposition to join. You’d worked under the command of General Shepherd before during your time with the U.S. Army Rangers, but you were still hesitant. After surviving unspeakable horrors in Afghanistan, you became far too deep in your itch to maim and kill.

Not only did you need the structure being a part of a force gave you, but the thrill. When your old captain tried to give you a base job after recovering from severe injuries you went berserk. Hell, you were even moments away from joining the French Foreign Legion. Of course, Price caught wind of this and promised to put you to work. Luckily for him, he kept up his promise.

You are a specially trained fucking soldier; not a rookie, not a gun polisher, but a sharpshooter that rivaled the likes of Simon “Ghost” Riley. The statement might sound crass, but you didn’t have the luxury to lapse in confidence. Every corner you turn, every order you follow, and every shot you take must be concise and without a shred of hesitation. This wasn’t fun and games, it was life and death.

Well… maybe it’s a little bit of fun sometimes.

Scuffling noises and grunts fill the coms until they abruptly cease.

“Rose, do you copy?”

Silence.

“Answer me, Rose. Do. You. Copy.” Now the question turned into gritted demands. Each word leaves a sharper bite than the last.

Silence is the only answer yet again. Before Ghost can crush the radio in his steely grip, static meets his ears.

Grunting you push the now limp body on your chest to the ground. “Copy Lt.” Blood audibly squelches as you reclaim your knife. “Can’t get rid of me that easily.” Wiping the trusty blade on your pant leg you chuckle at a joke in your head, “What has two arms, two legs, and ten holes?

Soap can be heard groaning. You are just as bad as Ghost when it comes to so-called “army humor”. “You gotta be fuckin’ kiddin-“ Someone clicks their mic to cut off Soap’s grumbling.

“What?” A gravelly voice that gives you goosebumps plays along.

“The guy I just stabbed.”

“Ten holes huh?”

“Men have nine, thought he could use an extra one in the neck.”

“You’re bloody sick.”

“No, I’m quite blood free right now and I don’t have a stuffy nose. Thanks for your concern.”

A deep huff cuts through the coms and you recognize it as Ghost’s version of a laugh. Triumph fills you with being the one to elicit that rare sound. Thankfully, no one else was around to catch the subtle blush rising on your cheeks.

Focus, Rose.

“What do you call a Russian sniper from the Soviet Army who never misses his target?” Ghost asks you right after you finish clearing the hallway that held the stairway leading to the roof of the building.

“Go on.” You encourage as you start to make your ascent.

“The most skilled marxman in the military.” Now that had to be the most military dad joke you’ve ever heard.

“Please tell me you’re at your spot Rose.” Soap once again groans and for a second he regrets every decision that got him stuck with the two of you.

With an amused lilt in your voice, you push open a metal door, cold night air giving a second of reprieve against your hot skin. “Fortunately for you and unfortunately for me, affirmative.”

Taking a deep breath, you crouch before setting your M21 EBR sniper rifle on the edge of the roof and maneuvering the ACOG Scope attached. The semi-automatic rifle has extremely low recoil and you liked its dual use for medium and longer ranges. Other soldiers had a hard time with the scope’s slight sway, but you tamed the gun how one would a horse; using a subtle, soft touch to steer it in the right direction.

Electricity thrums through you as you anticipate what is about to take place. You adjust your scope until you’re finally focused on the building across the street. Standing behind one of the windows was your target, Nabeel Bashar, drinking and laughing with other men in the room.

Nabeel Bashar is a close associate of Hassan Zyani and one of the lower-ranked leaders in the terrorist organization Al-Qatala. Although he’s not important enough to give you information you don’t already have, his death is important enough to make an impact.

That’s it Nabeel. Move one more inch to the left and I got you.

Your leather gloves slightly squeak as you adjust the grip on your sniper rifle. The gun is an extension of yourself, and it’s about to send a message to Hassan. After a few minutes that feel like hours, the man steps perfectly into your line of sight.

“Rose to Bravo 0-6. I’m in position and have a clear shot.”

“Hold your position until Ghost gives the order.”

“Copy.”

Captain Price’s command sits at the forefront of your mind as your anticipation grows. You might have an itchy trigger finger, but you’re too seasoned to pull it prematurely. Years of training and discipline that started when you were a child kept you steadfast in waiting.

To say your father was proud of you was an understatement. As a U.S. Army Vietnam Veteran, he was a stickler for raising tough kids. Sprain something? Walk it off. Lose at a sport? Try harder. His motto is, “When all else fails, your mind is the only thing that can save you.” Advice that not only helped save your life but was engrained in your bones.

Over the years and during your time in Afghanistan, you accrued accomplishments and honorary medals that you thought of as just “chest candy,” but your father gladly took them to display in his living room to show off to his fishing buddies. Based on the way he constantly brags about you; you are most definitely his favorite.

So much so that he has more than once grilled you endlessly about the man you told your mother about. Simply calling him a man didn’t do enough justice though. Simon “Ghost” Riley isn’t just an apparition, but a carnal animal outside and inside the bedroom. Unforgivingly rough as he gets to what he wants while thrumming with a deathly power that practically begs for someone to challenge him.

Unsurprising to everyone, that’s what you did when you joined Task Force 141. The tales of the heartless Lieutenant with the seemingly permanent skull-patterned balaclava never scared you. If anything, it made you want to test your sparring skills with him. When you finally convinced him to practice with you and he managed to pin you down after an hour, he was far more than impressed. Intrigued, surprised, and aroused captured the essence of how he felt.

Ghost admires your brutality. You never hesitate, never give anyone the inkling that you’ll be an easy target. Some would say the element of surprise could work in your favor, but you like a rough fight. If you’re not feeling the aching reminder of it the next day, you don’t feel like you won. That philosophy may be dangerous, but that’s what Ghost loves about you.

Yet what he covets the most is the vulnerability you gave him the pleasure of witnessing. Everyone got to see the bloodthirsty soldier, but he got to see the resilient woman who soaked in her complex emotions behind closed doors. A woman who liked his stern voice and uncharacteristically soft touches.

You always melted in his hands like a kitten snuggling close for warmth. At times the rumbled moans that came straight from your chest even sounded like purrs. Ghost craved that soothing sound. A rare sign of mindless comfort from his “pretty rose.”

“Red Rose” was the full cover name you were given. You were as fresh as a rose when you joined the 75th Ranger Regiment, the only experience under your belt being from your short time in the army. During those beginning years of your career it was just “Rose”, but it became far too tame to describe the person you are now.

Anytime you clean sweep a room that had more than enough men to overpower you, Gaz said you “painted the roses red”. Are you a part of Task Force 141 if you didn’t have a sense of dark humor?

Like any rose, thorns covered the outside of you, not a protective shield, but a visible threat that you will bite back when handled. It wasn’t a secret what was done to you; as unspeakable as it may be. Not only did your mind plague you with vivid memories in the middle of the night, but it manifested physically as well.

Deep scars that left phantom pains in their wake littered your body. No matter how hard you itched or rubbed the pangs hit you with a vengeance. They were etched reminders of not only the pains of living but the miracle of survival. You were deeply respected for surviving what you went through, but it morphed into fear when you continued to be a part of the force.

Some people let the venom of the past take them down, but others will use the searing pain as motivation to push forward. You’re the latter.

Despite your hardened exterior and savage nature amidst combat, you get along with your team swimmingly. Yes, you snap, bark, and bite, but like any good Doberman when someone shows you they are trustworthy, you are fiercely loyal. And by this point, 141 felt more like home than anywhere else. They treated you like any other man on the team and would take a bullet for you without hesitation.

The only thing that was akin to what you feel like, is a Doberman shaking with the excitement for its next command. All you needed was that one word. Once you get that command the metaphorical leash can be dropped so the beast can attack.

“Shoot.”

In a millisecond your finger pulls the trigger. Glass shattering mixed with the whistling shot is like music to your ears, a symphony of justice executing its judgment. You watch as Nabeel Bashar falls limply to the ground, the hole in his head forming a crimson puddle underneath him. Pulling away from your rifle you grab your radio, “Nabeel’s down. Enemy K.I.A.”

One down.

“Clean shot, Rose.” Price praises through the coms. “Now let’s get you-“

Yelling erupting below makes your focus turn to the street. Stationed soldiers yell in a language you don’t understand while rushing into the building you’re in.

Shit.

You manage to duck when bullets ricochet off the concrete next to you, making dust spread in the air. “I’m under fire and they’re making their way inside.” You have to practically scream to be heard over the sudden gunfire. The cadence of your voice held not even a semblance of a quiver as you barked the information. You’ve stared at the face of death before; you can do it again.

“You will do it again.” Ghost’s voice pops in your head almost in a warning. The last time you were trapped in a situation like this you had the infamous man alongside you. Except then you had a nasty stab wound to your side and Ghost had even nastier gunshot wounds to the thigh and shoulder.

Enemies are everywhere. Stray bullets whizz past your head as you make it into the empty house with half of Ghost’s weight against your hip. The plan didn’t go awry, but totally nuclear. Now you both are left surrounded and injured. Concerningly so based on the dark stain your partner was leaving on the floor. He tried to help you barricade the room, but the moment he started to tip to the ground you helped him sit down. No matter how bullheaded he is, he can only withstand so much blood loss.

Ghost’s head slowly starts to fall forward as he sits against the wall. The chopper is on its way and the only body you planned to haul with you was a breathing one. Thick fabric meets your palm as you slap Ghost awake. Even though he is sluggish, he captures your wrist before you can step back. When you try to tug out of his grip, he only squeezes harder.

You opt to instead crouch in front of him, eyes blazing, “If you leave me now, I’ll come after you.”

When he simply blinks at you, you move your face until it’s inches away from his masked one. “Do you hear me, you bloody bastard? I mean it.”

A wet chuckle leaves the man below you, “Bloody, eh? I’ve rubbed off on yah already?”

“Make it through this and you can rub off on me all you want.” Now Ghost truly laughs despite himself. Despite the pain. Jokes made the hurt go away, mental or physical, but what really made the bleeding man tick was the way your eyes twinkled with promise. You truly do mean it.

Slippery fingers intertwine as Ghost holds your other hand as well. Despite the danger and the blood, there was something so intimate about his touch.

“Deal.”

That was the night you officially fell in love with Simon “Ghost” Riley.

“Backup is on its way now. Stand your ground, Rose.” Price’s words are meant to be comforting, but they only make you curse.

You know the team is set up in houses nearby, but these men are coming in fast. The sound of heavy footsteps pounding against metal steps further confirms your thought. Rolling your shoulders, you let a cold smile spread across your face.

Game on.

“Fuckin’ hell…” Ghost couldn’t help but breathe out the words when he finally makes it to you. He’s never mowed down enemies so fast. Any person who got in his way was given a swift death, and apparently, so did any in yours.

You’re a vision in red. Blood and entrails cling to your body as you stand in the middle of the wreckage. Fingers still twitched around the blades in both your hands, sniper rifle long forgotten somewhere. When your bullets ran out you opted to use it as a baton, cracking enemies until it got lost during a scuffle. Bodies are strewn across the rooftop like it was nothing. Like it was normal for someone to have the capabilities to fight all these men by themself; let alone a woman half their size.

Ghost has never seen anything more breathtaking. The gore only illuminates the primal energy that surged through you, through him. Every instinct urges him to run to you, feel you, and claim you just as you are now.

Wouldn’t be the first time.

With a shaky laugh, you sheath your weapons, not looking away from the man in front of you. The air is fraught with tension not stemming from the surprise attack. “Sorry, you missed the party, sir. I hope you can forgive me.” Your voice practically keens with a desire only Ghost can quell.

“Sir”, a formality laced with sin that unfurls from your tongue to snake into his ears. The sound of it coming from you so desperately, so needy, for him, calls to every fiber of Ghost’s being. You take without recourse every day; lives, commands, jests, anything you could while leaving nothing in return. Until it came to him. That three-letter title was you giving your power over to Ghost. An exchange of trust that never ceased to rock him to his core.

A grunt is given to you in response. A silent warning that said, “If you keep it up with that, I can’t be held accountable for what happens next.”

You knew that verbatim since the last time he grunted like that and you continued to push his limits, you were left with such a bad limp the next day that Captain Price made you go to medical for a check-up since he was convinced you were injured. Technically with how bad you were aching, it did qualify as an injury, but the dull throb between your legs indicated it was the good kind.

Before Ghost can make a step forward, Soap and Gaz run up in quick succession. They stop short just as Ghost did as they also take in the sight. Dark eyes continue to stay transfixed on you. Almost like you were the only person in the whole city.

Although, after a couple of minutes of three pairs of eyes ogling you, you decide you had enough for one day. Exasperated, you reach for your radio, “All clear Captain.”

By the time the team makes it to the safe house, you are utterly drained. Everything aches. The thick layer of sticky human splatter covering your form begins to gnaw at your senses. The lights feel too bright, the air too hot, and the atmosphere too quiet.

You tug off the pounds of clunky armor and gear, tossing it on an open countertop like the others. For a moment you just stare at the items. The dismantling got the surface mucked with dirty substances. Not only that but your hands, arms, and the sweat rolling down your forehead makes it spread even more.

Dirty. Dirty. Dirty. The mantra leaves you frozen, not knowing what to do, not knowing what else to say.

Someone pats you firmly on the shoulder, “I’ll take care of it, eh? Go clean up. Lord knows you deserve it.”

You can’t distinguish the voice of who’s talking when your feet begin to move at the command before your mind can register it. Normally you didn’t become this frazzled so soon, but you haven’t had time to be alone for weeks now. No time to scream into a pillow or cry in your room or feel his touch.

Every high has a crash, and you are free-falling. Fast.

Soap lets out a sigh of concern before grabbing a rag to start getting to work. He doesn’t say anything when he sees a dark shadow larger than your own follow you down the hallway.

When the bathroom door closes seemingly by itself you don’t hesitate. Nails scratch your skin as you practically tear off the clothes clinging to you. When you hear the fabric of your shirt rip you don’t care. You don’t have the wherewithal to even try. Yanking back the curtain, you blindly search for the handle. When water starts pouring down you practically jump into the shower.

You arch your head back into the stream of water. Clear, turns red, then turns black with the mixture of blood and soot as it sinks into the drain, taking your adrenaline with it. Limbs quake and memories flood uninvited into your brain. To escape the onslaught of emotions you close your eyes and try to focus on the sounds around you. Water is dripping, slipping, and sliding in your mouth. Water that was meant to soothe, but once smothered you and used as a tool to make you talk, to make you break.

Large hands encompass the sides of your head and pull you from the stream internally ripping you apart. Only then do you hear the sobs spilling from your mouth. Your eyes fly open and are confronted with misty blue ones surrounded by pitch blackness, equally searching and equally pained. Pained not only for you but for the fact that he knows exactly what you’re feeling. He knows how the past is twisting your guts until the only thing your body wants to do is destroy or be destroyed.

“Focus, angel.”

The words come out in a deep yet soft command. A shiver travels across your skin and an ache settles in your heart. Ghost is here with you. You aren’t in that place anymore. Your hands cling so desperately around his wrists as if he would drift away at any moment. Like he’s the answer to your salvation.

In actuality, you’re his.

With a harsh tug, hungry lips slam into yours. You hadn’t noticed that his balaclava was pushed up, but you couldn’t be more relieved to truly feel him. The kiss is as possessive as it is sloppy. Tongues don’t dance but spar as Ghost uses his grip on your head to keep you locked in place. Not that you would ever dream about pulling away.

He tastes of metal, grit, and something addictively sweet. He’s like one of those candies in sketchy wrapping, but when you pop it in your mouth it’s the best thing to ever grace your tastebuds. Moaning you back up against the cold shower wall to make room for the large man. His lips only move to start descending on your neck. Lips and teeth and tongue tease with a fiery passion that make you gasp at each little assault of his mouth on your skin.

Something hard presses against your slick stomach as Ghost blankets your body with his own. He towers over you not only in stature but width. Your body is perfectly hidden in front of his own like a human shield. The pure notion of what he can do to you makes heat pool in your core.

Your sudden reaction doesn’t go unnoticed. They seldom do.

A thick finger instantly meets your folds, sliding through the wet sensitive flesh in agonizingly slow pets. Ghost lets out a satisfied grunt at how willing and wet you already are for him. He pushes the digit inside your pussy with ease. You desperately grab his biceps to keep yourself from melting into a puddle at his touch.

“Please.” The wobbled plead comes out like a mewling kitten. When you say it so sweetly how could he ever deny you? When a second finger joins the first the delightful stretch that follows makes your nails dig into his taut skin. Ghost doesn’t pause as he begins to fuck you with deep, slow thrusts. Fingers curve to hit the spongy sweet spot inside your pussy that has you clenching around him like a vice.

The hardness against your stomach twitches at the sound, feel, and look of you. So devastatingly perfect, devastatingly his.

In your haze, you look down at where his body meets yours. Each stroke of his fingers makes you dizzy, but all you can focus on is his cock. The tip is ruby red as it throbs and leaks with precum with the anticipation to take you.

“Simon.” His head snaps up to search your face. The name comes out in a whisper as your eyes say a thousand more words you can’t possibly string together in a coherent sentence.

His lips ghost the shell of your ear, “My strong girl did so well today. She deserves my cock don’t yah think?” You feebly nod, unable to make any sounds except for pathetic moans. Strong hands lift your legs so they’re dangling atop his muscular thighs. He’s like a makeshift seat as he keeps your back pressed against the wall to keep you propped up for him. Now the head of his cock is resting between the lips of your sex.

Breath eludes you as you watch Ghost look at where your bodies are joined. He gently rocks against your pussy, rubbing your clit with each slow stroke. The new position leaves you no room to buck against him. You’re completely left at his mercy.

“…so fuckin’ pretty.” The admiring words rumble from his chest as he finally pushes inside. It’s almost too much. His cock never fails to split you open to the point that you think you might rip in half. He’s too hard, too long, too thick, too big. Yet you can’t help but whine when he stops moving after only half of his cock is nestled in your pussy.

Ghost shoves his face in your neck and you can feel his body trembling, not from physical exertion, but from the force he was using to control himself. Teeth nip and scrape at the tender flesh above your collarbone as he begins to slowly push more of himself into your quivering pussy. In silent submission, you crane your neck further to give him better access to your pulse point.

You don’t want Ghost to hold back. You want the delicious pain that comes from him tearing you apart because you know he’ll always sew you back together again.

“Fuck me, bite me, take me, please.”

“Copy.” Ghost’s tone is deceptively playful and you swear you feel him smirk against your neck.

Cheeky bastard.

Any semblance of lightheartedness quickly disappears when he slams the rest of his cock inside you. Instead of biting, he sucks the spot his teeth were previously teasing. Ghost’s hands settle on your ass to pull you on and off his cock in tandem with his thrusts. He’s everywhere all at once and all you can do is desperately moan at the contact you’ve starved for.

The pace starts deep and languid before rapidly turning rough and downright feral. Gravelly groans tumble from the usually composed man as your tight walls cling to him at every pull of his cock. You’re almost too tight and he’s almost too big. Almost.

“That’s it... take my cock, angel.” Your bottom lip trembles when Ghost moves to rest his forehead against yours while continuing to fuck into you hard enough to bruise. The soft skin at his pelvis abuses your clit to the point of overstimulation with the onslaught of movement. It’s so intense that you’re sure you’ll fall apart by the next jut of his hips, but he never gives you more than you can handle. Ghost is the only person you’ve trusted with your body in many years; and for that, he’ll be forever grateful.

His eyes never leave yours as he takes in every little emotion swirling in their depths. Before you were on the brink of darkness, now all he sees is lust and a four-letter word that would be his undoing.

Once you almost died and went to hell. Now you feel like you’ve died and gone to heaven. Euphoria made you docile and pliable, a mewling, dizzy, sweet mess that only made Ghost fuck you harder. The sounds he’s making are like brimstone and ash as he fucks his fallen angel.

