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Man’s World

Charles Leclerc x Ferrari engineer!Reader

Summary: Charles refuses to just stand by and watch as you get disrespected

Warnings: misogyny and lewd comments

You’re admiring the sleek lines of the red Ferrari F8 Tributo in front of you, running your fingers lightly over the glossy paint. The showroom is quiet this early in the morning, just a few employees milling about getting ready for the day.

Charles had to stop by to sign some merchandise for a charity event and asked if you wanted to tag along. You opted to wait out front and enjoy the eye candy while he took care of business.

You circle around to the back of the car, appreciating the aggressive styling and massive rear diffuser. As an engineer for Scuderia Ferrari who often extends your expertise to working on their road cars, you know every detail of this machine intimately. Your hands itch to pop the hood and inspect that glorious twin-turbo V8, but you resist.

This isn’t your workshop back in Maranello.

Lost in thought, you don’t notice the group of guys entering the showroom until one whistles loudly. “Hey baby, those legs look good enough to wrap around me real tight,” one calls out.

You freeze, feeling your heart rate pick up.

“Don’t be shy, we just want to get to know you better,” another says as they swagger over.

You press back against the car, sizing up the situation. Four of them, all clearly well-off based on the expensive watches and designer clothes. But their eyes are cruel as they look you up and down.

“What’s a pretty little thing like you doing in a place like this?” The apparent ringleader asks. “Hoping to sink your claws into some rich guy and take him for all he’s worth?” The others laugh nastily.

You lift your chin. “Actually, I happen to work for Ferrari.”

The man snorts in disbelief. “Yeah right, and I’m Michael Schumacher. There’s no way a woman knows anything about these cars other than where the passenger seat is.”

You clench your fists, biting back a scathing retort. The thought of educating these misogynistic jerks gives you immense satisfaction, but you know it won’t do any good. They’ll never change their prejudiced attitudes.

“Don’t listen to him, darling,” one says, giving you a lecherous look. “I’d be happy to take you for a ride, show you how a real man handles power between his legs.”

You’re about to tell him exactly where he can shove his stereotypes when a familiar voice interrupts sharply.

“That’s enough.”

You look over to see Charles striding angrily toward you, green eyes blazing. The men surrounding you look irritated at having their fun spoiled.

“Can we help you with something, pal?” The ringleader asks sarcastically.

Charles ignores him, coming to stand protectively beside you. “Are you okay, mon amour?” He asks under his breath.

You nod, relief washing over you now that he’s here. “I’m fine.”

Charles turns an icy stare on the men who’d been harassing you. “I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t speak to my girlfriend that way,” he says coldly.

The leader looks Charles up and down dismissively. But then a spark of recognition crosses his face. “Wait a minute … you’re Charles Leclerc!” He elbows his friends. “The Formula 1 driver!”

The others’ eyes widen as they take in Charles with new understanding. “Whoa, seriously?” One exclaims.

The leader chuckles, clearly trying to recover his bravado. “Well, what do you know? The famous racer has a pretty girl on his arm.” His lips curl in a smirk. “Hate to break it to you, but it’s obvious she’s just using you for your money. No way she knows anything about these cars other than how much they cost.”

Charles crosses his arms. “As it so happens, my girlfriend is an engineer for Scuderia Ferrari, so I’d bet my entire net worth — and my car collection �� that she knows more about the cars in this dealership than all four of you combined and then some.”

You have to bite your lip to hide a smile at the dumbfounded looks on the men’s faces.

“An engineer?” One sputters. “You can’t be serious.”

You level a challenging stare at them. “Deadly serious. I’ve personally worked on over a dozen projects for Ferrari, including the SF90 Stradale hypercar we just launched.” You point across the showroom. “There’s one right over there, in fact. Mid-front mounted 4.0L twin-turbo V8, delivering 769 brake horsepower combined with three electric motors. First plug-in hybrid Ferrari ever put into full production.” You smirk at the slack-jawed stares your technical rundown elicits. “So yes, I’d say I know a thing or two about these cars.”

Charles grins proudly and squeezes your hand. But the leader is not ready to back down just yet.

“Anyone can memorize a monologue,” he scoffs. “I don’t buy it. You’re clearly just clinging to this guy for his money.”

Fury rises in your chest. You open your mouth to retaliate, but Charles beats you to it.

“That’s my girlfriend you’re talking about,” he snaps, green eyes blazing. “I’d be very careful with what you say next.”

