#plans to conquer Charles’ heart

[leclercskiesahead]

They compel me

#CARLOS PLS #he was setting his plans in motion #plans to conquer Charles’ heart #carlos sainz jr #charles leclerc #sebastian vettel #f1 #charlos #c2 #c square

[pucksandpower]

Prince of Monaco

Charles Leclerc x Princess of Monaco

Summary: what better way for the honorary Prince of Monaco to celebrate finally winning his home race than with the Princess of Monaco?

Warnings: 18+ content

The roar of the crowd is deafening as Charles brings his Ferrari across the finish line, finally winning his home race after years of heartbreak. His mechanics swarm the barriers, nearly delirious with excitement, but Charles just leans back in his seat, letting the accomplishment sink in.

He’s done it. He’s conquered the streets that have taunted him for so long.

As he’s ushered up to the iconic podium, Charles looks out at the sea of fans cheering his name and spots you, radiant in a summery yellow dress, beaming up at him.

For a moment, time seems to stop as your eyes meet. You give him a little wave and he nearly stumbles on his way to the top step, feeling lightheaded.

When you step forward with the winner’s trophy, Charles’ heart starts pounding. Your fingers brush against his ever so slightly as you hand it over and he swears he can feel an electric current pass between you. The sleek lines of the trophy blur before his eyes as he struggles to catch his breath.

“Félicitations, Charles,” you say warmly, resting a hand on his arm.

Charles blinks rapidly as his cheeks start to burn. Up close, you look like an honest-to-god angel descended to earth. How does one even speak to heavenly beings?

“Th-thanks,” he stammers out, mentally kicking himself for sounding like such an idiot. He needs to get it together. “I mean, merci, Your Serene Highness.”

You laugh, the warm sound instantly putting him at ease. “Please, just call me Y/N.”

“Y/N,” he repeats dumbly. It’s easily the most beautiful combination of letters he’s ever heard.

“You should celebrate your big win tonight,” you say, a playful glint in your eyes. “But maybe don’t get too carried away with the champagne.”

Charles frowns in confusion. Is that a royal decree to take it easy on the partying?

“I was hoping you could pick me up tomorrow evening,” you continue blithely. “For our date.”

Our … date? Charles’ eyes go wide as his jaw drops open. Is the most beautiful woman in the world really asking him out right now? In front of millions of people?

“Uh, I … we … huh?” He sputters inelegantly.

You just smile that radiant smile and lean in to press a soft kiss to his cheek. “We do now,” you murmur against his skin, sending tingles down his spine. “I’ll see you at eight?”

Before Charles can formulate any kind of response, you give him one last brilliant grin and turn to congratulate Oscar Piastri on second place. He blinks down at the trophy in his hands, wondering if he’s dreaming all of this.

The rest of the podium celebration passes by in a blur. He holds up his trophy and waves to the crowd like he’s supposed to, but his mind is elsewhere, utterly consumed by the feeling of your lips on his skin and the knowledge that he has an actual date with the woman of his dreams.

As soon as the ceremonies conclude, his team is all over him, shouting congratulations and patting his back enthusiastically. Normally he’d be caught up in the revelry, basking in his victory, but now all Charles wants is to get out of there. He needs to chug about a gallon of water and take a very cold shower.

“Party tonight, eh mate?” Carlos calls out with a playful elbow to the ribs. “Got any special plans to celebrate?”

Charles feels the blush creeping back up his cheeks as he thinks about you — your warm laughter, your gentle touch, the promises of a date in your sparkling eyes. His lips tug up in a helpless smile.

“You could say that,” he murmurs, already counting down the hours until he gets to see you again.

The post-race celebrations kick into high gear, with champagne flowing freely and music thumping from every corner. Charles goes through the motions, reveling in his hard-won triumph but unable to fully let loose and enjoy himself. Not when a much bigger prize is waiting for him tomorrow night.

The hours drag by interminably as he waits for an acceptable time to make his excuses and leave the party behind. His friends rib him relentlessly for his uncharacteristic restraint.

“What’s got you so distracted, Calamar?” Pierre teases. “This isn’t like you at all!”

“Yeah, our boy’s got his eyes on something else tonight! Or would it be more accurate to say someone else?” Joris chimes in with an exaggerated wink.

Charles flushes but doesn’t deny it, fighting back a smile. If only they knew ...

It’s nearly 2 am by the time he extricates himself from the club, pleading an early morning commitment. No one believes his excuse for a second, but they let him go with plenty of cheers and well-meaning shoves.

As soon as Charles makes it back to his apartment, he starts feverishly getting ready for tomorrow, picking out the perfect outfit and incessantly checking the time. After tossing and turning fruitlessly for a couple of hours, he finally gives up on sleep, instead spending his morning going for a long run to burn off excess energy.

The day drags on at an excruciatingly slow pace. Every minute feels like an hour as he wills the clocks to move faster. He triple checks the address, runs through conversation starters in his head, and showers for the third time. This date has to go perfectly.

At 7:55 pm, Charles pulls up outside the royal palace, hands gripping the steering wheel tightly as he tries to control his nerves. He takes one last steadying breath before getting out of the car and smoothing down his shirt.

Like an angel from on high, you suddenly appear in the palace doorway, looking impossibly radiant in a gauzy pink sundress that matches your warm smile perfectly.

“Y/N,” Charles breathes out reverently, drinking in your beauty. Up close, his heart is pounding so loudly he’s sure you must be able to hear it. “You look … wow.”

Your smile grows even brighter as you move towards him. “Well, you clean up pretty nicely yourself.”

There’s a brief, charged silence as you stand face to face, just drinking each other in. Then, seeming to make up your mind about something, you grab his hand and tug him close.

“Come on,” you murmur, eyes sparkling mischievously. “I’ve got the perfect date night planned for us.”

With your hand in his, Charles would follow you straight into the depths of hell itself. He manages an eager nod, unable to tear his eyes away from your face.

Whatever you have planned, he knows it will be perfect. So long as he gets to spend the evening by your side, he couldn’t care less what you do.

You lace your fingers through his, shooting him one last brilliant smile, and lead the way to what is undoubtedly going to be the best night of Charles’s life.

***

Warm rays of morning sunlight filter through the sheer curtains, gently rousing Charles from the most blissful sleep of his life. He blinks slowly, taking in the lavish bedchamber with its soaring ceilings and intricate moldings. Plush rugs cover the marble floors and the bed he’s cocooned in is easily the most luxurious he’s ever experienced, with soft Egyptian cotton sheets caressing his skin.

For a delirious moment, Charles thinks he might still be dreaming. But then his eyes drift to you, sleeping peacefully beside him, and his heart stutters in his chest. It all comes rushing back in a torrent of sense memories — your radiant smile, your tinkling laugh, the feeling of your hand in his as you led him out on the most magical night of his life.

The two of you stroll hand-in-hand through the winding alleyways of Monaco, ducking down tiny side streets to places only locals know. Charles is enchanted as you show him hidden corners of your city that he’s never seen before, sharing fascinating stories and anecdotes all the while.

“This little trattoria has been run by the same family for nearly a century,” you explain as you lead him into a tiny, unassuming restaurant positively dripping with old world charm. The smiling owner greets you like a beloved daughter, embracing you warmly.

Over a seemingly endless parade of rustic Italian delicacies and a hearty red wine, you and Charles talk for hours about everything and nothing - childhoods and ambitions, favorite books and movies, embarrassing stories that have you both crying with laughter.

When the owner sends over a giant slice of homemade tiramisu with a wink, you steal the first bite right off Charles’ fork with a cheeky grin. A bit of mascarpone clings to the corner of your mouth and without thinking, Charles leans in to kiss it away, savoring the sweet taste of you mingled with the rich dessert.

You make a soft noise of surprise against his lips before melting into the kiss, cupping his face tenderly. When you finally part, both a little breathless, there’s a new burning heat in your eyes that makes Charles’ heart skip a beat.

“Shall we go for a walk?” You murmur, already sliding out of the booth. Your hand finds his and you lace your fingers together as you lead him back out into the night ...

Just thinking about last night’s date makes Charles’ heart feel fit to burst. You had taken him on a romantic tour of Monaco unlike anything he’s ever experienced, showing him secret nooks and hidden gems even he didn’t know. He had been so entranced just drinking in the city through your eyes, hanging on your every word.

But those heated looks you started sending his way after that first electrifying kiss had made it clear the real night was only just beginning ...

You stroll along the moon-dappled harbor, pointing out your favorite super-yachts and regaling Charles with scandalous stories of the jetset lives of their owners. He laughs delightedly at your wicked sense of humor, tucking you against his side as you wander the lamp-lit cobblestone streets.

When you lead him up a winding path to an old stone overlook, his breath catches in his throat. Twinkling lights from the city and harbor spread out as far as the eye can see, the tiny pinpricks glittering like a million stars. You come up behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist as you nuzzle against his back.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” You murmur reverently. “This is my favorite view in all of Monaco.”

Charles turns in your embrace until you’re pressed flush together, hardly daring to breathe. “It is,” he rasps out, getting lost in the depths of your eyes. “But not as beautiful as you.”

You let out a shaky breath, eyes flicking down to his lips for a heated moment, before surging up on your tiptoes to capture his mouth in a searing kiss ...

Unbidden, a low groan slips from Charles’ throat as he remembers those heated kisses on the overlook, one thing inexorably leading to another in a heady rush of lust and longing until you were both feverishly tugging at clothes. He swallows hard, feeling himself start to stir beneath the sheets.

That was just the start of the longest, most incredible night of Charles’ life. Your romantic tour had eventually led you both back to the palace, where you scattered a trail of discarded garments across marble floors and lavish furnishings in your wake, completely consumed by your desire for one another.

You press Charles back against the door of your bedroom as soon as you stagger inside, hands roaming hungrily as you devour his mouth in a bruising kiss. Charles groans deeply, fingers tangling in your hair as he spins you both around to walk you back towards the bed ...

A warm weight suddenly drapes itself across Charles’ torso, jolting him from his reverie with a sharp intake of breath. You’re curled against his side, smiling at him with eyes still heavy-lidded from sleep. His heart kicks up a furious gallop as you scoot closer, trailing a path of featherlight kisses along his chest and shoulder.

“Good morning,” you murmur, voice still scratchy and deliciously rumpled sounding. Charles nearly swallows his tongue at the sound — not to mention the fact that he can now feel every luscious curve of your body pressed against his beneath the sheets.

“Morning,” he croaks out, throat gone instantly dry. How is it possible that you look even more beautiful than he remembers?

You laugh softly at his dazed expression as you work your way up the column of his neck, seemingly intent on covering every last inch of bare skin with those incredibly soft lips. “Sleep well?”

Charles manages a strangled noise of agreement just before you capture his mouth in a slow, smoldering kiss. He groans against your lips, looping an arm around your waist to pull you more fully on top of him. Every nerve-ending feels like it’s engulfed in flames.

When you finally break apart, you brace yourself up on your elbows, gazing down at him with bright, sparkling eyes. “Last night was incredible,” you say candidly, tracing the line of his cheekbone with a fingertip. “Thank you for such an amazing first date.”

A low rumble of laughter escapes Charles as he grins up at you, dizzy with happiness. “I should be thanking you. Last night was … just, wow.” He reaches up to tuck an errant strand of hair behind your ear, marveling at how impossibly soft your skin is. “Have I mentioned yet how breathtakingly gorgeous you are?”

Your cheeks flush prettily even as you let out an adorably bashful little giggle that has Charles bewitched. “Charles Leclerc, you beautiful charmer,” you tease, dropping your head to nuzzle against the crook of his neck. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Mmm, I have a few ideas ...” Charles murmurs, just loud enough for you to hear. He trails his fingertips up the delicate lines of your spine, reveling in the way it makes you shiver against him.

You lift your head again, pinning him with a look of pure want that steals the breath from Charles’ lungs. “Is that so?” You purr, rolling your hips ever so slightly against his in a way that has him biting back a groan.

“Oui,” he husks out, slipping a hand into your tousled hair to draw your mouth back to his. You melt against him instantly, the kiss rapidly becoming heated and desperate as you both come quickly undone.

With you pressed so tantalizingly close, Charles can feel the heat slowly building between you as he maps every inch of your body with eager hands. Your skin is so silky soft, he can scarcely believe you’re real. Last night’s passion comes roaring back in a tidal wave of desire so potent it nearly overwhelms him.

Your fingers dig into his shoulders, clinging to him like a lifeline as you finally join your bodies in a fevered rush. Charles surges up to capture your lips again, unable to get enough of your addictive taste as you move together in perfect synchronicity. Slick skin sliding, breaths mingling, every sensation is heightened and electrified as you make love with an abandon unlike anything Charles has ever experienced ...

A strangled groan tears from Charles’ chest at the memory, his grip reflexively tightening on your hips and pulling you harder against him.

You let out a soft whimper against his mouth, fingers tangling in his hair as you grind deliciously against him in response. Charles feels utterly intoxicated by you — your taste, your scent, the exquisite softness of your skin pressed so enticingly to his.

With one fluid motion, he rolls you both until he’s caging you beneath him on the luxurious sheets. You gaze up at him with eyes gone molten and dark, chests heaving in tandem. The ferocious want simmering between you is nearly tangible.

“You’re so beautiful,” Charles rasps out in reverence, brushing the backs of his fingers along the elegant curve of your jaw. He leans down to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses along the column of your throat, feeling your rapid pulse fluttering beneath his lips. “Perfect ...”

A soft keen escapes you as you tilt your head back to allow him better access. Every nerve in Charles’ body feels electrified, like his skin is humming with unreleased energy. He’s drunk on you, body and soul.

As his lips blaze a path lower, nuzzling between the delicious swell of your breasts, your back arches sharply up off the bed with a gasp of longing. Your fingers clutch almost painfully at his shoulders as you struggle to pull him even closer.

“Charles … please,” you whimper, voice pitched low and heady with naked yearning.

He slides a hand up your silken thigh in answer, molding his palm to the flare of your hip as you shift restlessly beneath him. You’re warm and pliant and bewitching like this, coming slowly undone under his attentions.

With a ragged groan, Charles surrenders to the inescapable gravitational pull between you, fusing your mouths back together in a searing kiss that instantly turns all-consuming ...

Your nails score lines of delicious fire down his back as he drives into you with deep, powerful strokes, hips snapping together in a primal rhythm. It’s all heat and friction and tangled limbs, the world narrowing down to nothing but the places where your bodies join so intimately.

You keen out his name like a prayer, the sound sending hot shockwaves of lust ricocheting through Charles’s core. Every nerve feels simultaneously set alight and yet thrumming with a paradoxical electric chill, sensations somehow magnified tenfold.

He’ll never get enough of this feeling — of being completely consumed by you, your passion, your overwhelming desire for each other burning so bright that everything else fades away into glorious insignificance ...

A guttural groan is torn from deep in Charles’ throat as your hips roll sensuously against his in wanton invitation. His head drops into the tempting curve of your neck, lips tracing maddeningly along your overheated skin as he struggles to maintain the barest thread of control.

“Y/N,” he rumbles out, your name laced with pure, undisguised reverence. “Mon ange ...”

You cup his face in your hands, forcing his heated gaze back to yours. For a crystalline moment, everything hangs in breathless suspension before you surge up to claim his mouth in a searing, all-consuming kiss.

Like a switch being flipped, the tenuous grip Charles had on his restraint abruptly snaps. A low groan tears from his very soul as he lets the irresistible tide finally pull him under, lost in the relentless thrall of your passion.

Your urgent cries spike higher as Charles’ hips drive forward in a smooth, powerful glide, joining your bodies with exquisite friction. You clutch at him wildly, nails raking lines of delicious fire across his back as the room narrows to nothing but scorching skin and thunderous heartbeats.

At last, the spiraling tension reaches a blinding crescendo, your release crashing over you in shattering waves of pure ecstasy. Charles’ own climax follows swiftly, torn from his very depths with a hoarse shout of your name.

He collapses bonelessly on top of you, lungs heaving like he’s just run a marathon as you both simply cling to each other through the sizzling aftershocks. Sparks still seem to crackle across his nerve endings from your earth-shattering joining.

After an endless stretch of languid moments, Charles finally gathers enough strength to ease himself to the side, gathering you in against his chest. You come willingly, draping yourself over him as he nuzzles into the top of your head and just breathes you in.

“Wow ...” you murmur at last when you’ve recovered enough to speak. A breathless giggle escapes as you press a soft kiss to the hollow of his throat. “And I thought last night was incredible.”

Charles rumbles out a deep chuckle, pressing his smile against your hair as his arms tighten reflexively around you. “Last night was just the warm up, mon cœur,” he husks out, voice still gloriously ragged from your shared passion.

You pull back just enough to gaze at him through heavy-lidded eyes, cheeks delightfully flushed and hair wildly tousled in a way that has Charles’ heart clenching near to bursting. Brushing a knuckle along his jaw, you give him a look rich with teasing promise.

“Well then ... if this is what I give you for winning Monaco,” you trail off meaningfully, letting the words hang suspended as your fingertips trail down the ridges of his abdomen. “I can’t even imagine what you’ll earn when you win the World Championship.”

The low, sultry purr of your tone sends delicious little licks of heat swirling through Charles’ veins despite his delightfully sated state. A wicked grin tugs at his lips as pulls you more fully on top of him again, glorying in your lush curves molded so perfectly against his own.

“Is that a challenge, Princesse?” He rumbles out, dipping his head to nibble along the elegant column of your throat. You let out the most deliciously breathy giggle that has his blood absolutely simmering.

“Mmm, maybe,” you hum out coyly, deft fingers trailing through the short hair at his nape in a way that makes his toes curl. “Although I suppose you’ll just have to win it and find out for yourself ...”

Charles feels a possessive growl rising up from deep within his chest as he abruptly flips you both, pinning your breathless laughter beneath him on the luxurious sheets. Gazing down at you with unbridled adoration blazing in his eyes, he steals another scorching kiss that leaves you both gasping for air.

“Oh, I fully intend to,” he vows fervently, reveling in the way your eyes have gone molten and dark with renewed desire. His hands map every inch of your body with fervent devotion as he leans down to murmur hotly against the shell of your ear.

“And when I do, Princesse … I’m never letting you go.”

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[hookhausenschips]

Break The Curse {CL16}

500 Follower Special!!!

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Summary: Charles finally broke the Monaco Curse.

Taglist

A/N: we won't talk about the accident with HAAS and Red Bull

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Y/N's POV

The Monaco Grand Prix is not just a race; it's a spectacle, a testament to the daring and skill of the drivers who navigate its treacherous turns. To win here is to etch one's name into the very fabric of Formula 1 history. For Charles Leclerc, it was more than that—it was a homecoming, a chance to claim victory on the streets where he'd grown up.

As Y/N, I stood by his side, not just as a partner but as his anchor, the one who knew the boy behind the racer's mask. Charles and I met years ago, long before his ascent to Formula 1 glory. Our relationship has always been built on mutual respect and a deep understanding of the sacrifices required by his career. The journey we've taken together, from the karting circuits of Europe to the grand stages of Formula 1, has been one of unwavering support and shared dreams.

The significance of the Monaco Grand Prix to Charles is immense. Born and raised in the heart of Monaco, Charles grew up with the roar of engines echoing through the narrow streets of Monte Carlo. As a child, he watched the likes of Ayrton Senna and Michael Schumacher conquer the same circuit, dreaming that one day he would join their ranks. The Principality's streets are more than just a track to him; they're a canvas of childhood memories, a symbol of his aspirations, and a testament to his journey from a young boy with a dream to a man on the brink of making history.

For me, standing by his side through the highs and lows of his career, the Monaco Grand Prix represents the culmination of years of hard work, sacrifice, and relentless determination. Every practice session, every race, every moment of doubt and triumph has led to this point. The atmosphere in Monaco during the Grand Prix is unlike anything else—a blend of glamour, history, and raw racing spirit. The city transforms into a vibrant celebration of speed, with fans from around the world converging to witness the spectacle.

Race day in Monaco is unlike any other. The city transforms into a buzzing hive of activity, with fans, celebrities, and teams all converging on the iconic circuit. The sun rose over the Mediterranean, casting a golden glow on the historic streets that would soon echo with the roar of engines. The atmosphere was electric, a blend of anticipation, excitement, and a touch of glamour that only Monaco could provide.

As Charles and I prepared for the day, there was a shared sense of nervous excitement. We had our breakfast in the calm of our apartment, overlooking the serene waters of the harbor. Charles was unusually quiet, his focus already on the race ahead. I could see the determination in his eyes, a steely resolve that belied the nerves I knew he must be feeling.

We walked through the paddock hand-in-hand, the familiar sights and sounds providing a sense of comfort amidst the chaos. The smell of burning rubber and fuel, the hum of the generators, and the sight of the vibrant team colors against the backdrop of Monaco’s elegance—all of it was a reminder of the world we lived in, one that we both loved and respected.

The team’s hospitality suite was a hive of activity, with engineers and mechanics making final preparations. The air was thick with the scent of coffee and the murmur of last-minute strategy discussions. Charles’ race engineer approached, a clipboard in hand, ready to go over the race plan one last time. I gave Charles a reassuring squeeze before he was whisked away into a briefing.

While Charles was busy with the team, I found solace in small routines. I checked my phone for messages from family and friends, all wishing Charles the best of luck. Their support meant the world to us, and knowing they were watching gave me strength. I took a moment to breathe, steadying my nerves, reminding myself that we had prepared for this day meticulously.

The grid walk was next, and it felt like stepping into a different world. The grandstands were already filling up, fans waving flags and holding banners with Charles’ name. The celebrities mingled with team members, photographers capturing every moment. As Charles and I made our way to the grid, we were stopped by well-wishers, each adding to the growing sense of anticipation.

In the final moments before the race, Charles and I shared a private moment. We stood by the car, the Ferrari glistening in the sunlight, a powerful machine ready to conquer the streets. I looked into his eyes, seeing a mixture of focus and emotion. “You’ve got this,” I whispered, my voice steady despite the butterflies in my stomach. He nodded, a small, determined smile playing on his lips.

We shared a tender embrace, drawing strength from each other. It was a ritual we had developed over the years—a moment of connection that grounded us amidst the chaos. “For us,” he murmured, his voice filled with resolve. I nodded, unable to find the words to express the depth of my feelings.

As Charles donned his helmet and prepared to get into the car, I took my place in the garage, surrounded by the team. The energy was palpable, a current that ran through the crowd, the teams, and the drivers. The team’s radios crackled with final instructions, and the engines roared to life, a sound that sent a thrill through my veins.

The cars were lined up on the grid, the lights above them a countdown to the start of the race. I held my breath, my heart pounding in my chest. The world seemed to hold its breath with me, the seconds stretching into eternity. Then, in a burst of speed and sound, the race was on, and my role was to watch, to hope, and to hold my breath with every lap.

The energy of Monaco was unlike anything else, a blend of history, glamour, and pure racing spirit. The fans, the yachts in the harbor, the iconic streets—all of it came together to create an atmosphere that was both exhilarating and nerve-wracking. As the cars surged forward, I could feel the weight of every moment, the tension a living thing that gripped the pit lane, the garage, and the city itself.

From my vantage point in the garage, I could see the focus in every move Charles made, the determination that set his jaw and the slight furrow of concentration between his brows. The laps ticked by, a countdown to a dream that hung in the balance. Through every twist and turn of the Circuit de Monaco, Charles held the lead, his red Ferrari a streak of defiance against the asphalt. The tension was a living thing, gripping the pit lane, the garage where I stood, and the city that held its breath.

As the five red lights illuminated and then extinguished, the roar of the engines was almost drowned out by the collective gasp of the crowd. Charles had a strong start, maintaining his lead into the first corner at Sainte Devote. His Ferrari darted forward, sleek and powerful, threading the needle through the tight streets of Monte Carlo.

The first few laps were crucial. Charles settled into a rhythm, his driving smooth yet aggressive, a perfect blend of precision and daring. The narrow streets of Monaco left no room for error, and I watched every lap with my heart in my throat, each twist and turn a testament to his skill.

By lap 10, the field began to spread out, with Charles extending his lead over the chasing pack. Behind him, a battle was brewing for the second position, the Red Bull and Mercedes cars jostling for supremacy. Charles’ race engineer, through the team radio, provided constant updates, his voice a steady anchor amidst the high-octane drama.

Pit stops in Monaco are critical. On lap 28, the team called Charles in for his first and only scheduled pit stop. The crew had practiced this maneuver countless times, but the pressure of the moment was palpable. Charles darted into the pit lane, the car lifted, tires changed, and in what seemed like an eternity but was merely 2.5 seconds, he was back on track. The pit stop was flawless, and Charles rejoined the race still in the lead, but now with fresher tires and a renewed determination.

By lap 40, tire management became a focal point. The asphalt of Monaco is unforgiving, and maintaining the delicate balance between speed and tire preservation was crucial. Charles communicated seamlessly with his race engineer, adjusting his driving style to conserve the tires while keeping a vigilant eye on his pursuers.

A pivotal moment came on lap 51. A crash further down the grid brought out the Safety Car, bunching up the field and erasing Charles’ hard-earned lead. The tension in the garage was palpable, a silent prayer that everything would hold together during the restart. As the Safety Car peeled off, Charles executed the perfect getaway, his reflexes sharp and his resolve unwavering.

The final laps were a masterclass in defensive driving. The pressure from behind intensified, the Red Bull car of his closest rival looming large in his mirrors. Each sector was a battle, every corner a test of nerve. Charles’ concentration was absolute, his lines perfect, his speed controlled.

Lap 70, the final lap. The crowd was on their feet, the tension reaching a fever pitch. Charles navigated the twists and turns with the precision of a surgeon, his focus unbreakable. The familiar sights of the Principality blurred past, the car a red streak against the backdrop of cheering fans and historic buildings.

As Charles approached the final corner, the realization began to dawn. The chequered flag waved, a symbol of triumph and validation. Charles crossed the finish line, his car the first to breach the line, the crowd’s roar a physical wave of sound and emotion.

The pit lane erupted in celebration. Engineers, mechanics, and team members cheered, their faces lit with joy and relief. I watched as Charles brought the car to a stop, his hands shaking with the adrenaline of victory. He climbed out, his face breaking into a smile that was pure and unadulterated joy.

The victory was his—the first Monégasque to win in Monaco in decades. As he stood on his car, fists raised in triumph, the enormity of the moment hit me. This was more than a race; it was a dream realized, a testament to years of hard work, sacrifice, and unwavering determination.

Charles made his way back to the team, his eyes searching the crowd until they found mine. The world seemed to slow as we embraced, a moment of pure, shared elation. "We did it," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion.

The victory was not just his, but ours, a culmination of everything we had endured and achieved together. It was a moment that would be etched in our memories forever, a testament to the power of dreams, determination, and the unbreakable bond we shared.

As Charles crossed the finish line, the crowd erupted into a symphony of sound. The cheers, the applause, the deafening roar of the engines—all blended into a cacophony of celebration that echoed through the streets of Monaco. Every spectator, from the die-hard fans to the casual observers, seemed to rise to their feet in unison, their voices uniting in a chorus of triumph.

In the heart of the chaos, I stood rooted to the spot, my eyes fixed on the red Ferrari as it soared past the finish line. My heart pounded in my chest, each beat a testament to the tension and anticipation that had gripped me throughout the race. And then, as Charles brought the car to a stop in the victory lane, a wave of relief washed over me, leaving behind an overwhelming sense of pride.

The stadium erupted into a deafening roar as Charles emerged from the cockpit, his helmet held aloft in one hand, his face a mask of exhaustion and exhilaration. I pushed through the crowd, my heart racing with each step, until finally, we stood face to face, our eyes locking in a moment of shared triumph.

We embraced fiercely, the weight of the moment enveloping us in a cocoon of pure, unadulterated happiness. I could feel Charles' heart racing against mine, his breath warm against my skin. "You did it," I whispered against his ear, my voice choked with emotion. Charles held me tightly, his body trembling with the sheer magnitude of what he had accomplished. "We did it," he replied, his voice a mixture of disbelief and pride.

In that moment, amidst the chaos and celebration, time seemed to stand still. We were two souls united by a dream, basking in the glow of a victory that transcended the boundaries of mere sport. The magnitude of Charles' achievement was palpable, a testament to his skill, determination, and unwavering belief in himself.

And then, as if on cue, our lips met in a tender kiss—a silent affirmation of the bond that had carried us through the highs and lows of racing life. It was a fleeting moment, but in that kiss, I felt a lifetime of love, support, and shared dreams. And as we pulled away, our eyes met once again, sparkling with unspoken promises of the future.

As we stood there, lost in each other's embrace, I knew that this was more than just a race victory. It was a triumph of the human spirit, a testament to the power of perseverance, resilience, and the unwavering belief in oneself. And as we looked out at the sea of cheering faces, I knew that this was just the beginning of a journey that would take us to even greater heights.

The podium ceremony was a crescendo of emotions, a culmination of months of preparation, strategy, and raw determination. As Charles ascended the steps to the podium, the crowd's roar intensified, a deafening symphony of cheers that echoed off the walls of Monaco's iconic buildings. Every step he took was imbued with significance, each stride bringing him closer to the pinnacle of success.

As he reached the top, the golden trophy gleaming in the sunlight, the atmosphere crackled with anticipation. The Monégasque flag fluttered proudly in the breeze, a symbol of Charles' heritage and the pride of his nation. The podium itself was a stage set for glory, bathed in the warm glow of the afternoon sun, a backdrop of azure skies and sparkling waters framing the momentous occasion.

The strains of the Monégasque national anthem filled the air, a melody that seemed to reverberate through the very soul of the principality. For Charles, standing atop the podium as the anthem played, it was a moment of profound significance—a validation of years of dedication, sacrifice, and unwavering belief in himself.

As the last notes of the anthem faded into the ether, the champagne bottles were uncorked, their effervescent contents spraying in wild arcs of froth and bubbles. Charles grinned as he joined in the jubilant ritual, the champagne cool against his skin, the taste of victory sweet on his lips.

From my vantage point below, I watched with a heart full of pride. The sight of Charles, standing tall and triumphant, was a testament to his resilience and tenacity. He had faced adversity with unwavering resolve, emerging stronger and more determined than ever before.

Amidst the flashing cameras and jubilant cheers, a single tear escaped my eye, catching the light as it traced a path down my cheek. It was a tear of overwhelming joy, a physical manifestation of the emotions swirling inside me. Despite the elation of the moment, there was a bittersweet quality to it—a recognition of the sacrifices and struggles that had led us to this point.

As Charles made his way down from the podium, the trophy held aloft in triumph, I hurried to meet him at the bottom of the stairs. His eyes sparkled with elation as he enveloped me in a tight embrace, the weight of the trophy a tangible reminder of his achievement.

In that moment, amidst the throng of well-wishers and flashing cameras, time seemed to stand still. We shared a silent exchange of smiles, our hearts overflowing with gratitude and joy. For Charles, this victory was more than just a race win—it was a testament to the power of perseverance, passion, and the unwavering support of those who believed in him. And as we stood together, basking in the glow of his triumph, I knew that this was a moment we would cherish for a lifetime.

The podium celebrations were a whirlwind of excitement and euphoria, but as the cheers began to fade and the adrenaline of victory ebbed away, a sense of calm descended over us. As Charles stepped down from the podium, the golden trophy cradled in his arms, I fell into step beside him, our fingers intertwined in a silent gesture of solidarity.

Away from the glare of the cameras and the cacophony of the crowd, we found a quiet corner of the paddock to steal a moment of respite. The air was filled with the scent of champagne and the hum of distant conversations, but here, in our own little oasis, there was a sense of tranquility—a moment of stillness amidst the chaos.

Charles set the trophy down on a nearby table, its gleaming surface reflecting the fading light of the setting sun. He turned to face me, his eyes alight with an intensity that took my breath away. "We did it," he said, his voice filled with emotion. "I couldn't have done it without you."

A tear glistened in the corner of his eye, and before I could stop myself, I reached out to wipe it away. "You did it, Charles," I whispered, my voice catching in my throat. "You made your dream a reality."

He pulled me into his arms, holding me tightly against his chest as he let the weight of his emotions wash over him. Tears streamed down his cheeks, mingling with the remnants of champagne and sweat. "I just wish my father and Jules could see me now," he murmured, his voice thick with sorrow. "I know they're watching from heaven, and I want to make them proud."

I pressed a gentle kiss to his tear-stained cheek, feeling the salt of his tears against my lips. "I'm sure they're looking down on you with so much pride, Charles," I said, my voice filled with conviction. "You've achieved something truly remarkable, and I know they're smiling down on you right now."

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the paddock in a soft, golden light, Charles took my hand in his, his touch sending shivers down my spine. "This is just the beginning," he said, his voice tinged with determination. "There are more victories to come, more dreams to chase."

I nodded, feeling my heart swell with love and admiration for the man standing before me. "I'll be with you every step of the way," I promised, my voice filled with unwavering devotion.

And as we stood there, bathed in the glow of our success, I couldn't help but marvel at the depth of our connection. For Charles, this victory was just the start of a journey that would take him to even greater heights. And for me, it was a privilege to be by his side, sharing in his triumphs and supporting him through every challenge. In that moment, surrounded by the soft glow of the twilight and the warmth of Charles' love, I knew that there was nowhere else I'd rather be.

================================

CL16 Taglist: @esserenorris, @tallrock35, @yourbane, @lightdragonrayne, @really-fucking-tired, @evie-119, @asparklysoul, @dhanihamidi

F1 Taglist: @hiireadstuff, @donteventry-itdude, @spookystitchery

#cl16 fluff #cl16 fic #cl16 x you #cl16 x reader #cl16 imagine #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #charles lecrelc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc #charles lechair #charles leclerc x black!reader #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x female oc #charles leclerc x you #ferrari formula one #ferrari formula 1 #ferrari #formula 1 #formula one #formula one x reader #formula one x you #formula one x y/n #formula one x oc #formula one imagine #formula one fanfiction #formula one x black reader #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 fanfic

[emotionaldamages]

surprise- charles leclerc

summary- Y/N's adventure surprising Charles Leclerc at a Grand Prix.

authors note- been gone for along time but I’ll be trying to post more, send requests please!

Y/N had been counting down the days until the off-season of Formula 1, eagerly awaiting the opportunity to see her beloved Charles. Despite the distance, their love remained strong, and Y/N wanted to show Charles just how much he meant to her.

With the help of Charles' team, Y/N hatched a plan to surprise him at a Grand Prix. It was a secret mission that required utmost secrecy and coordination. Y/N traveled to the country where the race was taking place, heart pounding with excitement and nerves.

On the day of the race, Y/N found herself in the bustling atmosphere of the Grand Prix. The sounds of roaring engines and the smell of burning rubber filled the air. Y/N had butterflies in her stomach, knowing that Charles had no idea she was there.

As the race started, Y/N anxiously waited for the perfect moment to reveal herself. The team had arranged for her to be in a VIP area, giving her a prime view of the action. Y/N couldn't help but cheer for Charles as he zoomed past, showcasing his incredible talent on the track.

Finally, the race came to an end, and the crowd erupted in cheers. Y/N knew it was time to make her move. With a racing heart, she made her way towards the pit area, where Charles and the team were celebrating their successful race.

Just as Charles was about to step off the podium, Y/N appeared before him, a smile beaming across her face. Charles' eyes widened in surprise, his expression a mix of shock and pure joy. Without a second thought, he pulled Y/N into a tight embrace, holding her as if he never wanted to let go.

The team members cheered and clapped, thrilled to witness such a heartwarming reunion. The love between Y/N and Charles was palpable, and everyone around them couldn't help but feel the warmth and happiness radiating from their embrace.

As the cheers subsided, Charles leaned in and gently pressed his lips against Y/N's, sealing their reunion with a passionate kiss. In that moment, time stood still, and the world around them faded away. It was a kiss filled with love, longing, and the promise of a future together.

From that day forward, Y/N and Charles continued to conquer the challenges of a long-distance relationship, knowing that their love was stronger than any distance. They cherished every moment they had

#f1 one shot #formula one imagine #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #formula one x reader #formula 1

[thehufflepuffavenger1]

The Grid Angel (2/?) M.V. x reader

Crash My Date 🌹

Max goes on a date with you but it gets crashed by some flirtatious drivers.

--------------------------------------------------

In the aftermath of the intense race weekend, the paddock settled into a brief respite before the next Grand Prix. The atmosphere was a mix of relief and anticipation, and as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the paddock, Max Verstappen found himself contemplating the next move in this off-track drama.

A quiet evening descended upon the team hospitality area. The clinking of glasses and subdued conversations provided the backdrop for Max's internal debate. He had successfully conquered the race, but a different kind of challenge loomed in his mind—one that involved the person who had become an unexpected focal point of his thoughts.

Taking a deep breath, Max approached you, who was engrossed in conversation with a few members of the pit crew. The air was charged with a mixture of tension and excitement as he cleared his throat to get your attention.

"Hey, Y/N," Max began, his usual confidence briefly replaced by a hint of nervousness. "I was wondering if you'd want to grab dinner with me tonight. Just the two of us."The pit crew, catching wind of the moment, discreetly observed from a distance, their eyes darting between Max and you. Your gaze met Max's, and a playful smile tugged at the corners of your lips.

"Sure, Max. I could use a break from the technical chatter," you replied, a twinkle in your eyes. The pit crew exchanged triumphant glances, silently acknowledging the progress in this off-track saga.As the evening unfolded, Max and you found yourselves in a cozy restaurant away from the bustling paddock. The atmosphere was relaxed, and the conversation flowed effortlessly between discussions of racing strategies, memorable moments from the season, and snippets of personal anecdotes.

Max, usually a man of few words off the track, opened up in ways that surprised even himself. The barriers between driver and engineer dissolved, revealing the shared passion for the sport and the camaraderie that had developed over the course of the season.

Amidst the laughter and exchanged stories, Max mustered the courage to broach a more personal topic. "Hey Y/N- "

Before he could finish, the restaurant door swung open, and in walked a group of drivers, including Lando Norris, Carlos Sainz, and Charles Leclerc. They spotted you and Max, and with mischievous grins, they decided to join the party.

"Hey, Y/N! Max! Mind if we crash your dinner?" Lando called out, his playful demeanor evident.The pit crew, who had already been planning to go to dinner at the same restaurant, sensing the shift in dynamics, exchanged amused glances, realizing that the evening was about to take an unexpected turn.

As Lando, Carlos, and Charles pulled up chairs, they seamlessly transitioned from friendly banter to playful flirting, each vying for your attention with exaggerated tales of their own racing exploits. Max, caught off guard, shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his attempt at a serious confession now veering into the territory of an unexpected comedy.

Despite the unexpected intrusion, the atmosphere remained light-hearted. Laughter echoed through the restaurant, and the lines between competition and camaraderie blurred. As the night progressed, Max found himself not only navigating the complexities of relationships but also the unpredictability of a group of drivers determined to turn a quiet dinner into a lively spectacle.

The Grand Prix season continued its relentless pace, and as the night wound down, the pit crew watched with amusement and satisfaction. The dynamics within the team had taken yet another unexpected turn, leaving them eagerly anticipating the next chapter in this off-track drama.

Tag list:

@itsjustkhaos

#f1 #thehufflepuffavenger1 #formula 1 #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x female reader #f1 x reader #lando norris #ferrari #charles leclerc x reader #carlos sainz #itsjustkhaos

[podiumprincess]

Driven By Love 🏎️ ❤️‍🔥

TW: Mentions of a crash

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Side note; this is my first time writing an imagine!!! If you have any requests please send them my way <3 

Once upon a time in the glamorous world of Formula One, where speed and adrenaline ruled, there lived a talented and passionate young driver named Charles Leclerc. He possessed an unwavering determination to conquer the race tracks, but there was something else that fueled his fire—a love story that captured the hearts of many.

Charles was deeply in love with a remarkable woman named Y/N. She was his rock, his guiding light amidst the chaos of the racing world. Y/N understood the risks involved in Charles' profession, but she never let fear overshadow their love.

The scene was set in Monaco, a race that held a special place in Charles' heart. It was his home race, and the grandstands were filled with his loyal supporters. The weather gods, however, had a different plan in store. Dark clouds loomed overhead, and raindrops began to fall, transforming the picturesque streets into a treacherous battleground.

As the race commenced, Charles, focused and determined, weaved his way through the challenging circuit. The rain intensified, adding an extra layer of danger. The slick track surface tested the limits of even the most skilled drivers. In a heart-stopping moment, Charles lost control of his car, spinning wildly before crashing into the barriers.

Y/N, watching from the pit lane, gasped in horror as the crash unfolded before her eyes. Panic gripped her heart, and her hands trembled as she reached for the team radio.

Y/N (anxiously): "Charles, are you okay? Please, say something!"

Amidst the chaos and concern, a familiar voice broke through the static.

Charles (whispering): "Y/N... Y/N, are you there? I need to hear your voice."

Tears welled up in Y/N's eyes as she choked back sobs.

Y/N (tearfully): "Charles! Oh, thank goodness you're alive. I was so scared. Are you hurt?"

Charles (determined): "I'm shaken, but I'm okay, my love. Just hearing your voice gives me strength. Please, stay with me. I need you now more than ever."

The team radio crackled once more, but this time it was Charles' team manager.

Team Manager: "Charles, we're sending help. Stay calm and wait for the medical team."

Charles, though battered and bruised, clung to the sound of Y/N's voice. Her unwavering support and love propelled him forward, even in the darkest of moments.

Y/N (reassuringly): "Charles, remember who you are. You're a fighter, a champion. You'll get through this. I believe in you."

As Charles awaited medical assistance, the rain continued to pour, but his heart was filled with warmth. Y/N's words, a symphony of love and encouragement, resonated within him, giving him the strength to keep pushing forward.

The medical team arrived swiftly, attending to Charles' injuries and preparing him for transport. Y/N watched with bated breath, her heart aching to hold him close once more.

Days later, after a successful recovery, Charles stood atop the podium, holding the winner's trophy. The crowd erupted in cheers, but his gaze was fixated on one person—the love of his life, Y/N. With tears of joy streaming down their faces, they embraced, celebrating not only the victory on the track but also the enduring power of their love.

In the world of Formula One, where speed and danger intertwined, Charles and Y/N's love story became a testament to the strength found within the human heart. They showed that love, in its purest form, could inspire greatness, overcome adversity, and drive us to reach unimaginable heights. And so, their story became etched in the annals of racing history, forever known as the love story that drove Charles Leclerc to victory.

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagine #monaco grand prix #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fluff #imagine #charles leclerc one shot #formula one imagine #f1 driver imagine #f1 x you #f1 imagine

[veneritia]

WHEN COMES THE DAWN | a wip reintroduction

↳ General Info

genre: new adult fantasy court intrigue pov: 3rd person dual pov stage: re-planning/drafting started: 9.3.2023 projected word count: ~90k Book 1 of 2

FENICE VI AETIER, a portent of ill omens and the estranged daughter of the Vasilier, ignites a dangerous succession game between her and her half-siblings, where losing means death and winning means an empire.

The end of the Hes-Aei war brings with it a chance to prove her worth to her father. The challenge is simple: bring him the head of the deposed king of Hesperia, and Fenice will be granted an Ascension, marking her as a legitimate contender for the throne. But finding the defeated king in his own lands would prove to be harder than Fenice imagined— especially when the remnants of her father’s last war starts rearing its head.

↳ The King's Game

A system decreed by the first emperor of Aetier that whoever among his children is the most skillful shall inherit his crown. But time has warped the rules of inheritance dramatically. The only way to survive is to win, and the only way to win is to be the last one standing.

↳ The Major Players

FENICE VI AETIER ◇ the contender | The worst-kept secret of the imperial family, and now an unknown factor in the politics of the Aetier court. The King's Game is her chance to stake her place in history. What she seeks is glory eternal, and she will do whatever it takes to get it.

NIKEPHOROS DEOMINOS ◇ the serpent | The prince of a conquered kingdom, now nothing more than a war prize. He muffles his anger with practiced smiles, playing the game of deception even as it tears him apart at the seams. He will lose either way, all that matters is deciding what he can bear losing.

CHARLES VI AETIER ◇ the favorite | The Vasilier's son with the world at the palm of his hand. The lonely prince with a gentle heart and a willingness to turn a blind eye to the cracks in his perfect family.

SOLA EIDOS ◇ the hound | A man of of unknown origin and a shadowed past, his real name buried beneath the soil of his homeland. He is an information broker, a spy, an assassin-- if you pay the right price. The one thing that can never be bought is his loyalty, a worthy master is hard to find.

SARTORE VITAE ◇ the enigma | An eccentric noble from Leohnthal who can charm his way to a seat at every table. Great with words and even better at half-truths, he is a man that sheds faces as easily as a snake sheds its skin.

Find more WCTD content with the series tag #series.wctd and keep an eye out for monthly progress updates with #wctd-monthly -- the first post coming soon!

Tagging: @sourrcandy @helioselene @seasteading @writinglyra @socialmediasocrates @serpentarii @asa-writes-stuff @cheshawrites @atelierwriting

#wtwcommunity #writeblrgarden #writeblr #wip intro #series.wctd #collection.my edits #collection.my projects

[spngi]

It ain’t over ‘til it’s over |part 6 charles leclerc x singer!reader

Warnings: wrong English grammar, mentions of cheating, The songs mentioned do not belong to me and I am providing the link to the songs here!

In which charles and y/n have always known each other, but not everything goes as planned

part one| part two| part three| part four| part five

y/ninsta

No words to explain what it was like to record this new album! Thank you to everyone involved, this album is the best thing that could have happened!!! I hope you love him the way I do, he will always have my heart! Available on the platforms tomorrow 🫶🏻

User1 the cover omg 😱

User2 this hoe can’t forget Charles???

Pierregasly can’t wait for it

Yourbff probably this will make me cry but ok

User3 omg I wasn’t expecting this

- I don’t betray you - Charles sounds altered by the walls of the house.

- You didn’t even have to, Charles! You were in love with her! How did you want me to feel? - I answer him angry. - You were falling in love with her right in front of me, you didn’t have to betray me to make me feel betrayed.

- I don’t...

- You don’t have to deny it, Charles. I saw, right in front of me, you fell in love with her and even if I tried, and I tried a lot to ignore it... it was extremely visible.

- But I’ve always loved you - charles retorts.

- And I you, but you still hurt me. You act as if I had abandoned you, but staying here, staying and seeing you falling in love with her would destroy me, more than ever destroyed both of us....

He sits, on the sofa opposite my position in the living room, a whole cliff between us, we are like this, each one in a corner of the room thinking about what life has brought to us. It would be easier to abandon the presence of the other if everything were so simple, but it never was, not for us. We spent a long time like this, minutes, hours, the sun disappears through the open windows and brings the breeze into the empty apartment that I call mine.

- I love you, I never stopped loving you... - Charles speaks at some point after so much silence.

- I love you

Gp of France 2022

- Charlie, how are you? - I whisper to the phone.

- Cherie... - charles sighs on the other side of the line - terrible - he concludes, after his dnf in France.

- Are you at home? - I hear your agonized voice on the phone and answer your question. - Go to the piano, I’m sending you some ideas by message

- Charles - I try to interrupt your thinking but Charles insists.

- I have this melody in my head, love... but the words, you have always been better with them than me, but these words are for you what I need to say to you - he speaks very fast, stuck in suffering.

- Okay, I’m on the piano - I whisper to him - talk about your idea.

He speaks, hoarse voice on the phone, his thoughts everywhere, I hear his crying on the phone, I would like to be in France with him and be able to dry all the tears running from his eyes. He vents, although he expected him to talk about the championship and Ferrari, he talks about us, apologizes to me, opens his whole heart to me all night long.

When the sun appears through the windows, Charles is still on the phone and maybe one day everything would return to normal.

There is a huge echo resonating through the walls of the rented apartment that I am in Monaco. Charles left half a bottle of whiskey behind. There are many words resounding through my head, there is a lot of resentment behind all the words and the voice of the leclerc continues to open its way to my ramblings.

Monaco is electrifying under my windows, and I can’t help but remember every memory we conquered on every street in this city. The streets that charles taught me to drive, or the street with the small market that was near our apartment, the times we tried to sneak around the corners of the city to be able to have our time alone, all the memories terrifie me showing me how much I’m losing and that every minute that passes I’m late to have charles again.

- I missed you - I speak hugging Charles’ hot body.

- I missed you, cherie - charles understands what I said, it’s not a simple I missed you while I was traveling, it’s the lack of all this time apart, it’s the way we say we miss everything we’ve lost in the meantime.

I’m in his apartment, it’s not the same we used to share when we were dating but it smells like charles and that’s comforting. He looks into my eyes, faces my soul, I face the space between us and throw myself into his arms, no longer putting up with all this distance between us.

Charles’ hands pull me closer to his body, I breathe his smell, the smell I chased every day after we finished, the cozy smell of home.

Being with Charles is as if life was light, I remember all the problems that hit us while we were together and even so everything remained easy because we had each other, and now everything hurts when we are far from each other. I cling more to his body and feel his hands in my hair, he smells them wanting to remember the aroma and I know exactly how it is, because the aroma that surrounds me smells like home.

I’m lying on the soft carpet of the studio, glass of whiskey next to me, Charles is sitting relaxed in the chair in front of me, laughing alone after the doses of alcohol, I can’t help the huge smile on my face.

We are having a night break after toasting our neurons recording some songs and trying new melodies.

- I love the vocal you did in fallin - charles babbleds after a time of silence. I look at him, big eyes scared not waiting for him to have heard the songs of my post- charles.

- What? It’s a very good song, it’s on my playlist.

- I just didn’t expect you to have listened to them... - I stand face down on the carpet looking at him and listen to his soft laugh.

- I listened to them all dear, and I loved them all... - he smiles and I see his eyes traveling. - I listened to them for a long time after you moved... I kept looking for you everywhere so at least I heard your voice

I look at Charles and see the pain in his eyes, he doesn’t need to say what happened, I know. Because in the same way that I moved to London so as not to be persecuted by our memories, he moved from our house, the house we used to live. I know he was looking for me next to him in the car or in bed the same way I did, or the times I held myself so as not to call after an accident on f1 and how I waited for his call after the day I crashed my car.

- I’m happy you’re here, Charles - I whisper to him. - You left a huge hole in me, which only you know how to fill.

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #singer!reader #social media imagines #cl16 #cl16 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader

[runawaymarbles]

personal top 5 ships

This hurts me because what are we DEFINING this by. Best ones?? Ones I read the most?? Most formative???

Dean/Cas. I've gone most of the summer without thinking about them much but im sure I'll relapse soon enough. You all know. This is the destiel website.

Silver/Flint (Black Sails) look. Look. Look look look. A story is true a story is untrue I will stand here with you for an hour a day a year he's my friend too I reached back into the past I don't know if this is a warning or a welcome you know all of me I can bear to be known you chose now live with it you gave it all up here in this moment I don't care. Okay???? Okay???????

Charles/Erik (X-Men). It's like. Love isn't everything and love isn't enough and yet. And yet!!!! You know that line from the Hamilton Mixtape when Angelica is like "what have we done with our lives, and what did it get us?" This is DOFP old!cherik and I'm fucked up over it. Love doesn't conquer all but it does keep you company in jail a couple times a month.

Spike/Buffy. I'm sorry, this was fucking formative for me. Toxic ship of my heart. How to hate yourself into a relationship that makes your life worse and you can't let go of and also can be good eventually if you let it. When I tell you that I love you it's not because I want you. I've seen the best and the worst of you. No you don't but thanks for saying it. Deceased.

Max/Anne (Black Sails). You ever decide the best solution to a woman wanting to kill you is to seduce her and then accidentally set off her gay crisis then immediately U-Haul while telling yourself she's going to leave you creating a self-fulfilling prophecy and planning for this eventuality while telling yourself that it's for the best anyway because you have career goals while never getting over her and then at the end of the day realizing half that shit doesn't matter??? Yeah me either these two are crazy. I love them.

Honorable mention: the version of Buck and Eddie that the 911 fanfic writers see. It's the BECAUSE, EVAN of it all.

Other honorable mention: the version of Clarke and Lexa in @entirelytookeen 's brain

#ask game #op #top ships #silverflint #destiel #cherik #spuffy #maxanor

[hannahsmusings]

Renee

*Carlos knew his little plan worked, Charles had showed his hand even though he didn’t mean to, that just being the type of man he was, he was passionate and hot headed and he couldn’t hide anything* it’s okay, mate. Your secret crush is safe with me. *he shoves Charles’ shoulder as he mutters to himself in French, unable to stop himself from laughing as he settles into his sim, smirking over at Charles one more time and chuckling as he sees him just glaring at the screen*

*two hours pass and I see that it’s about time for the team lunch, closing my laptop and going into my private bathroom and checking my hair and make up, stopping mid-hair toss when I realize I was doing it for Charles, silently cursing myself and grabbing my purse before making my way down to the training room, walking in and seeing that the were still midrace and I knew better than to interrupt them* *I stood off to the side, Charles’ sim being closer to the door so naturally I couldn’t help but watch him, pretending that I was watching for technique and precision and everything else that mattered for racing purposes, but I found myself admiring him instead, how his brow furrowed with concentration and how he looked so cute doing literally anything, not even realizing that I was twisting a piece of my hair as I watched him, getting totally lost in my admiration*

______________________________________

*my cheeks flame but determined not to let Carlos see it, glaring and focusing on the sim, ignoring the way my heart beats with slight panic at the thought that maybe that’s what this was, a crush, the thought so foreign to me as I never had crushes, assuming that maybe it was because I hadn’t been able to conquer you as I wanted, I’d not succeeded in my quest to have you and therefore my body was telling me that it wanted more* *pushes those thoughts aside as we begin to get into the race, channelling my passion into my focus and determination as I come to life in training, everything about my movements precise and electric, leaning into the turns with practiced excellence, clearly being talented* *I was flagging a little after a couple of hours, my brow sheened with sweat and arms aching from the intense training, jaw clenched with concentration as I narrow my eyes and furrow my brow, muttering to myself in the moment and not noticing that you’d entered the room, clearly in my element as I focus on the end of the race, glancing at Carlos and grinning when I realise we were coming up to a personal best, whooping loudly as I grip the wheel and come up the finish line, zooming across it in the simulation and a buzz of energy rushing through me as I come to the end of the sim, letting go of the wheel and throwing my arms up as I yell excitedly, having not hit a PB in a long time, wondering what was different today as the team cheers and claps for me, shaking out my hair as I take the helmet off, everything aching and feeling spent but smiling as I finally take in the room, seeing you were there and that only making my heart clench, grinning wider* You see that? You see what I did? *comes over with a bright smile, clearly over the moon*

#renee plot

[charlesbarnett]

How to Start Your Career as a Music Teacher - Charles Barnett

Embarking on a career as a music teacher is a compelling journey into a rich, vibrant field. This profession combines the passion for music with the joy of teaching, allowing you to engage and inspire students daily. As a music teacher, you have the profound task of imparting not the technicalities of music but emotional resonance, its ural relevance, and the discipline it requires.

Choosing a career in music teaching is not just about earning a living; it's about cultivating a lifelong love for music in the hearts of your students. This path can be incredibly fulfilling as you witness students transform under your guidance, their musical skills blossoming, their confidence growing, and their appreciation for music deepening. There is nothing quite like the satisfaction of seeing your students conquer a problematic piece, perform for the first time, or simply express their feelings through the universal language of music. Charles Barnett

To become an effective music teacher, there are specific essential skills and knowledge you should aim to possess. Firstly, a thorough understanding of music theory, including melody, rhythm, harmony, and structure, is absolved. This foundation allows you to break down pieces of music for your students, guiding them to understand and appreciate the composition's intricacies.

Moreover, proficiency in at least one instrument is crucial, enabling you to demonstrate techniques, correct students' mistakes, and inspire through your musicianship. Pedagogical knowledge - understanding how to plan lessons, manage a classroom, and adapt teaching strategies to cater to different learning styles - is another critical component of a music teacher's skill. The role of a music teacher extends beyond imparting musical knowledge.

As a music teacher, you are a mentor, motivator, and often a role model. The goal is to foster a nurturing and stimulating environment where students feel comfortable expressing themselves and exploring their musical abilities. You'll guide them to develop not r musical skills, discipline activity, confidence, and emotional intelligence.

Pursuing a career in music teaching requires a bachelor's degree in Music Education or a related field. These degrees provide a comprehensive understanding of music theory, history, and composition. You will also learn to play various instruments.

Beyond a degree, many states and countries require music teachers to hold a teaching certification or license. These certifications often require passing a sentence exam and completing a teacher preparation program. It is advisable to research the specific requirements in your area, as they can vary significantly. Charles Barnett

Additionally, specialized training, such as workshops on specific teaching methods or masterclasses on certain instruments, can enhance your skills and make you a more versatile teacher. Some music teachers may also choose advanced degrees, like a Master's or Doctorate in Music or Music Education, to deepen their knowledge and potentially open up opportunities for higher-level positions.

The field of music education is constantly evolving, and music teachers need to engage in continuous professional development. This could involve attending conferences, participating in webinars, reading relevant literature, or enrolling in online courses. This ongoing learning helps you stay current with the latest pedagogical strategies, technological tools, and trends in the music world, enabling you to continue delivering high-quality education to your students. Thus, the journey of a music teacher is one of lifelong learning, reflecting the passion for music and education that drew you to this career in the first place.

Gaining hands-on experience is a pivotal step in launching a successful career as a music teacher. Internships and volunteering opportunities in schools, music camps, or community programs offer an excellent way to apply the theoretical knowledge you have learned. These experiences provide a real-world context, allowing you to observe professional music teachers in action, hone your teaching skills, and understand the varices of teaching different age groups and skill levels.

Mentorships offer another invaluable source of experience and learning. Being mentored by an experienced music teacher allows you to gain insights from their expertise, seek advice on teaching challenges, and learn from their journey. A mentor can shape your teaching approach, share your work, and provide invaluable guidance as you navigate the initial stages of your career.

These experiences contribute to building a solid resume. Relevant experiences demonstrate your commitment to music education and readiness to enter the profession. They provide concrete examples of your skills, ability to apply theoretical knowledge in practice, and dedication to continuous learning. Each experience adds richness to your resume, making you a more attractive candidate for music teaching positions.

Embarking on your career as a music teacher can take different paths. You may find a position in a school or community program or opt for a freelance career. If you're considering the formal education route, being proactive in your job search is essential. Utilize online job boards, network with professionals, and leverage connections from internships or volunteer experiences. Tailor your resume and cover letter to highlight your education, skills, and hands-on experiences in music teaching. Charlie Barnett

If you're leaning towards a freelance career, you'll need to market your services, manage your duling and billing, and posture a space for your studio. It requires an entrepreneurial spirit but also allows you to tailor your teaching methods and choose students.

Is crucial becoming a successful music teacher is a journey that combines your passion for music with a commitment to education. It requires a solid foundation in music theory and pedagogy, as hands-on experiences that let you apply this knowledge in real-world settings. Whether you teach within formal education systems or start your private studio, remember that your impact extends beyond music. You'll be fostering creativity, discipline, and emotional intelligence, influencing your students' musical abilities and personal growth. And though the path may be challenging, the reward of seeing your students thrive and express themselves through music is truly unparalleled. So, embrace the journey, keep learning, and keep inspiring. Your passion can shape the next generation of musicians.

[issaxcharlie]

We say we're friends, we play pretend (1/2)

Pairing: Charlie Gillespie x Fem reader

Summary: Charlie and Y/N were best friends and a couple as teens, after their breakup they meet again 4 years later on the bootcamp of JATP and have to work together. Will something else happen or they are just friends?

Charlie must have imagined something like this could happen. Since Kenny discovered her 5 years ago, she has been a really close friend to the director, participating in some way or another in almost all his projects.

In front of him after years, Y/N Y/L, his childhood best friend and ex-girlfriend. The young actor is not going to admit that he saw every single one of her projects or how moved he was by her in each one of them, many times even thinking of maybe sending her a little message saying the incredible job she did.

But he never found the courage.

It’s weird to remember how he spent most of his life next to the woman, now one of the top youth artists with multiple musicals and movies on her hits list. They always had a strong bond, every single day together. Sleepovers, music classes, dancing classes, homework, parties, movie nights, hockey, illness days, pretty much everything. At the age of 15 they began a very sweet and innocent relationship that ended at 18 when Y/N moved to New York to work in her first leading role.

The break up was on good terms but painful, so painful that both preferred to lose contact completely than to have the other from time to time opening the wound again and again.

And there she was. As beautifil as ever, speaking happily with Kenny while Madison and Owen jump up and down, Jeremy smiles and Charlie looks like he wants to throw up.

“Y/N Y/L, my golden star. She is the official composer of the soundtrack, and she will be supporting you throughout the album process as well as helping Paul and me in other creative aspects, I know she is the same age as some of you but she has a lot of experience in this and all the necessary preparation so don't hesitate to get all the knowledge you can out of her."

Everyone introduces themselves until the guitarist is the only one left, luckily for him, he’s in voice rest these two weeks so he literally cannot speak.

They both look nervous but the moment their eyes meet their complicity comes out and both smile slightly.

“He’s Charlie, he is in voice rest but we are fans of yours. We cried yesterday watching your last musical, it was just brilliant." Owen lets out hardly breathing, Y/N turns with a smile to see the Canadian boy who wants to kill his friend and then commit suicide.

“Thank you! This is going to be such an interesting experience.” The singer murmurs as she winks at Charlie.

2 hours later they had both been avoiding each other, Y/N writing in a corner while the band and Kenny discuss costumes with Soyon, in which at least half an hour has been wasted trying to understand what Charlie is trying to say with the few words he writes with an apple pencil on his ipad in his horrible handwritting.

Y/N gets frustrated and goes to where they are, approaching behind Charlie's shoulder to see the iPad. She quickly identifies the two words, one so crossed out that it looks like a doodle, but years copying each other's homework pays off.

"He's trying to say that if Luke isn't going to wear bandanas, at least consider wearing beanies." The young woman says as she leans on the shoulder of who was her first love.

Charlie freezes at their proximity, blushing a little at the feeling of being close after so long. Luckily his castmates don't realize it because all their attention is on her.

“You are just good for everything huh? Even deciphering hieroglyphs." Owen comments, smiling at her and winking exaggeratedly to make her laugh.

Charlie can't help but feel insecure with the situation. It could be a friendly thing but If Owen really tries to flirt with her, he doesn't know how he would react. Is sad enough not having her in his life anymore, having her as his best friend's girlfriend would just be too painful.

Now, he knows he’s exaggerating, and a lot. But he has to do something about it. Better safe than sorry.

He stretches his neck to meet the eyes of his ex-girlfriend, who is now only inches away. She quickly gets flustered, but hides it pretty well. The problem is that he knows every gesture perfectly and sees through her mask.

“Wh- What, Gillespie?” She manages to say, Charlie can’t help a smile seeing the way she still reacts towards him.

When you know a person completely, every facet, every gesture, every peculiarity, speaking without words is as natural as breathing. And they had both forgotten how amazing it feels to have someone in your life who is this compatible and magnetic.

They start a conversation, she answers to who secretly still believes as her person while he continues making gestures and mimics that no one else understands, writing a word from time to time to make the talk flow better.

"I know. Hey, it's not my fault! So you excuse yourself with the ‘can't talk’ thing huh? how convenient. Yeah, Ok, I will. I said I will!" Her words are the only thing that they manage to get out of the conversation that the secret ex-couple is having, since no matter how much attention they pay to him, they have no idea how Y/N manages to decipher it.

"I have no idea what's going on but I'll take it as a miracle, I was just going to suggest ignoring Charlie these 2 weeks." Jeremy jokes, everyone nods their heads.

“I mean, it’s still a good option.” Madison replies.

The 14 days go by quickly, and with the former couple spending time together daily, rehearsing Charlie's guitar solos together, with Y/N translating his horrible scribbles, or sometimes simply being close to each other enjoying the company, absentmindedly placing their hand on the other's leg or their forehead on their shoulder for a few seconds during the breaks.

Basically the whole team has noticed the flirtatious smiles and the looks, but Charlie was the weakest rival of both and the one who could release some information about it, and without being able to speak they basically ran out of an informant, since the young singer didn’t let go a word about her unexpected chemistry with the guitarist except the typical ‘we are just good friends’.

But without a doubt the energies began to multiply on Monday when Charlie arrived with the green light to be able to speak and start singing in rehearsals. Madison couldn't attend the first few hours because she was at school, so Y/N was going to cover her so the boys could practice.

“The first on the list is Finally Free, the place where we are going to record it only gave us two weeks from now so it will have to be one of the priorities. For the first rehearsal just vibe with the song and we’ll discover where to go from there. Oh, and good luck keeping up with my golden star, you’ll need it."

Y/N starts the first verse on the keyboard, and gets up to sing the chorus in the center, trying to ignore Charlie and looking up at Jeremy. She hadn’t heard him sing for a couple of years, but the same butterflies appear in her stomach and she knows that she will melt if she looks into his eyes.

Unfortunately for her, Kenny doesn't have the same plan, and just before the second verse ends he tells her to walk over to Charlie, who immediately smiles and sings the pre-chorus with much more enthusiasm. The energy they radiate floods the place, both getting closer and closer. By the time the bridge arrives, their foreheads are practically against each other, their lips only an inch apart, and with a confidence and comfort while singing to each other that makes all those who suspected that there was something between them now practically sure.

Luckily there are only Jeremy, Kenny, Owen and Paul in the room, who decide to play a game of divide and conquer now that the snitch part of the equation can speak.

“Y/N, can you come with me for a moment? I have a new idea for ‘Wow’ and a fresh pair of eyes is just what I need.” Paul says, sacrificing himself for the greater good.

“Yeah, of course, I’ll be right back.” The singer takes the opportunity to leave this staring game with Charlie and quickly walks away from the guitarist, who winks at her in a flirting way in response.

The moment they walk out the door, everyone turns to see Charlie, who has no idea what they're up to.

“What?”

"After what just happened you just can't keep pretending nothing's happening. Man, that was more intense than the whole Troyella moments during all three movies." Kenny pretends to be offended for a second and then nods.

"I have never seen anything like this in all my years of career."

“Yeah dude it was electric.” Owen replies, smirking.

“She’s my person.” Charlie mumbles.

If he’s being honest with himself, deep down he always knew she was the only one for him. But that realization was freaking scary. What's next if the only person for you has already turned the page? gave up without a fight? what's left?

"What?" The three ask in unison, and Charles begins to sing like a bird.

“We grew up together and then we lost the way. Like in those romantic movies where just everyone knows they belong together except the childhood best friends and then they end up ruining their lives by being in denial.”

“From what I saw getting back on track shouldn't be too difficult, Charlie. I assure you that whatever you feel she feels it too. Her eyes don’t lie." Jeremy tries to reason with him.

“Leave your teen problems behind. You are old enough to decide what you want and find a way to make it work. But you have to stop pretending that nothing is happening first." Owen scolds his friend.

“Do you love her?” Jer asks.

“That answer is always going to be yes, I just could never stop loving her even If I tried. And I did.” He really did. The surprise he got when the second he had her close to him his heart began to beat like crazy and all he wanted was to hug her and fix everything. It was as if when seeing her eyes time hadn’t passed, as if only the day before they’d been goofing around together. That bond is so big that he doesn’t believe it’s possible to break.

“Then do something about it, bro! Go get your girl back!” Jeremy advises while Kenny smiles.

“Yeah man, it’s ‘Now or never’ like her song, and I guess ours too now? Since she wrote it for Sunset Curve? Well, anyway, it’s like our song says.” Owen exclaims excitedly.

“Ohhh, musical inspiration, let me try. ‘Get up, get out, relight that spark’.” Jeremy sings to Charlie.

“Jer, you are a genius. If you think about it wake up is actually a pretty good soundtrack song for this situation. ‘It's not what you lost, It's what you'll gain raising your voice in the rain’.”

They both keep singing the song until they reach the bridge, Charlie tries to look frustrated but a slight smile escapes his face.

They are right, he still hasn't lost this fight.

👻PART 2 RIGHT HERE

#jatp fanfic #jatp imagine #jatp fanfiction #charlie gillespie imagine #charlie gillespie x reader #charlie gillespie one shot #jatp luke #luke patterson fic #luke patterson x reader

[lucidpantone]

Preview: The three sided king

Yes I am still writing this fic and this chapter is almost done. Its super long chapter but here is a preview.

Incase you need to a recap of where we left off: Published Chapters

Aquarias 1470

He is standing on the axis.

Barely visible between the white florets.

It’s soothing on the inside.

Like a concentrated dosage of vitamins and minerals.

The walls surrounding him are lacquered in a mint hue. Cool and expressive, a pigment rumored to remove free radicals from his interior.

The south wing of the palace seemed to suffice.

The Duke’s quarters were generous and ample. For all the Duke’s pomp and circumstance he actually required very little to live comfortably. He had only one request and that his chamber be adorned with white flowers at all times to quench his need to bring beauty to life via his skills on parchment.

Drawing was the only therapy that would help elucidate the Duke’s mind. It would bend time and submerge his troubled thoughts into a state of calm and as he sat in his quarters trying to unravel the enigma that caught him off guard; time got lost like a billow in a breeze and before he knew it a portrait of the prince of swords was looking back at him. Within seconds after laying eyes on the prince he had become the antioxidant for the duke’s deteriorating soul; an unforeseen remedy wrapped up in a beautiful creature with hickory ringlets that fell perfectly past his shoulders and a chocolate gaze complimented by perfectly placed laugh lines.

It’s hard to forget the moment he laid eyes on him. The smell of rain had just smacked him across the chest as he rushed up the stairs to the rotunda. The rate at which the heavens spilled their tears onto the palace courtyard matched the virago of the many scorned women Sander had left behind. As Sander greeted the Duke of Burgundy and his wife the rain began to whip around like a serpent dancing to a siren’s song and thunderclaps began to roll tide across the grey sky.A lightning fork lit up their drop back like an ominous foretelling of their preordained future but in that moment he first caught a glimpse of him and his center of gravity shifted.

His bride-to-be Mary of Burgundy had stepped forward to curtsy for her lord, revealing the prince hidden by her side. Sander instantly fixated on him.  The prince had locked his gaze onto the ground. Focusing on something Sander could not see. Sander was in dire need to see every inch of his chiseled features. Sander was discreet in trying to move his gaze from Mary to the prince but he was suddenly nervy and his suave demeanor broke for a matter of seconds when he fumbled out a high pitch overly zealous greeting, "The Prince of Swords. It's nice to make your acquaintance".

The prince broke thought and looked up at Sander with a curious expression. The prince was nothing like Sander imagined him to be. He was a living cypher. A being in need of decoding. A walking enigma. His features were tender and his eyes warm but also hard edged. The initial flicker of warmth the prince had radiated seconds before was quickly replaced by a glacial facade. The prince was cool and collected, beautiful but stone like but one thing was certain the Prince of swords was no brut he was a man capable of dancing on a knife's edge, conquering a nation, riding into battle and becoming a champion. He was much more compact than Sander had expected but in possession of a noticeably stealthy physique. Sander and the prince both got lost in each other’s gaze for a prolonged second as they shook hands when the prince’s father, the Duke of Burgundy, broke the occasion.

“Here, here. I see you have met my son, the prince of swords”

Sander threw the prince a soft smile before breaking his gaze and looking towards the fast approaching Duke Of Burgundy.

“Yes, yes I have my lord”

“Be careful with that one. I know he doesn’t look like much but blink too slow and he’ll have the dagger of Burgundy at your throat.”

As the Duke of Burgundy positioned himself horizontally to Sander’s right shoulder he preemptively began to move Sander towards the long line of courtiers waiting to introduce themselves to him with their high born titles.

Sander took two steps forward alongside the Duke but then paused and quickly turned back and headed back to prince.

It was practically a whisper, the first of many that they would exchange as Sander cloaked their exchange with a secondary handshake and said softly.

“Sander, by the way”

Robbe’s eyes grew wide and his mouth opened a bit in shock as he knew it was uncommon for Duke’s of Sander status to exchange such pleasantries amongst those unknown to their court but he reacted quickly as to not offend the Duke and matched his lords volume.

“Robbe” he sighed out softly.

Sander smiled and in that split second he saw it again. The warmth Robbe had been hiding from the rest of the world.

--

Sander snapped out of his memories and was back in his quarters surrounded by the mint hues as he heard his chambers doors being pried open.

He quickly stood up off his chair and discarded his parchment and charcoal on it.

As he walked towards the door he recognized the voice on the other side.

Charles’s voice was animating through the chamber doors as rambunctious and cavalier as always as he strolled into Sander’s hideaway.

“My lord---” Charles interrupted Sander with a palm up salute.

“I told you to call me Senne. That’s what my family calls me and you're soon to be family right?”

Sander threw Senne a half baked smile as validation and proceeded to appease his request.

“Of course, Senne.”

Senne clapped his hands together enthusiastically signaling his entourage to show Sander what he came here for.

“Ahhhh… I brought you something for tonight”, Senne called over one of his servants.

The servant laid down a strange looking object on Sander’s bed. As Sander examined it he found it quite a peculiar gift.

“A mask?” Sander questioned wiping all offense from his tone.

“Yes, You’ll be the bull tonight for our masked ball to celebrate your addition to our family.”

Senne’s tone ranged from devilish to persuasive, mercurial to Insidious but Sander knew these overt insults were merely a test of wit and dominance.

To appease the Burgundian duke Sander played coy and shot him a thankful smile and opened his arms wide as he folded them in front of himself and curtsied towards the duke and spoke clearly.

“My lord if you wish me to be the bull. Then the bull I shall be.”

“Good. I think it suits you. Makes you stand out and we wouldn’t want anyone to miss you.” Sander didn’t miss the slight dose of passive aggression laced all over Senne's voice.

“I’ll leave you one of my servants to help you get ready” Sander noted that a mid sized male stepped forward from Senne’s kings guard with large fluffy curls adorning the top of his head.

“Thank you” Sander stated.

Senne and his court began to exit the mint hue room when Senne turned around like he just remembered what he actually came to Sander’s quarters for, “Oh before I forget…. don’t indulge too much on the festivities tonight. I arranged for the Prince to show you around the grounds in the early morning”.

Sander’s ears perked up at the sheer mention of the Prince.

“I’ll be sure to behave myself sire” Sander gives Senne a light nod as Senne turns and heads toward the exit once again.

“My lord would you like help getting dressed for tonight?” Senne’s kingsmen interrupts Sander’s thoughts.

“Yes, of course. I am sorry I didn’t catch your name….”

“Younes, my lord”

“Younes, please call me Sander” Younes gave Sander a soft smile in agreement.

“You should start getting ready Sander. The masquerade ball has been planned for weeks and it's the highlight of the season. Your betrothed has been planning her outfits since it was announced.”

Oh great Sander thinks not only has he been given short notice but now he also needs to pass some predetermined litmus test that the Burgundians have surely been cooking up for him.

He’ll just rely on his bravado and dynamism to survive the occasion.

“So you don’t know what my betrothed will be wearing tonight?”

Younes gently puts his right hand over his heart and softly whispers, “I’ve been sworn to secrecy”.

Sander lets out a soft giggle.

“Ok understandable. Wouldn’t want you to break any pacts.”

“What about the Prince? Do you know what he’ll be wearing?”

“Oh of course but everyone knows that” Younes reassures.

“He’ll be the lion” Younes states matter-of-factly.

“The Prince is always the lion”

“And why is that?” Sander asks curiously.

“Because the prince has never encountered prey he couldn’t kill.There’s a reason they call him the Prince Of Swords…..Don’t let your guard down or he’ll be the death of you.”

----

The darken corridors felt like a labyrinth.

A maze of endless entry and exit points on a journey to nowhere.

The palace was a mere whirlpool of decor that captured the zeitgeist of the time.

Tapestries adorning floor to ceiling windows.

Polished stone staircases.

Portraits of past rulers and the coat of arms of the burgundian nation stapled across every possible crevice of available wall space.

Sander felt like some sort of heretic. He didn’t belong amongst these people. He gave no credence to their cause. If anything he was the antistasis to their campaign secretly lobbying for their demise and permanently obtuse to the burgundian struggle. He knew there was no permanence to this betrothal. He would never allow himself to wed a kin of the three lions. This agreement was merely for show; a pit stop till he got back to his real life.

He sauntered down the palace halls with little regard to their importance, going out of his way to belittle all the objects the burgundians treasured like some sort of ignorant dilettante.

Sander knew he merely had to survive these grasslands. Deem himself a poacher within this big cat habitat. Become merciless and when an opening presents itself, drive an arrow through the heart of a lion but first he would need to learn how not to become the prey.

He came out of nowhere.

Hidden by the cover of night.

He was observing him from the end of the long hallway. The lion standing at ready. Taking him in. He wore a burnt orange colored cape with hand etched gold trimming. His chocolate orbs the color of an afternoon sunset. His face adorning the face of a leader of the pack.

Sander just stared at him.

Curious.

Drawn in.

His feet pick up pace towards him. Completely oblivious to the fact that he himself is drench in a disguise. For tonight he is but nothing but a bull; temperamental and sinister. A green eyed monster ready to crash land on his own personal matador.

He almost reaches him and then the lion looks out to some unknown voice down the hall and runs towards it, getting lost in the sea of creatures in the throws of their festivities inside the grande ballroom.

The bull lets his instinct guide him and blurs into the terrain of blushing birds, bunny rabbits, deers and wolves all dancing in unison with one another under the twinkle of the ballroom’s candlelight incandescents.

For one night only mere mortals have morphed into beast, hounds and the feather habitants of a wild life Archipelago. The bull weaves his way around a pack of wolves, passes a litter of kittens when he suddenly feels a serpent wrap its scaly surface behind his neck and tug him in their direction.

“There you are?” The Marchioness Deruwe spoke in a possessive tone.

Sander flung his head in a 90 degree turn towards her direction.

The Marchioness Deruwe was a beautiful creature. That was not something that was ever up for debate but she was conniving and a master of the game. She maneuvered courts to her will. Destroying young maiden’s reputations on a whim. Her prowess for dismantling those who opposed her was so infamous it travelled with her across the channel to the Burgundian realm. She was a flower of the Yorkist faction. Her father had married her off to a French Marquess at the tender age of 16. Most young English maiden’s would have been intimidated to enter the French courts so unestablished but the Marchioness had spent her entire life bossing her pack of blonde hair, blue eyed hyenas around every Yorkish social event. To the Marchioness getting in the good graces of King Lucas and Queen Daphne was nothing more than sport. Another challenge to show off her skill set. It took no more than a season until she was trotting around the French palace like she owned the place. She worked her angle to its utmost potential, securing her husband the Marquess Deruwe a role as official acting liaison to the French king throughout the Burgundy nation and so here she stood exactly where Sander expected her.

Regal, drenched in beauty, playing her role. Moving puzzle pieces around. Advising young courtiers who were on the hunt for some prey and willing to do anything to climb up the social ladder to land themselves a big fish.

“My lady”

Sander slightly bowed in her direction as she placed her hand out to be kissed by Sander’s lips.

“My lord”

She said in giddy almost pantomime fashion.

It was strange for Sander to have the Marchioness validate his presence. For so long she had only toyed with him. Wound him up and dropped him like he was some rudimentary tool the Marchioness had outgrown and had no use for anymore. He hated to admit it to himself but she had taught him how to love. To love only for gluttony, to never share or truly give yourself to another but to merely take and when all resources had been depleted to move on to the next bigger and better thing. Sander had experienced this first hand as a young adolescent who lost himself in the Marchioness' blonde locks and lean figure and late nights falling asleep on her bosom but as intense as their “love” was, Sander just became another victim of her wicked game. She gorged and binged herself on his love mosaic, his unrelenting joyful spirit that illuminated a room like a moonbeam in the middle of a forest but once the affair was all over he was left a mere shell of himself. She had taken everything from him. Sander felt he had no other options but to resign himself to a monastic order or to become an agent of this dark market where love was a tool for savagery, negotiation, lust and pure greed. Sander had turned himself from a victim to a lothario. Only playing the game of love for sheer sport just to quench his blood lust.

Sander lost track of time and didn’t even realize how long he had been standing in front of the Marchioness spellbound by her presence when his axis shifted and he saw the lion surrounded by his pack. He snapped into animation and headed towards the lion passing a hoard of mice, a stallion and his mare.

The troop of big cats all turn towards the bulls' direction as he comes to a halt mere feet away from their king. The lion walks forward to meet the bull and as they close the distance and stand mere inches from one another about to break out of this wild life sanctuary and into the human realm the ballroom goes dark.

A sudden cacophony of screams and squeals rumbles through the ballroom.

“Who do you want to be tonight?” The Duke of Burgundy asks the wildlife in a demanding tone.

“Do you want to be a predator?”

“Or the prey? …...Tonight ladies and gentleman or should I say inhabitants of the animal kingdom. Tonight there are no rules. You can be who you want to be under the guise of moonlight.”

“If you dare not play our game and you absolutely must light your way through tonight's festivities then take one of the candles that the servants are providing but if you're brave and truly want to get lost in the darkness then the castle is your playground for one night and there is only one rule,what happens in the darkness stays in the darkness”.

The roar of the wildstock animates through the ballroom and orbs of light begin to appear in front of masked beast, birds and prey.

A gothic melody begins to fill the room as the musical entertainment for the evening amplifies through all corners of the palace.

The orbs begin to make a circular formation and the heat of the flames subdues the wild life.

The candle flames waltz back and forth.

And the hot blooded creatures move in the shape of a half crescent moon.

More orbs begin to light the room and the moon phases begin to decorate the floor as they do the night sky.

The green monster suddenly feels a tug of his wrist as gravity and his heart desire walk towards the moon phases and the lion and the bull head towards the dancing troop standing side by side, when the lion does a sudden about face and is standing directly in front of the bull.

“Dance with me?” the lion asked in a meek tone. One anticipating a denial.

“I don’t wish to embarasses you my prince but one is not a dancer”

The bull notices the lion's chocolate gaze scan his person when a sickly sweet tone comes out lightly encouraging the bull.

“Just follow along. I promise I won’t lead you astray. Just trust me.”

The lion lifts both his palms to his shoulder height facing the bull and the bull matches his movement.

The lion settles his palms against the bulls as they stand two ready pilgrims; palm to palm in holy palmers' kiss.

As the gothic chimes began to pick up pace the lion demo’s a gentleman’s curtsy which the bull mirrored. They retouch palms but this time they point their hands towards the sky and as the bull and the lion brought them down so did each pair of courtiers in the ballroom and took their position to begin the waltz.

The lion and the bull stand shoulder to shoulder vertically, each positioning themselves to face opposite sides of the ballroom but completely interlocked via one's right arm into the other’s left.

“You ready?” The music begins to speed up.

“NO” Sander chuckles out embarrassed.

“Did I mention I am really really bad at this…” he admits with a lack of confidence that is foreign to him.

“Well I think it’s fate then because I’m really good at this” Robbe shoots Sander a wink.

The pair of gentlemen begin swaying in a whimsical harmonic intonation. Fluted skirts twirled around them under the incandescent flicker of limelight radiating  around the ballroom.

Robbe’s mood becomes rather chipper as an uptempo beat begins to sound around the room and an uncontrollable laugh begins  bubbling up to the surface. Sensing he has the upper hand, Robbe is suddenly full of gumption and can’t help but tease the Duke.

“You really are bad at this, aren’t you?”

Sander is moving his limbs around aimlessly with a lack of grace that you could mistake him for a duck failing to take flight.

All feathers, no grace.

“Stop laughing at me” Sander demands in a playful tone.

Shooting him a makaveli smile. Robbe begins to untie his connected arm and gently grab Sander’s hand to guide it towards the heavens emulating a wedding’s arch.

“Tsk, tsk ……. Come on my duke go on” Robbe signals to Sander to go under the arch suggesting that he was about to twirl Sander mid dance.

Sander stalls for a second but as Robbe pulls on his arm he follows his direction.

“You’re enjoying torturing me too much my prince”

Sander knows that to the rest of the courtiers he must look clumsy and foolish but in that moment he couldn’t care less. The prince stirs an unfamiliar feeling within Sander. He feels weightless, airy and unencumbered. He knows this feeling is what Bernard would call fun or what he was adamant Sander was hesitant to experience in life, which was a carefree playdate. One without an agenda, an individual he could let go with and maybe one day even feel compelled to show his true nature too. The real Sander, the one he hid from the world.

Now that Sander had let Robbe have a little fun with him. It was time he matched the prince at his game.

Sander tugs on Robbe’s arm and pulls him towards him. They are standing so close together that Sander can feel the hot breath of royalty when Robbe doth protest to Sander hand gripping his slim waist.

Sander leans in towards the side of Robbe’s face and whispers lightly.

“Ready?”

“What?” Robbe replies with an inquisitive squint adorning his eyes.

“We're not going to stay here all evening are we? The night is young...”

“Sander I can’t lea---”

“On the count of 3” Sander reenforces.

“But my fiance is waiting…..” Robbe whispers, trailing off in a barely audible volume towards the end.

“3”

Before Robbe can fight the instinct to relent. Sander is rushing him out of the ballroom, leaving the prideland behind. Emergency evacuating from the serengeti and rushing down a dark corridor camouflaged by the night sky.

Before they both know it they have reached the rotunda the place where Robbe’s first laid eyes on Sander under a lightning painted sky that only served to  illuminate Sander’s chiseled face; and though Robbe was lost for words in this moment he would look back at their first meeting and recall that even amongst the torrential downpour and screams of mother nature there was no denying that Robbe always knew that Sander would be the one.

____________________

“Have you lost yourself in lunacy?”

Robbe turned to Sander, sporting a sour expression.

“I didn’t think you would lack imagination my prince”

“I don’t” Robbe spoke sternly, surprised at Sander’s use of his formal title.

“Oh no? Seems like you're questioning my intentions.”

“Is the prince of swords fearful he will be led astray?”

Both men stood silent staring at one another. Calculating their next decision as if the weight of a nation depended on it.

For Sander, Robbe had the properties of a seductive paramour. He knew the prince was promised to another and that whatever he sought from him would be nothing more than a diliance by night. A transaction that could only take place in the cloak of darkness but he didn’t care. When he was in his presence he felt displaced, rocking on the edge of an axis, chemically imbalanced, filled to the brim with potency.

For Robbe, Sander was the last drink of the night he should have walked away from. The moment you recall the next morning that tipped you over the edge. He was a deadly sin manifested in a man. Sander was Robbe’s last everclear.

Both men hear the squabbles of hyenas approaching their territory and on a lion’s instinct Robbe grabs Sander’s hand and leads him down the rotunda stairs.

“Come on Sander, someone will see us”

They escape through the courtyard and away from the herd.

Hand in hand.

Together.

In alliance.

The palace is pitch black, almost frightening but Robbe navigates the route with such gravitas, purpose, unwavered and committed towards his sin. The men untether themselves from their role play. They throw their masks aside and run into the night together in their purest forms.

Robbe heads towards refuge, towards the high garden walls where they can hide themselves deep in the labyrinthine green. A garden brew of emerald tinted greenery, shamrock leaves and rainbow colored rose bushes.

“Where are we going?” Sander finally protests and as Robbe lets go of Sander’s hand he takes stock of his surroundings.

“Woah”

Sander is in awe of this grassy fortress. The walls are high so much so that they feel like they are collapsing in on themselves and submerging the twosome in a foggy condensation.

Sander shivers.

“Fock, it's cold”

“Come now” Robbe nods his head signaling Sander to follow him deeper into this thorny environment.

“Where are we going?” Sander asks tentatively. A tad suspicious of Robbe but also certain that his fellow journeymen knows the way.

“It’s a surprise”  

“Is this the point of the story where I suddenly go missing?”

“What?” Robbe looks at Sander with a puzzled look.

“Am joking….. But don’t think I don’t know about the legends surrounding the lakes and forest here”

Robbe's face loses all its pink hue at the mention of those stories. Sander quickly recognizes his obvious fumble but it was merely an innocuous mention it was not meant to offend or besmirch his name.

“Umm am sorry, nevermind” Sander quickly throws out and starts moving deeper into the seafoam landscape.

“Ok prince, lead the way”

Robbe brushes off the uncomfortable mention and re-engages.

“Ok Duke, on the count of 3” and before Sander even has time to register the count Robbe takes off running deeper into refuge.

___________

Sander is panting by the time he catches up to Robbe.

They moved so fast between the juniper corridors and foggy condensation he isn’t even sure he knows how to get back out of the labyrinth but for now he pushes that thought out of his mind as he stands at the center of this garden universe surrounded by a rainbow colored flower bed.

He inhales and the scent of chrysanthemum, lillie and roses fill his nasal cavity. He licks his top lip and he swears he can taste the pollen in the air.

“It’s my favourite place in the palace”

“It's beautiful” Sander reassures Robbe.

“I planted these flower beds with my mother. It was the only thing that helped when he d-------”

Robbe cuts off the sentence abruptly.

“It took time but eventually they blossomed” He admits softly.

“These white florets here, they are the ones I picked out for your quarters”, Sander’s face instantly lights up with an innocent smirk when he realizes that Robbe picked out the flowers he's been drawing. Because of course he did, they’re beautiful.

Sander and Robbe stroll past bushes of red roses and Sander stops to clip one off the vine as he gently walks back to Robbe and begins to delicately push his hair behind his right ear and places the red rose atop of it.

Robbe just stares at Sander with big eyes and a dreamy gaze anticipating the next move.

“You know what I’m in the mood for?”

Robbe remains silent shaking his head back and forth.

Sander moves closer to Robbe, surrounding him.

Robbe drops his gaze focusing on the rosewood colored lilies beneath him.

He knows the moment is coming. Robbe can feel the heat of Sander breathe, glazing the side of his face moving towards his mouth when deep in the darkness he hears twigs break.

Robbe looks towards the ominous noise and takes one big step away from Sander and a few steps towards the sound.

Sander notices that Robbe suddenly seems flustered, weary and distracted.

“Ummm we should play a game”

“What? Right now? Why?” Sander retorts in a questionable elevated tone.

“Trust me” Robbe pleads with his signature pyrope orbs that guarantee to make Sander weak at the knees.

“Okay” Sanders states in defeat.

“Close your eyes”

Sander squeezes his eyes shut in anticipation almost childlike.

“When I count to three, open your eyes and come find me”

Sanders stands amongst the roses when he hears Robbe yell out “one” a few feet away from him.

A few seconds later he hears Robbe yell out “two” but his voice is more distant.

Lastly he hears him yell out “three” and when he opens his eyes he stands alone amongst the flower bed.

The red rose Sander placed behind Robbe’s ear lays on the ground in front of him. Sander picks it up and looks around.

Suddenly he is frightened.

The garden walls are high and the night is eerily silent.

“Robbe” Sander yells out into the darkness.

But nothing. Sander doesn’t hear any noise or callback.

Sander pops his head into every corridor but everything is so dark and identical looking that he doesn't dare leave the refuge of the rose garden.

He yells out for Robbe again but still nothing.

He waits another twenty minutes but the night is only growing colder and so he makes the call to head back to the palace and ask his hand, Younes to come back with him to search for Robbe in case he got lost or was hurt.

It took Sander many tries of winding corners and dead ends to find his way out of the garden maze. What easily took him and Robbe ten minutes to navigate; took Sander at least an hour to navigate his way out of.

As he reaches the entryway to the palace garden he sees a figure absconding towards the palace in haste, his locomotives appear unruly and he does not resemble Robbe at all from behind but those hickory manes are recognizable from over yonder.

“ROBBE” Sander yells out ferociously. Annoyed but relieved that Robbe was ok.

“Robbe stop” Sander speeds up towards the figure.

He sees the figure turn towards him and it is Robbe but Robbe takes a brief look at Sander with disinterest and continues on his way.

Sander sprints towards him for some sort of explanation about why he just abandoned him like that.

Sander finally catches up to him and as he tugs on his shoulder. He hears Robbe groan in obvious annoyance.

“What do you want?”

“Robbe what the hell you just left without saying anything…… I was worried”

Robbe's face is blank and unnerved.

“OOookay” Robbe rolls his eyes.

Sander shrugs his shoulders signaling for some deeper meaning or some type of closure.

“Ooookay” Sander repeats back to Robbe mimicking his juvenile ambivalence.

They stand in the darkness, frozen, sizing each other up.

“Is that all you needed to say to me my lord?”

Sander is so confused and angry. He feels like a fool and better yet he doesn't really have room to speak freely at least not in view of the palace guards.

In one last attempt Sander cuts in front of Robbe and speaks in a barely audible whisper.

“Robbe I just thought…...well I thought we both understood that we enjoyed one another’s company. I thought we had an understanding tonight.”

Sander boars his gaze straight into Robbe’s chocolate orbs as he lets the last sentence drip out of his mouth.

Robbe’s steps back and lets out a menacing laugh.

“Oh my lord, for an English man you truly are gullible”

“Tonight was just for show. You and I are just foes through arrangement. Nothing less, nothing more. Let us not pretend that you're anything but a visitor here with his own personal agenda. I was simply entertaining you at my fathers bidding. I thought you of all people would understand.”

Sander stood stoic. Not giving Robbe the satisfaction of showing him an inch of emotion.

Every word spewing out of Robbe’s mouth was meant to sting. Worse of all, Sander could tell Robbe was enjoying ridiculing him.

Once Robbe was done humiliating him and blundering the metaphorical knife deep into his chest cavity he wrapped up their exchange with a simple bid farewell.

As Robbe walked into the palace he turned around one last time to remind Sander.

“Get to bed my lord. Tomorrow we go hunting and god knows…. am in need of a good kill”

And with that Robbe disappears into the palace walls.

Sander can feel tears welling up. He is not upset because some boy played him. He just hates looking foolish and being the butt of someone’s joke.”

Sander gets a hold of his senses and storms through the palace towards his quarters.

As he slams his door shut the moonlight illuminates his sitting room and he sees the bouquet of white florets in the center of the room.

A sudden rage takes a hold of him and he grabs the vase and slams it on the ground. The remnants of the broken ceramic lay shattered at Sander’s feet and the white florets destroyed.

Before Sander can react he sees a silhouette in the corner of the room.

“Well well well someone had a bad night”

It’s the Marchioness Deruwe. Sander would recognize that voice anywhere.

“Britt am not in the mood”

“Oh now we are addressing one another with informalities” Britt mockingly points out.

“Leave, right now”

“Now now Sander I come bearing gifts. The Earl of Warwick has sent a message. He has approved and is willing to arrange a marriage to his daughter Isabel”

“What?!?!?!” This was unexpected Sander knew the Earl despised him.

“How is that possible? Edward would never allow me to side with Warwick. He is already suspicious of his dealings with the Lancastrians.”

“He doesn’t have to know. We would arrange your passage back to England in secret and your union would be solidified without Edward knowing.”

“That’s mad. Edward has sent me here with one objective in mind. We need the Burgundian iron to defeat Henry.”

“You and I both know the Burgundians will never give up the iron without getting something more than a simple marriage to Margaret. This is all for laughs. The Burgundians just want to know if they are backing the right horse.”

Sander knows Britt is right. Everyone involved knows that the Burgundians will never give up the iron without a proper incentive.

“Why are you helping me, Britt? You’re a yorkist flower, what do you gain from pushing me onto the side of the Lancastrians?”

“We all have a part to play Sander. I need to hedge my bets and have as many options as possible. My husband is a complete idiot but our money is not everlasting and we all have something to gain from this war.”

Sander shook his head in agreement. It was rare to see Britt be so sincere but her tone was definitive. She had her own secrets and people to protect.

“When you have a response for the Earl, send a note my way. I will make sure it crosses the channel”.

Britt saunters towards the door when Sander can’t help but show his hand.

“The Prince of Swords. What's his game?”

Britt pauses and looks back at Sander puzzled but curious.

“The Prince, don’t underestimate him; he is a great strategist and has the ability to command an army if need be.”

“Does he want to be king like his father?”

“No he does not but his people want him to. They respect him. They speak of his kindness and fairness above all. He also quells the fears of a French invasion; he has been betrothed to the Princess of France since he was a child. The people call their union the great love story. Betrothed since birth and genuinely a love marriage. Nice for some I guess....”

Sander gives Britt an ambivalent chuckle. A love marriage? What a foreign concept for both of them.

“Is that all?” Sander tacks on to the end of the conversation. Egging on Britt’s conniving ways,

“Does he have any secrets?” Sander finally just asks.

“No, he is clean. If you were to ask me to clean. Everyone is hiding something but it seems like the Prince of Swords is perfect.”

“There is no such thing. Everyone has a secret”

“Exactly” Britt agrees.

“Find out whatever the Prince is hiding and you’ll have the iron and maybe even the chance to be king. All you have to do is to get him to trust you and as soon as he does take the iron away from him.”

Sander nods in agreement.

“Play the Prince at his own game” Sander states with venom in his voice and continues.

“In the end.....” 

“I only have one goal”

“To make the prince regret he ever met me.”

#wtfock #the three sided king #almost done with this chapter #lmk ur thots

[chaoticsoulsword]

I apologize in advance but @hoaryhoggoths​ and I created this Doomstrange x Good Omens AU and everything fits like a glove, I can’t.

Hear us out:

Aziraphale = Stephen

Crowley = Doom

Anathema = Wanda

Newt = Vision

Warlock = Valeria Richards

Warlock’s parents: Sue and Reed

Adam Young = Illyana Rasputin

Adam’s parents: Charles and Erik

Archangel Gabriel = Steve Rogers

Sandalphon = Tony Stark

Michael = Namor

Uriel = T'Challa

Pepper = Zelma

Wensleydale = Billy Kaplan

Brian = Nico Minoru

Sister Mary Loquacious = Scott Lang

Madame Tracy = Natasha

Witchfinder Sergeant Shadwell = Bucky

Death = Death

Pollution = Oblivion

Famine = Eternity

War = Infinity

Beelzebub = Emma Frost

Hastur = Daimon

Ligur = Satana

Satan = Mephisto/Belasco

God = Vishanti

Stephen is the dumb angel who is both very smart and stupid, also he’s afraid of the Vishanti. Yet, he gives the Eye of Agamotto to Adam and Eve because he’s so caring and naive. And Doom immediately falls in love with him the moment he says “I GAVE IT AWAY”. Stephen call his bookshop “the Sanctum Sanctorum” but he hates having clients. He loves his old tomes very much. Also he loves food, mostly tea. Victor hates when Stephen says that “Vishanti’s plan is ineffable,” tho.

Doom, on the other hand, is very practical but he doesn’t like being a demon. He didn’t mean to fall, he just wanted to save his mother’s figure from hell and thus was cast away. The fall burned and scarred his face, this is why he wears sunglasses all the time. Everyone blames him for the misery he put humanity through but actually he does nothing wrong ever (the only exception being when he plays god with his plants). “GROW BETTAAAAH”, he screams dramatically. Doom was once a very powerful archangel and created Alpha Centauri. Now he just grows more and more attached to the dumb angel at Greenwich Village.

When Satana and Daimon gave the Antichrist (Illyana) to Victor, he left the baby in Father Lang’s hands. He was supposed to switch the US Ambassador and wife’s (Reed and Sue Richards) child and the Antichrist, but he screwed things up. Illyana ended up going to Erik and Charles’ home, while Valeria became Sue and Reed’s child. The third child is unkown to us.

Stephen and Victor then, intending to avoid doomsday, have this brilliant idea to infiltrate the Richards’ Baxter Mansion and being figures of bad and good influence to Valeria. Victoria is now her nanny, while Brother Steven is the gardner. Victoria will sing lullabies about conquering the world and crushing enemies, while Brother Steven will say: “Don’t listen to her. Listen to me.”

When they conclude their mission, they return to their regular activities, believing Valeria will not become the Antichrist. Except they’re wrong. During Valeria’s 11th birthday party, they expected the hellhound to appear. But it never shows up. “Wrong child.”

The hellhound finds Illyana, who names it Bats. Nico, Billy and Zelma are Illy’s best friends and they’re inseparable. Charles and Erik are worried about Illy, but they try their best to be good parents.

In the meantime, Wanda Maximoff flies to America in order to find the Antichrist. She carries her family’s legacy: witchcraft and the book called Darkhold. Interestingly enough, Wanda loses the Darkhold when Victor hits her with his car. Wanda only accepts their aid because she’s so sure they’re a gay couple. “Come on, angel.” Oh, everything makes sense now. Also Victor is so bitter, he keeps teasing Stephen for performing miracles. “Oh, Vishanti, heal this bike.”

We’re also introduced to Vision, a synthezoid who, ironically enough, is bad with computers. Vision meets an old man named Sergeant Bucky who is very committed to find and burn witches. He lives next to Madame Natasha, whom he despises for her profession. Bucky hires Vision as a witchfinder.

Meanwhile, Archangel Steve Rogers and Tony go visit Stephen in the Sanctum regarding the Antichrist. They’re bad at playing humans. “Thank you for my pornography!” Tony yells for everyone to hear. “You can’t make a war without war! That’s brilliant, Tony!”, Steve says. There are other angels, such as T’Challa and Namor. Rumors say they’re called the Illuminati.

As doomsday approaches, the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse rise: Eternity, Infinity, Oblivion and Death.

Finding out that Doom lied about the Antichrist, Satana and Daimon Hellstrom go haunt Victor. Satana ends up dead (but not really because these two always come back). White Queen of Hell Emma Frost is not pleased, though. Good thing her demonic group called The Cabal was in cahoots with one of the Illuminati, the archangel Namor.

As things get more complicated, Stephen and Victor have an argument. Victor wants to go to Alpha Centauri and Stephen is afraid of betraying Heaven.

"How long have been acquaintances?"

"Acquaintances? We're not acquaintances. We're an angel and a demon."

Victor tries to convince him one last time but Stephen is adamant. “We can run away together. Alpha Centauri!” When Stephen refuses once more, Victor is tired and angry and frustrated. “I’m going home, Angel. And when I’m off in the stars, I won’t even think about you!”

Victor, obviously, can’t live without Stephen. So of course he goes back to the Sanctum, only to find it in flames. He’s desperate, mostly because he knows the pain of being burned, but Stephen is nowhere to be found. “SOMEONE KILLED MY BEST FRIEND! FOOLS! ALL OF YOU!” He then saves the only book that didn’t become ash, the Darkhold.

Stephen, on the other hand, accidentally goes to Heaven and returns to Earth without a body. He then, after reassuring Victor, possesses Madame Natasha and, with Sergeant Bucky’s help, go after the Antichrist.

The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse are defeated by Nico, Billy and Zelma. Illy fixes Stephen’s body situation. Emma and Steve, on the other hand, are not pleased, but they can’t make a point about Vishanti’s ineffable plan. Mephisto/Belasco then appear, which makes Doom loses all hope. “We’re fucked!” he utters. Stephen is not convinced and forces Victor to act, or he’ll never talk to him again. Victor curses and stops time itself so they can come up with a plan. They show their true form (their wings are huge and beautiful) and hold Illyana’s hands. When the devil comes for her, the girl shouts that they’re not her dad. She keeps yelling until it becomes true. Her dads, after all, are Erik and Charles.

Heaven and Hell then want their revenge on Stephen and Victor, but they swap  bodies. Victor laughst at Steve, T’Challa and Tony’s faces when they try to burn him, while Stephen is having so much fun in the bathtub filled with holy water, courtesy of Namor

When all is over, they bodyswap back and have a very pleasant date at the Ritz.

“I like to think that none of this would have worked out if you weren’t, at heart, just a little bit of a good person.”

“And if you weren’t, deep down, just enough of a fool to be worth knowing.”

“To the world.”

---

I might be forgetting something but!!! BUT!!! THIS!!

#doomstrange #doctor doom #victor von doom #doctor strange #stephen strange #no i won't tag everyone sorry #good omens #good omens au

[phenomenal1500]

The Blood In My Veins | Black Sails

Chapter 65: MDCCXX

For Chapter 64: XXXVIII click here.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Piracy was now of course strictly disapproved of. Well, that was supposedly so that Nassau retained a good image and no longer attracted armies. Nassau was finally secured and we finally were able to have a proper life. As for piracy around the world; Even if we, the heart of pirates, would retire.... there would always be someone new stepping out of the shadows. Piracy will always live forth and Jack, Charles and I would make sure of it.

~~~

4 years later

~~~

"A little help!!" The heavy sound of swords being forced against swords echoed through the air and was carried away by the strong wind as I recalled for support. Charles immediately tossed me his second sword and in a matter of seconds I had impaled my competitor's heart. Another man tried to sneak up at me from behind, but I had focused on the sound of his loud footsteps and with my last bullet I blew his head off of his neck. The noise of death had diminished and the last few of our enemies had retreated, now sitting on their knees and praying for their salvation, salvation they would never receive. I was observing the scene from the upper deck, behind the helm and suddenly the breeze blew my hair in my face. I quickly secured my hair in a high ponytail, acting like nothing had happened and I straightened my back when our captured enemy glanced at me.

"You had struck your colours, yet, thereupon you still dared to attack us." Jayson declared out loud and had in the meantime bent down to look the Commodore in his frightened eyes. Jayson then slapped his thighs, scaring the man even more, before standing up to ask the question we all wanted to have the answer to. "What will become of their futures?"

The crews that belonged to me and Charles stood alongside each other on the British ship, but their mindsets were still their own and the men grew wild like hungry wolves. My hand trailed down the smooth wooden railing as I dramatically guided myself down the stairs and I positioned myself before the row of captured men, working for British Navy that had crossed our path at sea.

It grew silent.

I shared one look with the blue eyed man and licked my lips before my hoarse voice because of the yelling and lack of water disturbed the sudden silence.

"Their futures will not be decided by me, but by themselves." I declared. "I say we throw them overboard! Land isn't far away so let's see how good they actually learn to swim in the Navy!"

"AYE!!" The men happily agreed and we released the prisoners from the rope that held their wrists and legs together.

They were pulled to their feet and one of them had collected his saliva to be able to spit on me before he was dragged to the ship's railing to be thrown into the dark, cold ocean.

There was a huge possibility that a group of hungry sharks waited for them underneath the ships, although I doubted it this time.

We were horribly close to land so the men were probably lucky if the sharks wouldn't smell their blood.

I wiped the spit off of my face and leaned over the railing to watch the men swim away from us like they had seen the devil.

"What even was their plan?" The muscular man snuck up from behind me and I smiled as I felt his hands slide down my sides to afterwards wrap his arms around my body. Closing my eyes as I relaxed in his arms, I focused on the sound of his voice which was hearable for a second time. "They surrendered.... raised the white flag even before something had happened and the moment we try to pass by calmly.... they fire?"

"I had no idea what they were thinking either, but one thing I can recall.... they weren't smart, nor strong." I chuckled as the two of us stared into the horizon that darkened every hour, showing us it was becoming evening soon. We had been sailing for one month straight with the intention of sailing to an estate north of Spanish Florida.

The Oglethorpe's estate outside Savannah to be exact.

It had been four years since I heard anything from the man I saw as my father.... well, that was until I received a letter last month stating that Thomas Hamilton and James McGraw had been given the permission to go on free foot if they had someone who would wish to have them back in the open world. They were given the opportunity to send one letter to one person they thought would immediately respond and if not, they would stay locked away from the real world. It was a smart way of the estate to show their people who were incarcerated there that they cared for them and that they gave them the possibility to be free, although the creator of the estate of course knew nobody wanted them back....

I guess they thought wrong and Flint, now McGraw, knew that too, or else he wouldn't have chosen me to come and get them.

"When we dock in the bay, I managed to obtain a carriage driver to bring us there." I twisted in the man's arms and locked mine around his neck, glaring over his shoulder to see if we were already done with detraining the British ship that we had conquered unwillingly.

"I really appreciate it and the rest probably too. I think we all don't have the energie to walk that ourselves anymore." He grinned and I trailed my hands down to his torso to tap his muscles lightly. "Come, lets go join the others and get out of here."

"What will we do about the ship?" Charles asked, letting his arms relax beside his body as he stepped away from me.

"Burning it sounds like a good solution? No one will know what happened to the ship and who will believe those pathetic men once they return on land, if they survive, and the ship is nowhere to be found?" I suggested and the blue eyed man nodded in agreement.

"That does mean we have to sink it fast and make sure it sinks or else they could still find it while it's burning."

Charles was right.

It wouldn't work unless we made sure it was sinking fast.

"Fire at the lower deck?"

"That's what I was thinking." We made our way back to our fleet and leaned our hands on the wooden railing of Charles' ship before him giving the order to fire lowly at the ship. When we made sure the holes down below were big enough, we cut ourselves loose and got the hell out of there.

The next morning it wasn't too warm, but also not too cold and the strong wind had died down.

I rubbed my eyes as I glared over the blue sea that was lightened up by the sunlight shining on it and I enjoyed the ocean scent that came with it.

In the distance I surveyed land and a smile made its way on my face.

Sooner or later we would set foot there and would be taken to the Savannah Estate to take McGraw and Hamilton back home with us.

~~~

"Hereby the contract for taking over James McGraw and Thomas Hamilton and I'll highly recommend not to mention Sir McGraw's past. He's a changed man now." The grey haired man handed me over the papers we signed and then gestured to us to walk till the end of the hallway to afterwards go outside through the door on the right.

We had used fake names not to scare the estate workers. They didn't know that we were actually pirates and we wanted to keep it that way until we would leave because we had a chance we then wouldn't be able to take the men with us.

I thanked the man and then walked out with Charles to see a huge cane field appear before our eyes.

The men were actually taken care of and worked while joking with one another.

It was a sight I had never seen before when it came to people working on these types of plantages. Charles and I had prepared for at least some sort of slavery, but there were no chains involved, no one screaming at them or forcing them to work harder in the heat for days. This was different. It was a relief for both me and the man next to me and I was happy that McGraw and Hamilton didn't have to endure such terrible things as we had to when we were younger. Letting my eyes glide over the cane field, Charles suddenly closed his strong hand around my wrist and pulled me along and that's when I saw the men we were searching for. I enthusiastically waved at them and I no longer felt Charles' firm grip when he had released me, letting me run off to McGraw.

"James!" I shouted, naming him by his first name because I was listed as his half sister on the papers.

"Naida?!" Confusion was heard in his voice, probably a little surprised that I was right there within a month and called him James, but I didn't care.

He seemed in a good mood.

He pulled me closer and wrapped his arms around me into a warm embrace with me automatically hugging him back.

It felt nice to see him again after such a long time.

I remember 3 years back that I had figured out a plan to break him out of the Estate, although I had let that plan slip because I reminded myself he would be hunted for the rest of his life and wouldn't really have a free life. However, now.... he was going to be free, same as Hamilton without anything to worry about.

"It's good to see you, little snake." McGraw whispered and I scoffed jokingly.

I noted that McGraw had his hair grown back with the same tail in it as before.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Sir Hamilton." The red haired man had let go of me and I offered my hand to the bald man on his left who gladly took it.

"It's a pleasure to meet you as well. James had promised me you would come and I knew I could trust his word. Thank you, Miss Jones." Hamilton murmured the last part, keeping my name a secret and Charles had in the meantime caught up with us.

"At sea I go by the name Jones.... at land Ms. Vane is fine. Or else it may create confusion between the crews."

"You two-....?"

"Are married, yes." Charles confirmed while cutting off McGraw's question and his hand snuck up to my hip, making me proudly smile back up at him.

"You all mind catching up later?" One of the guards whined. They clearly wanted us out of here and the four of us immediately, without hesitating, walked over to the gates of the estate, not minding to leave this place behind once and for all. The stuff the two had with them in this place were collected by the maidens and were put in a bag to make it easier for us to take it with us and when they shoved it into our hands we were pushed out of the estate and the gates closed behind our backs.

"Well, Mr. and Miss Vane, where will we be going?"

"Away from here.... back to Nassau. Though if you two desire to go somewhere other than Nassau, we don't mind taking you there as well." Charles proposed, but they both shook their heads.

"Nassau sounds like an excellent idea. Oh, and both of you, please keep on calling me Flint." Charles and I exchanged some fazed glares and then turned back to Flint. "They tried to brainwash us, make us forget who we were and what our past was. I must say it worked with most of the men, but with us it didn't. I won't forget the part of my life where Flint was involved. I perhaps have fallen back to McGraw's habits a little, but I'm too attached to Flint.... and besides that, I'm used to you two calling me Flint."

"Flint, I must say you surprised me with your calmness." I grinned and Flint immediately changed back to his old stern face expression I knew so well. "Never mind then." I corrected myself and the four of us were off to the carriage where some of our men were waiting on us.

~~~

Nassau

~~~

With some groceries under my arm I got along the way while Charles was showing Flint and Hamilton around the new Nassau, I stuck my key in the lock and unlocked my front door to push it open and walk inside mine and Charles' shared house. It was a bit smaller than the Governor's Mansion built in Nassau's square and our house was located outside of Nassau instead, but it wasn't too far away though.

We had built it with our share of the L'Urca De Lima that Jack had gifted us and a few pathways and stairs led up to the white colored house which made the way to Nassau easier and safer.

I laid the groceries down on a small table next to the huge front door and stared at the gigantic stairs in the middle of the living room, dividing into two on the second floor.

"Mum!"

A soft voice was heard and a big smile was painted on my face when my four year old daughter became visible while running down the stairs. Normally I would have been afraid or mad about her running down the stairs, but she was so fast at learning and I knew she was able to do so without something bad happening. She had done it multiple times even though we had told her not to, but she couldn't help herself though, she shared my habits and personality and I knew how hard that is to handle.

The only thing we didn't share were looks.

Her eyes were gray with a light brown tone in them and her hair was almost white, nothing like me or Charles.

She had her own beauty and it was the cutest thing ever.

Reverie was the second oldest, 6 minutes younger than my son Nikolai who was more like his father.

They had the same blue eyes, my son's a bit darker, and they shared the same hair color.... however when it came down to personality, Nikolai was a mix of me and Charles.

I opened my arms to welcome Reverie in my arms and picked her up to balance her on my hip, kissing her forehead.

"Where's dad?"

"Helping your uncles find a place to stay the night. He'll be back soon, I promise." I replied, gently tapping her nose one time with my index finger.

"NAIDA!!" A loud voice startled me and Jack tripped over his feet, almost tumbling down the stairs while calling for me.

It seemed like he could learn some things from my daughter when it came to walking.

"Jack." I laughed as he corrected himself in his walking and held onto the railing as he also made his way down the long stairs. "Thank you for looking after our children. Must be hard.... handling four kids."

"You had to bear them and now have to raise them, I can't complain and other than that.... they are actual angels." Jack explained and my smile grew even wider. Charles and I indeed were blessed with them. "If you wondered.... Nikolai is with Anne back in Nassau, they will be back soon and Davy and Avon are upstairs. Avon wanted to watch over Davy while she slept."

"And I wanted to come and hug mommy!" Reverie said while playing with my loose hair and I couldn't suppress a chuckle. I gave her one more kiss and had put her down so she could stand on her own two little feet again. "I'm going to go read now." She proudly stated and hopped to the bookcase that was in a sort of office room across the big open living room to the right. She couldn't read amazingly yet, but somehow still stayed interested in books.

"Jack, you are allowed to go, you know? I can still understand if you are tired, you aren't used to such a lifestyle."

"I'll stay until Charles is back.... if you don't mind of course."

"I don't mind. Perhaps you can even help me cook." Jack's facial expression became emotionless and I bursted out in laughter, knowing Anne normally cooked even though she didn't want people to know she had learned to cook. "I was just kidding."

"Uncle Jack, do you want to read this with me until my dad is back?!" Reverie's cute voice echoed through the living room and her adorable little face appeared in the door opening, making us break eye contact to look at her.

"I'm going to check on Davy and Avon."

Jack nodded at me and waved at Reverie to join him on the couch. She enthusiastically ran across the room and jumped on the couch with a small book in her hands and handed it over to Jack who volunteered to read it to her. Jack held the book open with his right hand while my daughter held the book open with her left one and I, step for step, moved upstairs and silently strolled through the left hallway to find Davy's bedroom. I held onto the golden door handle and I noiselessly pressed the door open, holding it tightly so it wouldn't hit the wall and cause the girl to awaken.

A warm feeling filled my heart when I spotted Avon, my second son, sitting in the chair next to the small wooden crib and had fallen asleep just like my little girl, Davy.

Avon was three years old with light green eyes and my hair color. He was a bit more of a rebel and had a wild personality, but was secretly very soft too and always wanted to take care of Davy who was now almost one year old. Davy, same as Reverie, didn't look like me or her father. Instead she had dark brown eyes and black hair and was very calm. I unfolded a soft blanket and covered my son with it before stroking his hair from his forehead to give him a kiss. I then rotated and let my thumb glide over the cheek of my little daughter before softly closing the door behind me to let them sleep without being disturbed.

I proceeded to walk back to the living room to go to the kitchen, letting my fingers follow the golden details in the white wooden walls and I suddenly picked up the sound of the front door opening.

"Dad?!" I could see Reverie jumping up from the coach when I stood at the upper step of the stairs and she hopped into Charles' arm while he held Nikolai in his other one. His expression turned from exhausted to a more delightful one and Jack said goodbye to us when he heard Anne's voice from outside. It wasn't the first time Charles and I had left off to raise the black flag at sea and it wasn't the first time for Jack to stay at our house, but we never had been this long and far away from our children and to be honest I had found it pretty rough.

"Sweetheart." Charles replied and put the two down so he could lower himself to his knees to hug them both closely. "Davy and Avon are upstairs?" He questioned me and I nodded, rushing downstairs to embrace my eldest son tightly.

"Found a place for Hamilton and Flint?" I had retreated my arms from hugging my son and he kissed me on the cheek which made me smile widely.

"Mhuh. At the tavern for now, but they will move in Barlow's former house when it is cleaned up." The children playfully roamed through the first floor of the house and Charles and I lovingly stared at one another. "God, I missed their presence."

"I did so too." I revealed honestly and together we went to the kitchen to unpack the groceries and cook some dinner for ourselves and the kids.

~~~

It had been a rough few years, but they were worth living it nonetheless. When I look back at it now, I appreciate every memory I had gained. Some memories were less pleasant than others like the loss of Hall Gates, Miranda Barlow, Billy Bones and Edward Teach, but those memories also made me who I have become today. I learned how to love and be hopeful when I felt like everything was falling apart.... things I wouldn't have learned if I didn't have left off to Nassau all those years ago. I deeply inhaled and opened my eyes, staring at the beautiful full moon that hovered over Nassau.

If I hadn't arrived here I would have never met Flint again.

If I hadn't killed those men on that beach the first day, I would have never encountered Charles the way we did.

I never would have been married.

I never would have gotten children.

I remembered my pregnancies and the lies the people around you told you just to ease the stress and fear you endured. I almost died that night with my twins Reverie and Nikolai because of exhaustion and lack of energy, but I carried on, Charles pulling me through labor, and it was worth everything in the end.

It didn't take long before Charles and I had decided to try for another kid when I was fully healed and that's how Avon was born.... and Davy after him. Of course we agreed it would be enough after our youngest daughter and I was grateful for each one of them.

Charles and I finally had succeeded to find the life we secretly had the urge for.

We thought we never were types to settle down, however life proved us wrong once more.

Married.... kids.... I smiled to myself at the thought.

Piracy made those things seem a fantasy, nothing close to reality, though they did become reality for us.

So much had changed.

I could hear the door behind me open and I jerked my head back to see Charles stepping outside onto the balcony while silently closing the door behind him afterwards. I had been reading on the balcony of our house with a single candle next to me to still be able to read the letters in the dead of the night and he smiled at me before offering me his hand.

I closed my book, laying it beside me before taking it, immediately being pulled to my feet.

"The kids are worn out.... and.... I locked our bedroom door." The oh so familiar look known as lust was visible in his eyes and I bit my lower lip before laughing.

"I love you, Charles." I chuckled as his arms closed around my lower back and pressed me into his muscular body with the intention of whispering the same words back into my ear.

"I love you too, little one." His lips brushed over my bare neck and I let out a small moan before he quickly pulled me inside.

I was wrong.... Some things never change.

~~~

A/N: I don't have much left to say.... I think I already said everything in the last chapter, but I still wanted to thank everyone who kept on reading this fic! I don't know if this was the end I had in mind, but most of it was already decided when I started this fic and I'm proud of how it turned out to be. It meant the world to me to know people enjoyed the things I wrote and I definitely loved writing this for all of you! I never thought this fic would be a complete year of updating, but it didn't bother me because like I said I absolutely loved it. Thank you all so much and I wish you all the best!!! 🤍🖤

#black sails #hal gates #charles vane #charles vane x oc #Edward Teach #oc #james flint #jack rackham #Benjamin Hornigold #thomas hamilton #Billy Bones #anne bonny #eleanor guthrie #woodes rogers #miranda barlow #abigail ashe #john silver #edward low #enemies to lovers #idelle #max #Captain Naida Jones

[dreamwritesimagines]

Untouchable 13- Out Of Control [Bucky Barnes x Reader]

A.N: Your feedback makes my day my loves, please keep it coming! <3

The previous chapters are on my masterlist<3

Pleasure has a price Bucky Barnes can’t afford. What happens when he falls in love with someone he shouldn’t have?

Summary: Planning for the future requires keeping secrets.

Characters: Reader x Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers

Word Count: 2372

Warnings: Mentions of sex, explicit language, 1940s.

It was as if your absolute misery and sadness had slowed down the time.

You could barely eat, you hardly ever slept –since the image of Bucky on the battlefield kept haunting your nightmares- and overall, you had no energy to do anything, but at least you were left alone. That was the one good thing about threatening your madam, General was informed that you were feeling ill so he stayed away, for the most part.

Except for his letter, reminding you about the ball you would have to attend tonight.

Someone knocked on your door, then opened it slightly,

“Hey there,” Shirley offered you a small smile, “My client just left, I figured I could check up on you.”

You nodded slowly, running your thumb over Bucky’s dog tags hanging from your neck, your knees pulled up to your chest.

“I’m fine,” you croaked out, “Thanks.”

“Oh so you don’t mind if I opened the curtains?” she asked, and without paying attention to your objections, she walked inside and pulled the curtains apart, letting the rays of sunset fill the room. You made a face, squinting your eyes,

“Shirley!”

“You can’t live like this,” she pointed at you, putting her other hand on her hip and you scoffed.

“I’m not doing anything.”

“Exactly,” she said, “I’m a professional on heartbreak, remember? Especially when it comes to soldiers lately.”

You let out a bitter laugh despite trying to control yourself, then shrugged.

“I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“I don’t want you to say anything, I want you to pull yourself together,” she reached out and tilted your chin up so that she could look at you better, “You look so unhealthy.”

You shoved her hand gently, “Well, maybe that’ll make people leave me alone.”

“Not going to happen,” she said, “Did you talk to him?”

You shook your head, then took a deep breath, “Maybe it’s a good thing,” you said, with your nose up in the air, “Maybe I won’t be that sad when he dies out there. Logical.”

“Don’t say that.”

“Why not?” you asked her, then got off the bed to pace in the room, “That’s what’s going to happen, no? People die out there after all. A lot of people.”

“A lot of people survive and come back.”

“Good, he can come back and find himself a proper girl then.”

“Y/N….”

“I was a fucking idiot,” you shook your head at yourself, “I mean, what possibly could be the outcome, for me? Mourn the idiot, or watch him be happy with someone else. I was never going to be in the picture.”

“You know that’s not true-“

“It is,” you looked at her, “I don’t get a happy ending, Shirl, not in this life anyway.”

“Well, will he be at that military ball tonight?”

Your heart skipped a beat, but you shrugged, “It doesn’t matter.”

“What do you mean it doesn’t- Y/N!” she snapped at you, “You need to talk to him. It doesn’t have to mean everything is hopeless, just because he’s going back there.”

You crossed your arms, shaking your head.

“We aren’t meant to have a fairytale ending, Shirley.” You told her, “You know it as much as I do.”

She heaved a sigh, then walked to your closet and pulled out the gown General had sent for you as you sat down on the chair,

“What are you doing?”

“Half of the reason why you feel as hopeless as you do is because you haven’t changed your nightgown for days.” She pointed at you, “You’ll take a shower, we’ll get you ready, make up and all.”

“Shirl.”

“It will make you feel better,” she pulled you by the arm, then steered you to the bathroom “With or without Bucky, or General, or anyone else, you’ll be alright. Trust me.”

With that, she closed the door, leaving you in the bathroom alone, so you heaved a sigh and shed your nightgown before walking to the bathtub.

                                           ***

It took you almost three hours to get ready. And in those three hours, Shirley managed to make you look like an almost new person.

You didn’t really look like a walking corpse anymore, instead you looked almost….

Classy. Rich, even. Like those ladies you would look up to when you were a child, the ones that you saw glimpses of before they got in their cars, away from your neighborhood’s sight, as if your poverty could spread through them if they stood there longer than necessary. Bucky’s dog tags were safely hidden underneath the gown, the chain between your breasts scratching at the sensitive skin. You pressed your lips together, looking in the mirror as you put your lipstick down, trying to see any kind of flaw in your makeup.

“You know, your clients have a point for once,” Shirley told you, making you look up at her in the mirror.

“Hm?”

“I mean I know it’s easy to seduce people,” she said, “But they do find you the prettiest of all the “harlots” as they call it. I’m not surprised General claims to be in love with you.”

“He’s incapable of loving anyone.”

Shirley nodded slowly, “I know,” she murmured, “I strongly believe that any man who walks in here lacks a soul. Isn’t it such a shame that only we poor folk have an idea about what love is?”

“Y/N, General is here!” Nancy’s voice reached your room, along with the sound of the car horn outside and you tried to pull yourself together,

“Pray for me to get through tonight?”

“You got this,” she winked at you, “You could conquer the whole world in that dress, Y/N.”

You hugged her, sniffling, then pulled back and made your way downstairs. Linda was leaning against her office door, glaring at you but you smiled coldly at her, then kissed Thomas on the cheek and walked out of the house.

“Jesus Christ, Birdie…” General said, as soon as you got in the car, “Linda said you were sick, but if this is you looking sick…”

“You look dashing as well,” you forced yourself to say with a smile as he started driving, “I’ve never been to a ball before.”

“Well, first thing first, you will be the most beautiful woman there,” he said, squeezing your leg, and you could swear you could taste the bile climbing up your throat, “There will be a bunch of important people in here, people who make decisions about this country. And some soldiers we invited before shipping them out to the battlefield, honestly I doubt half of them will come back.”

You could feel the burning at the back of your eyes but you blinked fast, “Really?”

“It’s a mess out there Birdie.” He shook his head and you let out a shaky breath, which quickly got his attention, “You alright?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, “Yeah I just… That makes me sad.”

“Oh sweetheart, don’t be.” He said, “I mean half of those men, they didn’t have a future to begin with, really,” he chuckled, “Some people are just born to be sacrificed.”

Your hands balled up into fists and you dug your fingernails into your palms, trying your hardest not to punch him.

“Here we are,” he pulled over in front of a huge building that was well lit, and some waiters and waitresses walking on the yard, offering people drinks while some well-dressed men and women climbed the stairs to get inside. You got out of the car, your legs feeling weak all of a sudden but you managed to straighten your back, take General’s arm and walk into the building.

It looked like those ballrooms on the TV, really. But the feeling was almost nauseating, when there were people dying out there and these people were living as if everything was perfect, as if there was no death, no poverty, no pain out there.

“Charles, you lucky bastard!” a man called out and General pulled you closer to walk with him. After a brief introduction with the man, -you could hardly pay attention to anything he said- General and he entered a long discussion about the latest news from the front, but nothing could ever prepare you to suddenly capture a very familiar blue gaze.

Seeing him in his uniform was almost a bitter reminder of when you had first met.

He stared at you, as if he couldn’t believe he was seeing you, that you were there, that you were close to him somehow, after almost a week. Even if your whole body screamed at you to go to him, kiss him there, everything else be damned, you knew you couldn’t, not now, not ever-

“Don’t you think so, Birdie?”

“Hm?” your head snapped up, “I’m sorry, I was…admiring the place.”

“I was just telling Johnny here how news make the public upset lately.”

“I-“ you shook your head slightly, trying your hardest to focus, “That’s true actually, news have been very saddening. A lot of deaths...”

“Not anyone important sweetheart,” The man- Johnny winked at you and you clenched your teeth while General threw an arm over your shoulder,

“Birdie has a soft heart,” he told Johnny as if you weren’t there, and you grabbed a glass of champagne to take a big sip, hoping it would help you to get through this night, “She doesn’t understand that war has casualties.”

“I find it strange that none of those casualties are wealthy men.” You couldn’t help to say and he frowned slightly,

“Since when do you have opinions on war, sweetheart?��� he asked you, then scoffed, running his fingertips over your arm, “You have your expertise, I have mine, hm? I find yours much more pleasant to be honest.”

You were going to puke. You were for sure going to puke if you stayed there any longer, belittled, treated as if you were a child unable to understand anything.

“Excuse me please, I need to powder my nose.” You forced a small smile, then walked to the ladies room as fast as you could. You closed the door behind you, then leaned your palms on the cold counter, taking deep breaths. You ran your hands under ice cold water, then wiped them and opened to door to step outside, but you were stopped by a waitress.

“Excuse me miss, I was told to give you this,” she said and handed you a folded paper before she walked away.

Backyard, now.

B.

“God damn it,” you murmured, trying to ignore the way your heart had just skipped a beat, and after checking whether anyone could see you, you quickly made your way to the backyard, which was not as well-lit as inside. You looked around, walking deeper into the yard but then let out a squeal when somebody grabbed you by the arm and pulled you behind a tree.

God, you had missed him way too much.

“What do you want?” you forced yourself to say, “Make it fast, I need to go back.”

“To him?” he asked you, his voice way too cold, “Are you serious?”

You crossed your arms, “Well, at least now we’re both disappointed.”

“Y/N-“

“What?” you snapped, “What did you think would happen, Bucky? Hm? Did you think I would be waiting to get a letter from you what, once in every two months? When you go out there to get killed-“

“I’m not going to be killed!”

“You don’t know that!”

Bucky let out an impatient breath, running a hand through his hair, “Listen, I know you’re… I know I broke your heart.”

You blinked back the tears, then narrowed your eyes to glare at him, a cold, mocking smile playing on your lips,

“Yeah well,” you managed to say, “This is how the world works.”

“It doesn’t have to be.”

“Right, because you’ll come back to me.”

“Damn right I will come back to you!” he said, “When have I ever broken a promise to you, darling? When have I ever made you regret trusting me?”

You pursed your lips, trying your hardest not to cry, it was not the time or the place for this.

“You kept it,” Bucky said slowly, looking at the chain of the dog tags around your neck, and you shrugged slightly, sniffling.

“I- I need to go back.”

“I’m shipping out in two days, when can I see you?”

Oh God, you really felt like crying.

Two days?

That was too soon, way too soon.

“Tonight,” you said, “I’ll…I’ll say the champagne made me sick.”

He nodded, then stole a kiss from you, making you smile for a moment before you rushed inside. You grabbed another glass of champagne, your stomach making flips in your body, your heart slamming against your chest.

“Birdie, here you are!” General said as you walked towards him, and Bucky walked past you to grab a drink, his gaze stopping on you for only a second. “You took forever powdering your nose.”

“I… I think champagne is bad for me,” you said slowly, “I don’t feel so well.”

He frowned slightly, “Eat something, you’ll feel better. You’re chugging those on an empty stomach.”

“No, actually I already ate before,” you cleared your throat, “I think I’m still not alright, I feel sick.”

“Well, grit your teeth then, we still have couple of hours.”

“I should go home.” You insisted, and something in his eyes almost shifted,

“No, you’ll stay right here.”

You could feel the surge of fury spreading through you, and you arched a brow,

“I’m leaving.” You told him, but before you could take a step, he had already grabbed you by the arm,

“Listen to me, you little whore,” he said, “I’m paying you way too much to get sick. You’re staying right here where I told you to stay, you hear me?”

You didn’t have time to react, really. It all happened in a second, your brain couldn’t even comprehend what was happening.

You yanked your arm back, ready to tell him to go to hell, but before you had a chance to say anything, Bucky grabbed his shoulder, turned him around, and punched him right in the face.

                                                           ***

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