“Angel” was an especially fond nickname Ghost gave you at the beginning of your relationship. One he saved for your most intimate moments together. To him, you’re a celestial being; too good to be with the likes of him. He sees your drive to do good, to protect people from the torment you’d endured. Outsiders may see a bloodthirsty soldier, but he saw you for who you really are. A woman who strived to do good, to protect people from horrors unimaginable. Even if it meant sacrificing herself. Although Ghost may not be as noble, he is as driven. He’ll be your patron saint, your protector till the end of days; but even then, he’ll be too selfish to let you go. Ghost would cut down Gods and travel through hell and back for you. Anything for his angel.

A particularly sharp thrust makes you cry out. You’re so close you can feel the electricity crackling between the two of you. But neither of you cared for things that came easy. In an instant Ghost pulls out of you and flips you around with the grace of a seasoned fighter. The spray of water hits the sides of your bodies as you’re bent with your front against the shower wall.

Your forearms support your weight as you slam your palms into the wall in a poor attempt for leverage. Each aching muscle in your legs shakes from the pressure of standing on your tiptoes to reach closer to Ghost’s hips. Emptiness gives way to fullness when your pussy is once again invaded by his cock. His front molds into your back like you are made for him. You fit so perfectly tight against him, around him, pushing and squeezing as your velvet walls flutter to accommodate him.

Fingers slip between your own in an act so tender it betrays the rough slap of his hips against you. Truly an enigma even you had yet to completely figure out. But with your fast-approaching climax, you didn’t have the room to dwell on the concept. You can tell Ghost is close too; his thrusts are growing sloppy and his fingers that are intertwined with yours squeeze in a white-knuckled grip to attempt to ground himself.

His hands slip from yours to find purchase on your hip with one hand while the other snakes around to descend on your clit. Even lost in desire his movements are precise and expert in how they derive pleasure from you.

“Do you want me to fill you up, angel? Make you mine?” Ghost’s voice is distorted by growls and full-blown lust. Your emphatic moans and confirmations blend only to heighten as he slams into you and rolls your sensitive bud just right. Ghost’s ministrations, cock, voice, words, and noises all blend together in perfect symphony as you reach your rapture.

His grip on you is like steel as you meet each of Ghost’s thrusts. Your heart thumps like a hummingbird and sparks feel as though they’re lighting under your skin. A loud groan reverberates next to your ear as heat blooms in your core. You’re so tight in the throes of your own orgasm, milking Ghost for everything he’s got.

Ghost continues to push his cum inside you, thrusting in deep, hard strokes to secure it in and make it stick. The insatiable need to make you his in a permanent way motivates the overstimulating pounding. His fingers knead the flesh at your hips, coaxing you to stay open for him.

Only when your whimpers waver and turn whiny does he reluctantly slow his movements before coming to a complete stop. Ghost pulls you from the wall so he can lean you against his chest, cock still buried deep inside you. The rhythmic rise and fall of his chest would lull you to sleep if you weren’t acutely aware of your surroundings again. You don’t know how much time has passed, but when Ghost pulls out of you, you shiver from the newfound emptiness.

When you start to adjust your limbs, you feel that the skin on your fingertips is pruned, indicating that you’ve overstayed your welcome. You turn around in Ghost’s grip so you can properly gaze up at him (even if you still have to crane your neck). Your hands absentmindedly rub the muscles in his chest that rumbles like a dragon. Truly an unwavering force in every sense of the word. Unfortunately for both of you, you couldn’t stay like this forever.

“We have to get out sometime, big guy.” Grunting, Ghost grabs your hand before pulling it to his lips, kissing your knuckles like he was memorizing the feel of them. Satiated blue eyes look at you with an emotion that makes you swallow thickly. He was going to be the death of you.

Wordlessly, Ghost reaches around to finally stop the stream of water before scooping you into his arms. A part of you wanted to protest that you could move on your own, but you wouldn’t ever deprive his need to feel you. You wince as Ghost helps you out of the shower. At first, you think it’s from the ache between your thighs, but the pain stems from somewhere lower.

In an instant, you’re plopped on the bathroom counter. “Didn’t care to tell me about this?” Ghost elevates your right leg with an edge of anger in his voice. Not at you per se, but the fact that you’re injured. A streak of red is trailing down your outer thigh with the other droplets of water to the floor. The gash isn’t concerningly deep, but after your exertions, the area was irritated from being neglected.

“I’ve been so caught up I didn’t even feel the damn thing.” The knife wound must have occurred when you were fighting off those men on the rooftop. Everything happened so fast since you came to the safe house that you didn’t take the time to look over yourself.

When a white-hot bolt of pain hits your gut, you’re reminded of your oversight again. You sure as hell can feel it now though. Sighing, Ghost makes quick work of cleaning and wrapping your wound with items from his bag. Of course, he brought it into the bathroom with him. The man is never unprepared.

“Wish you gave me the chance to kill those bastards, love.” The comment only makes you laugh. Leave it to Ghost to think of vengeance right after fucking your brains out.

You admire his concentration in silence. Before you met him you always “licked your own wounds” after every mission you went on, never having someone care so intimately about you to tend to your injuries themself. Now you had Ghost’s expert hands piecing you back together. Despite your pride, you cherish that those hands, invisibly coated in so many people’s blood, takes extra precaution while cleaning up yours. At this moment you feel nothing but lingering bliss and something you thought you’d never feel again… love.

Lightly twisting your leg, Ghost looks over his handiwork with a satisfied grunt. Thick fingers start to card through your wet strands of hair before moving down to cup your cheeks. His thumbs draw small circles on your skin in a manner so soothing it made butterflies awaken in your stomach.

“Do you think they heard us?” They had to of heard, but you knew that they would make themselves think they didn’t. If one of them even uttered a single syllable about it Ghost would pop their head off like a cherry stem.

“That’s the goal.” A wicked blush flames your cheeks as you playfully swat his chest.

Possessive bastard.

Sighing, you hop off the counter and grab your undergarments. Can’t delay facing the team any longer. The comfortable silence continues to stretch as you both get re-dressed. Thankfully Ghost hands you a spare shirt since you tore yours before getting in the shower. It all feels strangely domestic, especially when putting where you are into consideration. But home is where the heart is, and Ghost has yours in the palm of his hand.

Strong arms pull you to a hard chest once you’re fully dressed. A ghost of a smile plays on your lover’s lips and the sight makes you smile in return. Ghost leaves you with one last searing kiss before pulling his balaclava back down and exiting the bathroom.

Amidst war, death, and a lingering past you were able to fight your demons and find love. And as fate would have it, you love the angel of death himself.

Any and all interactions are greatly appreciated.

#ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley smut #cod ww2 #cod wwii #delirious masterlist

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prettyprettypaci2 · 6 months

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Therapy - Part 5

💕 Part 1 💕 Part 2 💕 Part 3 💕 Part 4 💕

"I'm guessing you know what we're going to talk about today."

You're sitting on the familiar couch in Miss Heather's office, swaying nervously back and forth like a rocking horse at full gallop. Your breathing is rapid and irregular, escaping as squeaky little puffs from your frantically bobbing pacifier. You feel your twin French braids slap your bare shoulders with each heaving swing. You hug yourself with crossed arms, digging welts into your thighs with your glittery acrylic nails.

Everything had been going so well for you these last few months. Christmas had come and gone without too much distress; your gifts were all dumb things like patterned diapers and fluffy petticoats, but you had expected nothing less when you saw the sparkling pink wrapping paper. You had started going outside more, with Miss Heather taking you on a short trip or errand every therapy session. Other than a few snickering college girls or confused old ladies on park benches, your diapers and ridiculous outfits had rarely caused a stir, and you stopped whining so much about the excursions after returning to Miss Heather's office.

But now you've ruined everything.

You wait for Miss Heather to give you some words of comfort, to talk you down from your frenzy. But she simply observes you with an unreadable expression. Many minutes pass, and fatigue starts to set in. Your breathing remains heavy, but slows into a normal rhythm. Your violent rocking reduces to an unsteady shiver. You look into Miss Heather's eyes, silently pleading for her to make it better. To forgive you. She remains silent.

You think back to the very first time you met Miss Heather, when your step-sisters first started faking your accidents. She had been unlike anyone you had ever met -- clinical and challenging with her questions, but still deeply kind. You had assumed that as soon as you explained how your family was treating you, she would contact your step-mom and put a stop to the diapers that very day. Looking down now at the pony-patterned cloud of padding taped to your hips, you shake your head at how naïve you had been.

You uncross your arms and grab the end of one of your French braids. It's tied off with a bouncy pink-and-silver ribbon. You hate wearing ribbons, or anything else prissy, but the pink and silver parts have different textures you like to touch. The pink is soft and silky; the silver is coarse and lacy. You never used to care about little sensations like that, but in your constant isolation and boredom, you find yourself exploring them often. Miss Heather encourages it, telling you it's a way to discover the world all over again.

You've calmed down now, remaining tense but still. You close your eyes for a few seconds, then let them flutter open, tickling your brow with the comically long eyelashes Lauren had glued on. You realize your therapy isn't going to start until you speak. You let your pacifier fall out of your mouth and dangle from its purple clip.

"It was stupid. I was stupid."

Miss Heather remains unsmiling, but you swear her eyes soften. You love her for that.

"Why did you do it?"

You swallow hard, feeling a lump in your throat. "I didn't want to do this anymore. I wanted to go back to how things were...b-before the diapers." You catch yourself. "Before MY diapers."

Miss Heather crosses her legs. "And you thought you could do that by stealing?"

You quake a bit when you hear her say the word. It was just a pair of cotton underwear. On clearance. Your step-mom had wandered off to find some cartoon-themed snow boots in your size, and you saw them on the shelf. The shortalls you wore yesterday had little pockets at the waist you could hide them in.

"I said I was sorry," you whimper. This is true. When Olivia had found the underwear in your room, she held you down and twisted your arm until you confessed. Your step-mom had driven you back to the clothing store and forced you to apologize to the lady at the register. You're sure the old woman had never seen an adult sob so much.

Miss Heather leans towards you and rests her chin on an open palm. "When would you have worn the underwear? Would you have taken off your diapers and hoped your step-mom wouldn't notice? Would you have left home?"

"I don't knoooooooow," you moan pathetically, leaning away and flitting your pretty eyelashes towards the ceiling as you pull on your braids. "I just wanted to have them."

Miss Heather lets the thought hang in the air before she speaks. "It's normal to want things you can't have. But to feel so strongly about it that you're willing to steal is very concerning. Do you think what you did was wrong?"

You sniffle. "Yeah..."

"Do you? Or are you just saying that because you think it's the right answer?"

You meet Miss Heather's gaze, which still shows more severity than sympathy. You ponder the question for a moment. "It was wrong to steal," you begin slowly, then add quietly: "But some days...it's just so hard to wear my diapers."

Miss Heather pulls out her smartphone and gives it a few taps. The TV screen on the wall lights up with a cartoonish diagram of the human brain. Pulling out a laser pointer, she swivels it around the section labeled "frontal lobe."

"In psychology, there's a difference between moral judgment and moral reasoning," she says, taking on the tone of a schoolteacher. "You can decide that something is right or wrong, but make a different decision based on what your desires are. Usually these two things line up pretty well -- we try to do what we think is right. But when our choices don't match our values, we want to correct the imbalance. We do this by trying to associate the bad behavior with something unpleasant."

Your mouth hangs open stupidly as Miss Heather lectures. She notices your confusion.

"Like a punishment," she clarifies, taking the image off the TV and setting her smartphone down. "Did your step-mom punish you after you apologized?"

You shift uncomfortably on your padded butt. You had kicked and screamed and pleaded, but your step-mom gave you the worst spanking of your life. "Yeah."

"That's normal. But fixing those connections between beliefs and choices is much easier when you recognize they don't match, and you take steps to confront it yourself. This is how guilt helps us. I know you have an icky feeling in your tummy that you just want to go away."

You nod sullenly, shuffling your feet. You watch the butterfly decals on the toes of your shoes glitter in the light.

Miss Heather goes on. "There's an old expression, 'an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.' The best way to avoid that yucky feeling is to fix the imbalance before you engage in the behavior. If you had told your step-mom in the store that you wanted to steal that underwear, but didn't do it, how would things have worked out differently?"

You hold your breath for a moment, considering the question. "I wouldn't have done it, because she would have been watching me."

"Do you think she still would have punished you?"

The memory of your spanking makes you wince again. "Maybe..."

"And that would have been a good thing! The punishment reinforces that connection between actions and consequences. But instead of feeling yucky guilt, you feel pride that you made the right choice and asked your step-mom for help in a moment of weakness."

You slowly pump your toes up and down, making the butterfly decals dance and shimmer. "So I should get punished even when I do nothing wrong?"

"You should ask to be corrected when you know you need it," Miss Heather replies. "Look at me for a moment."

You tear your eyes away from the trance of your pretty shoes and meet your therapist's gaze.

"Let's say you were left at home for a week. Your step-mom and step-sisters go away on a little trip and you're all by yourself. Do you think you would still follow all of your rules? Would you still wear your diapers?"

You know there's only one way you can answer honestly. It's a fantasy you've described to Miss Heather too many times already. "No," you say, starting to tremble. "I wouldn't."

"Would that be wrong, to break rules when your family is away?"

A lump finds its way into your throat. "Y-yeah..."

"So what do we do now? You know what's right, but your brain wants to do wrong. If it ever happens -- and it may happen someday -- you know that guilty feeling will start eating you up. What should you do about it?"

You grip your braids again, feeling the coarse silver and silky pink of the ribbons more intensely than ever. "A-ask to be punished?"

"Good!" Miss Heather smiles for the first time this whole session, and your heart begins to melt. The tension evaporates, washing away like a sand castle in the tide of Miss Heather's forgiving praise. "Why don't you lie down on your tummy and explain to me why you need to be punished. You can hold Mr. Kazoo if you'd like."

You're terrified by what's about to happen, but you're past the point of being able to fight it. You stretch out on the couch, your fat diapered bottom wiggling in the air. You pull your giant stuffed teddy bear from his perch on the floor and wrap your arms around his neck. "Sometimes I think about not wearing my diapers," you begin cautiously.

You hear the hardwood floors creak as Miss Heather rises and approaches, outside your field of vision. "Do you think you deserve to be punished?"

The shivering returns and you clutch Mr. Kazoo closer. "Um...y-yes."

The floorboards fall silent. You can smell Miss Heather's perfume behind you.

"The rule is that you always wear your diapers now."

You can barely breathe. "I shouldn't break the rules."

You scrunch up your face in frightened anticipation. Miss Heather says something else but you don't hear it. All you can think of is Lauren sneering at you as she delivers one of her favorite taunts: "Good girl."

Good girl.

You're going to be a good girl.

💕 Part 6 💕

#ab dl diaper #ab dl mommy #diaper pee #ab dl lifestyle #diaper sissy #ab dl girl #diaper training

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sadie-the-dragon-slayer · 10 months

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Self / Independent Learner's Guide to Language Learning From Zero

-a mini study plan I used this for Spanish, French and Italian, it is my favourite way of starting to learn. It won't teach you the langauge but if this is your first time, if you feel confused and don't know where to begin, this is for you! -this is kinda romance langauge based but might give you ideas if you are learning from a different family too -this is very notebook / writing based since i prefer learning that way Step 1: Preperation

First of all, ask yourself "do i already have some amount of immersion in this langauge?" As humans, we learn from immersion a lot. Songs, but especially visual media is incredibly heplful. I never studied japanese but after watching a few animes i picked up 5-10 random words. Passive vocabulary, being familiar to most common words will be your biggest friend. If the answer is no, before start studying ANYTHING do some immersion. e.g. I watched dix pour cent for French and learned arrêt which means stop because characters were shouting to each other all the time.

After making sure you have some immersion or if you already have some, PREPARE YOUR RESOURCES. Make a file in your computer, reblog tumblr posts, save links. Search for pdfs in google. (x language a1 pdf / x langauge a1 grammar book / x language a1 reading) Free PDF's and and useful websites. The more the merrier. Why? Because when you actually start learning you will slowly realise them half of them are not actually useful, too advance, too simple, not in your preffered style etc. You will en up using same handful amount of resources again and again but before that, you have to TRY EVERYTHING. You are unique and so will be your learning process.

Google x language A1 curriculum. (you can try adding "pdf" at the end of sentence as well) It "probably/ hopefully" exists. If you can't find that way, learn which offical exam is necessary (e.g. for French it's DELF/DALF, in english there is IELTS and so many more) If you are lucky, you can find a langauge teaching enstitute's curriculum and you can find in what order they teach things. This was very helpful for me because sometimes you don't know what to study next, or just want to visualise what do you need to learn, it is helpful. I printed one out and paste it to the back cover of my notebook. You won't need this one YET. I'll explain in a second. Keep reading.

Get a notebook. I don't prefer books while learning from zero because it will be filled with vocabulary you don't know. My pereference is no squares no lines empty ass notebook and colorful pens. I'm a person of shitty doodles. I love to draw and visualise things. It really helps my brain. In A1, your knowledge is absouletly zero and your brain is about the explode with realising GREAT MASS of knowledge you need to learn in order to be "fluent" . So keep things away from being "too much" if you want to avoid a burnout.

Set a timer. If you want to avoid burnout, the secret is always quit when you feel like you can go another round happily. Quit when you are dopamine high. If you study too much, next day you'll wake up tired, want to rest etc. and make it harder for you to create a habit. I did this mistake with French by studying 4-5 hours everyday for around 30 days. I completed my challenge, completly quit and then didn't come back for MONTHS.

You will be re-studying A LOT. Language learning is repetition. You will start by studying "the A1 curriculum". But, because this is your first time your focus will be on the vocabulary and general comprehension. You are trying to re-wire your brain, and learn a different way of thinking and living. It's not easy. It will take time. It will be painful at times. But it is 100% worth it.

After you finished studying your curriculum, you'll take a short break and then study the curriculum AGAIN. For a second time. Because you already know the basics, this time you will be able to focus more on the little things you weren't able to comprehend the last time. e.g. articles or whatever little frustaring thing your langauge has. Also focus more on basic prononciation and especially reading aloud. Find a realistic text-to-reader. Copy-paste a text. Listen and repeat.

Get a new Youtube and Instagram account dedicated to langauge study. How many good resources exists and where they are is really depens on which langauge you are learning. For english, youtube is better. For French, instagram is better. You have to see for yourself. If you get a seperate account for your langauge algorith will learn faster and you won't be distracted by other stuff. Short form engaging videos are the best for absolute beginners. Re-watch things and try to repeat them out loud. It's called shadowing and is your future best friend.

If you want to learn how to speak, you first need to how to write. If you can't write sentences without looking at google translate (or reverso) you won't be able to make up sentences in your head. If you want to learn how to write, your first need to learn how to read. You need to start in this order but also don't be perfectionist. Do it even if you do it wrong. They will be fixed eventually and won't stick. Record yourself speaking even if the text you are reading is 90% google translated. Why? Beacuse speaking will enhance your vocabulary in a way no other thing can and that's the core of reading. So this isn't a linear thing. It's actually a circle!

Step Two! Ok, Sadie, i got my notebooks and read through all the warnings where do i start? *First page: [] means written is target langauge

[x notebook] x= your target langauge

Add something cute and make you feel happy to open up the notebook. It can a drawing, a picture, anything. First page is your entrance to your new home. Make it welcoming.

*[My name is X. I am Y years old. I live in Z.] *Greetings. Main articles if there are any. Yes, no, please, thank you. *What is your name, what do you do for living, how are you, where are you from, how old are you, how many langauges do you speak, numbers from 0-100. If there are multiple way of saying these things and probably there are, just write one. You will eventually learn others. Baby steps. *write a basic ass text of two people having a conversation asking and answering these questions.

*the alphabet and how to pronounce the letters. basic letter combinations that change into a different sound. a youtube video about this 100% exists.

*personal pronouns and if there is a "am/is/are" verb the conjugation of it. (in spanish there is two unfortunately) *artciles and basic noun endings. a couple exemples of nouns in x form but takes y article. *first 5 most common verbs. learn the conjugation, try writing basic ass sentences. (e.g. to come, go, have, speak)

*three more verbs (e.g. to eat, can, to want)

*take some time to fully comprehend. check your curriculum list to look and see if you want to add anything. e.g.for spanish that can be ser vs estar, for spanish is can be "how to ask questions in french" becaue it's way harder compared to other langauges.

*take some break from grammar and learn some vocab maybe. it can be colors, or feelings. (i am sad, i am hungry etc.)

*start studying most common verbs. usually a form of categorization exists. usually it's verb ending. (unless it's a language like turkish where every verb either ends with -mek or -mak lol.) Start with 10- 15 most common verbs. You will also be learning some vocabulary by default. (try to stick to regular verbs if you can, if not that's fine) (Do not learn any verbs you won't be able to use immediately.)

*Learn basic adjectives and how they work so you can form more detailed sentences.

*After comprehending how to form basic positive negative sentences and some verbs, congratulate yourself, because you deserve it! *Learn how tell time. "What time is it? It's x'o clock."

*learn clothing and how to simply describe physical look e.g. hair color, eye color, beard, glasses...

*learn the verbs of daily routine. be able to write a generic ass "i wake up, i do breakfast, i eat lunch at school, i sleep" sort of text.

*demonstratives. this that. these. those. you can add some vocabulary you like. this is a cat. this is a tree. you can add placement adjectives now or later. (the cat is under the sofa. the bird is on the table etc.)

*Now you know a lot of things! Take some time and focus a bit more on the vocab, let your brain process things, do some passive immersion. avoid a burnout at all costs. *learn how to say "there is" (if you want more vocab transportation and city centre themes can be included.) *learn how to talk about your hobbies. This is the generic A1 curriuculum. You are able to understand basic things, you have a generic comprehension. That's all it takes to be considered A1. If you want to pass it though, what you need is a good grammar source. For French and Spanish Kwiziq was very useful. I couldn't find a good online grammar resource for Italian yet. (please ask more experienced langblrs for recs.) Slowly learn more vocab (since A1 is more vocab based. If you hate Anki and Quizlet stuff check Linguno. Actually check Linguno anyway it's a banger and i'm gonna die on that hill.)

If you don't have have native friend to ask questiones and you don't have any ethical concerns ChatGPT can be useful. I'm using it for French for months. Why are we using this particle here, why this and not that, can you give me some example sentences.... you can play guess the animal, ask for writing prompts and then make ChatGpt find and explain your mistakes to you. It's very handy.

*Don't be scared to share about your journey on Tumblr and most importantly ENJOY!

#language study #language learning #study guide #langblr #beginner #how to

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insertdisc5 · 1 year

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The tumblr q&a is over, but I was curious! I love all the different phrases the characters in isat/sasasa:p use--If it's something you can say, where did inspiration for "gems alive" and other phrases come from?

THANK YOU FOR ASKING BECAUSE I GET TO TALK ABOUT WORLDBUILDING AND SWEAR WORDS AND BRANDON SANDERSON

long post ahead

ok so when I was figuring out the world, I found this lecture on worldbuilding by Brandon Sanderson (go watch it, and also go read his books), and (im gonna paraphrase heavily here) one thing he mentioned is that, to make a memorable world, one thing you can do is pick a couple areas of culture, and go real deep with it. So like, pick fashion, and architecture, and interior design, and develop those a bunch, and bam! you convinced people you have a whole dang world, even though you only developed 3 areas of this world. hollow iceberg everyone thinks is a real iceberg.

he also mentioned the idea of like... getting weird with it? and develop based on a weird detail? for example, in his book The Stormlight Archives, one detail is that women have to hide their left hand at all times. ok, so what does that mean, whats taboo about a left hand? is the left hand shameful, or lewd somehow, the same way ankles were for us? what about fashion, what does women's fashion look like? and how do you live your every day life, knowing you can't show this hand, can you carry things the same way? etc

SO, for me, one of the Big Worldbuilding pillars i picked was, uh, swear words lol. or language and common expressions, more generally. i went on a whole journey where i was like... ok swear words in a LOT of languages (including french and english, both languages i speak fluently) are either sexual, or about gross bodily discharges. you know what words i mean!!!!!

and, well, i also didnt want the game to be full of those words, mostly because i think its a tightrope to use those words without seeming cringe, and also because i have a Core Memory of showing a comic to a colleague and she said "well i wouldve liked to show it to my kids, but you said fuck 12 times in there" and i didnt show my face to her for a week. family friendly family friendly family friendly

so what swear words should my characters use, that arent the same ones we use? and could those swear words actually tell us something about the world they live in? could i actually use those swear words... to show the characters come from different cultures???

and what COULD swear words be like, if theyre not about sex or body stuff? well irl they're usually about religions or belief. "oh god", "goddamnit", etc. as a sidenote, stuff like "oh my god" or "geez" arent used, because jesus christ is not canon to the ISAT universe. alright

i decided very early on i wouldnt have those in the game either, but i COULD have them be about the religions specific to this world. and for insults, i could have them be about stuff those beliefs would see as lesser.

anyway instead of talking about "gems alive" lets talk about "crab"

isabeau+mirabelle+bonnie use "crab" as a swear word because they follow a religion all around change, bettering yourself, evolving, and, the crab meme,

for those who dont get the joke, its about carcinisation, and about how a bunch of non-crab-like forms somehow evolved to a crab-like form. which would be horrible, for a religion all based around change!!! you mean we change and evolve, but theres a chance we might all become crabs??? CRAB!!!!!!!

anyway having "crab" kinda reads as 1. swear word 2. thats funny and weird (sets the tone) 3. tells you they know what crabs are (world not that different from ours, AND means they live close-ish to the coast, aka not land locked) and 4. crabs are somehow hated/feared, even if as the player you dont get why, it shows this country has its own culture (even if you dont get the crabs joke, which uuuh apparently doesnt work as well in countries that dont have this specific meme. WHATEVER!!!!)

(a few people came to me saying "heh, i get it, because crab and crap are very similar words" and um actually i did not think about that. crab is just a funny word on its own, and also i am a comedy genius without even trying)

anyway tldr: swear words as a worldbuilding tool. soon in theaters

#in stars and time #start again start again start again #'adrienne isabeau says 'oh geez' 1 time in the prologue'#quite honestly this is a mistake and im retconning it. he said 'oh change' instead. will fix whenever i get around to making a new build #reference #also yeah canonically bonnie swears all the time #everyone has just given up and lets them curse like a sailor. bonnie has won #i added a cut but actually no you WILL read this whole post #long post

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khristie16 · 10 months

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Table number six p.1/...

pairing: charles leclerc x reader summary: you decided to disappear from your hometown with your bestfriend, finding the anchor in Monaco. With your talent to be in the right place at the right time you got yourself to some fine situation Warnings: none beside google translated French Word count: 3.3K

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Charles, we cannot do this! as you looked around if someone could see you. Why. Because you're in a relationship! I'm not anymore -

It all started under normal circumstances. You recently moved out of your hometown. Actually a whole country. You couldn't proceed further with that was happening here. It was your family. They were draining the life out of you. You were naturally a happy spirit, always smiling widely and genuinely, because you were actually enjoying life. Always remembering to live in the present moment till it became natural to you. You knew this about you, you've always been like this but lately you were more of trying instead of being to be the same YN as you were few years ago. The older you got, the harder it was to stay the same. And it was scary to you to be changing to a different person right in front of your own eyes since you didn't want to become someone you didn't want to be.

The whole problem was your family. They were suffocating you with just their presence. Each morning you got up, went for a breakfast and all of them were stressing about literally anything. You hardly could breathe in their presence. Like they were exposing their hollow parts of their soul onto you. And unfortunately, being in the same presence, you were inhaling it all. That's when you started changing. You still persisted and resisted such state, but it was too much to bare. In the beginning the only getaway for escape were books. You somewhat found peace in psychology and applying it onto your daily struggles and your whole family issues to find some sort of agreement and compassion. It helped you a little to survive on daily basis. But even this was not enough. -

Soo you have a big dream in your life? Oh yes. I do. What is it? It is a secret -

One time at a party, you met this guy. He was actually more interested in talking to you rather than getting into your panties. He was easy going as you and after short amount of time you got more into a deep talk. You've talked about life and he said something you remember till this day. And you know for sure you will keep it in your heart till the day you die: Fear is learnt. It is not given. Fear is here to put us back and never fulfill our dreams. Change your habits and fear will have no place in your life anymore. From that time you dwelled on that. And lived by this rule. At least you tried especially in the beginning.

And this was the reason why you got the courage to move out. You got the courage, decided one time sitting on the bench and watching others, thinking about their lives and how you are now stuck in a place, where your soul doesn't want to be. And certainly you knew that only the fear is holding you back to actually do something about your terrific situation. As you decided about your future, you from that point were stubborn about that. And very soon your best friend knew about this idea since you told her. I want to get away. And never come back! I don't care about the serious stuff I should plan ahead. I don't care. I just know I need to get out.

Your friend was not in the best place either, the job was mentally draining her and the fact that she has a great potential but cannot pursue it, because of the place we are living, was the reason why she wanted to go with you. She told you she wouldn't have been able to do this if it were just for her alone. But with you she has all the strength in her.

Of course it is needed to say, you both came from quite rich families. You got it easier than most of the people who wanted to pursue the same idea. Still, disappearing and never wanting to see your family again- this is something you don't tell your family. You just wanna escape. Without goodbye, without words. Thank God you both were smart enough to have always put aside enough money these past few years. So now you have just enough money to go anywhere without the need to worry about them. -

We both agreed we go for it no matter what. And I know what I wanna do. But what about you? I don't know yet. I just like to read books, and contemplate on things. Then try to do exactly that. -

You always knew you want to study further in the sphere of psychology. Either way just by yourself or officially. That is why you applied to university in Monaco. And why Monaco? Better question is why NOT Monaco. The perfect place. You have everything there. The sun, the sea, the fancy places, nature, great food and awesome things to do there. Even the language wasn't the problem. You got a very good level of Italian language. On top of that your friend was visiting a French institute back in your hometown and promised you she will teach you enough French to understand others in Monaco. Which is exactly what happened. You had it planned. One day, one night, you packed the little of yours, the sentimental things you wanted to keep, to save from old life and your family, and got away. -

I've never been more grateful that I put aside the money. Hahaha yes! It is soo exciting. It feels like we are gonna save the world! I feel unstoppable. No fear. -

Few months have passed in Monaco. You found a nice place to live with your friend. Beautiful view, quiet neighborhood. You both accommodated quickly and most of the time the two of you spent living in your present moment here without the help of your cellphones. You both wanted to be aware the most what the new life you got for yourselves got for you. And thanks to that you were put in situation where you could only use your knowledge and your own memory, no translator whatsoever and your friend wasn't helping you either. You knew already enough to survive here. For the other part, you got accepted to university thanks to all of your gained knowledge from all of those years where you were hiding from your family's presence. Your friend Mary found a nice job where she could refine her potential. She now worked at embassy for translating French to Korean. Your friend was wild with languages.

And because you were the sun, the high spirit, you found friends very easily. You laughed easily and were funny by nature so you always attracted great people and especially those that wanted to show you how much they appreciate you. And they always wanted to show you the world, no matter If you knew this person for five minutes or a few days. You even got the opportunity to meet some great people in Monaco which you didn't know by then. -

Where are you from? Ah, just a small town in a small country. Well that is enough interesting for me to ask more -

You met your friend at a normal average cafeteria in Monaco. You were sitting there by yourself, reading your books to uni and drinking espresso macchiato when this stranger approached you complimenting you. You offered him a big smile and that is when you got him into his seat right in front of you. It is always your smile that sweep others off their feet. You talked a little and you found out his mum is working here and he is making a visit often. But most of the time he is finding himself in a different parts of Monaco since he has a very fancy and famous restaurant Le Louis XV. (No way!) You gasped at that information. You knew this place is THE place. Secretly by nights you were dreaming to visit this place, even if just for once. You wanted it so badly you got even obsessed with their official website, wolfing each information about their place, their food, their wine, their policies. Smiling so much it hurt you, you told him how beautiful this place is and how endeared you are by meeting someone like him who actually owns this place!

We are actually looking for some new waitress. You look very pretty, you look very kind and I'm sure you are very smart as well. We could hire someone just like you just like that. I like you enough already. I am sure you would do a great job.

Your mouth fell wide open and you immediately covered it with your hand. Still your eyes visible in shock. Your friend sitting in front of you chuckled.

I am so sorry! That is so awesome! But I don't even know your name! You laughed out so loud. It was silly to talk so much about each other and even receive such a compliment without knowing each other's name. Anyway you promised him that you will think it through and the two of you exchanged numbers. -

Oh cmon Mary! Let's go to this place! I need to see how it looks inside. Like really really see it on my own eyes. Plus! the guy already knows me. He will sure remember me. You mean the guy you don't know the name of? Haha very funny. His name is Jean. Well I'm afraid I cannot go. I still need to work on this script. It is super important. Quite urgent. Alright. I get it. You smiled. You were very happy for your friend that she is finally doing what she was waiting for so long. I will go by myself then. You smiled and prepared yourself. You sure know better to come there dressed up more fancy than on normal occasions. -

As your taxi got to the destination, you carefully stepped out and took a big inhale. Somehow the whole atmosphere was different around here. It smelled different. More alive you thought to yourself. Even the doors looked breath taking. But just from observing the place, basically just standing there, you had some sort of a feeling something will happen. Call it an intuition. With such state, your fear started creeping around the corners in your mind. You felt your heart beating fast, and your hands started to get sweaty. Taking a few steps forward, you saw the personnel were quite wild inside. (Weird). It didn't look so put together as you thought it would. Your fear was telling you you don't want to get yourself in trouble. But you remembered your party hero. You put all of those fearful thoughts to hell and stepped on the stairs. -

Maman, nous sommes restés assez déjà en attendant. Ne devrions-nous pas aller ailleurs ? Mom, we've been waiting enough already. Shouldn't we go somewhere else? Non, j'aime le plus cet endroit. On va attendre un peu. No, I like this place the most. We'll wait a bit. -

It was just around lunch. Around 3PM. Inside it looked…envoûtant.

Just in time! Ah! Bonjour Jean. Ca va? YN no time for talking. I need you asap. What? Your face don't lie. You looked shocked and scared. I need you to start working. (Whaaaaat???) But I didn't come here for work! I just arrived! YN - he held you by your shoulders - J'ai besoin de toi. But No But, I need you. You were looking into his eyes and they told you he was deadly serious. Our staff today is short, many people got sick! C'est foutu ici, regarde It's fucked up here, look You finally gathered some words to talk back. That is not possible! I don't even know where is the kitchen, nor the utensils and I don't even know all of the ingredients in what you are serving! And what about the wine???? You will handle it. Jean! Allez. The table number six. You just looked down, and nodded. Qui.

Jean led you to a staff room to change yourself. You changed yourself very quickly. You actually didn't have time for anything else. Not even thinking. But just one second to take a look at yourself in the mirror is what you needed. Looking in the mirror, you said Either way it is gonna be a big fuck up or a great experience. But I'm not backing up. Remember to just smile, be funny, the rest will hopefully be taken care of. Somehow.

You breathed a big exhale and got yourself out of the restroom. -

Aujourd'hui, ils manquent de personnel. Jean me l'a dit. Today they are understaffed. Jean told me. Maman, on aime bien ici mais on ne peut pas rester ici encore une demi-heure à. Mom, we like it here but we can't stay here for another half an hour.

That is when you appeared fast as a lighting. You smiled big. Making eye contact with everyone. Not having the mental capacity yet to actually remember all of their faces. They were like six of them. Three women and the rest were men. One of the women were in her older years. You made a note to focus on her the most. At least that is what etiquette taught you. Bon jour. Préférez-vous le français ou l'italien. Smiling at the old lady. I think she is the mom of the boys. They look alike. Le français c'est bien. She smiled at you as well. Actually she was waaay too smiley in your opinion. But it was nice to meet someone sweet. You asked what they would like to drink and thankfully they didn't have any tricky questions for you. You somewhat made it. Writing the orders fast and still maintaining eye contact with the diners. You were still smiling genuinely and making sure you catch each word. It was hard at first, but thanks to lessons from your friend Mary, you could survive in understanding. You just had a little delay comprehending sometimes. You thanked them and apologized for the time it took. Leaving their table shyly.

You followed other waitress to kitchen so you find out finally where it is situated. Thanks to your deduction skills you knew where to put the orders and prepare some of it by yourself actually. Not the food obviously. Speaking about food…

YN, this food to table four.

You didn't even have a chance to react as you turned around to Jean, because other waitress bumped into you and put the plates on your hands. You thought you will die at the exact moment. But couldn't do such. You couldn't even die at this moment. There was no time for that! (Merde!)

You were afraid it will fall on the ground. In your eyes was visible there was a little hesitation as you were scared, but gladly you still had a smile laid out on your face. As you were passing other tables in the line you had to avoid the other waitress so you put your arms up, YES arms up with the FOOD and spun around laughing big because you could either cry or laugh. You wanted both but not acceptable. You made the choice. You were sweating and cursing in your mind. -

Charles, regarde ! Elle est tellement belle. Regarde la grâce avec laquelle elle marche. Si féminin. Charlie, look! She is so beautiful. Look at the grace with which she walks. So feminine. Maman! J'ai une copine juste à côté de moi! Mom! I have a girlfriend right next to me! C'est pourquoi je chuchote. That's why I whisper. -

You did it. The food is on the table. And you somehow was being able to manage to pronounce the name of the servings. Then you found out these are actually foreigners speaking English so you were glad to speak at least a little bit of your mother language. You joked a little with them and felt very grateful at that moment. But at the back of your mind you knew you have to go back to the table number six. Enjoy your meal guys!

As you were going back, you saw the old lady smiling big at you so you did as well. Tout va bien maintenant? Oui merci. Vous avez choisi? Are you ready to order? You were still looking at her. It was what you think you should do. You just wanted to do good with this job, be kind, be well behaved. It looked like it is appreciated at least by the old lady. Oui, nous sommes prêts. You were patiently waiting for orders, starting with the old lady by being obvious smiling at her and waiting for her to speak. Then you continued with the other two women and lastly guys. You were not that careful with them, because you could hardly tell who is the oldest one. Merci. S'il vous plaît, n'hésitez pas à m'appeler si vous avez besoin de quoi que ce soit. Thank you. Please don't hesitate to call me if you need anything. -

Avez-vous remarqué à quel point elle se comporte bien? Have you noticed how well she behaves? Oui - Lorenzo agreed with his girlfriend - Oui! elle est si gentille. Yes! she is so nice. Eh bien, dans ce restaurant, il ne devrait y avoir que des gens qui se comportent bien. Well, in this restaurant, there should only be well-behaved people. Charles wasn't such a big fan of yours it appears. Certainly not after his own mother told him to check you out - while he was sitting there with his girlfriend by his side. He didn't know that in a no time you will be lying on him, and he will not like it. But not from such an obvious reason as it may look like. -

The next half an hour was good. You were little disoriented sometimes, you had to ask twice, but everything was fine when it came to diners. You brought plates with the food to the table number six and left them immediately. You had other tables to serve. One thing that haven't left you was your smile though. You were smiling all the time, you didn't even know you did. After some time, the sun was already settling down and the table number six was finished with their meals. Avez-vous apprécié votre nourriture? Did you enjoy your food? Oui beaucoup. Ta présence aussi. Your presence too. Well, that was a lot to say. You got a fright to be honest. You were still smiling but with a little shock in your eyes. You laughed it off. Merci. As you were looking around the table, checking once again if they are finished, need a refill perhaps, you asked Veux-vous un dessert?

They thought about it a little bit. You stopped looking around around the table at this one particular man. He was definitely her son. And the girl next to him definitely his girlfriend. As you were making the dots, you caught the young man looking at you. When you connected with his eyes, you smiled a little. But he immediately took his look away. It made you sad a little. (Definitely not a man worth my time. He cannot even reciprocate when a woman smiles at him!) You looked away from him, catching the eye of the old lady. Nous voudrions en fait un dessert. Parfait! you replied and focused once again. Leaving them once again with their orders. -

Charles, sois plus gentil, s'il te plaît. Charles, please be nicer. Je suis gentil. Non tu ne l'es pas. Maman a raison. Vous trompez un peu depuis le début quand la serveuse est venue. Mom is right. You are a bit off from the beginning when the waitress came. Lorenzo agreed with his mom. Arthur continued. En fait je ne l'ai jamais vue avant. Je pense qu'elle est nouvelle. In fact, I've never seen her before. I think she is new. Je le pense aussi. I think so too. -

#charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc imagine

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queenmorgawse · 1 year

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interested? check out gr4dalis.carrd.co to find out how to read this webtoon, even if you don’t speak one word of french.

TRANSCRIPT OF THE SLIDES UNDER THE CUT.

SLIDE 1 : why you should read gradalis (like rn immediately seriously it's so good) (all art is official art)

SLIDE 2 : girl wtf IS a gradalis - so glad you asked! - gradalis is a french webtoon by kochei, currently releasing on webtoon france! - "but it's in french?" worry not. (this is a surprise tool that will help us later) - QUEEN ARTHURIAN LEGEND RETELLING! LOOK AT THEM! - do i even need more arguments. ok - coming of age with a sprinkle of romance and mild horror, interpersonal drama galore, side characters you WILL cry over - complaining u like fantasy settings but they're too str8 and whyte? this is for u

SLIDE 3 : official summary by yours truly tho

When a fateful encounter whisks young Percival away from the lands he calls home, he has no idea what destiny has in store for him. As a new squire in the service of the knights of the Round Table, he's presented with an exceptional quest : that of the search for the Holy Grail. With magic, conflicts and new companions, Percival's story will see some rise to the occasion, while others fall to their doom.

SLIDE 4 : #1 : the story is a banger, objectively - my boy percy may be the mc but it's not all about him!! - friendship! romance! action! magic! you've got it all - compelling arc after compelling arc. every time you think you're going to breathe you are NOT - complicated family dynamics? we got u. wholesome ones? done. interesting younger AND older cast? ofc - everyone is so married, so divorced or both at once it's kind of wild - u want to cry? this is for u also - the jokes will cheer u up tho

SLIDE 5 : #2 beautiful art style AND interesting characters - started naming all my faves then realized it was everyone - each with their own fleshed out personalities and motivations wow!! - seriously the cast is so diverse. black and hijabi knights!! normalized non-cis and non-straight characters!! we've all been fed - showcasing other charas aside from the main lads here bc they deserve it - everyone looks so gorgeous. crying

SLIDE 6 : #3 by the gays for the gays ( pictures of dinadan, gawain and aglovale )

SLIDE 7 : in conclusion : please read this webtoon deserves more attention and on god i will not shut up about it

#gradalis #webtoon #king arthur #percival #mordred #webcomic

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petermorwood · 9 months

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Mushrooms in Cream Sauce...

...or Pilze in Sahnesoße.

This is for @killerblackberrypie, who went looking for the version on our "European Cusines" site and found the site gone.

@dduane had taken it down for maintenance, a new theme and to take some new photos, but while the site was down it web-provider went belly-up. These things happen.

"European Cuisines" Will Return - just not quite yet.

Our recipe was, ironically, one of the recipes slated for new pics, so while this text is from the site's offline backup (with a couple of tweaks from me, because why not?) photos are sourced from the web.

There are many, many other recipes online; they're mostly in German, but Google Translate handles Rezeptedeutch well enough. I've linked to a couple, which is only fair since I'm using their pix.

You'll also see the French word "champignons" in German recipes as often as German "Pilze"; I don't know whether this indicates a French origin for the recipe, or refers to a specific mushroom, or makes the dish sound more classy.

Here's one: Champignons in Sahnesauce mit Spätzle.

And here's ours...

*****

Pilze in Sahnesoße from European Cuisines.

Contrary to popular belief, Germany is not a vegetable-free zone.

In fact, unless you find yourself buried in some tiny backwater in the Black Forest or someplace similar, Germany is much kinder to both vegetable-lover and vegetarian than a lot of other places. It will be rare to find a menu that doesn't have at least a few vegetarian or at least mostly-vegetable options on it, often far more creative than you might expect.

But leaving aside for the moment the issue of vegetarianism per se, Germans really do like more vegetables than potatoes and cabbage, especially seasonal ones in their prime. Asparagus season, for instance, has its own name: Spargelzeit - "asparagus time".

And mushrooms (all right, not as true veggies, but at least as fungi) turn up as stars in many entreés, especially in dishes meant to be served in the autumn, "Pilzsaison", mushroom season, when the good little creatures are coming up all over in the woods and the supermarkets.

This recipe calls for the mushrooms to be sautéed with onions in bacon fat (the bacon is added later). The pan is then deglazed with white wine, and various spices are added, one of them being paprika, which instantly suggests that this recipe probably sneaked over the border from Austro-Hungary, possibly via the Czech Republic.

Finally the cream and bacon go in.

The result is substantial, surprisingly elegant, and yummy.

This is definitely a recipe for a high-end Hobbit menu: an entrée for anyone who doesn't want their mushrooms upstaged by overly large amounts of meat.

The bacon-fat and bacon CAN be left out completely, making the dish meat-free. Use more butter along with more mushrooms and a red pepper diced small, and add 1/4 teaspoon smoked paprika.

*****

INGREDIENTS

NB, we work in metric so that's "correct"; Imperial is converted and "approximate", though it won't make much difference. Just don't combine them or your mushrooms might crash into Mars...

1 kg / 2 lb fresh mushrooms, domesticated or a mixture of wild types to taste

125g / 1/4 pound bacon, diced

60gr 1/4 cup butter or margarine

2 large onions, diced

1/2 teaspoon salt

1/4 teaspoon pepper

1/2 teaspoon paprika

60ml / 1/4 cup (or more if needed to deglaze) white wine, preferably a medium or medium-dry one

A pinch of nutmeg

A pinch of mace

250ml / 1 cup heavy cream

The juice of half a medium-sized lemon, strained

2 sprigs of fresh parsley

METHOD

Clean the mushrooms with a soft brush or dry cloth. (Never wash mushrooms.) If they're big, cut them in half.

Fry the bacon in a wok or large pan until lightly browned. Remove the bacon from the pan and set it aside.

Add the butter to the pan drippings. Add the onions; sauté until lightly browned.

Add the mushrooms; cook them until they're tender, stirring often.

When they're tender, raise the heat slightly and stir in the wine, salt, pepper, paprika, nutmeg, and mace. Cover the pan and cook over low heat for 15 minutes.

Remove from the heat. Add the cooked bacon, cream and lemon juice. Reheat until just warm. Do NOT let this mixture boil!!!

Garnish with parsley and serve with noodles, dumplings, mashed potatoes, whole potatoes... And some crusty bread to chase the last of the sauce.

*****

Our original photo used Spätzle, as in the first pic. Ribbon tagliatelle works just fine as well, while here is Saure Pilz-Sahnesoße served alongside Bohemian Dumplings, a long bread dumpling boiled in water or stock then cut into thick slices.

From the same site, here's a simple potato treatment, Pilz-Sahnesoße mit Kartoffeln:

As far as we've been able to make out, the main difference between mushrooms in cream sauce as a main dish, and creamy mushroom sauce for use with something else, is the proportion of mushrooms to everything else, and often the size of pieces into which they're cut. Really small bits are one more ingredient, large generous chunks are much more front and centre.

Ours is definitely a main course, and though we haven't made it for a while, the memory of that last time still makes my Mind Palate go...

Soon. Soon...

#food and drink #mushrooms in cream sauce #german cuisine #pilze in sahnesosse

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grymoria · 7 months

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I need to accept the fact that the reason why nowadays I only simp for Goku Black within the Dragon Ball series is because he's the closest thing to a Gothic based/inspired character within the series.

HEAR ME OUT, HEAR ME OUT AS TO WHY!

1. The way he constantly call non-gods mortals

Yes we know he calls non gods mortals because he hates them to the point that he wants all of them dead. But as someone who follows goths/ is friends with goths within the social medias, some goths see themselves as vampires. Vampires are immortal so some would refer to humans as mortals.

2. He finds killing mortals satisfying.

The way we see him attack/kill mortals is brutal but we know he enjoys doing it. One might describe this as a macabre. Thing is one thing about us goths is that we see the beauty within macabre things. (Hence why some of us is into Horror movies and Gothic literature.) And the definition of macabre is "disturbing and horrifying because of involvement with or depiction of death and injury." I'm pretty sure that we can all agree that commiting an omnicide is very macabre and we witness Goku Black enjoy doing such a thing. He clearly sees the beauty in it because to him it's justice.

3. He literally uses a scythe.

I'm pretty sure this one is obvious because the number one character that people think of when they hear or see the word scythe is the Grim Reaper. The Grim Reaper is a character that is loved within goths (even though Dracula is probably loved more) and as a god whose entire plan to end the lives of mortals it's no surprise that him having a scythe references the Grim Reaper.

4. He wears dark colored clothes.

If you pay attention to the typical type of outfits that goths wear 99% of the time we're wearing mostly black, which is the darkest of colors, so dark that it's not considered a color for real because of its absence of light. Goku Black wears black, he also wears gray, and white, and red which are also some colors that most goths wear. (Especially red since red is the color of blood.) And because of him wearing dark clothes it's the reason why he ended up with the name Goku Black.

5. His form that is similar to Super Saiyan Blue is Super Saiyan Rosé

It's quite obvious as to why he calls the form Rosé because his form is pink however the way you say pink in French is Rosé. But because of that form I've seen fans link him to the flower, the rose and roses are clearly loved a lot to the point that they're even a part of the gothic aesthetic, especially if they're dead. (Which makes sense for Goku Black judging how he is.)

I know that they're other gothic or gothic based characters within the Dragon Ball series Like for example, Lucifer from the movie Dragon Ball: Sleeping Princess in Devil's Castle (I don't know if he's a vampire or just a demon with vampiric tendencies.) But to me Goku Black is more gothic than he is. But it is debatable because Lucifer wanted the Earth to be full of darkness and ruled by monsters.

Either way this was just something I wanted to point out because I need to stop being so delusional about why I like Goku Black so much. The delusion in question is that he's took Goku's body and made it his (aka he's hot) and he's villainous in an elegant way.

#Goku Black #Black Goku #Gothic #Dragon Ball #Dragon Ball Z #DBZ #Dragon Ball Super #DBS #Zamasu

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seasidepierre · 1 year

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sunkissed face part 7 | charles leclerc

FORMULA ONE DRIVERS MASTERLIST

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5 - part 6 - part 7 - part 8

summary: There's something magical about joining Charles on a Grand Prix, especially in the South of France.

warnings: I'm awfully French and will defend the rights of French fans to have a French GP, therefore, I will try to make you fall in l.

words count: 7.5k

You found out that there was an universal rule for airports and train stations about five years ago: taxis were waiting for tourists like you. You moved to the front of the line, where a French guy was reading whatever on his smartphone, a cigarette on the other hand.

The sun was scorching as you stepped out of the airport in Marseille. The flight had been two hours long, barely long enough for you to keep your nerves in check, though you had to admit that you hadn’t been very successful at that. Your stomach was still swarming with a colony of bees and your hands were shaking like leaves when you finally set a foot in France. You had never been to Marseille, though you reckoned that the South of France had always been lovely every time you went there for holidays with Tom, but Marseille was a region that you hadn’t explored. You knew you didn’t have much time to visit, but you still wished you could fit in a bit of sightseeing at some point. You had managed to grab an afternoon off from work and Tom had kindly offered to pick you up from work to drive you to the Stansted airport, which, to be fair, had been a bit of a letdown. Not like the Marseille airport was any much better, truth be told.

You knew Charles wouldn’t be able to pick you up because he was deep in his racing Friday, full of free practices, media duties and other work in the garage. But you trusted the pass that he had mailed to you to open the door for you and you hoped you could make it to the track without too much hassle.

“Excuse me, parlez-vous anglais ?”

“It’s your lucky day,” He smiled.

“Do you take clients to go to the Paul Ricard track?”

“Pfew, that’s a long ride, Miss,” The driver exclaimed. “It’s gonna cost you a bunch, not gonna lie,” He grimaced. “Are you sure you want to take a taxi for that?”

“The quicker the better,” You nodded.

“Then hop on in,” He smiled.

He helped you load your weekend away bag in his boot and opened the backseat door for you so you could sit down. While he indicated the Paul Ricard track into his GPS, you checked your phone and allowed yourself to hop onto the airport wifi one last time to let Tom know you had landed safely. You had told your dad that you were going to the South of France for the weekend, but as he had assumed you were just getting on a girly weekend adventure with a few friends, you hadn’t really been able to tell him the truth. You had no idea why telling your dad you were seeing Charles felt like admitting you were doing something wrong. Because nothing in seeing Charles felt wrong, if you were honest. It was so right, in every way, that it could feel wrong, though. Like a too-good-to-be-true experience. Like something you didn’t completely deserve. But your instincts were usually good and you knew waiting to tell your dad was the right solution. You would tell him, at some point. You would tell your mother, as well. But for now, you had made Tom swear on secrecy and as you were clicking your seatbelt on, you smiled at the screen lighting up with a text from your best friend, telling you to have fun with your guy.

“So you’re going to the Grand Prix, I guess?” The taxi driver smiled in the rearview mirror.

“I am,” You smiled back.

“Where should I park? Visitors or teams?”

“Hmm, I guess teams?” You tentatively asked.

“Well, I hate to ask, but do you have the credentials that go with that? Because the gendarmes are going to stop us and ask for it at some point.”

“I think my pass is enough, let’s try and if it goes wrong, I’ll pay for the detour, don’t worry.”

Your monthly budget was crying in the back of your head, but you knew you were lucky to be able to go to a Grand Prix for free and to not have paid your flight tickets yourself. The least you could do was meet Charles halfway on the spending journey and pay an arm for the taxi. You made small talk with the driver for a bunch of the ride, not really letting him know that you were Charles’ guest. You did though confirm that he was your favorite driver, to which he only agreed, nodding and smiling.

“We have French drivers, don’t get me wrong, but there’s something about this guy, having lived right next to us, that feels right.”

Your heart glowed a little bit brighter, knowing he had such support, everywhere in the world, but especially close to his home. You talked about Ferrari’s struggles, about the heartbreak of Monaco, about what you predicted for this race and why you thought Red Bull could get it. You knew it would take some kind of miracle for Charles to win a race this year. Monaco was his big chance and it blew up right in his face. The car just didn’t work like he wanted it to and the team was struggling to find what they could do to make it work. Carlos Sainz was having just the same issues, so it’s not like it was a Charles problem, but more like a Ferrari problem. And it sucked, you knew it, but Charles was always positive and bright, trying to find the brighter side of it all. And most importantly, you were going to be able to see him again after a few weeks of late night facetimes and texts so numerous your thumbs were a bit sore.

The view outside the taxi was stunning, with a mix of hills and the sea that you could see from afar, at first. Then you started an ascension through a mountain-like road, bordered with pine trees and bathing in the golden light of the Sun. Your taxi had A/C but seeing you marvelling at the decor, the driver stopped the ventilation and opened your window, allowing you to take a big gulp of fresh air, smelling like trees and sunshine despite your mouth being behind your facemask still. The cicadas were blasting their lulling buzzing sound and you grinned at the scenery in front of you. You knew you weren’t going to be able to see much, so you took advantage of the journey to the track to make sure you had a couple of pictures to bring back home.

As planned by your driver, the police showed up on the road about two kilometres away from the track and stopped the car. You showed your pass to the police, to no avail. The road your taxi driver wanted to take was barred, with the exception of the cars that sported a certain sticker on the windshield and that were authorized to take it. Your driver apologized to you and promised to find the most effective way for you to get to the track, which actually meant dropping you on the visitors parking lot and having you walk for a solid thirty minutes under the scorching sun. Your bag was heavy on your shoulder but you knew Charles was not that far from you now, barely a couple of kilometres away, and the anticipation started growing back in your stomach, in rhythm with the cicadas and the cars you could hear racing already. The positive point of your hike was that you had had the intelligence of wearing sneakers and not open sandals, because judging by the amount of dust already accumulating on your feet, you would have looked like a cavewoman by the time you’d have made it to the garages.

The passes Charles gave you let you enter the general areas around the track after a quick check of your vaccinal pass and you smiled at the F1 panels and fans everywhere. You were finally back to a race and it felt like coming back to a magical place, even though you knew there was no one really magical on track.

You asked for help from a volunteer who accompanied you to the VIP entrance and made sure you were taken care of. You crossed the track twice, seeing the F1 cars roll past you until you caught a glimpse of Charles’ car zooming beneath your feet. You smiled on your own, the volunteer in front of you oblivious to your antics. Charles had no idea you were already on track. He was supposed to pick you up tonight from the airport, as you had planned first. You were lucky that the flight company let you change your flight without a hassle or asking you to pay for it, actually. For a very long time, seeing Charles back felt like a bit of a fever dream, but now, it was actually confirmed that he was here, close enough that you’d get to breathe in the rubber and gas scent in his hair, mixed with the sweat he undeniably would be wringing out of his fireproofs. You were brought back to Charles and Charles was brought back to you.

Another volunteer flashed the QR code on your pass and let you past the VIP entrance. You were forbidden to actually enter the pitlane, which was fair to you as they were driving now, but you were welcome to roam in the paddock as much as you’d like. You have no idea who to bother to get inside the Ferrari garage and you had no idea if you were even allowed to do so, even though your pass did state Scuderia Ferrari. So you walked around, smiled at the few familiar faces of journalists you’d been watching for years and that you never thought you’d cross paths with, ever. But here you were. Silly little old you. Standing in the paddock, with your weekend bag on your shoulder, trying to navigate this space you had no idea how it worked.

“Hey, are you lost?” A voice rang beside you.

“Hey, hmm, yeah, it appears so,” You grimaced.

“First day in the paddock on your own?” The girl smiled.

“Exactly,” You shrugged. “I thought I could do this but I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do or where I’m supposed to go.”

“Who are you with?” She inquired, raising a hand gently and asking you silently if she could turn your pass around.

You nodded and let her inspect your pass, looking exactly like the one she had around her neck. She whistled at the sight of your host team and nodded without saying anything else.

“I was going to grab some water and go back to the garage, I can walk you to theirs, if you want?”

“Are you sure I’m allowed to enter the garage?” You frowned.

“Absolutely. That pass states you’re allowed to and Ferrari’s garage is nice in the sense that the guest space is separate from the actual garage space. You won’t bother them, don’t worry. Come on, follow me.”

You had no idea who this girl was but her friendly behavior and simple clothing put you at ease immediately. She was clad in a pair of light skinny jeans and a baby blue linen shirt that was so oversized on her it should have looked ridiculous, but she had tucked it inside her jeans and had rolled the sleeves up to her elbows, making her look sophisticated but not too much. She looked like a normal girl, just like you.

“So who are you visiting? Boyfriend? Brother? Cousin?”

“I’m not really sure what we are, actually..?” You offered.

“I see.. A guy you started to see but you haven’t had the talk with, yet.”

“Exactly,” You laughed. “What about you?”

“Boyfriend,” She grinned, walking up to the Red Bull hospitality. “I’m gonna pop in real quick, grab a bottle of water. You want something?”

“Can I get anything?”

“Sure! They don’t really care, to be honest. Journalists come all the time to get coffees,” She shrugged.

“I guess I could use a bottle of water. I wasn’t expecting it to be this hot.”

“Gotcha,” She smiled.

She waltzed in with the ease and grace of someone who’d done that a lot in the past, or at least, way more than you did. You didn’t know if that was something you were actually witnessing or if you were just somewhat admirative of her, at this point. She was so nice to you, it immediately made you her fan or whatever. She came back with three bottles of cool water and a bunch of candy bags that she shared with you with a conspicuous grin.

“So this guy you’re visiting, is he a mechanic or a strategist?” She asked.

“He’s actually.. Driving?” You grimaced.

“Oh wow!” Her eyes bulged out. “You’re with Charles?!”

“I am,” You blushed, struggling with the cap of the bottle of water before she grabbed it and opened it for you. “Thank you for that.”

“It’s okay, I’ve had my fair share of weird bottles I couldn’t open either. Wow, I can’t believe Charles didn’t tell me he was bringing you.”

“You know Charles?”

“I do! I’ve known him since he was like ten or twelve,” She grinned. “I’m Pierre’s girlfriend,” She introduced herself. “Those two are besties, so we’re bound to spend time together,” She laughed. “For the sake of you being in on the joke, everybody calls me Queenie. Don’t ask, Pierre is weird sometimes.”

“Well, I’m Y/N,” You laughed.

“Nice to meet you and welcome to the circus,” She offered. “I’d shake your hand but if I’m caught doing that, they’ll throw me out. They’re a bit strict with the sanitary measures, which is normal but it’s getting a bit tiring, to be honest.”

Your new friend walked you to the Ferrari garage where she entered without a care in the world. She left you at the guest area and wished you a nice time, making sure to tell you that she’d grab your Instagram from Pierre so you could contact her if you needed anything. She made you promise to not hesitate if you were in need of a friend and you swore you’d ring her if troubles appeared. She left you there with your bottle water and candies, and off to the last thirty minutes of free practice you were.

At some point, Charles parked in the garage and the mechanics twinkled with the car a bit, but he didn’t get out and since you weren’t front row, you were quite sure he didn’t see you in his mirrors. He was focused on his car, on the feedback he was giving to the mechanics, on the different data displayed on the screens placed in front of him by a couple of engineers. When the twenty minute deadline appeared on the screens, the tyre blankets were lifted off and away your favorite guy zoomed, leaving you watching him through the screens instead of trying to catch a glimpse of him in his car. You observed him race with a glimmer in your eyes, wondering how the heck human beings could be wired to try and be as fast. You relished in the loud noises of the engines, of the yells of the crowd and the constant buzz of the garage. You smiled as Charles’ times lit up in green, then when he set up purple sectors at some point. You grinned behind your facemask when he slotted himself at the third position, even if it was just free practice and couldn’t mean much yet. But your heart glowed and you were so freaking happy for your guy and to be that close that you didn’t care that Hamilton and Alonso finally ended up above his times.

Charles was P5 and came back to the garage in an even busier team, with mechanics buzzing around like bees in a hive. The garage started to empty down and soon enough, only a handful of people were left in the guest area, leaving you closer to him than you’ve been before. You studied him getting up from the car and wiggling himself out of it, before he unfastened the little clasp of his helmet and slid it off his head, ripping his balaclava from his head soon after. He went straight to the workbench and slid his helmet on the shelf with his name on it, snapping his gloves off and putting them away in the helmet.

And then his eyes finally cleared of the racing fog they were basking in, and he saw you, standing in the guest area, waiting for him to be done.

The initial shock rapidly turned into happiness and a giant grin split his face in two, showing you the beautiful smile you loved so much. He didn’t say a word but lightly jogged around the desk separating you from the rest of the garage and up in his arms you were, before you could even comprehend it. Your feet left the ground as he squished you against his chest. For the first time in your life, you heard a smile. It was audible in his breath, in his heartbeat, in his voice when he finally talked to you. You didn’t have to see it to know it was there. You loved that.

“Hi,” You whispered.

“Hi,” He answered just as quietly. “What are you doing here? I thought I was supposed to pick you up from Marseille?”

“I managed to get my afternoon off and change my flight,” You smiled back in his neck. “Surprise?”

“The best one,” He laughed.

As soon as your feet touched the ground, his lips were on your forehead, making you hum with delight. How you missed that contact of his mouth on your skin.

“I still have work to do, I can’t get out before at least 8 pm,” He grimaced. “People are gonna leave soon, but you’re welcome to sit in the garage with us or to go to my room,” He suggested.

“I’d like to stay with you, if that’s okay,” You blushed. “I did take a plane to see you, you know..”

“I know and I’m thrilled you’re here. I missed you,” He confirmed, throwing his arms around your shoulders and bringing you back closer to his chest. “It’s not as nice without you.”

“I’ll go to your room when you’ll go to the brief, is that okay?”

“The brief, huh?” He teased. “Someone studied my schedule?”

“You do send a lot of texts when you’re in those,” You teased back.

“Guilty as charged,” He grinned.

“Where’s your facemask, dummy? Don’t want you to get in trouble.”

“See, that’s why I missed you. You keep me in check.”

You laughed at him and he took your hand to make you walk around the desk that kept the guests away from the mechanics. He grabbed his facemask from his trainer, Andrea, who he introduced you to quickly after. Andrea was a nice guy, you’d learn, who liked to tease Charles endlessly and who didn’t dare do the same to you yet. Though he was easy to joke with, you’d find out that until he was entirely sure he wouldn’t be hurtful without wanting to, he’d refrain from actually teasing you too. Charles sat you on a stool next to the strategists. He told you not to touch any paper, otherwise you’d both be yelled at, but that you were free roam around the garage if you wanted to. You stuck to the stool, though, because you were terrified you’d actually impede on a mechanic’s job or you’d break something in a careless incident. You sat there, with your little bag on your lap, your suitcase having been brought to Charles’ driver room by the same Ferrari assistant that brought you back to the garage in Monaco and who brightened up when you thanked him by his name, as if he wasn’t really believing you actually remembered him. You watched Charles work, fascinated by the amount of information he was able to digest, analyze and process, giving back his own notes. At some point, Charles slipped a notebook in your hands and a pen and you thought he wanted you to have something to do, but you realized, somewhat in horror, that he meant for you to write some notes of what you heard and what he said.

“Can you write that, please?” Charles would ask.

And you looked at him with a distraught glaze, not even understanding a word of what just had been discussed.

“Sure. How do you write it, actually?”

“I have to go to the briefing now, Babe,” Charles whispered in your neck as you were almost dozing off on your stool. “You should go back to my room, lie on the couch, get some rest while you can. This weekend is gonna be tiring and you have work on Monday,” He grimaced.

And the mechanics would snicker, one would come to your help and spell it out, but no one even questioned the fact that you were in charge of taking the notes, like it was completely normal, like you were meant to do it.

Things quieted down after an hour and a half. The last settings to the cars were being made and Charles sat down next to you to discuss with the race strategists and engineers. He grabbed the notebook back, scribbled a few things down, slid it back to you and somewhat forgot that you were there. It’s not that he wasn’t happy that you were sat next to him, because if you trusted the hand on your thigh and the thumb running circles on your skinny jeans, you knew he acknowledged your presence and appreciated it. But Charles was deeply in his zone and you had to respect it. You had to respect that he had work to do and that you weren’t his priority right now, like he was yours. You realized that day that if a real relationship was to blossom between the two of you, then it would never be linear and equal. You would become a “girlfriend of” and you would have to make sacrifices. You would have to pick up the slate most of the time, because he wouldn’t have the time to do it himself. You would have to step up and be the one putting in the work when he was busy, when he couldn’t be the one to lift this relationship on his own.

And weirdly, that didn’t scare you one bit.

You were ready to do the hard work for Charles. You just hoped he was ready too.

“I can do this,” You mumbled sleepily.

“I know you can,” He giggled softly. “I just don’t want you to regret having been tired or even coming here. Go and have some rest, okay?”

“Okay,” You agreed.

“I’m sorry, I don’t usually sleep in here, I have nothing to take a nap,” He groaned.

Charles did walk you to his room, this offensively little room, this ridiculously small room. As soon as the door was closed, you got rid of your facemask, knowing nobody would be able to see you and that you wouldn’t endanger anyone. Charles’ subtle smile didn’t go unnoticed when he finally got to see your entire face and that made your heart soar a little bit.

You barely had enough space to fit three people in here but still, he made sure you were settled on the couch, that you had a blanket in the form of his oversized Ferrari jacket and that the knitted jumper he had come with that morning was rolled up just good enough to make a pillow.

“It’s perfect,” You tempered, kissing his cheek. “Go and have fun at your briefing.”

“I’d have way more fun here with you.”

“I know,” You smiled. “But you have work to do, so go on and be the boss.”

Charles kissed the tip of your nose and closed the door behind himself, letting you doze right back off until he finally would be back and you’d get him for an entire evening.

☀️

When your eyes slipped right back open, you were still draped with a too big-for-you Ferrari jacket that smelled like your favorite boy. The sun had set a while ago and the little room you were sleeping in was quiet, a stark contrast of the state it was about a few hours ago, when everything was noisy downstairs in the hospitality. You knew most of the people had left already and you knew Charles was soon to come back to you, if you trusted the text that lit up your phone’s screen, which had been sent about fifteen minutes prior to your awakening.

Right as you stretched underneath the jacket and brought it back to your face, the door slid open quietly and Charles’ silhouette appeared in the sill, a shadow shaped in the man you liked and your lips thinned into a smile.

“Hey there, sleeping beauty,” Charles whispered. “Ready to go back to the hotel?”

“Yes, please,” You yawned. “What time is it?”

“It’s almost half past nine, you slept for quite a bit.”

“At least I’ll have some energy for tomorrow,” You shrugged, the jacket sliding from your chest as you sat back up.

“I got a small surprise for you,” Charles grinned. “Come on, let’s get back to the hotel.”

The drive back to the hotel Ferrari had booked for the weekend was short but you got to see quite a bit of scenery, just as you did when you climbed the hills on your way to the track. Charles’ hands sneaked on your thigh and your fingers interlaced with his on your denim clad leg and suddenly, the rest of the world didn’t matter. You were driving in a gorgeous Ferrari, with your favourite guy behind the wheels, the warm breeze blowing your hair and with a view that left you breathless. Why would you care about anything else?

The hotel was small but packed with Ferrari personnel. Charles led you to his room and helped you unpack a little, grinning at the array of sundresses you’d picked for the weekend. He handed you the little white dress with a red floral pattern that was waiting for you and kindly asked if you’d wear it tonight, for the surprise he had planned. You laughed at his hopeful look and grabbed the piece of clothing, promising you’d do your best after a quick shower, to which he answered he would take the second round and slip in the bathroom right after you.

You almost offered for him to join but swallowed the invitation, not knowing how well it would be received. You didn’t know whether you were ready or not but you knew you trusted him and you trusted your mind to take you to the right place on this one. When the time would be right, you’d know.

When Charles came out of the bathroom, he was wearing a white button down shirt with the sleeves rolled on his forearms and a pair of jeans that hugged him right in the right places.

“Looking good,” You smiled, rising on your tiptoes to plant a kiss on his lips.

“Said the most gorgeous human I’ve ever seen,” He teased back. “I’m so glad you took that dress in your suitcase,” He hummed, his hands grabbing the material on your hips to bring you closer to him. “You’re pretty.”

You didn’t have time to smile at the childish compliment. You knew the fact that he said “pretty” came from his still tentative English at times, but you loved the idea that he sounded like a little boy in love.

Love.

The idea flirted in your mind for a couple of seconds.

Was whatever this was, it? Was it Love? You didn’t know much about it. You certainly had been infatuated before, you couldn’t lie that you had pined quite a lot over Harrison, though you couldn’t even fathom why, these days. You’d had a few boyfriends over the years, you’d had relationships, some more serious than others. Not that you collected men like stamps, but you knew your last relationships had not been as special as whatever this was.

There was a magic to this that you couldn’t quite place. There was this buzzing anticipation of his fingers meeting any part of your skin that they could find, there was this comfort of knowing that somebody on this earth was happy and excited to see you, that they counted the days before they could get back to you. There was this knowing feeling of belonging somewhere and to someone, in a different way than your family or friends.

There was something more that you couldn’t quite process yet and that you couldn’t live without anymore.

Charles was bringing something new to the table and you loved that.

“So, what are your plans, racer boy?” You grinned against his cheek.

“I’m taking you to dinner outside. Let’s enjoy the weather we have, for as long as we have it.”

“Is there rain forecasted?”

“Quite a bit for tomorrow. I’m not looking forward to that.”

“How wet do you get when it rains?”

“Honestly? The suits are okay and we’re quite compacted into the cars, so not a lot of water gets to us, but the amount that does? It freaking sucks.”

You grimaced, knowing how uncomfortable it must be to drive under the wet conditions for hours, in a damp racesuit. When you’d get caught in the rain, it was already annoying. So to sit down in your own puddle of sweat, rain and spray for the cars in front? Dreading.

Charles had planned this dinner quite well. The restaurant was the one of the hotel, he couldn’t quite justify going out on a racing weekend, but you loved the background of it all and couldn’t care less about it. He could have taken you out to a fast food chain restaurant and you still would have been happy about it. Andrea had studied the menu and he knew what to get. He also had found a way to ask for a table outside, near the pool and you loved that you were sitting in a secluded area that felt like it was a little secret. The night had come and the sun was hiding well below the horizon as you sat at the table, after Charles dragged your chair away from the table and helped you sit. A couple of candles had been lit and a few strings of light bulbs casted a golden glow on the terrace of the hotel, where only a few people were sitting. You smiled at him as he sat in front of you and he gave you the drinks menu, to which you stuck your tongue at him for.

He couldn’t drink during a racing weekend and you knew it.

The meal was simple enough that you didn’t feel like you were out of place but it was good enough to leave you in a food coma by the end of dessert. Charles had been delightful in terms of company and you were glad you’d hopped into the plane earlier than planned, so you could have enjoyed your time together a bit more. You two had talked about the race, about the area you were in and what there was to see but that you wouldn’t see in the end because you couldn’t, because there was no time. There had been touches on the top of the tablecloth and beneath it as well, when your sandal came to graze the leg of his jeans, which made him grin more than you thought could be possible. And when nothing seemed to be possible anymore, when you thought you had exhausted all the happenings of the night, Life reminded you to never expect anything.

You chose a rosé wine and showed him the line that you wanted, which he ordered in French, leaving you breathless and more in awe than you’ve ever been. And you’d seen him race before. But there was something nice about hearing him talk French and you loved that he seemed so much more confident in himself in his native tongue. He carried himself differently in French and that left you wondering if maybe you should pick up a few French words so he’d be able to relax on his days off and just speak whatever language came to mind.

Food for thoughts for another day. For now, you had a nice guy to spend the evening with and to appreciate.

“I thought I’d heard your disgusting laugh,” a voice boomed behind you, making you jump slightly in your chair.

“You’re the worst,” Charles grinned. “Pierre, this is Y/N. Y/N, let me introduce you properly to Pierre, the bane of my existence but also, my best friend.”

“Nice to meet you. I heard great things about you,” Pierre smiled.

“Nice to meet you too,” You grinned. “I can’t quite repay the compliment, the only thing I heard was that you’re pretty weird,” You laughed.

“Let me guess. My girlfriend tattled on me again?” He groaned.

“I’m afraid she did. Lovely girl, though!”

“That she is,” He smiled softly, a loving look adorning his features for a second.

“She’s waiting on me to go back to our own hotel, but we wanted to try the restaurant here.”

“Pierre and his girl have this habit of trying restaurants, even though she only eats pasta and french fries,” Charles explained.

“Don’t even start,” Pierre mumbled. “Leave her alone, she’s fine.”

“I never said she wasn’t, I’m just saying, if you’re testing restaurants, at least have different meals?”

“Hey hey hey, I didn’t say shit when you were all lovey dovey in my texts planning your romantic weekend here, did I?” Pierre teased. “Leave us be, you douchebag.”

“See? I told you. The bane of my existence,” Charles joked.

“I won’t take up more of your time, it was really nice to meet you. Please send me a DM on Instagram, I’d love to chat and get to know you better. Also, I’ve been told to retrieve your username so you could chat with my nutcase of a girlfriend,” He shrugged. “She kinda liked you.”

“I kinda liked her too,” You smiled. “I’ll do that before going to bed, promise. I could use a friendly face in the paddock.”

“I didn’t know you’d met her,” Charles smiled.

“She led me to the Ferrari garage and got me a water bottle,” You shrugged. “She was super nice, while I was just.. Super lost.”

“That’s the usual, don’t worry,” Pierre reassured you, squeezing your shoulder. “You’ll see, by the end of the weekend, it’ll feel better.”

“If you say so.”

“Sorry I can’t stay longer and get to properly introduce myself, I’ll slide in your DMs as soon as I get yours!”

“Your girlfriend will love that.”

“Is that a hint of jealousy I can see coloring your cheeks, Charlie?” Pierre laughed. “Come on. You know I’m taken already, I already told you, I see you as a friend, I’m sorry.”

“Get the fuck out of here,” Charles scoffed. “You’re bothering us.”

Pierre didn’t stay long after that, he had places to be, people to go back to. You laughed at him flipping his middle finger to his best friend and let Charles take a breath back. He looked tired, which you knew was an after effect of the hard day of work he had just put out. His eyes were glossy with fatigue, a lazy droop coming out, and you suddenly felt a bit guilty for keeping him up.

“Are you ready to go to bed, Charles?”

“Yes,” He breathed out, in a small voice.

That night, you slept with the window open, listening to the cicadas and the dull lull of the wind in the pine trees, wrapped in the arms of a guy you couldn’t imagine your days without, anymore.

☀️

Qualis didn’t go well and the weather had been a bit chaotic, to say the least. Charles struggled to slot himself on the seventh line of the grid, while Pierre took out the sixth. As promised, you did send a message to Pierre’s instagram, which got you a nice invitation to let him follow you back, followed quickly by his girlfriend’s. You had chatted a bit with the girl during the morning, while she was stuck in Alpha Tauri’s ground and you were at Ferrari’s, which had got you a string of shocked emojis when she found your best friend “is actually Spider-Man, oh my God”. You laughed at the usual reaction you got when people saw certain of your posts but she didn’t dwell too much on it, only commenting once on it.

“Pierre is gonna freak out when he sees that,” She had sent.

“Why?”

“Because he knows how much I love Peter Parker. The character, I mean. I’m also partial to Steve Rogers AND Chris Evans. I won’t even lie to you.”

You had laughed quite a lot at that, because you couldn’t deny the chokehold Chris Evans had on everyone, you included if you were completely honest. You wouldn’t tell her that you did meet Chris once and he had been absolutely lovely. There was no way you would put Pierre through that too.

Charles had managed to wrap his work a bit earlier than the day before, since the qualis had ended a bit sooner and since the weather had decided to be a bit less dumb, he had brought you to the beach, where you had spent a couple of hours, having a picnic for dinner and walking to the waves hands in hands. He had brought you back to the hotel a bit earlier than planned, which had you in your bathing suit and in the hotel pool, since the weather allowed it now after a good rain pour during the afternoon.

You sat on the ledge, admiring the view of the pine trees around the hotel and appreciating a rare moment of quietness while Charles was floating closer and closer to you in the water, eyes closed and breathing deeply. His shoulders were still sporting the marks of the suit and the hans device, his cheeks were slowly losing the lines of his balaclava, but you could see the stress slowly being washed away by the small waves you kept creating by waddling your feet on the surface of the pool.

“You okay, Charles?” You softly asked after a deep sigh.

“I couldn’t be better,” He smiled, eyes still closed. “Or actually, I could,” He ended up muttering, reopening his eyes and swimming next to you, a grin eating his face more and more as he got closer to you.

Charles finally made his way next to you in the pool and leveraged himself up to sit next to you. Then he slid on his side and without you seeing his next move, rested his back on the ground and his head on your thighs.

“Now I’m in paradise,” He grinned, looking up at you like a little boy.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying your time,” You laughed.

“How could I not? You’re here. And you’re a comfortable pillow, I can add.”

“It’s ‘might I add’,” You teased. “You’re cute when your English is all fumbled.”

“That’s because you keep messing with my brain!”

“I’m not doing anything!” You defended yourself, giggling nonetheless.

“You’re looking all cute and lovely, it keeps distracting me,” He mumbled. “Now shush, I need to rest.”

As he closed his eyes, you observed him and took the time to appreciate the way the sun kept hitting the little freckles beneath his eyes and the shadows casted by his eyelashes on top of his cheekbones. Charles had always been pretty to you, but as the golden hour started and the reflection of the little waves in the pool lit his face up, you wondered what he must have done in a previous life to be that blessed by nature. You knew the entire brotherhood to be nice looking. There was no denying that the good genes had spread amongst the Leclerc brothers, but there was something special with Charles, with all the little flaws that made his face perfect in every way.

“Are you happy?” Charles mumbled from below.

“I am,” You smiled, even though he couldn’t see it. Your index finger traced the bridge of his nose, running to the tip. “You?”

“Incredibly happy,” He confirmed, turning his head slightly so he could drop a kiss on your stomach.

You knew your time with Charles was always running out. You only had less than twenty-four hours with him, including the race tomorrow, and then you’d have to take another plane back to London, back to your grey apartment, leaving the golden light of the South of France to Charles. You already missed him and he was still lying across your lap.

Scrunching over him, you dropped a tiny kiss on the top of his nose and his lips stretched in a lazy smile, before puckering up, demanding a kiss which you offered without complaint. Your left hand came to contact with the ground, supporting your weight, while your right one found its place in his hair, playing with the still wet strands.

“Do you feel confident for the race tomorrow?”

“Not really,” He sighed. “But I’ll do what I can, as always.”

“I’ll be cheering for you from the garage,” You promised.

“That’s all that matters, this weekend. You’re all that matters.”

“Liar,” You grinned.

“Okay, maybe you’re all that matters right now. I can’t promise when I’ll be in the car.”

“That’s more like it.”

“M’gonna miss you,” Charles finally admitted.

“M’gonna miss you more,” You nodded, tracing circles on his scalp.

“Are you coming to Silverstone?”

“I’m trying to find tickets,” You confirmed.

“Can you be my guest again?”

“I’m trying to get my dad in,” You grimaced. “He hasn’t been to a race yet.”

“Seriously?” Charles frowned. “Why?”

“Dunno. It never really happened, I guess? It’d be nice to get him to Silverstone. So if I get a paddock pass, I need one for my dad as well.”

“Done deal,” Charles mumbled again, closing his eyes back. “Consider you and your dad to be my guests.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Yes, I do. Because I like you and at some point, I’m gonna meet your dad.”

“You don’t have to meet him during a racing week. You’ll be busy already, you’ll have tons on your mind,” You tried to temper.

“I don’t think it’ll matter a lot whether I meet him in Silverstone or in six months,” He countered. “The sooner the better.”

Six months. You hadn’t really looked past this weekend, taking every day with Charles as some kind of blessing. But he was fully invested, he was fully in. He was planning a future with you. He was thinking about it. And you loved it.

“If you say so,” You smiled.

“So, will you and your dad be my guests in Silverstone?”

“We will,” You confirmed. “I can’t wait to surprise him with that. He’s gonna kiss the ground you walked on, you know that?” You giggled.

“Let’s not do that. Not very clean.”

“It’s an image, you silly,” You laughed. “I meant he’s gonna think you’re the coolest, nicest, most amazing guy.”

“Cool. No need for me to stress about it, then?”

“Absolutely not,” You promised, hunching down again to kiss him. “He already likes you, you know? He thinks you’re the best driver on the grid right now. And you’re with Ferrari. So you’re automatically in his good book.”

“Nice,” Charles smiled. “Can’t wait to meet him.”

“Can’t wait either,” You grinned.

You stayed there, watching the small waves in the pool, while Charles kept one of his legs waddling in the water. Your right hand kept drawing circles on his scalp while his had crept above his head, finding a spot on your calves, gently caressing your skin. The sun was lowering on the horizon line, the warmth of it slowly decreasing as well.

When finally it became obvious that you both were cold, there was nothing much else to do than to pack everything up, grab dinner and find your way back to the hotel room. Charles was nowhere near accepting the fact that it was time to get up, his head still comfortably resting on your thighs and his lips occasionally finding your stomach.

It was up to you to take matters into your own hands.

“Hey, Charles?” You whispered.

“Yeah?”

“I think it’s time you take me back to that hotel room of ours.”

Nothing could match the brightness of his grin when he opened his eyes and looked into yours, finding the confirmation he needed.

“Understood, Ma’am.”

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5 - part 6 - part 7 - part 8

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a-new-vers · 4 months

Text

~H5~

Woke up today to find out Halsey has set the stage for a new hunt for fans to go on. In true Halsey fashion, it's cryptic with a distinct visual style we can probably expect from this era.

So let's explore, shall we?

A Lil' Timeline:

Halsey played the 27th at Lollapalooza India. During their set before they began to play Gasoline, a visual on screen displayed a URL: FOR MY LAST TRICK (click to go to the site).

Click HERE to see a video of when it was displayed at the concert.

The Website:

The theme behind the website seems to be opening a miscellaneous stick/patch packet.

The first thing is prompting the user to "pull to open" as in a tag to swipe off. You can see the collection of patches behind the plastic wrap. Once you finally open the package, all the patches will disperse.

This is where the Internet sleuthing begins, people. 24 unique patches (technically 25, but I'll get into that later) with different meanings. Let's get into it.

1 - SNA Flight Tag

So really obscure, but googling Air California flight tag brought me to this used bookstore site. In any case, the thing to notice is the date it is attributed with, 1968.

2 - Vintage Blotter Art

According to this blog (which is the only place I could find the image), this is a vintage blotter from 1994. Blotter art is an "...art form printed on perforated sheets of absorbent blotting paper infused with liquid LSD."

3 - Blythe Dolls

I believe this doll is a Blythe doll. Image reverse search does not come up with an exact result, but from the details you can make out, the dolls eyes are quite clear. Which looks a lot like Blythe Dolls, a doll brand that came out in 1972. Their gimmick was that the eyes could move left to right.

4 - Witch Halsey

Unsure, but it would seem it's Halsey as a witch. The aesthetics are similar to IICHLIWP (H4).

If the main theme here is the 70s, there’s the movie Season of the Witch that came out in 1973, February 14th. It’s apparently commentary on traditional American suburban lifestyle through the perspective of a housewife who does not like her place in life. She meets a witch and progressively gets into the occult.

5, 18, 19, 23 - Outside of USA

5: It's hard to tell what most of the words are, but the text "Pagado" (Spanish for "paid") is on the piece of paper. . The particular location might be Palenque, a Mexican city. Relevant date: June 25th, 1977.

18: Belleville. Based on a real winter carnival programme. Belleville is a a city in Ontario, Canada. Relevant date: 1971.

19: “We smokers all want to be non-smokers too” or something along these lines. I'm trusting online translation for this (German to English). Unable to find when this was made.

23: “For Us.” French. The image search doesn’t result anything. Unable to find when this was made.

6 - Peril is My Pay

Based off of a detective book involving traveling. The font is the exact same as one of the book covers. It was published in 1960s.

7 - I have something to tell you

A sign up. I assume it has to do with being updated on any album news.

Looking through the inspect tab you can see the information is being sent to “Sony Fan Music.” It does take note of which country you are in and your address.

8 , 9 - Round visuals

I think these are visuals to give grasp to the 70s theme. It’s reminiscent of 60’s/70’s clothing/aesthetic.

10 - Michigan license plate.

1971 comes up in the plate. Michigan has come up in HFK (H2), on Bad At Love. I doubt this has anything to do about the “boy back in Michigan” but perhaps traveling back throughout her albums.

11 - Ghost

Jan 27th 2014, interesting date to put since this is the date this is all happening, just a decade after.

I've seen some people say this is meant to be the anniversary for Ghost, the song. Although it came out in 2014, its release date was in July, and it originally came out on sound cloud on February 3rd. So unsure why Jan 27th is there. EDIT: I have been made aware that Jan 27th 2014 was its international release date! I am but a fool.

The text can be in response to the lyric “Where did you go?” and the themes on the song of someone leaving. IDK, this could also be a meta thing. If a theme here is traveling and visiting locations/people, then perhaps one thing you won't find if the ghost?

Additionally, this follows the theme of revisiting her previous albums.

12 - Cannel 17

WPHL-TV is a television station in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, United States, serving as the local outlet for The CW Television Network. The logos here are form the 60’s/70’s.

13 - Master Mystifier

Or, alternatively, Harry Houdini. The date I do not believe has any relevance here but perhaps the idea of magic.

I came about the google search “Houdini’s Last Trick” where his last trick is widely asked about. It would seem to be an inspiration for the name of the website. So potentially Halsey will lean into magic, tricks, and deception.

14 - Calling Cards

Text on card: “Compliments - May I See (C) You (U) Home? If not, please return this card.”

“May I See You Home” seemed to be a common phrase for calling cards. They were handed out to ask people out. Again, the font and images are similar to H4 aesthetic. These were used in the 18th and 19th century.

15 - B&W Hair

Oh, I actually no idea.

16 - Candy

The closest I could get to finding what this meant is when this font was used for the book Candy by Maxwell Kenton, published in 1958.

As wiki describes the plot "Candy Christian, aged eighteen, is an extremely pretty and desirable but naïve young woman, who finds herself in a variety of farcical sexual situations as a result of her desire to help others. The men in her life, regardless of age or relationship, wish only to possess her."

17 - Southern-Belle

Clearly the saying southern belle. A girl born form the south, typically with certain attributes. The saying came from the idea that “... a girl who was expected to grow up into a lady. She was supposed to be fragile and flirtatious while also sexually innocent. She was beautiful but risky to touch, like porcelain.”

https://historyengine.richmond.edu/episodes/view/2259#:~:text=Course%3A,risky to touch%2C like porcelain

20 - Rabbit

I couldn’t find anything that looks the same, but I assume it has to do with Alice and Wonderland. Concerning dates, the book was published in the 1800s, while the arguably most famous iteration (the animated movie) came out in the 50s.

However, this can relate to the potential theme of magic and deception and girl/womanhood. But I’m also inclined to think the rabbit might have nothing to do with Wonderland and might be something else all together.

21 - K-Mart

Wiki comes in handy here. As described, “Satisfaction Always icon seen on Kmart branded packaging until the mid-to-late 70s, adapted from a hanging sign displayed in every early Kmart store.” So 70’s themed.

https://logos.fandom.com/wiki/Kmart_(United_States)/Other?file=Kmart_-_1960s_(Satisfaction).svg.

22 - Eye, Eye, Eye, and Eye

The eyes. Girl IDK, they’re eyes. They kind of remind me of the biblically accurate angels and the eyes they have. Although, I doubt that's what they're meant to be.

24 - Cigarette

People seem to think this relates more to Badlands, and I’m inclined to agree.

Themes:

Here are overall themes that seem to be present within the collection.

- Travelling

- Magic

- 60s-70s

- Eyes

- Books

- A Feminist Lens

- Past albums

A Tangent on Web Dev:

I just kinda wanted to point out the cool coding stuff they've done. When the patches are still in the plastic bag, they're always randomized in which order they're in (you have to refresh to notice this). They also disperse in a randomized order. I thought maybe the way they disperse could be a trail of sorts, like a map. But it seems totally random. I still find it cool how they've done that, every time in a different location, as if you open the package they come out uniquely for each person.

Oh and about the 25 patch, it seems the first patch in your packet appears twice when you open it. Idk if the number 25 matters or if this was done by accident. But the 25th patch is a duplicate, and never one in particular, just which ever is the first in your shuffle.

The End

For now.

#halsey #H5 #for my last trick #music

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nordleuchten · 4 months

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Ah, Tumblr. Why would they hide my question from you🥲? Here is the rather long question that I wanted to ask.

I've been wondering about Lafayette's interactions with his in-laws—not the Noailles, but his children's. What did he think about his sons-in-law? Did they get along? How did the marriages take place, or anything related to them?

I'm currently in the very long process of writing a novel about Adrienne, now entering the French Revolution, still having a long way to go before any of the Lafayette kids get married. But my God, the French Revolution is stressful as hell to write☹️. I just want my girl to get some rest… And so, I guess I just want to skip ahead to the lighthearted part. While Adrienne’s thoughts and interactions are pretty much all in Virginie’s book, and maybe some in her sister’s memoirs, Mister Lafayette’s is a bit confusing for me because he has so much information from all different sources. (Which brings me to my next question: What book do you recommend for referencing information about Gilbert? It’s too stressful to always go from one source to another for him.😭)

The information on this blog has been immensely helpful! I would have been lost as to where to find the sources that I needed. hope you have a good day, and hold on to your historical passion! 👍☺️

Dear @daydream-247,

first of all, that sounds like a very interesting project! When you come around to publishing something, I would absolutely love to read it! And thank you for your kind word, it is always nice to hear that other people can take something away from what I post and are not annoyed by me. :-)

As to the partners of his children, La Fayette had a very good relationship with all of them. I am actually quite happy that you asked about that part of the family, since this topic is quite dear to my heart. I think there is not enough talk about that – as it is with so many things in La Fayette’s life that have nothing to do with Revolutions and America. The La Fayette’s and their family and friends were so tight nit, so intimate and loving. La Fayette – and also Adrienne, while she was still alive, loved being grand-parents and in La Fayette’s case later great-grandparents. While their children were able to go their own ways in live, they and their families always remained very close to their parents. The children’s marriages were happy ones – not without personal tragedy of course, but they all weathered the challenges thrown at them. To the best of my knowledge, there were no affairs, mistresses, and betrayals in that generation.

But enough of me being fascinated by family dynamics, lets us get to your question! La Fayette wrote on December 1, 1802 to James Madison:

I Live in an Agreable place, About forty Miles from paris. My Children are With me. Georges Has Married the daughter of Tracy whom Mr. Jefferson Has known in the Constituent Assembly and Who is One of His Warmest Admirers. My Elder daughter is the Wife of Charles La tour Maubourg the Youngest Brother of My Olmutz Companion and Has two Lovely Little Girls. My daughter in Law is Within a few Months to Encrease Our family. Georges is Now at turin Where the 11th Rgt of Huzzards Has its Quarters. Virginia, My Younger daughter, will, I think, Be Married Before Long.

“To James Madison from Lafayette, 1 December 1802,” Founders Online, National Archives, https://founders.archives.gov/documents/Madison/02-04-02-0176. [Original source: The Papers of James Madison, Secretary of State Series, vol. 4, 8 October 1802 – 15 May 1803, ed. Mary A. Hackett, J. C. A. Stagg, Jeanne Kerr Cross, Susan Holbrook Perdue, and Ellen J. Barber. Charlottesville: University Press of Virginia, 1998, pp. 166–170.] (01/25/2024)

La Fayette was right concerning Virginie. She married on April 20, 1803. She would probably have married sooner, but La Fayette slipped on the icy pavement that winter and broke his femur close to the hip bone – an injury that is no laughing matter, neither in the 21st nor in the early 19th century. The wedding was postponed, giving La Fayette time to recover.

Let us now have a closer look at the marriages and resulting families of each of Adrienne’s and La Fayette’s children. Anastasie, their oldest surviving child, was the first one to marry. She married Juste-Charles de Faÿ de la Tour-Maubourg. Charles was the younger brother of Marie-Charles-César de Faÿ, comte de la Tour-Maubourg. César was one of La Fayette’s dearest friends. Do you remember this heartbreaking letter La Fayette wrote after Adrienne’s death? That letter was addressed to César, and I have never again seen La Fayette lay his soul and emotions so open – not even in front of Washington.

Charles was for a very, very short time imprisoned as well but quickly freed. After all the prisoners of Olmütz were set free, they settled at Wittmold and were reunited with their respected families. It was there that Anastasie met – or at least fell in love with, Charles. They were married on Mai 8, 1798 in the private chapel in Wittmold by the Abbé Luchet (and oh this blasted certificate of marriage! One day, one day …) They soon started their own family, and it was here that tragedy struck. While both of their twin daughters survived the birth, one died only a few weeks later. Sadly, the little girl is often forgotten and not at all mentioned when La Fayette’s grandchildren are discussed. I will not say much about the grandchildren here in general because firstly, this post would get even longer than it already is (I am so sorry!) and secondly, I have a post in the making going through all of the grandchildren and possible some great-grandchildren – including the ones that died young or were stillborn/miscarried. I feel they should not be left out. Anastasie lost at least two, if not more children and Georges lost at least one daughter. So, different topic for a different post if you do not mind.

What is interesting about Anastasie’s marriage – especially her Noailles relatives appeared to be less than enthusiastic about the match. Anastasie’s aunt, the Marquise de Montague wrote in her own memoirs:

Frau von La Fayette fand die Parthie nicht allein sehr angemessen, sondern auch wie man damals das Recht hatte zu hoffen, sehr vortheilhaft. Der General war von ganzem Herzen damit einverstanden. In Witmold aber schrie man laut dagegen, wie nur das Projekt zur Sprache kam. Herr von Mun behauptete nur bei den Wilden Amerika‘s könne man sich so verheirathen, und Frau von Tessé bestand darauf, man hätte seit Adam und Eva nichts Gleiches gesehen. Die Sarkasmen nüßten Nichts, Frau von La Fayette hielt sich fest, und als Alles unwiderruflich entschieden war, sah man, wie sich die Unzufriedenheit der Frau von Tessé in eine zärtliche und liebenswürdige Sorgsamkeit auflöste.

Marquise of Montague, Anna Pauline Dominika von Noailles, Marquise von Montague – Ein Lebensbild, Münster, Aschendorff, 1871, p. 204.

My translation:

Madame de La Fayette not only thought the match very appropriate, but also, as one had the right to hope at the time, very advantageous. The General was wholeheartedly in favour of it. In Witmold, however, they protested loudly against it as soon as the project was brought up. Mr von Mun [I have no idea who he was] claimed that only among the savages of America one could marry in this way, and Madame de Tessé insisted that nothing like it had been seen since Adam and Eve. The sarcasm was of no avail, Madame La Fayette held her ground, and when everything was irrevocably decided, Mademe de Tessé’s dissatisfaction dissolved into a tender and amiable diligence.

As you see, Adrienne’s and La Fayette’s primary concern was the happiness of their daughter. La Fayette wrote on May 20, 1798 to George Washington:

We Have spent the winter in Holstein, on danish territory, in a Hired Country Seat about Sixty English miles from Hamburgh—My friend Latour Maubourg and His family were with us—we had visits from france and other Countries—(…). Here My eldest daughter Anastasie was Married to Charles Maubourg my friends’ Youngest Brother.

“To George Washington from Lafayette, 20 May 1798,” Founders Online, National Archives, https://founders.archives.gov/documents/Washington/06-02-02-0213. [Original source: The Papers of George Washington, Retirement Series, vol. 2, 2 January 1798 – 15 September 1798, ed. W. W. Abbot. Charlottesville: University Press of Virginia, 1998, pp. 282–285.] (01/25/2024)

I am honestly not quite sure what the problem here was. Since the Noailles part of the family voiced their criticism, the problem seems to lay primarily with Charles. The critics very much still belonged to the “arranged-marriage-for the advancement-of-the-family” generation and I suppose that was the issue. The marriage was not arranged and both the La Fayette’s and the La Tour-Maubourg’s were “ruined” during the French Revolution. There was not much for both parties to expect – beside a happy marriage based on mutual love and affection.

La Fayette at once started to include his new son-in-law in his letter:

My wife, my daughters, my Son in law Beg the tender Homage of their Affection, Gratitude and Respect to Be presented to you, my dear General, and to Mrs Washington (…)

The next one to marry was Georges. He married Françoise Émilie Destutt de Tracy. Just like with his older sister’s husband, there was already a connection between La Fayette and his new in-laws. Émilie’s father, Antoine Louis Claude Destutt de Tracy, was one of La Fayette’s oldest friends. They became friends prior to the French Revolution and both later served in the Chambre des Deputes and had similar political views, they both opposed Napoléon’s rise to power.

Based on his writings alone, Émilie might have been La Fayette’s favourite. He wrote to Thomas Jefferson on January 20, 1802:

My Son Has Returned to His Regiment in Italy—I Expect Him in the Spring, and probably to Marry a Very Amiable daughter to the Senator tracy Whom You Have known as a patriot Member of the Constituent Assembly

“To Thomas Jefferson from Lafayette, 30 January 1802,” Founders Online, National Archives, https://founders.archives.gov/documents/Jefferson/01-36-02-0305. [Original source: The Papers of Thomas Jefferson, vol. 36, 1 December 1801–3 March 1802, ed. Barbara B. Oberg. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2009, pp. 480–481.] (01/25/2024)

He reported on November 1, 1802, again to Thomas Jefferson:

With me they Now Are Retired into the State of Rural Life Where I am fixed Among the Comforts of An United Loving family—it Has Been, Encreased, as I Did in time inform You, By the Happy Acquisition of an Amiable Daughter in Law (…)

“To Thomas Jefferson from Lafayette, 1 November 1802,” Founders Online, National Archives, https://founders.archives.gov/documents/Jefferson/01-38-02-0551. [Original source: The Papers of Thomas Jefferson, vol. 38, 1 July–12 November 1802, ed. Barbara B. Oberg. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2011, pp. 616–617.] (01/25/2024)

He wrote on August 18, 1800 to his friend Masclet:

My whole family is now collected at this place, where my aunt had been for many years despairing ever to see us. It has been also for me a great satisfaction to present to her my beloved daughter-in-law Emilie Tracy, now the wife of the happy George, and in whom I find every amiable quality my heart could wish for. I intend conducting the young couple back to Auteuil towards the middle of Fructidor, my return there being hastened by the news of the intended journey wherein General Fitzpatrick and Charles Fox are to meet at Paris.

Jules Germain Cloquet, Recollections of the Private Life of General Lafayette, Baldwin and Cradock, London, 1835, p. 110.

Here is what La Fayette wrote about Émilie to Thomas Jefferson on February 21, 1825, right after the death of her mother:

We intend to Come again from Boston to Newyork, Philadelphia, Washington and to pay you a Visit at Monticello Before we Embark By the Middle of August for france Where We Are Recalled, Sooner than We Expected, By the most lamentable death of mde de tracy george’s Mother in law. I Have urged My Son to Return immediately But His generous wife, who is a tender daughter to me, Had on the first moment of the loss, adjured Him not to leave me, and it is a Great Motive for Me to Make as much Haste As We Can With propriety do it.

“To Thomas Jefferson from Marie-Joseph-Paul-Yves-Roch-Gilbert du Motier, marquis de Lafayette, 21 February 1825,” Founders Online, National Archives, https://founders.archives.gov/documents/Jefferson/98-01-02-4986. [This is an Early Access document from The Papers of Thomas Jefferson: Retirement Series. It is not an authoritative final version.] (01/25/2024)

La Fayette wrote much about Émilie and all that he wrote was very positive. What he wrote about his sons-in-law was different – not to say that there was less affection, but it was, at least on paper, expressed differently. Now, why was that? It could be for personal reasons, La Fayette simply “clicked” better with Émilie. It could be because Émilie spend much more time with and around La Fayette than his sons-in-law did. It could be because, by social convention, you would and could write differently about your daughter-in-law then about your sons-in-law. Lastly, and that is just a hunch of mine, Émilie, as a woman, was the one to bear the children. For La Fayette children were definitely in the female domain – not because he necessarily thought that childbirth should be a women’s only purpose but because I think he understood and valued that the birth of a child was the result of a great deal of pain and work on the women’s side and a, while biological important, negatable part on the man’s part. In short, I like to imagine that the thanked and valued Émilie for her hard work in making him a grandfather.

La Fayette addressed and described Émilie as his daughter, he wrote about having “three daughters” (to James Madison, August 28, 1826). While the same sentiment was definitely present in the relationships with his sons-in-law, I think he never put it quite that distinctly to paper. But enough about Émilie, let us move on to the last couple.

As I have already mentioned Virginie married Louis de Lasteyrie du Saillant, Marquis de Lasteyrie on April 20, 1803. I believe that Louis was a nephew of a friend of La Fayette but I would need to check that again. Louis died quite young, aged 46 in 1826 and he was buried on the ground reserved for the La Fayette family on the Picpus Cemetery. He was buried there after Adrienne and before La Fayette.

Things were looking pretty good on the domestic front for La Fayette. Within five years, all of his children were happily married and two of them had already little families of their own. What was probably most important, despite her failing health, Adrienne saw all three of her surviving children marry.

In letters to his friends, particular to Thomas Jefferson, La Fayette never forgot to give updates not only about himself but also about his children and their families. He often asked for them to be remembered to people just like he wanted to be remembered. He gave also updates on the military careers of his sons-in-law. Louis entered the Light Dragoons in 1804, leaving the army as a Colonel. Charles and George often served in closely related positions. They both realized that being attached to La Fayette would make advancement in the army difficult and so both of them left the army eventually. Neither of them seemed to hold any grudges.

That much in “short”. Now, as to books – the unsatisfactory answer is: It depends? Are you looking for a general overview, an overview about a specific topic, a political analyses, a character analysis, something critical, a personal account, something contemporary or something that was written much later, a collection of anecdotes to flesh out La Fayette’s character? There are sources for all of this, but they all serve different purposes.

I hope I could help you out and give you a starting point for your research. A chapter about the love lives of Anastasie, Georges and Virginie could definitely serve as a little cheer-up chapter between the French Revolution and Adrienne’s death – both for the readers and your characters. Happy writing and I hope you have/had a lovely day!

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napoleondidthat · 6 months

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Final thoughts on Napoleon, Ridley Scott

As I said yesterday, the movie as a whole falls because it tries to fit too much into a movie. You have to do a Cliff notes version of a life to achieve that. This may change if the 4 hour version is released. It won’t correct some of the creative choices made of course. I appreciate the effort and don’t envy anyone who has to write a movie screenplay of Napoleon’s life. And as much as we’d all love to probably sit and watch Napoleon go over the Napoleonic Code, or peace negotiations, I know that the public at large could not care less.

So let’s talk actors here.

I didn’t hate Phoenix’s Napoleon completely. There were times where he did very well in the scenes. There were a couple issues though:

1. Napoleon isn’t really just a figment of imagination character and because he’s an historical figure that means to me you have less wiggle room. I appreciate actors who have played Napoleon and have taken the effort and read biographies on Napoleon, like Assante did. It’s obvious Phoenix didn’t. And that comes through. I’d even say that Phoenix doesn’t really get Napoleon or understand the figure and really doesn’t know what to do with it. Is he a demon? A psycho? A war-monger? A petulant child?

The main problem for Phoenix is the same that faces Clavier, he’s too damn old for the part.

I know a lot of praise has been heaped on Comer for her Josephine but I wasn’t that blown away by it. She was fine, she did fine, she just wasn’t Josephine. She played her so lifeless and dead-pan. If Napoleon is the heavy, Josephine was the opposite.

Whoever played Madame Mere did fine but she was way too mom like and jovial. Madame Mere always strikes me as an austere figure.

Strangely who I thought did very well was the actor who played Barras. He was quite compelling and it’s probably the best and most air time I’ve ever seen given to Barras. The other was the portrayal of Talleyrand which surprised me. He didn’t look the part really and when no first saw the photos I wasn’t impressed. But it worked and he did very well in the role. Extra points for showing Talleyrand with a brace on his leg though they never explained it.

The other perks of the movie, the cinematography I thought was really done well. The sets were beautiful even if they weren’t very French. The costumes were also very impressive.

The other fails was the score. This is a mystery to me why they did this sweeping epic on a $200 million budget and didn’t hire someone to do a score. Every Napoleon movie before this has a score and it’s like they forgot completely. I have read that they used the Pride and Prejudice score and it’s lovely but it feels borrowed, which it is. The beginning of the movie is merely French folk music type music. Interesting choice but it still felt off.

Lastly, like I said I really dislike that they did so much name card flashing on characters as they were introduced. At the end they did the same fade to black cards telling the audience that Napoleon died May 5, 1821 after six years of exile on St. Helena. They then give the famous supposed last words. Then fade to black and up comes a scorecard of Napoleon’s battles and how many died in each battle with a line showing the total dead being 3 million. First, I rather hate this argument that Napoleon is the only person solely responsible for the deaths during a very tumultuous time in history. That is almost giving him too much power. Second, what are you trying to say Scott?

If you are trying to show Napoleon is a war monger evil doer, fine. I disagree with that interpretation, but it’s one that some hold. Problem is that it falls because Phoenix never played Napoleon as a wild eyed war monger. Phoenix plays Napoleon all over the place so at the end you can’t even really believe his Napoleon was capable of the responsibility of all this death.

The problem is that the movie lacks vision and coherency. Napoleon is a genius on the matters of war but we are never shown that. Napoleon had men die for him but here you can’t really understand why anyone would listen to Phoenix’s Napoleon let alone follow him. He and Josephine have a toxic but passionate relationship but it’s never shown. You don’t really know why Josephine cares about losing Napoleon since they never seem to say one kind word to each other when together, she seems bored as Empress and every love scene has her looking bored off into the distance while Napoleon pants behind her. Yet in the end voice over Josephine waxes on about her great love for her tortured sweet Emperor.

No actor gets Napoleon right completely. No movie gets it right completely. I find every movie touches on certain things that are perfect that another movie dropped the ball on. Every actor does one or two aspects of Napoleon very well and fails on others. If we could somehow merge all the things the actors and the movies do right we might come close to a perfect movie.

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storiesbyrhi · 2 years

Text

Vintage Reeboks - Chapter 5: Red Bull

Eddie Munson x Reader More Eddie fics here

3694 word count

Warnings: Drug use; very mild smut

Synopsis: The gate at the bottom of Lover’s Lake was meant to spit the quartet out in the Upside Down. Steve, Nancy, and Robin were meant to be there. He wasn’t meant to be alone. But when Eddie comes to on the shoreline, you’re there. It’s not the Upside Down. It’s not Lover’s Lake. It’s not 1986.

Previous Chapters: 1 - Lover’s Lake; 2 – Hey, Siri; 3 - World Wide Web; 4 - Cemetery Drive

Chapter Synopsis: It’s not Friday but you’re in love.

Author’s Note: I’m leaving my notes until the end; you’ll see why. Pls read.

Something smelled like… breakfast?

Rolling over and squinting into the morning light, you took in the scene. Eddie, hair still wet from a shower, was standing in the kitchenette. He was cooking, ricocheting around like a pinball.

Oohhh! There’s an idea, you thought to yourself.

It wasn’t what Eddie was doing that caught your attention, it was more the speed he was doing it and the fact he was wearing only a pair of boxer shorts.

On the way back from Lindon you had stopped for groceries, picking up some essentials you figured Eddie might need. Toothbrush, clean underwear, disposable razors.

He had clearly treated himself to it all, and had then turned his manic energy to breakfast.

“Are you okay?” you asked, sitting up.

“Yeah. What the fuck is this?” he said back too quickly, holding up a can of Red Bull.

“Fuck-”

“Didn’t know how to make that coffee… pod machine… thing work. You have a lot of these,”

“It’s an energy drink. I didn’t think they were that modern though.” Getting out your trusty laptop, you Googled the history of energy drinks. “And where’s your tolerance? Bit of a lightweight?” you teased.

“Man, I smoke. Dabble in some, you know,” he replied, gesturing wildly, explaining nothing. “Never been huge on the whole-” another wild gesture “-thing,”

“Riiiight. Well, Red Bull launched in 1987,” you read, looking up. Eddie wasn’t even listening. “Jesus. Alright. I’ll brew some chamomile.”

Eddie’s French toast was pretty good. He said the secret ingredient was cinnamon. “Cinnamon to your paprika,” were his exact words. It made your heart feel like a fourteen-year-old’s at a One Direction concert.

“What’s on the fugitive agenda today then?” Eddie asked, calming down with food and tea.

“First, gotta call in sick to work. Then, we gotta get out of here before Mum makes her way around to the back garden,” you said. Eddie gave you a confused look. “Saturday morning gardening, every week. Front garden. Back garden, with bonus poking her head in here to see how clean the place is. T-minus…” You looked at your watch. “An hour at best.”

Eddie wore his black ripped jeans, dried but kind of stiff with lake water. You tried to not judge him too harshly, but commented that you probably should put a load of laundry on. The Nine Inch Nails t-shirt and red flannel he got the day prior sat under his leather jacket. He looked painfully good.

When you looked at yourself in the mirror, one of your favourite outfits thankfully clean, you pretended not to notice Eddie watching you then looking away with a smirk.

You wanted to shoot him a childish, “What?!” but were a little too scared he’d be honest. Instead, you said a polite, “You look good,”

“This old thing?” Eddie replied, spinning.

“You’re an idiot. Come on, let’s go.”

…

Indianapolis. Eddie had been before, mostly at night for concerts, but still, he knew it had changed. Not so much louder, but brighter and faster.

There were a few less popular places you liked to haunt. Your first stop was an arcade that inexplicably backed onto a Chinese restaurant. No matter the time of day, it always smelt like sesame oil and honey.

“There’s no way you can beat my high score,” Eddie announced, not indicating which game he intended to become champion of.

Turns out, all of them.

“I only have an old Sega, so I spend a lot of time at Palace Arcade,” he explained.

You spent most of your time on the stupid novelty games that were guaranteed to win you some tokens. When Eddie realised what you were doing, he left his Pac-Man, Donkey Kong, and Space Invaders, instead quickly learning how to win tokens too.

He was particularly good on the game where you hit the crocodiles as they come out of their swamp. Eddie’s reflexes were guitar-player good, and although not ambidextrous, he had an aptitude for being aware of both his left and right hands.

“What are you saving for?” you asked him as he shoved tokens into his jacket pockets. The prize shelves were stocked mostly with cheap, plastic, absolutely ugly items, but there were a few hidden gems in there.

“Not telling. Don’t want you stealing my prize,” Eddie said, a mischievous grin on his stupidly beautiful face.

“Alright then, keep your secrets,”

“Secret and safe,” he replied, catching on to your Lord of the Rings reference quickly.

An hour and a bit later, pockets were overflowing with small pink tokens, and you and Eddie had both doubled down on not telling each other the prizes you wanted.

You waited out the front while Eddie spent his tokens. He returned with his prize hidden behind his back. “Your turn,” he said, gliding one hand through the air in an invitation to go back inside.

When you came back to him, you just looked at each other with ear-to-ear smug as fuck grins on your faces.

“Do you think we’ve done the same thing?” you asked him. He nodded. “Alright then. On the count of three.”

Eddie had used his tokens to win you a small, kind of ugly but also kind of cute Grogu stuffed toy. You had used your tokens to win him a Lord of the Rings badge collection. He watched you as you pinned them to his jacket.

“I like this one,” he said, pointing to the Eye of Sauron.

“Of course, you do. I like this one,” you told him, picking out the Leaf of Lórien. The third and final pin was an image of the One Ring itself. Too obvious to be anyone’s favourite.

As you walked away from the arcade, heading to your next destination, you thought out loud about a name for your baby Yoda.

“I don’t get it. Isn’t his name Grogu?” Eddie asked, taking a step closer to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder.

“This isn’t Grogu. He’s Grogu’s long-lost cousin,” you told him.

Eddie laughed and nodded. “In that case, may I be as bold as to suggest – Eddie?”

“You may not,” you replied quickly. Eddie laughed again. “But what’s your middle name?”

Eddie told you, then told you that he routinely tells people he doesn’t have a middle name. You promised to never tell anyone else, and if anyone asked the stuffed toy’s name, you’d lie and tell them Grogu.

“Promise?” Eddie asked, holding out his pinky.

“Promise.”

Up next was the Apple store, which Eddie hated so much he waited outside, striking up a conversation with a guy selling The Big Issue. You bought him a copy.

“It’s gonna take a few hours for them to get everything onto a new phone,”

“Yeah, look, I’m sorry-” Eddie tried.

“It’s alright. Honestly. A stressful situation for all involved,” you replied. “So, I thought you might want to experience one of the most stupid ‘advancements’ to cinema,”

“I’m interested.”

Eddie lost his shit at 3D movies. You shouldn’t have been surprised. It was a strange, tacky thing that felt like it was from the 80s anyway. They mostly just served to distract you from the film and give you a slight headache.

After lunch at the PB & J Factory, you picked up your phone and started to wander back to where you’d parked. About a block away, you walked past a store that sold Pokémon, Hello Kitty, and other various Japanese-themed things.

“Oh shit, we’ve gotta do this,” you said, steering Eddie inside.

The contrast between him and the hyper-sweet plastic pink store was completely jarring and absolutely magnificent. You pulled him to the back of the store, where the big photobooths were.

Eddie, bless him, just let you do your thing. His attention was caught when the screen came to life and his own image was there, in real time.

“Hey, I do look good,” he decided, sizing himself up.

You laughed. “But what do you look like with cat ears?”

Cat ears. Fairy wings. Anime hair. Alien face. Cowboy hat. Eddie had you in hysterics as he tried everything, cycling through looks.

“Oh, baby, here’s the one,” he said.

Bright red devil horns, a funny little pointy tail, and bat-like wings. When you stepped into the frame, you found yourself with your own set of wings – white and feathery. A halo was glowing about your head and pink hearts were on your cheeks.

“Except…” you started, pressing the switch icon on the screen.

Suddenly, Eddie was a sparkling angel and you had taken his horns.

“Come ‘ere,” was all he said as he pulled you closer.

The photos were amazing. They were fun and genuine and in the last one, Eddie had snuck a kiss onto your cheek. You printed two sets, handing him one when the machine spat them out.

There had been many moments in the short time you had known Eddie where it was clear you were both thinking along the same lines. It was obvious to you both that something within you just clicked. You knew what the heavy, hot feeling in your tummy was, even if you had never felt it before. So did Eddie.

It was hard to look up at him, away from the photos. When you did tear your eyes away from them, Eddie was already looking at you. His pupils were blown, barely any brown left at all.

He broke the silence with, “There’s… a lot to love about the future.”

You nodded, took a breath in, and motioned to the door. “Home?” you asked him.

“Home.”

…

Dodging your mother’s questions about where you’d been lately, you put on a load of laundry, yelling specific instructions for nobody else to touch it.

“Why does she think we’re excited to do her laundry all of a sudden?” your mother asked your uncle as you ran off back to the pool house.

Inside, you asked Eddie, “Should we Uber or cook for dinner?”

His grin broke out into a small laugh. “You’re incredible,”

“What?”

“It’s like you get through each part of the day, just to get to the next meal,” he said. You frowned. “No! No, it’s not a bad thing,” he reassured, moving to stand in front you, resting his wrists on your shoulders. “You’re a creature of comfort. You got your blankets, your food and tea, and movies and teddies and shit. I can relate,”

“Yeah? What’s in the Eddie Munson Comfort starter pack?” you replied, stepping in closer to him, letting him wrap his arms around you. He began to sway from one foot to the other, taking you with him.

With your head resting against his chest, he thought. “Music. A quarter, at least. Fancy drink.”

You sniggered. “Fancy drink?”

“Yeah. Not, like, Mountain Dew. Something special. A really good milkshake. Anything if it’s got a little umbrella in it.”

There was no way of knowing if he was taking the piss or not; Eddie was like that. Either way, he made you laugh more than anyone else.

“Well then, shall we have a night of comforts?” you asked.

Eddie moved his arms from around you to cup your face in his hands, tilting your head up. He nodded twice, doing that thing he did where his eyes burned into you and it felt like he was somehow seeing into your brain. The neural pathways were lines of history for him to read. Grey matter was audible and he understood the language.

“You read my mind,” Eddie said, making your stomach flip. Maybe he could see inside the walls of your skull. “I’ll start,” he announced, lowering his voice.

Slowly he leaned his forehead against yours. The tip of his nose touched yours, bunny kissing. All of your blood started to bubble, and you swore you could feel it making its way around your body.

“Okay?” He was asking permission.

“Yeah,” you replied, your voice surprising you by coming out all breathy and shaky.

Eddie gently pressed his lips to yours, pausing to wait for you to tell him what you wanted next. You kissed him back, parting your lips.

Like everything else you had been doing with Eddie – handholding, arms around shoulders, sleeping side by side – it was so goddamn easy. It felt natural and you didn’t plan each movement as you did them. No overthinking.

How could it be fair that you would have lived a life not knowing it could be like that? If it wasn’t for a cruel twist of supernatural bad luck, you’d never have known kissing could be something better than a prelude to bad sex. Come to think of it, you’d have never known it if you hadn’t been out in the middle of the lake at night.

Two bads had made the most perfect right for the both of you. Maybe you could call it fate; maybe you’d never dare to tempt it like that.

Eddie didn’t taste like anything. You couldn’t describe what his mouth felt like. All you could process was your body tingling and your emotions swelling. You loved him. You loved him. Already. Three fucking days. Soon to be four nights. Already.

“Am I…” Eddie asked, moving to kiss along your jaw, where nobody had ever kissed you.

The blemishes and scarring normally would make you self-conscious, pushing your partner away. You didn’t even think of it as Eddie kissed his way across and down your neck.

He continued, “Making you comfortable?”

“You’re making me…” but you couldn’t finish the sentence. You felt him smile against your neck.

Eddie was in underwear and the Nine Inch Nails shirt; jeans finally in the wash, and jacket and flannel discarded somewhere in the room. He was truly making himself at home. You could see yourself living with him. Not in the pool house. But a get an apartment. Somewhere close to cafes and bars he could play music.

Fuck, you thought, then pushed yourself away from Eddie.

He looked at you confused, watched you closely. “Are you okay? Did I-”

“No! No. You didn’t do anything wrong… It’s… It’s just…”

“Yeah, I know,” Eddie said, a sad smile crossing his face briefly. He turned around and sat on the edge of the bed. “I don’t belong here.”

Sucking in your bottom lip, a self-soothing attempt to not cry, you padded over and stood in front of him.

Bravely, you said, “It feels like you do.”

Eddie looked up at you, reached out and pulled you in so he could hug your body. He smooshed his face into your soft belly, and let out a noise that was part demonic screech, part stepped on puppy. It was dramatic and it made you laugh, which was ultimately his goal.

Keeping his chin against you, Eddie looked up.

“I know. I whole fuckin’ life of bouncin’ around, looking for… this… But I have to go back, right?” It wasn’t a rhetorical question. He needed you to answer.

“I mean… I’m not a time travel expert here, Eddie, but things… people… belong where they’re from?”

Although you had thought about it, thought about all the knowledge Eddie would have once he landed back in ’86 Hawkings, you didn’t mention it. The gnawing feeling that there was no ‘right’ outcome wouldn’t help either of you.

Eddie pressed his face back into your tummy, his hands on your back gently moving up and down.

“For the sake of… creature comforts, let’s just say I belong here. For now. For tonight,” he said, his words muffled but understandable.

You were nodding before he finished his sentence. “Yeah,” you agreed.

Eddie stood, kissed the top of your head, and pulled you into another long embrace.

“I don’t know about you, but I would be way more comfortable if you took your clothes off,” he said boldly.

You snorted. “Oh. Oh okay. If that’s what would make you comfortable, how can I say no?” you replied, mocking his white boy confidence.

“Let me help,” he offered.

No thoughts sauntered through your brain. There was just warm static. You closed your eyes and let Eddie undress you. It was awkward, but in a cute way. He kissed your body as he went, especially excited when he found constellations of freckles, moles, scars, or stretch marks that look like cool tiger stripes.

“I am very comfortable,” Eddie said, “with how hot you are.”

You didn’t want to grin like a goddamn idiot but you couldn’t help it.

The night moved slowly, like it was going to go on forever. You would have given anything for it to. Same with Eddie. He was completely in the moment, between the most extravagant Ubereats order and the weed and kissing you over and over and everywhere.

There were many things about being naked with Eddie that you loved. But it was as you were coming down from the highest of orgasm highs, you found your number one pick. His arms were still wrapped around the top of your thighs from where he had been settled between. He shuffled down, giving himself more space. He rested his head on your belly, low down between your hip bones. Sighing happy, Eddie closed his eyes, nuzzled into you, and napped.

You had been entirely ready for more. You wanted to taste him and feel him and everything, but apparently – the man was happy.

It was a short nap, and when his eyes fluttered open and he snaked his arms tighter around your thighs, you smiled down at him.

“Comfortable?” you asked, smirking at him.

“Oh, you know… Just having the best night of my life.”

It was early. There was time for it all. For exploration and appreciation and comedy and kindness. For Eddie to determine out loud if 2022 condoms felt different from 1986 condoms. For songs to ruin the moment and launch you into debates about music that were only won when one of you kissed the other into silence. For it all.

You fell into an easy sleep with Eddie cuddled around you.

…

He could get used to Sunday mornings like this. Warm, filtered light. A big bed. You.

You.

Eddie knew he would regret letting himself feel so much about you. He knew he would absolutely yearn for you when he was back in 1986. He knew he was setting himself up for heartache, but he just couldn’t fucking stop himself.

You were still asleep, still naked. Lying on your stomach facing away from him, Eddie squirmed his way closer to you, leaning down to press a soft kiss to the base of your spine. You made a small, unhappy grumbling noise. It didn’t deter Eddie.

If his time with you was limited, he’d risk pissing you off by waking you, if it meant he could feel your lips on his again.

Eddie kissed a line up your back, making his way to your neck.

“Morning, sweetheart,” he mumbled into your hair.

As soon as you woke, Eddie doing his best to melt into your back, you felt the fizzy heat of love. It was immediately followed by sinking grief. Dustin and the others would be there soon, and-

“FUCK!” you yelped, shooting up and looking around for your shirt.

“What?” Eddie asked, panic all over his face.

“What’s the time?! They’re gonna be here any minute!”

While you and Eddie were pulling on clothes, your uncle was inside the main house, re-watching Detroit Rock City for the thousandth time. He heard a car pull up out front, but as he did to most happenings on the street, he ignored it. He had been ignoring the fact that you clearly had someone in the pool house with you for days now. A few voices out the front of his house weren’t about to pull him out of his own lane. Nope.

Another car pulled up, the driver breaking late. More voices. Your uncle sighed, paused the film, and waited for them to quiet down. But, they didn’t. He got up to see what was going on. Pulling the curtain to the side, he snuck a look.

Blood running cold, he saw a group of people he knew all too well. He knew that their reformation meant trouble. It meant grief and trauma and heartache.

He was frozen on the spot as he watched Dustin Henderson walk up his front steps and onto his porch. Even at 51, Dustin was recognisable. They all were. Dustin knocked on the door loudly, before calling your name, confusing your uncle.

“Dustin!” Max Mayfield called. “They said to go around the back!”

“Oh, shit,” Dustin replied, quickly going back down the steps.

Your uncle watched the group disappear down the small alleyway between your house and the next. He listened as their voices grew faint, until silent. He bolted then, faster than he’d moved in a couple of decades at least. Through the house and across the small yard. He was banging on the pool house door like a final girl screaming for help.

Without thinking, he slid the door open and almost fell into the room. He breathed out your name in fear. What did they want with you? They couldn’t take you too.

“What’s going on?” he pleaded, then froze. Took in the sight in front of him. Thankfully, you and Eddie were both dressed. You’d be sharing a last moment of peace before whatever was about to happen, happened.

“Jesus,” you said, standing and walking over to your uncle. “What’s got you all fucked up?” you asked him. You’d never seen him so… feral. Or was that terror?

Your uncle was staring at Eddie, who was staring back. It was barely audible; you only caught it because you saw your uncle’s lips start to shake before he uttered the name, “Eddie?”

You would say he looked like he’d seen a ghost, but it felt a bit too cliché.

“Oh shit,” you said, realisation setting in.

Looking back at Eddie, you could see he was trying to place your uncle. Then it happened. The recognition bounced Eddie’s confused expression to a one of joy.

“Gareth?!”

End Note: Yooooooo, so we know fuck all about Gareth other than that he’s in Hellfire and Corroded Coffin (drums), that he did his best to take a beating for Eddie before getting his ass handed to him by Jason, and that he’s a mega cutie pie. So, my imagination is running wild here. Gareth the Great – it’s free (character building) real estate!

Tag List (open): @fangirling-4-ever @writers-hes @onceuponathreetwoone @alexfms97 @goldencherriess @nushy

#Mine #Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson Fanfic #Eddie Munson Fanfiction #Eddie Munson x Reader #Stranger Things #Stranger Things Fanfic #Eddie Munson/Reader

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fayes-fics · 7 months

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20 Questions for Fic Writers!

I was tagged by @suspendingtime. Thanks my dear. 🫶🫶 Apologies I'm a little tipsy right now haha. 🤪

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

155. Ahem, hush you. I started writing 18 months ago. When I get a new hobby, I REALLY lean into it.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

481,485. Yup, almost half a million. Again, shhhh.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Only Bridgerton. Look, I have my hyperfixations, ok?

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

On AO3:

In His Lap (Short Fic) 181

Temptation 177

The Lesson 155

Insatiable 149

Are We Friends? 148

Tumblr notes:

Second Son 3,436

Sonnet #29 2,199

Rescue & Ruin 1,841

Awakening 1,827

Temptation 1,788

Wattpad readers:

Innocence, 30,600

Benedict Bridgerton Regency One Shots 23,000

Kinktober 2022 collection 16,300

Anthony Bridgerton Regency One Shots 10,400

Moments 5,800

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yes. Always. It's just wonderful to get feedback. I read and respond to every single comment. They mean the world to me, truly.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Probably No Good Advice. I ended up writing Moments multi-chapter as I (and a friend) couldn't bear the idea they didn't end up together lolol.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

All of them, tbh. I can't write an unhappy ending. Maybe the mushiest is Second Son, Moments, or It Had To Be You.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Luckily not much yet. I did get one hate anon early on. It wasn't about a specific fic, though. It said they didn't know why I had a 'please don't steal my work' disclaimer (the standard one that most writers here use) cos I was delusional that my work was worth stealing. 🤷‍♀️

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yes, it's my trademark. It's rare when I don't write smut. 😬 I'm not sure what is meant by kind of smut. I've written it all, from vanilla romantic sex to kink threesomes with harnesses and double penetration lol. I haven't had a request yet that I've turned down due to sexual content.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

Not yet. The closest I've gotten is It Had To Be You, which is based on When Harry Met Sally.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Yes, sadly, it has happened quite a few times now. I was so fed up with filing copyright takedown notices that I set up a Wattpad account to try to counter it.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No. I've been offered but have turned it down. I have no way to check that any translation would get across the nuance I aim for. So I know that may be anglo-centric, but its how I feel for now.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Not yet, but I am always threatening to lolol.

14. What’s your all-time favourite ship?

Hmm, tough one. I do love Kanthony tbh.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Benedict as a virgin. I just urghhh.... it's been a WIP for 17 months now. I just dunno why I won't finish it; I just get the feeling I won't.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I have no bloody idea. I'd prefer readers answer that tbh lol. My inclination is to say I don't have one, except perhaps a willingness to describe sex in ridiculous levels of detail? Is that a strength?

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

World building. I will do anything to shortcut it. I'll find an economical way to describe a situation e.g. she's a widow; they're old friends. Got it? Good! Let's get down to business.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I've done a smidgeon of French as I studied it for ten years. But I doubt I'd do another language tbh.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Only Bridgerton so far.

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

Bloody hell, I have no fucking idea. It literally changes depending on my mood. But I don't really care for my own writing that much, all I see is flaws lol. I guess the universe I would most like to write more for one day is Mrs Bridgerton and its sequel. Does that count?

No Pressure Tagging: A couple of my talented writing moots were tagged along with me on this (the lovelies @colettebronte and @eleanor-bradstreet). So lets go: @thebabblingbrookenook @fiction-is-life @ferns-fics @silverhallow @mothdruid @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @urchintoast 😁🧡🧡

#tag games #things im tagged in #fic writer questions

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dreamy-love222 · 20 hours

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I used to write really long love letters to the boys I have had a crush on and hide them in my room.

My first love letter I wrote was when I was 11. It was In French my first language (at home we mainly talked French and sometimes the Tunisian dialect but even our dialect was different from the main dialect which was mostly Arabic with a bit of French words (because France colonised Tunisia) and English words because Americanisation of the Tunisian dialect…

So I wrote this letter on the weekend when I was in my grandmother’s old home in the Zahra (Tunisia) (my grandparents bought in the 80s) (they sold it in 2020 so they can live closer to my aunts because they grew old)

I spent 4 hours on this letter, it was about 6 pages long, I was confessing my undying love for Amir, see amir was a really interesting boy. He was the first in our class yet he was always causing trouble. I knew him since I was 5 years old and his mother was friends with my mom. He was cute but what really made me admire him is his intelligence. He pretended to not be serious about his studies but he was, his dad told him he has to be the first in order to do Judo after school. So he did everything to be the first. I admired his drive and his motivation to get what he want.

I remember in a math exam there was the mention of a dinar. That was the first time we ever got told to solve a problem with a dinar in it (dinar is like a euro) 1 dinar is 1000 millims (like cents) we were 7 or something so we didn’t know that. Except Amir. I know it doesn’t sound impressive but it was to me at that time. The problem was like Zayneb had 1 dinar that she got from her grandparents to buy candy. She bought 9 pieces for 50 millims (equivalent of cents)

How many millims does she have left

I also liked the attention he used to give me. He used to sit behind me in class and used to pull on my hair lol.

The teachers always complain about how nosy and not serious he is and how he makes his friends not pay attention in class.

He knew I knew how to draw because everyone in class knows and after lunch time we had free time and I would draw. Sometimes he would shyly ask me to draw him Mario/pikachu/sonic.

Since I was a kind little girl I would draw him what he wanted and the way his eyes sparkled when he sees my finished artwork made my day.

I was really good at sports too. So I would play soccers with the boys when I was younger than 10.

I was bullied from the age of 7 till I got out of this school. At 7 a traumatic sexual event happened to me, before that I was skinny and healthy. I never binged, I liked candy like all kids but one lolly would be enough for the day. But I started gaining weight. I remember I was 37kg at 8 years old and my classmates made fun of me for being that weight. Also became really closed off and I had a few accidents where I peed myself because someone touched me agressively behind my back and I got flashbacks of my nanny touching me… I became the weird girl that peed herself. No one would let that go. But still Amir continued to treat me the way he always have. He wouldn’t ignore me. Would sometimes tease me, never mentioned my accidents! He treated me normally when all the girls and boys in our class either ignored me or made fun of me.

When I didn’t have flashbacks I completely forgot what had happened to me (trauma related amnesia)

Everyone noticed how I started behaving. I became even more quiet and shy.

I was always melancholic. I used to always think about why my Daddy was so far away, why he had to leave to work in Paris as an orthopaedic surgeon… why he left me… but it got worse once I got abused because I thought if he was at home maybe i wouldn’t have had a mean nanny and her nasty boyfriend that always touched me in places I didn’t want to be touched. Mind you she only stayed for a month and then went to jail for grand theft from us. She basically stole 3 months of hard work that we never got back and her fiancé / bf left her so he won’t get in trouble. I remembered the touching but never the extreme moments of rape.

Anyway. So I was the weird kid because of all of this right? He still treated me the same and when no one else was watching he would ask me if I was okay. He was friends with my bullies but whenever he was around they wouldn’t be mean to me.

One of his friends started sexually abusing me when I was 9. It was the end of the school year and I was wearing a jean skirt and a hot pink tank top with hello kitty drawn on it and sneakers… his name was Youssef. (This dude forced me to greet him the French way when I met him again in 2022 March, kiss him on both cheeks it was awful I was completely neutral but my heart was beating so fast and I was so glad my cousin was with me and she felt that something very weird was going on) (he also tried dming me when he found my insta, saying how hot I am and how he wants us to be a couple, needless to say I blocked his ass) the abuse happened in tutoring sessions with my teachers present. He would touch me under the table and do anything to get to me, even with his nasty foot and would take my hand and make me touch his private parts. Ugh just thinking about it makes me shiver. Also when I hear tights ripping I get mini flashbacks, like my vision goes blurry and I find myself scared to death.

So Youssef at some point touched me when I started growing body hair (after summer 2015?) I was 12 then and the abuse went on for that long. And after he would abuse me he would make fun of me with the other bullies. He made a disgusting face and still touched me anyways, and and he started calling me a gorilla and a man. A cow and a fatty in Arabic. All the boys started calling me that and it made me feel like a monster… when I was just a little girl minding her own business that got touched without her consent when she was attending expensive tutoring sessions my mom payed for so I get better grades.

Anyway Amir defended me saying that they aren’t real men if they treat a girl like that. And I really appreciated that because he never really stuck up for me like that. He when they said I was fat he told them it’s true I was a bit overweight but I was really good at sports. I also did gymnastics at the time and ballet. So I could do some impressive tricks in gym class.

From that point on I started seeing him in a different light. He was the first man that defended me from other people who wanted to harm me. My dad was busy in Paris working and providing for us. But at least Amir was there. I started seeing him as my Savior. He was always there.

During the year of the 7ème (Tunisian school system I was 12) I developed a huge crush on him.

And I made a best friend called Yasmine, she wasn’t overweight but she was heavier than me (67kg, taller, super fit, puberty hit her early) (I was 62kg when I first turned 12 then my weight skyrocketed ) and I found her very pretty, she was a very light blonde with turquoise eyes that I found absolutely gorgeous (eyes exactly like dabi’s just a bit greener) (kinda had my first girl crush on her but I thought it was friendship) we both liked anime and drawing and we were in the painting club in our school) so I called her after I went back home from my grandparents home (it was a 2 hours long drive from there to home) and I read her the letter. She was like ewww you like himmm???? Out of all the guys in our class?? And I was like yes. He started having a deep voice, always wore sauvage(Dior) perfume. Has a very symmetrical face with harmonious features. was taller than me. Had a good sense of humour…. What’s there not to love. Anyway she wasn’t convinced but she was like you’re my BFF I’ll always be here for you… I took my letter to class on Monday. During after the school lunch time we went back to our class and there was a teacher watching over all the students of our class.

I was sitting next to Yasmine. We were talking about my love letter, and Amène was sitting behind us with her friend, that was also a beautiful girl with big brown eyes, porcelain skin and long silky dark brown hair. They were eavesdropping. And they were shocked that I liked Amir.

Yasmine was suspicious but we ended up showing them the letter. They were absolutely shocked because it was such a long romantic letter, I literally thought I was going to marry this boy. Talking about how I would love it if he was my first kiss… how we would have a home together. How much i admired him as a "man" and what qualities i admired about him. how manly strong and intelligent i thought he was… how i wanted him to be my husband and the father of my children. i really wrote that haha. (i didnt know how babies were made LMFAO) (maybe thats why my grandma was so upset when she read my letter) (but my mom told me when i was five that children were made out of love and i thought i would magically become pregnant after i get married and i would just have to wait one year after marriage and then i would get pregnant LOLOLL)

Anyway I keep getting off topic but!!!! She took my letter and told me « after this you will become a couple with Amir »

She walked all the way up to Amir. She told him to come next to our table and she whispered something I didn’t hear in his ear. He went so red and started reading the letter out loud. Everyone that could hear it was shocked. And I could tell he was going through all kinds of emotions while reading it. After what felt like an eternity of him reading the love letter that I wrote in French. He said he couldn’t believe his eyes and it was the best thing that has ever happened to him. That it was so well written and that he will cherish it forever. Then Amène told him ( his friends (my bullies) that were sitting behind him were listening) that she didn’t wrote it, Sarra did while pointing at me. He was disgusted and threw the letter on the ground saying ew and that he took back everything he said about it. He told me he would never be with me. Ever. That he didn’t find me pretty or cute. That he only loves Amène. It was the worst rejection ever. My heart shattered in million pieces. It hurt me so bad. I had tears in my eyes and I asked the teacher to go to the bathroom. She let me go.

So yeah that’s the story of how little Sarra got rejected for the first time. I still liked Amir but not as much as I did before. Because I didn’t want to love someone who will never be with me.

We are still friends on facebook but we never talk lol. Maybe I should mention this to him… because it was so silly looking back but it really did hurt.

Another moment worth mentioning is that while on a break in PE class I went to the girls bathroom to wash my face and it was empty, the boys bathroom was next to it and Amir went at the same time. The girls bathroom makes your voice echos so I started singing. I loved singing (still do) I was singing we were staying in Paris?? Or closer… I am not sure and the echo effect amplified my voice. When I got out he looked shyly at me and told me I had a really amazing singing voice and that I should be a singer… It made me fall in love all over again because I wasn’t used to compliments… my brother would always tell me that my voice was terrible and I should shut up.

Anyway all my classmates that made fun of me switched up after I lost weight and got rid of my acne. And he was the one that sent me the friend request on Facebook haha… keep in mind at this point I was one year younger than all of my classmates only in France I repeated two years and I found myself as the eldest classmate. Which feels freaking awful btw. Don’t get as bad as I did and have to get hospitalised for months and repeat years. Waste years.

Should I talk about Mehdi next? I think I will.

(I hope someone reads this and I haven’t wasted my time talking about insignificant school girl crushes…) is this interesting guys? Am I wasting my time? Ughh I want to feel closer to my moots haha… you should share your rejection or first instance of crushes… I would gladly read.

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