The man smirks, crossing his bulky arms over his chest. “Or what, tough guy?”

Charles takes a step forward, jaw clenched. The man towers over him but Charles doesn’t flinch.

Right as it looks like things might get physical, you quickly take Charles’s arm. “He’s not worth it,” you murmur.

Charles hesitates, nostrils flaring. After a tense moment, he relaxes his stance and turns his back on the leering man.

But it seems the group isn’t done provoking you yet. “That’s right, listen to your sugar baby,” one of them calls out. “Wouldn’t want you messing up that pretty face for the cameras.”

Charles whips back around, shaking with anger now. Heart pounding, you cling to his arm in an effort to hold him back. “Charles, please-”

“No, Y/N.” He shakes off your hand, stalking toward the men. “I won’t stand here and let them insult you.”

You watch helplessly as Charles gets right in the leader’s face, nearly nose to nose. “You need to apologize. Now,” he grits out.

The man narrows his eyes. “Apologize? For what? Stating the obvious?” He smirks coldly. “Face it, your little girlfriend is nothing but a gold diggin-”

He doesn’t get to finish the sentence. With lightning speed, Charles’ fist connects squarely with his jaw. The man stumbles back with a pained shout, hand flying to his face.

“Charles!” You hurry to his side, alarmed. Charles is breathing hard, staring down at the man doubled over and groaning. The man’s friends back away nervously.

Chest heaving, Charles turns to you. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t listen to him insult you for another second.”

You meet his fiery gaze steadily. “It’s okay, I understand. Thank you for defending me.” After a beat, you add wryly, “And remind me not to get on your bad side.”

That startles a small laugh from Charles. The tension in his shoulders eases. He takes your hand, bringing it to his lips for a gentle kiss. “No chance of that, mon ange,” he murmurs. “You bring out the best in me.”

***

“Ow, ow, ow!” Charles hisses as he gingerly holds his right hand. His knuckles are bruised and bleeding.

You sigh, grabbing the first aid kit to tend to your dramatic boyfriend. “I told you not to punch him, Charles. You don’t know the first thing about throwing a proper punch.”

Charles pouts, wincing as you take his hand in yours to examine it. “I was just trying to defend your honor, mon amour. That man was saying such crude things about you.”

You shake your head, amused by his protectiveness. “My hero,” you tease. “Next time just walk away. I don’t need you breaking your hand over some entitled idiot’s comments.”

Charles hangs his head. “I know, I know. I wasn’t thinking clearly. I just saw red when he kept insulting you.”

You smile softly, touched by how much he cares. You start cleaning the wounds on his knuckles with a disinfectant wipe.

“Ow!” Charles cries out dramatically. “That stings!”

“Don’t be such a baby,” you chide. “It’s just a little antiseptic. I have to clean it so it doesn’t get infected.”

Charles pouts some more but stays still as you finish cleaning the abrasions. You apply an antibiotic ointment carefully before beginning to wrap his hand with a bandage.

“I really messed up my hand, didn’t I?” Charles mumbles dejectedly.

You nod. “You definitely did some damage. Nothing serious, but you’ll be sore for a while.”

Once you’ve wrapped his hand securely, you bring it to your lips and place a gentle kiss on the bandage. “There. All better.”

Charles gives you a lopsided smile. “My own personal nurse. How did I get so lucky?”

You grab an ice pack from the freezer and hand it to him. “Here, put this on your hand to help with the swelling and pain.”

Charles sighs dramatically but does as instructed, holding the ice pack gingerly against his injured hand.

You glance at his wrapped hand, the knuckles already starting to bruise beneath the bandage. “Does it hurt terribly?”

Charles considers the question. “Honestly? Yes, it really does. Punching someone is not as easy as it looks in the movies.”

You laugh. “No kidding. That’s why you leave the punching to trained fighters, not Formula 1 drivers.”

“Ugh, this is so embarrassing,” Charles mutters. “What will the team say when they find out I injured myself in a fight? And I’ll never hear the end of it from Pierre.”

You pat his leg reassuringly. “Just say you hurt it working out. No one has to know about your misguided attempt at honorable combat,” you tease.

Charles chuckles ruefully. “Good idea. The last thing I need is for this to become paddock gossip.”

You both sit in comfortable silence for a few moments, Charles icing his hand while you snuggle contentedly against him.

"Thank you for patching me up and taking such good care of me,” Charles gently brushes the hair from your face with his uninjured hand. “Even when I do stupid things."

You grin. “It’s a tough job but someone’s gotta do it. Especially since you did almost break your hand for me.”

You settle back against Charles comfortably. He may be reckless and impulsive at times, but you know he always has the best intentions at heart. And you'll always be there to care for him if those good intentions backfire.

For better or worse, this protective man is the love of your life.

#⋆｡˚୨ fleur recommends ୧˚｡⋆#charles leclerc x reader

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fleurrreads · 1 month

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my dearest lottie you’ve done it again ! it’s so beautiful i cannot wait to see where this will go ♡

when the sea calls for three | 3

Pairings: Azriel x Reader x Eris

Words: 5.3K

<<Previous Part | Masterlist | Summary

Autumn Court

“She’s late!” Eris's voice thundered through the hallway, his steps echoing on the stone floors of Forest House. You remained composed, waiting patiently as you heard his approach. Knowing full well the fiery storm that would follow.

The doors burst open with a forceful push, and Eris entered into the room like a whirlwind, his expression a mixture of frustration and impatience. He opened his mouth to unleash a barrage of complaints, only to falter as he caught sight of you seated calmly with his mother, sharing tea.

There was that fire. A flicker of it anyway.

You were no stranger to the fiery nature of the Vanserra’s. Lucien had his own, but it was interesting how differently it manifested in them.

Lucien’s heat was like a welcoming hearth, radiating warmth and comfort like a cosy fireplace. But beneath, lurked potential. His fire, always crackling, could easily spread if provoked.

Beron had always been like a volcanic eruption, spitting burning molten fury upon anyone who crossed his path with no warning or restraint.

Restraint was something you felt Eris had a multitude of.

He was different. His fire felt different. Always simmering, on the verge of boiling over but never quite reaching it. It was as if he had learned to temper his flames, dampening them in the presence of his father. Now, with Beron gone, perhaps that simmering intensity would finally have the chance to ignite into something new.

You guessed only time would tell.

Sensing the tension, Lady Autumn, Hestia, intervened with a gentle smile. "I must apologise, my son," she began, her tone soothing. "I simply couldn't resist stealing y/n away for a quick catch-up. Don't hold her responsible when it is I that is at fault"

You couldn't help but smirk, finding amusement in the sight of Eris momentarily caught off guard. His previous expression of frustration changed into something that bore indifference.

As you and Lady Hestia rose to greet him, she enveloped you in a warm embrace, "We're all thrilled to have you here. Oh, how I wish your mother could see you now. She would be bursting with pride." Genuine love left those words. The mention of your late mother stirred a bittersweet ache in your heart, and you noticed how even Eris’ expression softened.

"I'll leave you both to it," Lady Hestia beamed once more, her gaze shifting between you and Eris with pride. “I believe the pair of you will do wonderful things for this court. Together.” She held one of your hands in hers, while her other rested gently on her son's cheek. Leaning in, her voice softened to a whisper. "I'm proud of you too, you know."

Eris's expression softened further at his mother's words, a mix of emotions flickering across his features. He had brought an end to it all—his father's reign, the tyranny that had gripped them all. For his mother, for his brothers, for his people. He had taken the ultimate risk, and succeeded. You knew if it was Beron that still stood here to today, he would have had no part in this new peace treaty.

If not for Eris's courage, well, you wouldn’t be standing here in Autumn today either, ready to forge a new path forward.

Despite the poor reputation that often preceded him, you had always suspected there was more to Eris than met the eye. Beneath that hard molten exterior, you were sure a kindness lingered.

A small flicker of a flame.

A rare spark you had glimpsed in your younger years– a quality that you knew came from Hestia. It was a golden thread of hope you clung to, that perhaps beneath all those hard layers, the real Eris would now reveal himself.

That maybe he was more like Lucien than either of them would ever admit.

However, he made it all too easy to believe the opinions of others when he looked at you like that. His unreadable expression, stoic and yet fiery with eyes that harboured resentment.

Who were you kidding? This was Eris Vanserra.

Eris reluctantly led you down the winding corridors of Forest House. You’d forgotten how large this place was, how deep the levels went. Memories of your childhood flickered through your mind as you recalled times where you and Lucien had ran down these very halls. Eris hadn’t taken you to the lower levels, instead he showed you the way to the western wing on one of the higher floors.

Eris halted before a grand oak door. With a subtle gesture, he swung it open to reveal the spacious chamber beyond. "This room is yours." Eris announced, his tone begrudging.

He could have just got a member of his staff to do this. You wanted to roll your eyes at him, but you realised he was trying. That perhaps years of pretending to be this evil heir to appease his father may actually take time to erase.

So you would give him a chance. As you were giving all the courts, it was only fair.

Stepping inside, you were greeted by the warmth of a crackling fire and the inviting embrace of luxurious furnishings. The bed, adorned with sheets in hues of burnt orange and chocolate. A sight that made you want to curl up on the sheets there and then, Autumn had always been cosy. A large ornate wooden desk occupied one corner, while a private washroom beckoned from the side.

You surveyed the space with a sense of amusement, a soft chuckle escaping your lips at the indulgent opulence. The quietness of the quarters enveloped you, the secluded area obvious.

Was he hiding you in this part of the house? You’d noticed how it was far from the heart of the home.

"Do I have this entire wing to myself?" you quipped playfully, your eyes dancing with amusement as you turned to face Eris.

Eris's response was matter-of-fact. "My quarters reside in this part of the house” he states plainly, his expression revealing a hint of reluctance.

Surprised by his choice, you press further. "You haven't taken up the High Lord's quarters?"

A moment of emotion passes over Eris's features as he shakes his head. "I don't want to displace my mother from the room she's spent centuries in. Plus, I have no desire to inhabit my father's spaces. This part of the house has always been mine."

You nod in understanding, appreciating his unwavering respect and love he’s always had for his mother. A quality all of his brothers had.

Although you assumed there was more to it than just a son’s respect for his mother. Were there areas of the house he didn’t want to go? Parts where his father’s presence still lingered.

“It’s eerily quiet…” you raised a brow, stepping to look outside the large window onto the beautiful autumn scenery.

“It is.” Eris's voice held a hint of amusement as he joined you by the window, his gaze following yours to the tranquil landscape outside. “It's so I can hear you if you get up to any trouble. My chamber is only down the hall.”

Ah, how quickly the taunts came. How natural this felt despite it being centuries.

Familiar, teasing and warm. His words had always felt like that when he spoke to you.

“Always so paranoid Eris…but good to know you’re only down the hall should I need you” you replied with a hum, only to watch that glint in Eris’ eyes turn playful.

“And why would you need me, little mouse?” His tone was teasing, and the old nickname sent a wave of nostalgia washing over you.

Little mouse.

That pet name. One you had almost forgotten about. The name instantly transporting you back to a time when you did indeed feel like a little mouse beneath Eris’ fox-like smile.

Did he remember too? That time you almost gave yourself to him…

You were at a ball, where you had slipped away, seeking solace from the overwhelming social obligations and the awkward third-wheeling as your friends found their own romantic pursuits for the evening. In the dimly lit corridors of the grand ballroom, you sought refuge away from the echoing sounds of laughter and music. You leaned against the cool marble walls, tugging at the tight corset around your waist.

It was then that Eris's voice, smooth and dark, pierced the silence around you. "What is Lucien's little girlfriend doing out here all alone?" His presence had seemed to materialise out of nowhere, his figure looming closer as he prowled towards you with a predatory grace.

You had rolled your eyes at his predictable taunts, a hint of exasperation tingeing your tone. "Really, Eris, that joke is getting old."

You watched as he came to stand in front of you, his presence already warming you. And you weren’t sure if that was because of the fire in his veins or the effect he had on you. It was perhaps not one of your proudest moments, but yes you may have had a small crush on your best friend’s older brother. His cold exterior usually scared most away, but there was a warmth in his eyes that you hadn’t been able to ignore.

You couldn't deny that you often found your eyes searching for Eris during your visits to Lucien. It was a fleeting fascination.

"Then if you are not my brother’s... does that mean this little mouse is available for the taking?" His words dripped with dark humour, tone laced with a hint of something more. You felt your cheeks flush with heat, betraying any composure you had.

As he leaned in close, the proximity between you electrifying, you found yourself at a loss for words. You were never at a loss for words, but somehow in the presence of Eris you were. He looked like a fox ready to feast on you, and there was a part of you that was willing to let him. Maybe it was low inhibitions from faerie wine, or simply the desire to have someone’s attention that night, but you would have let Eris devour you.

But then as his stare took in your expression, his gaze softened for a moment. It was only fleeting, but whatever had crossed his mind was enough for him to abruptly pull away and head back into the ballroom.

The rejection tasted bitter in your mouth, and so you pushed that feeling deep, deep, deep inside of yourself.

Eris seemed to wet his lip with his tongue as if recognising where that name had taken you, and he was relishing in it. “I guess if the little mouse finds herself needing a comforting presence at night I’m not too far away. Maybe if you ask nicely I might even let you share my be-”

You smacked his arm hard, cutting off whatever inappropriate sentence he was going to finish with. This was your fault really, you’d opened the gates to this type of talk. But it was so familiar, you couldn’t help yourself. It was like you were 21 again with that stupid all consuming crush on your best friend's older brother.

Old habits died hard it seemed.

You weren’t 21 anymore though, and you wouldn’t crumble under his stare. He was watching you now, curious to know if he had gone too far but that soft smirk spread across your lips giving him the satisfaction he needed.

“Careful High Lord,” You mused “Careful.” and with that you turned “Come, we have work to do.”

You had given him your warning, and yet it very much felt like a challenge to his ears.

༄

You and Eris sat in his office, staring at the miniscule pile of submissions that had been sent in by his court. While Summer and Night's inhabitants had been perhaps overly forthcoming in expressing their thoughts, Autumn's court remained eerily silent.

You flicked through the handful of submissions, each one echoing the same sentiment: satisfaction with the status quo.

They were reluctant to rock the boat.

Eris let out a frustrated sigh, dragging his hands down his face in exasperation. "My father has instilled so much fear into the land that they're too scared to even present their problems," he muttered bitterly, his gaze fixed on the sparse pile of papers.

You took a moment to digest his words before speaking up. "But you are not your father, Eris."

He looked up at you, a glimmer of doubt in his eyes. "No, but to some, they consider me just as bad."

Why was it in the unspoken you truly heard him.

Am I just as bad?

Your heart clenched tightly at his doubts. "Then let's show them you're not," you suggested, your voice firm with determination.

Without waiting for a response, you stood up from your chair and walked out of the room, expecting him to follow. True to form, Eris hurried after you, his steps quickening to match your pace.

“Little mouse, I’m not fond of chasing.” Eris shouted, his voice echoing through the corridors of Forest House. You hastened your steps, keeping ahead of Eris’ footsteps.

As he caught up and grabbed your hand hard, pulling you to a stop, you couldn't help but notice the flicker of annoyance in his expression. "Looks like you chased me anyway," you quipped with a playful smile, glancing down at your intertwined fingers.

His hand was warm and firm, yet with a roughness that differed from the Shadowsigner’s touch.

Why were you comparing them?

You pulled your hand from his quickly, not giving yourself another moment to linger on how his skin felt against yours. “We need to change the narrative Eris, let’s meet your people directly.”

Eris didn’t object, his gaze lingering on his hand for a moment before he scoffed, shaking his head. You could have sworn he wanted to smile. “You’ve always been so hard to say no to.”

“It’s because I’m always right” You sang, stepping out into the crisp autumn air, the leaves crunching beneath your feet as you made your way towards the nearest town. Eris following closely beside you.

The townspeople of Autumn seemed to scatter like leaves in the wind at the sight of their red-headed High Lord, their gazes darting away or pretending to be engrossed in their tasks. It was a reaction Eris had grown accustomed to, one that grated on his nerves more than he cared to admit. His stoic demeanour, a shield he'd always worn, now seemed to be the very barrier keeping his people at arm's length.

Approaching a farmer with a stall brimming with fresh autumn produce, you noticed the tension in the man's shoulders as he glanced nervously at Eris behind you. His wooden stand boasted an array of vibrant fruits and vegetables. "Could I buy a bag?" you asked with a warm smile, trying to ease the farmer's apprehension.

His response was tentative as he began to bag up some plump blackberries for you. "Has your harvest been good this week?" you inquired, attempting to strike up conversation.

He seemed hesitant at first to reply, but you introduced yourself with a small smile. Vaguely brushing over your new role, and what you, as well as Eris were setting out to do during this new reign of peace. The farmer rolled his shoulders back as if finding confidence. "I've been lucky… but some of the land has been struggling. There's a blight on some of the soil," he replied cautiously, his eyes still avoiding Eris's imposing figure.

"No one notified me," Eris interjected, his tone firm and harsh. But you knew there was an underlying concern that rang in his words.

"Apologies, your grace. With your father... may the cauldron bless him... he didn't like us to inform him of these issues, only to rectify them," the farmer explained, bowing slightly.

Eris went rigid, and you gave him a soft glare as if to remind him that he was supposed to be painting a new narrative here.

"I will send a harvest healer down to the farms. Please inform me if you come across such problems again," Eris instructed, his tone softer this time.

As the farmer passed you the bag of berries, Eris unexpectedly dropped a few gold coins into the man's hand, overpaying for the fruit. "Thank you, your grace," the farmer murmured gratefully before retreating.

Despite Eris's efforts, it was evident that it would take time for his people to see him in a different light. Coaxing more residents to open up proved challenging with Eris looming behind you, his presence an obvious deterrent. Determined to find a solution, you gently looped your arm through his, eliciting a faint frown and a subtle pull away from him. "What are you doing?" he grimaced at your touch.

Gods, you’d have thought you’d burned him with his reaction.

"Softening your image. Having a pretty thing on your arm won't do you any harm," you remarked with a playful smile, hoping to chip away at the walls he'd built around himself, one touch at a time.

But despite how playful your reply was, your action was thought out. Having your charismatic smiley self on the arm of Eris, you hoped would sweeten his image, even just a little.

He merely rolled his eyes, his expression veering towards indifference, yet he didn't pull away. Your arm wrapped around his, drawing you intimately close, the warmth of the Vanserra male warding off the chill of the crisp autumn air. His scent enveloped you, a familiar blend of crackling fire, cloves, and cinnamon.

Being this close to him wasn’t awful, a younger version of you may have even longed for this.

Your plan had indeed worked. There was an undeniable charm in the sight of you hanging on the arm of the High Lord that seemed to thaw the reserve of the people, coaxing smiles and candid conversations from them.

The final stop for your visit was a bakery, one you remembered fondly from past visits. The sweet aroma of freshly baked goods wafted through the air, triggering a wave of nostalgia. "Please tell me you still have the pumpkin cream pie," you requested eagerly, your eyes lighting up. The baker's response was warm, and she quickly set about preparing one for you to take away. "You don’t understand how much I’ve missed this," you confessed, your excitement palpable. Eris had joined you by now, leaning casually against a nearby wall as he observed the interaction.

His expression softened as he watched you, the warmth of your personality radiating as you engaged with the baker. It was a quality of yours that had always drawn people to you, even from a young age.

You had a way with words, a knack for always saying just the right thing. Whether it was to win an argument, gain the favour of opinion or uplift someone, the correct words always rolled off your tongue.

Pretty words from that pretty mouth.

Of course Eris knew the reason behind your charm, a secret he had long kept to himself. He knew of the abilities his little mouse possessed.

He realised how long his gaze had settled on you, and it didn't escape his notice how the staff watched closely, some of them with a light tinge of pink covering their cheeks as they blushed,giggled and whispered between one another. In that moment, he realised the true power of having a ‘pretty thing’ on his arm.

Meanwhile, you were busy savouring the pumpkin cream, licking it off your finger with relish. "Gods, this is so good," you exclaimed, your smile infectious. But as you glanced up, you caught his unreadable gaze, and a hint of concern flickered in your eyes.

Had you been too casual? Falling into this familiarity with him had felt so natural that you hadn’t even considered if it was maybe a tad unprofessional. Not that there would be anyone to reprimand you, but you did want to succeed in this role.

Swallowing, you decided to steer the conversation back to business. "I think this approach worked," you remarked, attempting to gauge his reaction. He was still looking forward as you both walked back to Forest House. "They were quite forthcoming with concerns once we got them to open up. There are a few areas I feel as though I'd be able to support." But his face remained inscrutable, as if he were pondering something much weightier.

Then, unexpectedly, he spoke, halting your steps in their tracks. "I want you to help me find a wife," he declared, his tone serious.

The request caught you off guard, though in hindsight, perhaps it shouldn't have. After all, he was the High Lord, and finding a suitable partner to rule his court with, and of course produce an heir, would be a natural priority for him.

"Of course, Eris," you replied, your tone as composed as you could manage.

Why had the notion left you so uncomposed?

He smirked then softly “You were right about having a pretty thing on my arm. It worked…Plus it’s probably about time.”

You paused for a moment, your own lips spreading into a smile at what he had said. A younger version of you would have relished in this, being called ‘pretty’ by him. Perhaps, there was a version of you now that enjoyed it too.

"I'll begin looking into potential suitors for you right away." You decided to say, not trusting your usual snarky remarks.

“You can even look for those outside of Autumn, to help with your peace treaty and alliances or whatever. No one from that bastard Night Court though.”

You nodded with a soft chuckle. He had given you an olive branch. A martial alliance would be a great addition to this new era of peace.

Things were falling into place better than you had expected.

But beneath the surface, there was a pang, a feeling you couldn't quite decipher. Something you didn't dare acknowledge even to yourself.

༄

Dawn Court

Dawn had been the easier of the four courts to manage, with Thesan being your own High Lord. You had both arranged an in-person meeting for his people to gather and discuss their concerns in the flesh.

During Amarantha's reign, Dawn had stood steadfast in protecting its borders, thanks in part to your efforts. Reflecting on that time was hard, it brought back a mix of emotions and memories, ones you liked to leave in the depth of your mind. But the duty to defend your home had never sat comfortably with you, yet it was a responsibility you willingly shouldered. As a result, you had earned the admiration and affection of your people.

It was ironic how once some of them had considered you and your family as outsiders, but now they revered you, often laying flowers at your feet. Pressing gifts into your hands and singing your blessings when you walked the streets. The praises and gifts had quietened down since the conflicts, but you often found a bouquet of flowers at your front door, or were stopped in the streets to be embraced.

Despite the concerns shared by all of Prythian, Dawn exhibited a sense of optimism amid the lingering apprehension about border openings. Morale remained low, and safety remained a paramount concern, but there was an obvious excitement about the prospect of travelling between courts. They wanted this new peace treaty to succeed, and they were willing to help in any way they could to change that.

For two days, you assisted Thesan in managing the affairs of Dawn, aiding him in delegating tasks and prioritising court matters. As the sun set on your final night, you retired to your townhouse nestled in the heart of the city.

As you slumped into your living room, the sound of a deep voice filled the space. "And she finally finishes," the voice chuckled warmly.

Lucien, Jurian, and Vassa were sprawled across your couch and armchairs, making themselves at home in the space you had graciously offered them for their gatherings when they were in Prythian. They had a manor in the mortal lands, but you opened your home to them for when they needed to be more inland.

You greeted them with a smile, leaning down to plant soft kisses on Vassa and Jurian's cheeks in greeting, before turning to Lucien. You passed him a small box, with a slice of Pumpkin Cream Pie inside. It elicited a chuckle as he picked up the slice.

“Oh you treat me so well doll.” he smirked, before devouring the slice in a few bites.

"So, have you not been on the continent?" you asked, finding your place next to Lucien and propping your feet up on his lap as you sank back into the couch.

You were utterly exhausted.

The first few weeks of this you had anticipated to be tough, but the amount of work was somewhat excessive. And it would start all over again tomorrow. The cycle repeating. Summer, Night, Autumn, Dawn.

"We were, but these two insisted on seeing you, and for the upcoming week, it's easier for them to be among the solar courts," Lucien explained with a shrug.

Vassa offered a small smile, though her discomfort at using your home without you was evident.

"Don't worry about it," you reassured her, waving off her concerns. You had known what she wanted to say within the unspoken. "My home is yours to use as you please. Besides, I'm hardly here these days anyway, so please, make yourselves at home."

With that, Jurian flashed a grin, sauntering over to your nearby trolley bearing a decanter filled with amber liquid. He quickly poured four glasses, passing them around.

“So, give us the rundown,” Jurian inquired, his gaze shifting between the two of you. You exchanged a glance with Lucien; you hadn't even had time to correspond with him this week, a reality you believed would continue. Tilting your head slightly, you encouraged Lucien to go first, while you sipped on your drink. The alcohol instantly warming your throat.

That was exactly what you needed after the long week.

Lucien began to list the concerns and events of his week, there was a clear similarity across Phyrthian you noticed. Morale was low, and people still felt divisive. Despite the unity forged in the war, that comradery hadn’t seemed to extend. Lucien gave your sock-covered feet a playful pinch, causing you to recoil them from his lap with a feigned glare. "Your turn," he quipped, prompting you to take the floor.

You ran them through your week, highlighting the issues and developments you encountered in the courts you were managing.

"You've opened up trade agreements for Summer, got Night to agree to a school, and are on the hunt for marriage suitors for my brother... Jeez, what else?" Lucien summarised with a scoff and eye roll.

"We can't all be as good as me, Lucie," you retorted, playfully nudging him with your elbow.

"Eris didn't give you too much of a hard time, did he?" