Tumgik
#i think pasta will even hurt :(
Text
why is it that every time i eat anything my belly hurts >:( i'm gonna need you to stop doing that right fucking now.
3 notes · View notes
synchlora · 1 year
Text
can't find any good posts on it so I'll make it myself!
its okay to be upset you can't eat foods you want. its okay to be pissed as hell that every time it seems okay, you get a flare up. its okay to be fucking angry that something you love to eat causes you pain
be angry abt it! be mad that some stupid starch hurts you! be upset at all of those doctors who brush you off! be pissed about people in your life not taking it seriously!
food is an incredibly important part of everyone's lives and its frustrating and infuriating to have any sort of struggles with it. cry over it, talk about it, be loud. it is hellish to have any gastrointestinal disability and, diagnosis or not, you deserve to be able to find comfort in food
so to all of my fellow stomach sufferers, I hope you have a nice evening / morning / night and I wish you good meals and snacks in the days to come. I hope your body goes easy on you and your flare ups lessen, I hope the foods you are able to eat bring you comfort and enjoyment. and I hope when things do get bad, you can find solace with others who understand what you're going through <3
12 notes · View notes
Text
imagine being like. human. i'm just a silly little creature. happy cryptid. occasionally a very sad cryptid who ponders its own existence and questions his sanity but. that's mostly during the winter months. we do not speak of the winter months. except for the fact that we are in them and. fuck never mind. i just need some tea and a bit of will wood to ensure my serotonin levels go back to normal and i can be. happy cryptid
#random thoughts#i also do this when i have deprived myself of food for a certain amount of time. don't worry. i am making spaghetti#there will be sauce. with an obscene amount of garlic. i apologize to potential vampire boyfriends#my stomach hurts though so. maybe i'll eat later#but FUCK. i don't want it to be cold#hng. microwaved pasta is just Not As Good. yknow what i mean. it tastes much better fresh#perhaps i will simply eat it cold. i will put parmesan on it. then it will not melt. melted parmesan makes me cry because#i'm a pathetic piss baby who can't stand the texture. or maybe it's the autism diagnosis i don't know#do not mind me. i am simply discussing whether or not i should eat my spaghetti#wait. why did i say making? i haven't even made it yet. lmao#yknow what? no spaghetti for today. i'll just suffer i guess#admitting to pain irl in any way is embarrassing as fuck for some reason? like i felt like i was going to die in french class#the lights were so bright and everyone was so so loud but i couldn't wear my sunglasses in class. hng. and then of course#it stressed me the fuck out. and then. stomachache. at that point i was ready to cry#then my friend saw me and asked if i was okay. i just said yes. she believed me. i think#still suffering. not fun. not fun at all#WHY THE FUCK AM I SO OFF TOPIC. credence you need to stop. please just post this already#actually wait. i will post this. and then just make the sauce. i will put it in the refrigerator and eat it the next day#it is similar to tomato soup. except. cold. and obviously thicker. i don't know why it tastes good. hng#on my way to make the sauce. goodbye everyone
3 notes · View notes
imogen-theimaginedcat · 5 months
Text
getting put on antidepressants for my anxiety and derealization only to experience dizziness and nausea like I’ve never felt, and being unable to even stomach my safe foods causing me to not eat anything but the plainest foods bc I have emetophobia, AND not having the energy to cook foods that seem palatable or study, which makes my anxiety worse, and overall feeling more useless than ever….
1 note · View note
boyapologist · 7 months
Text
Tumblr media
pov you're me and your eating disorder is going sicko mode, it's 5 pm and you're starving because you had nothing but two jam muffins and a cup of coffee all day
0 notes
spiderlyla · 4 months
Text
miguel would never purposefully hurt you, would he?(gn!reader)
You remember it all too well, that god forsaken evening.
You were in the kitchen heating up leftovers from the night before for the two of you, all while retelling the events of your day to your boyfriend, who was silent the whole time.
It was a little odd how silent he was.
Even when he was extremely tired, he'd hum or throw in a few comments to show you that he's listening, all while looking at you the whole time. Now, he was just staring at the wall in front of him, his back turned to you.
You decided to mess with him a bit to see if he was really listening or not. "Oh, and then the statues all started moving around, and the museum turned into an arena--The Ancient Egyptian section was at war with the Greco-Roman one when I left. I wonder if they reached an agreement or not -"
To your surprise, he was listening.
And he wasn't amused.
"Qué?" He turned to look at you now, those gorgeous crimson eyes that usually looked at you with nothing but love, lacked any sort of emotion behind them. You laughed nervously, unsure what he wanted you to elaborate on. [What?]
"Was just joking around, Mig. I was checking to see if you were listening." You turned the stove off and grabbed two plates. His voice got a little louder when he spoke again, "Why would you think I'm not listening?" He rose from the couch, walking towards the counter.
"It's...you weren't looking at me, and you weren't saying anything, so I assumed you weren't concentrating. Thought I'd mess with you a bit." You heard his footsteps shuffle around the kitchen. You could hear him opening the fridge and aggressively pulling the door open so hard that it rattled. "Maybe if you didn't go off track ten separate times all while telling the same story, I'd be able to concentrate."
Oh.
Your body tensed up, and a cold shiver coursed through your entire body. You put down the half filled plate of pasta down on the counter and turned to him, your eyebrows furrowed. This harsh tone of his was absolutely new to you, and those unsympathetic words he spat at you were so foreign to hear coming from him. You waited for a moment. For him to realise what he's said, but he was staring right at you like nothing was wrong.
Uncomfortable, you shuffled in your place. "Oh, um..." His gaze lingered on you for a minute before he grabbed a bottle of sparkling water out of the fridge and slammed the door shut. Your speech trailed off. You didn't feel like talking to him anymore.
"Well, go on. I'm listening." He sat down on one of the stools by the kitchen counter, and you shook your head, putting a little more food in the plate in front of you and pushing it his way. "You're too tired. I'll just tell you later—"
Miguel groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose, seemingly exasperated. "Aye, vamos, no seas así, cariño." He got up and moved towards you, but when he came to reach for you, you moved away from his grasp. You didn't meet his eyes, but if you had, you'd see them widen at your avoidance. "Hey, you were upset that I wasn't listening, now you won't talk?" Even when you were infuriated with him, you would never move away from his touch. This was different.  [Come on, don't be like that, honey.]
You were only getting more and more disquieted by the second. Sure, he was telling you he was listening, but it was like he was doing it reluctantly, evident by the way he spoke to you. "It's not like I don't want to talk. You don't have the capacity to listen. And that's fine, I'll talk to you when you're feeling better."
"I do have the capacity to listen—Why else would I tell you to keep talking?"
"You said you couldn't concentrate on what I was saying—"
"Yes, that's because you keep telling a bunch of stories about your coworkers in the middle–"
"I always do that, Miguel. Why do you only seem to mind now? It's a part of my day—"
Your voices got louder with each second that passed, you were on the other side of the kitchen now, while Miguel was walking behind you, trying to meet your gaze in any way he could, but you wouldn't let him.
"Oh, so that's why you don't want to talk? Because I told you it's distracting to listen to you speak about so many things at once?"
"No, I don't want to talk because you're being a jerk, Mig." The words left your mouth before you could even register them, and it sent him into a fit of loud irritation. Uttering sentences that you couldn't tell if they were in Spanish or in English. You couldn't take it anymore, so you turned your back to him and walked away, heading towards the bedroom. He could have dinner all alone tonight.
"Hey, where are you—" He followed you closely, his voice becoming a little softer, still the irritation was still very much present. "Oh, come on, don't run away—¡Por Dios! Look at me!" His hand wrapped around your wrist, and he gently tugged you his way. You finally looked at him, and the sight in front of him made his face fall.
Tears filled your eyes to the brim, and you were biting on your lower lip so they wouldn't spill. His grip on your wrist loosened, and his hand fell to his side. Just as he realised what he's done, you were gone, slamming the bedroom door behind you and locking it.
You sat down on your bed, letting the tears stream down your face. How could the man you've always felt comfort speaking to about anything make you feel so...dejected?
No matter how tired he was, he never behaved this way, not even when the multiverse was collapsing. Miguel always made you feel important, always listened to everything you have to say—
You heard movement outside. Clattering plates, the sound of the oven starting, and...the sound of the stand mixer?
You assumed Miguel was just reheating the food, and it pained you more that he was so fine with just letting you be by yourself than to fix what he caused.
You wiped the tear drops off your cheeks and just laid down on the bed, trying to ignore the noise in the kitchen, trying to take your mind off of what had just happened between the two of you.
An hour passed, maybe more, you weren't sure. There was a sweet smell seeping through the small space between the bedroom door and the floor. You were still holding your phone, mindlessly scrolling through your socials, when finally you heard a knock on the door.
When you didn't say anything, he knocked again. His voice was uncertain, and his tone was much more gentle than earlier. "Honey?" The knob turned, and light from the living room spilt into the darkness of the bedroom. You didn't turn to look at him, so he made his way to your side of the bed.
Miguel knelt down to face you, and you put away your phone to finally meet his eyes. "Hey..." He gave you a sheepish smile, his gaze much more softer. He looked like he was unsure of what to say, evident by the way he kept opening his mouth without anything even coming out. He paused for a moment before taking a deep breath. "Mi amor, I'm sorry." He got up to stand in front of you, and you sat up to listen. "I can't disagree with you, I was a jerk. It's just... today has been stressful." He paused again as if realising something. You looked away. "But that's no excuse to treat you the way I did."
You just let out a small hum, and he kneeled down to your level, sitting down on his knees in front of you. He placed one of his hands on your thigh while the other cupped your cheek. "Por favor, Mírame." He sounded so tender, so apologetic. You've never seen Miguel kneel in front of anyone, and yet here he was, on his knees begging you to look at him. "Lo arruiné. But please, just..."  [Please, look at me. / I messed up.]
You met his maroon eyes, and it seemed to have taken him by surprise. He choked up on his words, going queit, then he leaned up, brushing his lips against yours. "Forgive me, okay? I never meant to hurt you, and I can't live with myself knowing I made you cry." You didn't reply but wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss. His tense shoulders relaxed under your touch, his hands snaked around your waist, his grip firm and protective.
Although you kissed him first, he took the lead, as always, only pulling away when the two of you needed a breather. He set his forehead on yours, before speaking.
"I reheated the food, and made trés leches. It should be ready," His fingers laced with yours, as the two of you stood up. "That is if you want to have dinner with me." He gave you small smile, and you chuckled, squeezing his hand.
"Mm, only because I'm hungry." He laughed, a wave of relief washing over him once he heard your voice. "I'll have to work harder for you to completely forgive me, isn't that so?"
"Surely you didn't think it'd be this easy."
"No, no. I'm planning to make it up for you after dinner."
"With what?"
He grinned, shooting a playful wink your way. "You'll find out."
Safe to say, you did find out. And safe to say, you did forgive him.
He was very persuasive.
2K notes · View notes
tojipie · 3 months
Note
Thoughts on Toji being mean to his gf after a bad day at work and immediately regretting it.. pls pls pls pls
content: major angst, hurt/comfort, fluff if you squint, blue collar toji
a/n: y’all have rly been devouring the hurt/comfort stuff up lately is everything ok guys :((
Tumblr media
the added weight in toji’s steps as he makes his way into the house doesn’t go unnoticed by you, even from the other side of the house.
you knew your boyfriend well enough to tell when he’d had a bad day. toji wasn’t the type to express himself, his body language did that for him.
“bad day?” you yell from the kitchen, wiping your damp hands off before making your way into the living room.
“something like that,” he mumbles, pulling you into a side hug and pressing a firm kiss to the crown of your head.
long days spent in the blistering cold had taken its toll on his body and mind. soft, warm palms had morphed into plains of cracked, bleeding skin. the tip of his nose permanently red from the icy wind.
blue-collar work was no joke.
“i made pasta if you’re hungry,” you offer sweetly, taking his thick welding jacket from his hands.
“not hungry doll,” he mumbles, kicking his snow boots off and onto the plush carpet with a grunt. gross.
“can you at least put your shoes on the ra—”
“you don’t ever shut the fuck up do you?” toji cuts in, rubbing the butt of his hand into his temple boredly.
you’d think he’d just asked you the time with how casually he says it. cold, calculated, and solely intended to hurt your feelings in as little time as possible.
toji opens his mouth before closing it a couple times, “i’m sorry,” he starts, turning to face your shivering form with his eyes blown wide.
“i don’t know where that came from—fuck,”
you step back as he makes his way over to you, furiously wiping tears before they have the chance to fall.
“can you just put your fucking shoes away,” you whimper, wanting to change the subject out of sheer embarrassment.
“sweet girl,” he whispers, grunting when you throw his jacket in his face.
“it’s fine,” you tell him, letting your arms hang limp by your sides when he pulls you into a hug.
“it’s not,” he mumbles quietly, pressing soft kisses to your hairline. “it’s not and i’m sorry.”
3K notes · View notes
feederprincess · 3 months
Text
This one is a bit darker… But I need someone to fatten up without their knowledge… To secretly condition to associate food with pleasure…
I would start off easy, I would spoil you with home cooked meals whenever you feel like it. Oh, you saw food online that looks good? Let me make it for you! We both know that pastries taste better the more butter you add, but you don’t need to know I am adding it, right?
Perhaps you have mentioned you want me to make you creamy pasta, and I will make sure to use the most fattening products available. You notice that your pants feel a bit tighter, I am so sorry darling! I shrinked them in the wash, I will get you a new pair, okay? I will also make sure they are a size bigger, to make sure you stay oblivious.
Now it is time to start introducing constant snacking to your routine! This part will solely depend on how fast I can get you to associate food with a reward… In this case, getting you off~
Whenever you play games I will sit next to you and feed you snacks by hand, while kissing your neck and making sure you slowly get worked up. After a couple of them I will make sure you cum. At first it will only be three or four, but I will increase the number over time, and you will continue eating because you hope that after ‘a couple’ I will help you get off<3
At some point you will start eating snacks without me, and if I notice I will reward you as well💕now you subconsciously know that eating will result in me helping you, isn’t that neat? Afterwards I will introduce feeding you while I get you off, in fact, I will only edge you… Unless you finish the plate. Then and only then will I give you the much needed relief. How long will it take me until simply finishing a plate makes you horny… I cannot help but wonder.
At this point you will have packed on quite a few pounds, that’s okay! See, because of your thighs increasing in size, you can’t sit without spreading them. This means its perfect for me to sit between them, making you feel good whenever you are eating<3 You won’t even think of it as a bad thing, you will believe you are spreading them because you want to feel good. You are very easy to manipulate, you know that?
Oh! Did you know that I got a raise? You could quit the job you hate so much and stay home for a bit, taking a break and finding something you enjoy? I will take care of everything around the house, so you can focus on having fun<3. You will be getting bored more often, so I will make sure the kitchen is always stocked up so you have something to snack on to pass time… Due to how I have conditioned you however you get horny whenever you are painfully full, resulting in you masturbating while I am not home.
It becomes a routine at some point, eating makes you horny and whenever you are horny you eat. I will keep swapping out your clothes whenever they get too small and filling all of your favorite meals with butter, the more time passes the more you give into the cycle. Seeing you pig out on food is not uncommon because getting off and eating are easily two of the only things that make you happy. Your dopamine receptors? Completely messed up. You don’t notice when your belly starts touching the couch when you are sitting, but I do.
Here is where I can start playing with your belly whenever you are painfully full and horny, you have grown so lazy you barely move from the couch anymore. Needing more food to reach the same level of satisfaction every time you eat. You start eating to the point where you can’t move from the couch when full, which also means you can’t get off. This is a problem, isn’t it? You have gotten addicted to both food and masturbating, but both just are not happening at the same time anymore, but you know… If you keep gaining playing with your belly will also get you off because everything would be touching
you already made it this far, it can’t hurt to gain just a bit more, right? you noticed what i was doing too late anyway ~
2K notes · View notes
riality-check · 11 months
Text
"Robin, you need to listen to this."
"Hello to you, too, dingus," Robin says, holding the receiver against her ear with her shoulder as she stirs the pasta she has on the stove.
"Seriously, Buckley, you're not gonna believe this."
"Hi to you, too, husband of dingus."
Through the phone, Eddie snorts, which makes Robin smile. Through the phone, Robin hears Steve mumble before he says, "Okay, Cora, what's Pa's name?"
A few seconds pass before Cora, wonderful little menace that she is, answers with all her bright, two-year old confidence, "Baby!"
Robin laughs so hard she drops her spoon. "Steve, you gotta be-"
"It gets better," Eddie says, and he's laughing, too. "Cora, what's Daddy's name?"
"Oh, don't tell me-"
"S'eehard!" Cora says, not quite getting all the sounds, but Robin gets the gist.
"You two are disgusting," she says fondly. "And she's totally doing this on purpose, isn't she?"
"Absolutely," Steve says.
"She's smiling so wide, it's making my face hurt," Eddie adds.
"Well, she gets it from you," Steve says. "Munson menaces beget Munson menaces."
"Okay, Steve Munson."
Robin laughs. "How about it's both of your faults?"
"Wobin!"
Silence settles, and Robin doesn't even try to suppress the wild grin that spreads across her face.
"You gotta be kidding me, little lady," Eddie says.
"She's smiling like a maniac," Steve says, awed.
"I think this just means I'm better than you," Robin says, shrugging and almost immediately dropping the phone.
"I mean, yeah-"
"Yeah, right, Buckley-"
And, for the bit and only for the bit, Robin hangs up, content to let those two idiots and their brilliant kid fight it out until they realize they're talking to dead air.
She has to finish her pasta up, anyway.
4K notes · View notes
golden-cherry · 4 months
Text
deal - cl16 (19/?)
Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader
Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.
Chapter Summary: There's so much going on in Charles' brain, but having to come clean with his feelings is the hardest.
Warnings: 18+ (mentions of fingering, masturbating), angst, swear words, Lando being a little shit
Word Count: 3.4k
series masterlist
previous part
A/N: sorry. and happy season finale. let’s hope for a better 2024.
Tumblr media
Charles has never been so happy about a pot of plants. 
After you slammed the door in his face, he barely made it to the street before throwing up in the nearest plant pot. His fingers clawed around the hard ceramic edges as his body struggled against the nasty words he spat at you. 
He doesn't even know why he was so mean to you. 
Was it because you had a wonderful evening last night? Because you two got so close that you both almost kissed? Because you fell asleep next to each other and he slept incredibly well? Or because Lando texted him in the middle of the night and asked what your favorite food was so that he could do everything right on your date?
Maybe he does know why he was so mean to you. 
"Charles? Concentrate, please," he is snapped out of his thoughts and Charles sits up a little straighter in his chair. He can feel something crack in his spine.
The meeting has been going on for hours. So long, in fact, that the private chefs in Maranello have already had to bring food to the room four times, with the last meal being dinner. Charles has eaten so much pasta and bruschetta that he feels sick just looking at the leftovers on the table in front of him. And the water with the slice of lemon in the glass in front of him no longer tastes very refreshing.
No matter what he eats or drinks, he can't get rid of the disgusting taste in his mouth. 
He wonders if your "I hate you" is as heavy on your stomach as the nasty words are on his. He would love to take back everything he spat in your face. Turn back time and undo everything. But he can't do that. Unfortunately. 
He'd love to bang his head on the tabletop. 
In fact, he can barely remember what he said. It's as if his brain short circuited, has had some kind of blackout, or as if a bomb has gone off and wiped everything out. Which doesn't excuse any of it. But from your hurt look, the tears in your eyes and your venomous response, it was so unacceptable that he'd like to slap himself for it. 
It wasn't the first time Lando had asked Charles for dating help and they are actually such good friends that Charles has always been happy to help him. But the fact that the Brit asked for help so that he could take you out nicely - that doesn't sit right with him. Which is complete nonsense, because he has no reason to. He has no claim of ownership over you. And besides, he didn't want to kiss you in the bookstore. 
Although that's not entirely true either.
He did want to kiss you. Desperately. And you'd been so close all day, you'd shown him your favorite place and everything had pointed to you wanting to make the move to something more - and then you gave him that look when he asked you for a dance. And he can understand why you didn't want to. After all, it's your place, your favorite place, and never would Charles do anything to tarnish that place in any way. Create a memory that you would later regret. 
The Petit Mondes is your safe haven. And as much as Charles wants you - and he definitely does - he wouldn't cross that line.
Since you've known each other, Charles has had to fight every waking - and to be honest, every sleeping - moment not to jump you. He can't stop thinking about you standing in front of him half-naked in a towel. Or how you turned around just a few steps away from him before dinner with his friends to show him your outfit. How you slept next to him and dreamt - dreamt of him. A moment he will never forget. 
Although he is actually a late riser, Charles woke up early that morning. Not because he had slept in, but because he was warm. Contrary to his expectations, it wasn't because of the comforter or the heating, but because you were lying half on top of him. Your head was resting against his shirt-clad chest, one of your legs was draped over his hip, while your arm was wrapped around his middle. 
At first, he didn't understand what was going on at all. He wanted to lift his arm to rub the sleep from his eyes, but he was met with resistance in the form of a lightly clad, sleeping beauty. His arm was wrapped around your waist, his hand was a little too high on your ribs to pass for being friendly, and by God - he hadn't felt this comfortable in ages.
Feeling your closeness had triggered something in him that confused him, but at the same time made him incredibly relaxed. He had pulled you closer to him, pressed you against him and enjoyed your warmth. For a moment, he had even considered whether he should just pull you all over him so that he could be as close to you as possible. 
Before he could think about how wrong that would be and how many boundaries he would be crossing, you had turned in his arms so that your back was against his chest. Your body molded perfectly against his, your warmth engulfing him, but nothing could have prepared him for the fact that you were going to move your butt a little in his direction, right up against his crotch. 
Charles had been awake in a flash and while you continued to sleep soundly, all the blood from his brain had rushed to his dick. Embarrassed, he'd squinted and focused on something else - Ferrari strategies, Joris last Christmas with the Leclercs, anything - and had scooted back a few inches to stick his hand down his pants so he could fix his raging boner.
But alas, you'd followed him like a magnet, squirming against him like you knew exactly what you were doing, so that his cock was wedged between your ass cheeks. Your body had been so warm, so soft against his hard one, that he had to stifle a moan.
Something you hadn't been able to do. If you hadn't been so close to him, he would have missed your soft gasp of his name. That's when he blew a fuse.
He would have loved to wake you up with kisses along your neck, let his fingers wander slowly over your skin until they finally disappeared into your panties. He would have let them glide through your folds and collect your wetness before gently rubbing your bundle of nerves. You would have turned to him and moaned into his mouth as he slid one of his fingers into your tight walls.
He'd never escaped his bedroom so quickly and quietly and jumped into the freezing cold shower.
The water felt like fine pinpricks as it splashed down on his burning hot skin, but no matter how cold he turned it on - his cock stood angry and proud. He put his head back in despair, his brain vehemently refusing to see his friend in this light, to desire you like this. But before he could do anything about it, his fingers had wrapped themselves around his aching cock. His imagination ran away with him, too many images popped up in his mind's eye as he squeezed it twice in the hope of relieving some tension. But the only thing it triggered was the feeling of a moment ago, when his cock was against your ass. 
He was almost ashamed of how quickly he came. 
He just hoped you didn't notice when he came back into the bedroom and woke you up with it. He had thought about lying back next to you, but had decided on the foot of the bed to create some distance. 
The fact that you were dreaming about him threw him off course. And he'd really wanted to kiss you - by God, he'd wanted to do even kinkier things to you - but the timing never seemed right. 
And then Lando's message came.
The vibration in his pocket brings him back to the present. Charles takes a quick look around to make sure he's not the center of the conversation, then glances at his phone. 
Lando: You need to come home now.
He looks at the screen, confused. Why the hell is Lando texting him? Lando of all people? Did you tell him all the things Charles threw at you? How badly he treated you? 
Charles: I'm in Maranello. 
If you really did confide in Lando, his answer sounds pathetic. Why else would Lando text him? His friend certainly knows that Charles screwed up. And also that you want to move out of the apartment. But does the Brit really believe that Charles could change your mind when he's the reason you're moving out?
Lando's answer comes immediately.
Lando: I don't care. Get your ass over here. 
The Monegasque turns on the keypad lock on his cell phone and places it on the table in front of him. It wouldn't make any difference if he went home now and tried to change your mind. What could happen is that his presence would only strengthen your decision to move out. Besides, he doesn't know how he's ever going to face you again. 
Before he can think about it, his cell phone starts ringing. The eyes of his co-workers land on him and he apologizes with a quiet "mi dispiace" before leaving the meeting, phone in hand. Out in the corridor, he doesn't even need to look at the screen to know who is calling. 
"If you don't go back to Monaco immediately, I'll come to Italy myself to get you," Lando snaps at him and Charles has to hold the receiver away from his ear to stop his eardrums from bursting.
"Hi, Lando."
"Don't give me 'Hi, Lando'. Get your fucking ass over here."
Charles rubs his forehead before running his whole hand over his face. "I can't just leave here."
"Don't talk shit like that. We both know you're not up for the meeting," the Brit replies bitchily. "Don't act like you don't have a choice."
The Monegasque rolls his eyes. "What do you want to hear from me now, Lando?"
The answer comes like a shot from a gun. "I want to know what you've been up to! Are you completely stupid?"
Charles would like to know the answer too.
"You go home right now, explain your shitty behaviour and apologize."
"And you're interfering because...?" His tone is cold. 
"Because I was in your apartment all evening and had to watch how devastated Y/N was. I'd love to kill you for it."
"Go ahead and do it. She sure as hell wouldn't mind."
He swears he hears Lando take a deep breath on the other end of the line. 
"I'm going to tell you this once. Just once, Charles. And I'm saying this for her sake, because I still have hope that you're the person I was praising to her."
Praising? If you've told Lando everything, then you've certainly told Charles everything about the Brit. That he just wants to get you into bed. So why would Lando want to help him?
"What you did was absolute bullshit, Charles. Totally below the belt and you've never acted as fucking shit as you just did."
Charles rolls his eyes. "Is there anything positive coming?"
"Shut up, you idiot. I don't know what you've done in the few days you've known each other to make her so crazy about you, but I don't have to. Any blind man can see there's something between you. Something good. So go home now and save what can be saved before she really decides to leave the country."
Charles, who had just been leaning against the wall, stands up straight. "The country? I thought she just wanted to move out."
"She's been thinking about it, asshole. United States, Australia. Something really far away from you."
"But she has her job here, at that one magazine. There's no way she'd leave like that."
"She got fired, motherfucker. Before you made your weird deal. Nothing's keeping her here anymore. So get your ass over here now before she really decides to take off."
How could Charles be so blind? He knows the magazine, his mom reads it occasionally and he actually knows that a new issue comes out every week. You've known each other for five days - five days that you've spent entirely with him. Something that would definitely not be possible with such a full-time job. 
"And what do you want from me now? That I drop everything to go home even though she doesn't want to see me?"
"I've never seen anyone as stupid as you."
"Can you stop with the insults?" Charles snaps through the phone. 
"You have nothing to say to me, you arsehole. She told me what you said about me. You owe it to us to go off and try to make things right." 
Charles can't help but laugh. "Us? So you two are already an us?" He doesn't know why he's talking to one of his closest friends like this. Especially when the latter only wants to help put things right that Charles has messed up. The Monegasque has no reason to be angry. But the disgusting taste in his mouth, which he hasn't been able to get rid of for hours, is not anger. Unfortunately, he only realizes it now.
He's fucking jealous. And he can't do anything about it.
"We're friends, but apparently you don't know what the word stands for," Lando replies snippily. "Go home, explain to her why you behaved so badly and apologize to her." His voice softens, warmer than it has been throughout the phone call. "Charles, I know you're being careful because you're afraid of getting hurt again. And I can understand that, I really can." He takes a deep breath. "But it's Y/N we're talking about here. Sit down and talk to each other, be honest, and then it'll all work out."
Charles' gaze wanders to the huge Ferrari logo hanging on the wall next to him and his bad guilt returns. You don't even know who he is. To you, he's Charles, the roommate who shows you beautiful places, introduces you to his friends and with whom you share a bed. You are the only person who knows him as Charles and not as Charles Leclerc.
What would you think of him if the cat was out of the bag? When you see who he really is, including the spotlight? What happens if you like Charles, but not Charles Leclerc? He doesn't know if he could handle it. His job is his life, he's on the road all year round and what little time he has he has to divide between friends and family. 
That's why his relationship with Annika failed. She was right about what she threw at him. That you always have to wait for him and that it's not fair. And she knew what she was getting into from the start. But you don't. You would be thrown in at the deep end if you decided to go for it. If you chose him.
"I don't think it's that easy," Charles says quietly, and he has to suppress the tremor in his voice. "She - she doesn't deserve this life. This risk. She - she," he takes a deep breath and has to wipe away the tear running down his cheek. "She's too good for me. She deserves someone great."
"How strange," Lando replies. "That's exactly what she says about you. So get in the car and apologize. I'm sure you'll be able to sort it out. And if you say shit like that about me again, I'll drive you into the wall in Bahrain next year."
Charles curls his mouth into a thin smile. "I'm truly sorry, Lando. And thank you for everything."
"I'm just absolutely the best." Charles can almost hear his grin before the Brit hangs up.
When the Monegasque re-enters the meeting room, all eyes are on him. With deliberate steps, he walks to his chair and grabs his jacket before looking at his team boss. "I'm going home."
His boss crosses his arms in front of his chest. "You can't just leave like that, Charles. We need to talk about next season and everything that's gone wrong this year."
"I can tell you exactly what happened," the brunette replies as he zips up his jacket. "The strategies this year were all for the trash, you screwed me over and you cost me the title." He grabs his wallet and car keys from the table in front of him. "Make sure things go better next year. After all, it doesn't get any shittier than this. See you next year. Have a good holiday."
He knows that his Ferrari can drive fast. And he also knows that he shouldn't drive that fast. But the roads home are empty and he wants to get to you as quickly as possible, in the hope that you haven't left the apartment yet. The accelerator pedal is almost stuck to the floor and he would certainly have to pay a heavy fine if the police caught him speeding. But apparently luck is on his side and it takes him just over three hours to turn onto the streets of Monaco.
The closer he gets to your apartment, the faster his heart beats and he can feel himself starting to sweat. What's the best way to start the apology?
I'm sorry I was so shitty to you, but it was because -
I behaved like crap, but it was only because - 
I'm sorry I was such a bad friend, but you should have - 
Wow. It actually all sounds like shit. 
Maybe Lando is right. Maybe the most reasonable thing would be for Charles to just be honest, even if it means destroying everything between you. But you deserve the truth.
I'm sorry I said those bad things to you and I'm sorry I hurt you. Of course, apologizing can't undo any of it, but if you gave me the chance, I could explain myself to you. I was jealous because we had such a nice evening and then I find out you planned a date with one of my friends. I wanted to kiss you in the bookstore, I've wanted you ever since we met. You've been messing with my head from the beginning, taking over my heart and I can't think straight when you're with me. Maybe it's crazy because we've only known each other for five days, but I've never felt about someone the way I feel about you. I'm in lo-
His train of thought stops abruptly as he turns into the street. A green Nissan is parked on the sidewalk in front of your apartment, the driver's door is open and the hazard lights illuminate the walls of the house. 
Charles worriedly parks at the next opportunity before jumping out of the car and dashing to the front door, which is wide open. He can already hear angry voices from outside, a male voice that almost shouts the whole house awake. 
And your voice, angry and rough and shaky, as if you were at the end of your tether. 
Charles sprints up the few steps to your apartment and stops like a flash on the top step when he sees you. You're wearing your pyjamas, your hair is disheveled, as if you've run your hand through it several times, and when you see him, you snap your eyes open as if you've seen a ghost. 
But it's not the sight of you that makes Charles' blood boil. 
It's Raphael's, who follows your gaze and takes a step back when he realizes who he's facing. "Your roommate is Charles Leclerc?"
next part
1K notes · View notes
allywthsr · 4 days
Text
LITTLE SPOON | (l.norris)
Tumblr media
summary: Lando’s never been the little spoon before
wordcount: 1.3k words
pairing: landonorris x fem!reader
warnings: none!
notes: it’s rather short, but I didn’t know what else to write
You’ve been dating Lando for a little over three months, in these months you‘ve tried to see Lando as often as possible, which was a bit tricky sometimes with his crazy schedule, but you still made it work.
Today wasn’t a day made for Lando, when he woke up this morning, it was raining and he noticed that he forgot to charge his phone and he didn’t have the time to charge it, his portable charger was also running low on battery, so he had to fly to England with only twelve percent. When he was at the MTC, he sat in the simulator and didn’t get the results he wanted, and Oscar was quicker in almost every sector. And in the cafeteria, they only had foods involved with fish, and the only thing that wasn’t near a fish, didn’t taste good. That almost ruined his day, the cherry on top was when he was on his way to you and stopped for a small grocery run, he got crowded by his fans outside, someone must’ve posted that he was in a Tesco in London. After taking pictures with almost everyone, he looked at his phone and saw about ten missed calls and at least twenty messages from you, asking where he was and if he could bring some extra apples. With a groan, he went back inside and prayed that no one else was waiting for him, and luckily there were only about ten people this time, he quickly said hello to everyone and hopped back into his car, which was also running low on fuel and he had to get gas, taking him even longer to be in your arms.
The last thing that almost made him cry, was when he went up the stairs to your apartment and with the heavy bags in his hands, he didn’t see a step and tripped, luckily he didn’t get seriously hurt, but the groceries were now all over the floor and his knee was hurting from the fall. After collecting it and putting it back into the bags, he had enough. Enough of this stupid day. He rang your doorbell and stomped passed you directly to the kitchen where he unloaded the food, with a surprised look you followed him.
“Hello to you too, my darling.”
“Sorry, bad day.”
And with that, he turned to you and fell into your arms, you caressed his back and kissed his neck and cheek repeatedly, wanting to comfort him.
“What happened?”
“It all started this morning with me forgetting to charge my phone, being shit in the simulator, bad food, and don’t get me started on the huge crowd that stood outside of Tesco, I also fell up your stairs.”
You immediately pouted and pushed him away to look at him, “My angel, is there anything I can do?”
“Make me food and cuddle”, Lando said after a while of thinking.
You nodded and kissed his lips with a smile, you knew he needed to be babied now, you sent him to the couch where he put on his favorite show, while you made dinner. You didn’t waste too much time preparing a fancy dinner, some pasta, and a sauce, but you knew that was his comfort food, your pasta.
Normally you sat down at the dinner table to eat, but you figured he needed his comfort show and the couch tonight, the day clearly wasn’t nice to your boy, so you could be to him.
With two plates in your hands, you made your way to him, he was lying on the couch with a small pout while checking his phone every now and then.
“I‘m finished with dinner, can you sit up so you can eat?”
He nodded and scooched a little to the right, so you could sit next to him and share the coffee table, you placed the plates on said table and sat down. You kissed his shoulder, “Enjoy your meal, Lan, after that, we can cuddle or whatever you’d like.”
“I‘d like that, thank you for making dinner, I wanted to help you.”
“Don’t worry, we all have bad days sometimes.”
You both started eating and silently watched the show Lando put on, you let him be in his head and think about the day he had. Lando and you quickly finished your meal and he immediately leaned back against the soft cushions, you knew he wouldn’t be doing anything today.
“Can I put the dishes in the dishwasher quickly or do we want to cuddle now?”
“If you hurry with the dishes?”
“Always.”
So you quickly put the dishes in the dishwasher and grabbed a kinder chocolate bar that you could give to Lando, maybe that would cheer him up a little, you always kept a small stack of these in case that Lando gets a sweet tooth and needed chocolate.
When Lando saw you coming back, he laid down and opened his arms, for you to lay in.
“Don’t you wanna be the small spoon today? I want to comfort you.”
“Nah, I‘ve never been the little spoon, I get comforted when I hold you in my arms.”
“You’re a walking cheeseball, aren’t you? I brought you a kinder chocolate bar.”
He quietly mumbled a ‘Thank you’ and already opened the package of the small chocolate before you could lie down.
You moved in front of him and he closed his arms around you and snuggled with his face in your neck, inhaling your scent he loved so much. Your hands found their way to his‘ and you caressed his knuckles and played with his long fingers, both of you were silent and enjoyed the peace that lingered in the living room. You knew Lando was exhausted so it was no wonder that he fell asleep pretty quickly.
You hated to wake him up, but you knew if he would sleep on the couch he would have back pain tomorrow, so you carefully turned around in his embrace and kissed his chin. Slowly caressing his cheeks and repeatedly kissing his face, everywhere where you could reach him. Slowly he opened his eyes and groaned, he needed his sleep and hated getting disturbed.
“Should we move this to the bedroom? You‘ll be more comfortable there.”
Lando nodded against your neck in which he had put his head after opening his eyes. You got up and pulled on his hand, he got up after looking at you with a pout and you walked into the bathroom where you two did your little night routine. When you went into the bedroom, Lando laid down on his side and opened his arms again, waiting for you to slip in.
“What if I‘m the big spoon tonight, you’re still not feeling too good, and it can be very comforting.“
“I don’t know Y/N, I‘ve never been the little spoon, I want to protect you and hold you close.”
“I‘m still close to you when I cuddle you, come on, let’s try it out, we can switch back if you don’t like it.”
“You won’t give up, will you?”
You shook your head and he scooched a little more to your side, you laid down and wrapped your arms around his body, caressing his tummy, you also slipped a leg between his. It felt good having him in your arms and cuddling like that.
After a few minutes you felt him moving, “And? What do you think?”
“It’s the best fucking thing ever, you’re never gonna be the little spoon ever again, only if you have a bad day, baby.”
taglist: @millinorrizz @jamieeboulos @loxbbg @noneofyourfbusinessworld @myownwritings
787 notes · View notes
atrirose · 5 months
Text
💭🐰 — HIDE MY BOYFRIEND IS HERE , 駅
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
synopsis : pranking them by saying my boyfriend is here.
ft. enha ( all members ) ✷ fluff tiktok m.list wc. 0.5k warning. none © atrirose
Tumblr media
HEESEUNG : “heeseung hide my boyfriend is here quick” you say frantically pulling him, he just looks at you. dead in the eye and says “let them see how they don’t stand a chance” he says as he pulls you back on his lap “let him see” he says as he smiles and kisses you nose. “ugh i can’t prank you” you said as you rolled your eyes. well it’s true you can’t help it that heeseung is super confident, not only on himself but you as well, he just knows he is irreplaceable. “bet he is ugly though” heeseung says you still in his lap as he does his work on his laptop.
JAY : “jay babe can you hide my boyfriend will be here in a minute” you went into the kitchen where he was serving pasta in two plates, it was beautifully decorated, too beautiful to even eat “jay that’s soooo good” you said as you reached to grab a plate but to your dismay he took the plate from you “im sorry this is for my girlfriend” he said smirking “but i am your girlfriend” you said pouting “are you? last thing i heard is your boyfriend was coming and i needed to hide” he went and set the plates on the table “i was just joking” you said as you hugged him from behind “you are the only one for me, just look at you? can anyone compare to you? no! you are my favorite male wife” jay was caught of as he choked on air “you are crazy” he said as he turned back so your hands were wrapped around his waist “too beautiful” he said as he kissed your eyes and trailed kisses to your cheeks.
JAKE : he fell down the sofa as you jolt in surprise “wait- what’s wrong babe are you okay” he said as he looked at you “nothing is okay, you need to hide” you said as you try to pick jake up “why am i hiding?” jake said as he got back on the sofa “my boyfriend is here” he looks at you with wide eyes “WHY DIDNT YOU TELL ME OMG WHERE DO I GO? the closet? or the bathroom? but what if he wants to use-” he pauses when he heard you giggle, realization hits as he pouts, he is relieved at the same time that he doesn’t need to hide and is THE BOYFRIEND “you know even if you get a boyfriend, i bet he can’t kiss better than me, also i make you cookies” he says as he hugs you laying his head on your shoulder “yes jake you are the best” you say patting him. “don’t prank me again, at least not something like this”
SUNGHOON : “my boyfriend is here hide-” smack, before you could finish your sentence, your face was met with a pillow “ow what is wrong with you” it didn’t hurt but it was a surprise “what’s wrong with me is i don’t care about your boyfriends, it’s my house and you are mine, im not hiding from anyone” he says as he kisses you, hands stroking your hands “will you marry me” sunghoon said looking at you with doe eyes “hoon we have been through this, you can’t ask me to marry you everytime we kiss” he kisses you again “but you are so beautiful, i think i might go insane”
SUNOO : “sunoo get up you need to hide my boyfriend is here” you try to wake up your very sleepy boyfriend just to prank him, he rolls over to hug you “noo” he whined “get up he is here sunoo” you try to push him over. he gets up sleep still in his eyes “where do i go, is he big? can i fight him if i get caught?” he sat on the bed as he babbled on, you got up and pecked his lips “you are such a loser” he wrapped his hands around your waist as he fell back on the bed “let’s worry about him later, we need our beauty sleep” he said as you both cuddled to sleep.
JUNGWON : he was busy with his textbook and you were bored so why not prank him right “jungwon hide my boyfriend is here” you said as you barged into his room, he didn’t even flinch, too used to you busting into his room at anytime “say what” looks at you with wide eyes and a confused pout “yeah hide hurry” you said motioning him to move “hmm” he looked at you judging your whole ancestry, a disappointed sigh left his lips “yn you can never have anyone else other than me, there is no way anyone can treat you half as good like i do” he said as he went on doing his work “besides i’m sure they wouldn’t have the patience for someone like you” he said giggling as you hit his shoulder “meanie” he looked at you as he said “you belong to me”
NIKI : “niki hide my boyfriend is here” he looks at you with the most dramatic gasp leaving his lips “oh so this is how it is, so now i’m one of your hoes, is that it huh? i even gave you half of my twix” he said as you tried to control your laughter, he got up and sat near you “you know you should hide, my girlfriend is coming” he crossed his arm as he observed you “really? okay i will go” you got up but were pulled back by him, he had his arms around your waist “stop we are going to have our daily cuddles now” he said kissing your whole face as you giggle “didn’t you tell me to leave” his hands stroked your hair “i was joking, by the way if you did get a boyfriend, will i be the side chick? no right because i obviously am your first man” he said as he hugged you tighter “you are such a dork, i’m too occupied with you, no way i can get anyone else, but yeah you probably will be my main”
2K notes · View notes
d3add0vedonoteat · 2 months
Text
Chicken Soup for Carmy
Tumblr media
⚠️ Content Warning ⚠️ harsh language, sexism and violence in one scene (not from Carmy). Hurt/comfort, fluff.
A/N: I’m literally feral for this man. I’m sick atm and I started thinking about taking care of Carmy while I was making chicken soup. Bonus combo with Carmy protecting you from an asshole customer. Not proofread bc my brain is rotting. Plz be nice this is my first time posting a fic 🥺
-
It was cold. You braced yourself against the harsh Chicago wind as you made your way briskly down the street. After a late night phone call from your brother sent you into a spiral, you couldn’t sleep. You’d been tossing and turning all night until finally, at 4am, you flung off the covers and got dressed. It wasn’t a surprise that you’d come here. This place consumed all your mind and your heart since you started working here a few months ago. You used your key to unlock the door in the alley, sighing with relief as the warmth of The Beef welcomed you inside. It was quiet, the lights were down, it was peaceful. You slipped off your sneakers trading in your kitchen clogs and tucked your things safely away in your locker. You tied your handkerchief on your head as you moved. It was so comforting, the routine of The Beef’s prep work. You felt so at home, moving from the prep area to the walk in, diligently beginning the tasks that didn’t need to be started for a few more hours. He would understand. You thought to yourself as you began to prepare fresh stock for the day. He was a man after your own heart, your boss, Carmen Berzatto.
Avoidant, chaotically emotional, one wrong thing away from a complete meltdown, that you both disguised as workaholic tendencies. As you finely chopped onions, your mind quieted. Everything was shut out except for the task at hand. Your brother’s angry voice on the phone accusing you: “you never come home! You don’t even care about us! You can’t take come take care of your own mother?!” was drowned out by the rhythmic pound of your knife on the cutting board. You were in the zone.
Until a voice startled you out of your bubble. “Chef?” You jolted, looking up at the man before you. Carmy’s hair was messier than usual, the bags under his eyes were deeper and more purple. His lips were parted with each soft breath he took. He gave you a quizzical look. “What are you doing here?”
“I uh-” your mouth felt dry and you tripped over your words, as usual when he set those intense blue eyes on you. “I couldn’t sleep.”
Carmy nodded, not pushing you any further. All he said before moving toward the office was a simple: “Heard, Chef.”
You watched him go, noticing the slump of his shoulders and the labor of his normally spry step. There was no mistaking it, Carmen was sick. You stared at the office door for a long moment before you made up your mind.
You set a heavy bottomed pot on the stove with some olive oil. Your hands moved with well practiced efficiency as you chopped garlic and onions, celery and carrots. The garlic and onions went in first. Then the celery. A sprig of thyme and a dash of white wine. While that simmered you quickly seared some chicken breast and chopped it into perfectly bite sized pieces. All into the pot with chicken stock and water, tightly covered to develop the flavors. Next came the pasta. You cracked eggs into the well of flour, mixing and kneading until it became a smooth golden dough. You carefully, tenderly rolled the dough and cut it into thick, short noodles. A bath in hot water to cook, then they too joined the pot. In no time at all, you were ladling a generous portion into a bowl. You set a toasted piece of chibatta on the side, grabbed a spoon, and took a deep breath in an attempt to settle your nerves. Softly, you knocked on the office door.
“Yeah?” His voice responded.
“Chef?” You entered, nervous. Words failing you as they so often did in his presence, you set the bowl before him. Carmy’s eyes widened. The aroma made his mouth water. He looked to you, gaze softening. “You made me chicken soup?”
Your cheeks grew warm. “Y-yeah, I mean chicken soup always makes me feel better when I’m sick.”
Carmy couldn’t believe you. You noticed? He smiled at you. You were so beautiful. You were always so confident and sure on the line, delegating with efficiency, respect, and authority. He had hired you the second you stepped into The Beef. Your resume was impressive but there was something in the way you carried yourself that truly earned the golden reputation you had in the culinary industry. But you were different with him, in the occasional moments like this where it was just you and him. Shy, almost bashful, gentle, and soft. He loved it. He wanted more of it. He lifted the spoon, bringing a bite to his lips.
“Gotta get a little of everything.” You muttered, eagerly awaiting his response.
Carmy shot you a sideways smile. It was good. No, it was better than good. The warm broth slid down his throat and each bite exploded with a depth of flavor he couldn’t believe. It was pure comfort. It reminded him of being a little kid staying home sick from school. Curled up on the couch while Jerry Springer played, eating crackers and ginger ale until his mom would bring a bowl of chicken noodle soup. But this soup, your soup, was more than that. People always talk about cooking with love but he swore he could taste it. Each ingredient had been so carefully handled. Perfectly chopped vegetables, moist and flavorful chicken. The warm feeling in his chest grew as he inspected the bowl.
“Did uh, did you make this pasta fresh?” He asked, eyeing you.
“Yeah, it’s better that way.” You blushed.
“Thank you, chef.” He said. “It’s really, really good.” Carmy looked down, suddenly feeling heavy. The fear of closeness set into him and all he could think about was how he’d fuck this up. “You-you didn’t have to make this for me.”
“Oh, it’s okay!” You insisted. “It was no big deal.” You began to leave, giving him one last truthful smile. “I like taking care of you.”
“I like taking care of you.” Your words rattled through Carmy’s mind all day. Throughout all of lunch, prep, and dinner he couldn’t stop thinking about what you’d said. The soup you had made was the first thing he’d eaten in too long. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had cooked for him and you’d just done it because you noticed he wasn’t feeling well. No motive, no games, just tender love and concern.
Love.
Carmy shook his head to try and shake the thought from his mind. No, no, no there was no way you actually cared about him. Not like that. You were just being nice.
That’s just who you are; nice. You were always so kind. The way you’d help Marcus workshop pastries, the way you’d make Tina laugh and listen to her talk about whatever trouble Louis had gotten in, how you’d encourage Sydney and remind her that she can do this. Even the way you’d throw snark right back at Richie or how’d you’d always set aside a portion of Family for Fak and Sugar, even Pete. You were always thinking of others. Carmy wasn’t special.
Yeah. Not special.
Carmy insisted the thought as he scrubbed the grill. Not special. Not special. Not special.
“Carmy?” There you were. You were always there. You had a thick denim jacket on, bag on your shoulder, knit beanie pulled down over your hair. Your brow furrowed at the sight of him. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, yeah.” Carmy shook his head. “I’m fine… you uh- you heading out?”
You shrugged, hoisting your bag a little higher on your shoulder and eyeing him skeptically. “Yeah. Are you?”
“Yeah, in a bit.”
You chuckled, more exasperated than humorous. “No.”
“What?” Carmy asked, confused.
“No, you’re leaving too.” You insisted. You were feeling bold. Months of long looks and his hand on your lower back every time he passed you had culminated tonight.
You had taken over the front for Richie while he ducked out to take a call from his daughter. You’d insisted. It was slammed for dinner but everything was going fairly smooth until an irate customer approached you.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” He’d asked, slamming his plate onto the counter.
“Excuse me?”
“I mean are you retarded or something?” He continued. You were stunned into silence. You had never had anyone speak to you like that. “How hard is it to make a fucking sandwich? I know your tits are bigger than your brain but Jesus fucking Christ it’s not hard!”
“I-I…” you were shaking. “I’m sorry that you’re not satisfied, sir. If you like, we can-”
“Not satisfied?!” He screamed. “How can I be satisfied with this piece of shit!”
He hurled the sandwich at you. It hit you in the chest, toppings and sauce splattering everywhere. Before you even knew what was happening, a blur of messy curls shot past you. Carmy launched over the counter, tackling the man. His fist collided with the man’s face over and over while Richie and Fak rushed after him. There was a cacophony of yells as Richie pulled Carmy back. “Get your girl!” Richie yelled. “Cousin! Go get your girl!”
Fak and Richie dragged the man out and threw him into the street. Carmy’s hands grasped your cheeks.
“Hey, hey, are you okay?” He wiped the sauce splatters from your brow. “Look at me.”
Carmy burned with anger as he watched you shake. Your white shirt and blue apron were covered in the sandwich. He imagined what you would do for him if he was in your position. How you’d care for him, how you’d tend to him… so he tried to do what you would. Gently he guided you to your feet and wrapped his arm around your waist. He practically carried you to his office where he sat you on the couch and quickly went to grab a clean shirt from his own locker. You were in the same place he left you when he returned. Carmy knelt before you, taking your face in his hands once more.
“Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay.” Tears welled in your eyes and you collapsed into his arms. He smoothed his hand over you back, repeating “it’s okay” over and over again. He felt like he was on fire. The feeling of you clinging to him, nuzzling your face into his neck, the smell of you, how you fit in his arms… it was too much. He wanted to run away and never speak to you again. He wanted to wake up next to you every morning for the rest of his life. He wanted to scream. He wanted to feel your lips against his. He wanted to find the piece of shit that yelled at you and rip him to pieces. He wanted your chicken soup every time he was sick.
All those feelings were closing in on Carmy once again as he stared at you across the kitchen. You still had his t shirt on. You were looking at him expectantly.
“Sorry, uh… what did you say?” Carmy’s voice was softer than he expected.
“I said I’ll walk home with you.”
“Oh, no that’s okay. Ive got to-“
“Carmy,” you stepped closer. Your voice was firm but so tender. “You need to get some rest. Come on, I won’t take no for an answer.”
He couldn’t help but smile back at you. “Alright…” he conceded.
The two of you braced yourselves against the cold and hurried down the sidewalk side by side. You argued about who would walk who home. Carmy insisted on walking you to your apartment but you protested on the grounds that he’d just go back to the restaurant once he dropped you off.
“Fine,” you gave in. “But you have to call me when you get to your place so I know you made it home!”
Carmy looked at the ground, smiling. The warmth in his chest from your soup was steadily turning into a molten pool of lava.
“Heard.” He grinned. You wanted to know he’d made it home. You wanted to make sure he rested. I like taking care of you.
“Well, I’m just up here.” Your voice stopped his thoughts from spiraling before it could even start. Carmy’s brow furrowed. “What?” You asked, puzzled by his sudden change in demeanor.
“You live over there?”
“Yeah? Like a block down?”
There was a beat of silence before Carmy let out a breathy laugh. “I live right there.” He pointed to the building on the other side of the street.
“No shit!” You laughed in earnest. Your hand came to rest on his arm. “Guess I’m gonna be walking you home more often.”
Carmy’s entire body was on fire. He could imagine the tingle of your soft hand on his skin through all the layers of clothing. He wanted to hold you close again like in his office, but this time you wouldn’t be crying. A deep pit opened in his stomach. How long before he made you cry? How long before he fucked it all up? Until you hated him and quit the restaurant and everything fell apart because he-
“Hey,” your voice. Always your voice that brought him back. When he looked over at you it was like everything but your face faded into a blurry background. You were all Carmy could see. “Do you want to come to mine? I haven’t eaten and I KNOW you haven’t either.”
Carmy’s heart fluttered. “O-okay.” He started, his confidence rising when he noticed your hand was still in his arm. “Only if you let me cook you something.”
“Ooh,” you smiled. “I’d never turn that down!”
Carmy chuckled, feeling lighter for the first time in years as he walked so close beside you that your shoulders brushed. “It won’t be as good as your chicken soup.”
726 notes · View notes
norrisleclercf1 · 6 days
Note
I absolutelly love your writing and I love your Mafia Charles!!!
I want to request more of Mafia Charles, with whatever plot you want!!
Love from Brazil!
A/N: Feeding the children @mariahcarreyyy @piastrification @leclerced even though you all turned on me
WARNING: Knife, Blood, Death, all that fun stuff in the world
If there was one thing in the world that you wanted right now, it'd be a knife. Anyone else would say a phone, their boyfriend, hell maybe even gun, but you? No you wanted a knife so you could slash the bastards throat before you.
It was supposed to be a quiet day, where you and your very gorgeous boyfriend would just lounge around. Instead, when you went downstairs to get the food you're knocked out and then dragged to god knows where in the middle of fucking nowhere. It'd be pretty hard to keep you in Monaco, you were either in fuck middle France or Italy.
Honestly you didn't care, you were just pissed that you couldn't eat your pasta and then fuck your boyfriend. You roll your eyes thinking about what he must be going through. Charles, was probably tearing apart Monaco looking for you and Max, Carlos, and Pierre maybe even Lando would have to be calming him down right now.
Your head snaps up when the large door rolls open, eyes narrowing you try not to swallow the wad of cloth in your mouth, tap covering it so you couldn't easily spit it out. Hating this sand paper feeling in your mouth you tried not to think about the wine you were drinking earlier as you were just getting far more annoyed as the time passed.
"Wake up," Your head whips to the side so hard and fast your eyes could spin in your head. Trying to gather your ground you blink quickly but nothing helps until your hair is grabbed and forces your neck backwards at an awkward angle as you face one of the men that have taken you.
"I wonder, would he pay quicker if I bloodied you up a bit? I think he would," The man groans and you flinch at the hot breath wanting to gag but clearly, you couldn't. "Mark! Leave the girl alone, he'll take out heads if we hurt her," The other man snaps, Mark, growls and shoves you, chair going toppling and you whimper hearing a sick crack from one of your wrists.
You were going to cut that one like a fish.
---------------------
You were taught at a young age that closing your eyes and deep breathing would help you sleep, and at this moment that was what you were trying to do. You slowed your breathing down impressively, almost making it look like you weren't breathing.
"Hey, I don't think she's breathing!" The other one screams, you hear the one named Mark scuff. "Who cares, we'll just dump her body to him when we get the money." "Mark!" Groaning the guy gets up, you try hard not to breath in relief when you feel your wrists get cut loose and then your feet.
"Take the gag off," You wince unable to stop it when the tape is ripped off and your mouth pried open and the cloth taken out. You try to swallow but can't still having to play dead. "Fucking bitch, she better not have died." You feel something sharp poke you.
Snapping your eyes open you swing your leg out, Mark screams and you grab the knife and move, shoving it deep into the unnamed man before you. You hate the sound of men choking on blood, they sound pathetic. Grabbing the gun you cock it and point it Mark whose glaring at you, but starts to smirk sickly at you.
"Little girl, I suggest you put the gun down before you hurt yourself." "Fuck you, pussy." You don't even blink as you shoot the gun, almost blowing the guys head off as you sigh. "How long you been there?" You ask, seeing Charles leaning against the door smiling.
"Since you arrived here, was seeing how long it'd take you to escape, but I wasn't expecting this. This," He looks around and smirks, playing with the rings on his fingers. "was much hotter." You drop the gun and step over the bodies. Some of your blood and their blood on your clothes.
Charles stares at you with such hunger and want you almost jump him right then and there. "I think they broke my wrist," You admit, finally feeling the pain as the adrenaline starts to leave your body, making you shaky and tired. His eyes narrow and his delicate fingers grab and hiss seeing the ugly purple and black surrounding it.
"Fuckers, lucky they're dead." He curses and places a soft kiss on the wrist before looking over you. "Come, let's get you home." "How far is home?" You ask, not wanting the long drive back to Monaco. "Oh, 5 minutes, they're not really bright." Charles tsks and you stop in your tracks.
Max was never going to let you live this one down.
437 notes · View notes
goldsainz · 7 months
Text
ART DECO — one shot.
Tumblr media
pairing: charles leclerc x reader
MASTERLIST.
taglist: @lorarri @lpab @whatthefuckerr @noncannonships @lunnnix @elliegrey2803 @schumacheer @saintslewis @leoramage @ellswilliams @toomuchdelusion @anthonykatebridgerton @enhacolor @gulabjamoon @woweewoowa @forza55
request: “📀 — "art deco" by Lana Del Rey + Charles Leclerc please?”
NOTE: this has some drinking mentions, so if you don’t feel comfortable with that pls don’t read! cant believe carlos got pole in monza… the chances of ferrari actually getting a 1-2 are higher so yk what maybe this fic could become somewhat less fictional! MONZA IS FOR THE DREAMERS🙏
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
liked by charles_leclerc, patriciooward and 681,329 others
yourusername partay in italay
view all 10,219 comments
charlesfan1 charles teach us your ways🙏
ynfan1 suddenly i’m gay
charles_leclerc You drunk enough for the both of us
⤷ yourusername i regret everything
ynfan2 now i wanna go out too
ynfan3 this weekend better give her a reason to party too
pierregasly How’s the hungover?
⤷ yourusername made me consider never drinking again
charlesfan2 as a tifosi i’m glad charles’s good luck charm is here
charlesfan3 i wish i looked that good after getting drunk
charlesfan4 not her partying when it’s race week
⤷ ynfan4 not u being pressed when charles was right there with her😭
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
liked by yourusername, joris_trouche and 136 others
charles.jpg pasta con il mio amore
view all 24 comments
yourusername l'amore della mia vita the love of my life
⤷ charles_leclerc Sono pazzo di te I’m crazy about you
⤷ carlossainz55 Stop pretending you speak italian, Y/N🙄
⤷ yourusername i speak more than you for sure. and i don’t drive for ferrari.
⤷ carlossainz55 Too far.
leclerc_pascale ❤️
⤷ charles.jpg Je t'aime tellement maman I love you so much mum
⤷ yourusername tu nous manques énormément 🫶 we miss you very much
pierregasly Ohhh italian 🤌🤌
⤷ charles.jpg Zitto Shut up
⤷ pierregasly 🤨
Tumblr media Tumblr media
liked by scuderiaferrari, sebastianvettel and 759,104 others
yourusername red party because FERRARI WON!!!!
view all comments
charlesfan31 i just love the caption only being about ferrari winning😭 she’s just like me fr
charlesfan32 the tifosi celebrating was insane actually
charles_leclerc Il mio più grande sostenitore ❤️ My biggest supporter
⤷ yourusername ti amo per sempre!!! i love you forever
ynfan31 don’t even watch f1 but i’m crying for them
charlesfan33 forget charles i want her
charlesfan34 Y/N YOU NEED TO COME TO MORE RACES!!
⤷ yourusername I WILL!!!
⤷ charlesfan34 every tifosi in the world just cheered
ynfan32 oh she ate
charlesfan35 bro i’m in love with her
ynfan33 ONE CHANCE. ALL I NEED.
ynfan34 red is so her colour!!!! ferrari pls get more 1-2 races🙏
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
liked by arthur_leclerc, isahernaez and 702,851 others
yourusername a little party never hurt no one!
view all 10,542 comments
charles_leclerc It hurts us… but whatever you say, mon amour
⤷ yourusername shhhhh
ynfan41 that blanket looks so comfy
ynfan42 i just know that sleep slapped
charlesfan41 honestly think they could’ve partied more but they stopped bc they would’ve collapsed
⤷ yourusername trust the party hasn’t stopped, we’re just moving it💪
⤷ carlossainz55 We’re partying until the next race!
⤷ yourusername THAT’S WHAT I LIKE TO HEAR CARLITOS
ynfan43 who knows the next time there will be a ferrari 1-2😭
charlesfan42 if i were them i would party 24/7
ynfan44 LOOK AT HOW CHARLES LOOKS AT HER THO
charlesfan43 i just know charles is a great cuddler
1K notes · View notes
romanoffsbish · 5 months
Text
Carved With Love
Natasha Romanoff x Wife!R
Yelena Belova x Fem!R (The true love story 🥹)
Yelena’s in town for the holiday season, and who would she be if not wreaking havoc? | WC: 1,986
Warnings: Mentions of Neglectful Past | Siblings
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Yelena was a menace; you knew that from the insight your wife gave you before she introduced you to her.
“Y/N, she literally blew herself up and said it was fun,” your wife had reiterated her stance, that being: Yelena was a complete and total maniac. “Sounds like she’d fit right in with you and your band of superheroes,” was all you’d said back while adding pasta to your cart.
The two of you had been together for nearly a decade when they found each other again, and though the blonde was wary of a meeting she quickly agreed after hearing that the two of you were married with kids.
——
You couldn't really blame her for wanting to meet them more, especially your daughter, the eldest, who shared a name with her. They clicked instantly. Then there were your sons that you carried back to back, Andrei and Aleksander, who were bonded like twins. It was like they gained a triplet with their aunt. Then there’s the latest, Flora, who was just turning six months old and who was absolutely in love with the blonde.
The group were nothing but trouble, you adored that.
When you met her, your heart had doubled in size as you realized she was just trying to forget, to be a kid. Something you knew she never got to be, so just like with your own children, you let her get away with it all.
Natasha didn't much appreciate that, well, truthfully she adored just how much you already loved her sister. But, she was a bit jealous that you were so lenient with her, even if she knew you weren’t with her because she needed the structure and redirection you provided her.
As of right now, she thought you were also insane, "Detka, I don't think you thought this through..." Natasha mumbled against your temple from behind, where she stood with you securely in her arms, and you shook your head and softly chuckled. "It's fine baby."
Natasha currently feared for everyone's safety as her sister held one of those little orange carving knives.
"Oh my gosh, Y/N Romanoff, look!" Yelena shrieked, and your wife sighed when she felt your body relax. There was no hope left, you were at her sister's mercy. Yelena held up a stencil and you smiled. "It's cute."
"No, it is badass!" Yelena corrected, only to be met with a glare from her sister. "Watch your language."
"Natasha," you scolded instantaneously, "Lighten up."
"But she —," Natasha went to defend her decisions but quickly cut herself off when you turned with a glare.
Everyone got away with murder, except Natasha. (Well, in this symbolic context that is…)
Yelena smiled smugly at her sister, she even stuck her tongue out to mock her as you weren't looking. The redhead flipped her off, and your daughter gasped. "Mama! That's the bad finger!" Your eyes widened. "Natasha! What are you now? Some sort of hypocrite?"
"Predateli'," Natasha grumbled, making your daughter laugh alongside her aunt who was taping the ghost cat on a zombie dog's head stencil to her large pumpkin.
(Traitors)
"You all behave," you scolded the entire room before leaving to the kitchen to collect the cookies. Natasha tried to follow you, like a hurt puppy, but you made her stay behind to make sure nobody had a carving crisis. 
Which was in vain because when you came back in the room you found Yelena had upgraded to your sharp carving knife, and you nearly dropped your plate.
"Yelena honey, that's too dangerous," you practically shrieked, but not really to avoid her hand slipping. Not that you didn't have faith in her trained hands, but you knew accidents could happen regardless of skillsets. The blonde pouted up at you, and Natasha watched you once again melt into her little sister's charm.
"I can't use the little orange one," she pleaded for your understanding, "It is too tiny and ineffective."
"Okay," you folded instantly and your wife's eyes widened with flashes of shock and betrayal. The one time Natasha had done the same thing years back, before your kids, you'd given her a safety lesson.
“This isn’t fair,” she grumbled to herself, but she also let it go when she saw you sitting with her sister, eyes focused in on the way she carved the pumpkin and mouth at the ready to give her advice or a light scold.
Natasha let her festering resentments go, and shortly after joined you all at the table so that the youngest member of the house could play with the guts. It was a perfect moment of domesticated bliss, and the redhead couldn’t help but to feel at peace in current company.
Then the following morning came, and you learned a few things. Yelena had a new favorite holiday, and in turn a hobby, carving, which piggybacked right off of her other, bugging her older sister as if it was her job.
"Natasha," you tried to calm her, your hands on her tense shoulder as you kept her from lunging at the blonde. "You need to calm down my love, I can..."
"No!" Natasha cut you off, "She will do it, not you."
"She's our guest," you reminder her, but she merely rolled her eyes—something she never did towards you. "More like a pest, Y/N/N, make her leave before I do."
Your eyes narrowed fast, and your wife cowered at the sheer intensity. "Apologize to her, right now Natalia."
The redhead held back a scoff. Yelena had carved a face only a mother could love into her favorite fall leather jacket, yet she was the one who had to apologize here.
"I'm sorry, parshivets," she begrudgingly spat at the grinning blonde across the room. "I accept, cyka."
(Brat / Bitch)
You sighed, and regretfully turned to face the smug blonde. This was partially your fault too for having let the girl get away with murder up until this point.
"Yelena, now it's your turn." Yelena frowned, but then she nodded and relaxed her features. "Sorry sestra," her tone was genuine, "I will buy you another one."
"No, you don't have to," you let the girl off the hook. "Yes she does." Natasha rebuked your words in a flash, then she intelligently rephrased, "No you don't."
You smirked and rewarded her with a kiss that she tried to melt into, but once again Yelena interrupted with a rumbling stomach. "Can we make pancakes?"
Natasha's hands harshly gripped your hips, and you smiled at her in understanding, she missed you. "How about you go get the kids up while we make breakfast?"
The redhead reluctantly let you go with a nod, but before she got too far you pulled her in for another kiss. "I'll be all yours soon, just have some patience."
Yelena was leaving after the holiday's event, and the kids were going to Wanda's for a spooky sleepover. You'd planned accordingly, and your wife smirked at the reminder, chastely pecked your lips then ran up the stairs with a reinvigorated pep in her once glum step.
"Get the chocolate chips," you instructed your sous chef, and she did so with a smile. Yelena was learning to cook from you, you never outright said it, but you worried about her eating habits. All she could make was mac and cheese and that was artery clogging if not met with a balance of other things besides takeout.
Yelena appreciated your concern, it was clear to her that you were the perfect match for Natasha, because you were an even better platonic match for her. The way you let her just be who she was, who she was discovering herself to be with her newfound freedom, meant the absolute world to her. You were a light that she found comfort in, and would never let go of.
Once you showed Yelena how to make the batter you let her ladle it onto the griddle. "Don't flip it yet," you instructed, your back was turned but you were aware of her piqued curiosity and she was enamored by your spy like skills. "You're like a super mom or something."
"It's nice to see my skillset is appreciated," you teased the younger girl as you returned to her side and gently bumped her hip. "I appreciate all of you, sestra."
It took you a second to reel in your emotions, you'd only been hoping that she wouldn't hate you, but it turned out that she actually liked you, and you didn't want to cry and make her reevaluate that judgement.
Instead you settled on hugging her shoulders, giving her a gentle shake as you showed her the indicators for flipping before finally letting her flip the pancake.
Just as you settled a pancake on the plate you heard an obnoxious scraping on the glass. "What the—." There before you was a focused blonde, the tip of her tongue rested on her lower lip as she carved your perfectly round pancake into a ghost cat. You shook your head with a fond smile, "You really love knives, don't you?" Yelena mirrored your expression and nodded as she now carved an eye into a pumpkin. "They are so cool."
"Natasha loves her guns the same." Yelena flinched, "Guns are too rigid, and loud. Knives are fun, you can do flip tricks with them and they're just as lethal."
You noted her clear discomfort with firearms, and filed it away in your mind as a later topic of discussion, and fortunately the kids came barreling into the kitchen. Yelena dropped the knife and, just like every morning, she greeted the little boys with the tickle monster.
Then came your daughter’s greeting, “Yelena Belova!"
Yelena then followed her lead, “Yelena Romanoff!"
You shook your head at their antics, then you returned to your task at hand, and began to set the table. You placed the blondes masterpieces in their designated spots, a pumpkin for each boy, the cat for her parrot, and the torn to bits pieces went to the toothless baby.
You were gifted two perfectly sized hearts, topped with fruit and whipped cream. Natasha got zero change to the shape, but instead, she was gifted icing words.
“I’m not eating that,” Natasha growled, and you bit back a laugh as you saw the script. “What’s it say?”
Natasha shook her head at you, and glared in her sister’s direction as you attempted to read the Russian out loud, “Tvoya zhena lyubit menya bol'she.”
(Your wife loves me more)
“Damn right,” Yelena teased as she sat in front of her own pancake, “Don’t worry sestra, she loves you too.”
“You two, knock it off and eat your breakfast,” your mom voice came out, and everyone was suddenly sat. You nibbled on your food while making sure your baby didn’t choke on hers as she gobbled it down like a cat (Liho and Bob) being fed at the normal time everyday.
Once breakfast was finished you sent the kids to the living room with their aunt to watch cartoons while you and your wife cleaned up the mess left behind.
As you were packing up the fruit you felt two arms snake around your waist, and a kiss placed on your neck that you instantly melted into. You felt her smirk but ignored her smugness as you lazily cleaned up.
"You're spoiling her," Natasha groaned, you shrugged and turned around to face her with a genuine smile. "I'm just giving her the same chances I did you."
Natasha frowned, "I hope it's not exactly the same."
"That’s disgusting!" Yelena groaned from the couch and you giggled into your wife's shoulder. Avoiding the question in your kids eyes, and leaving Natasha to answer it. The redhead smirked, throwing her sister a wink before she completely pulled you out of the room.
Two could play at this game…
935 notes · View notes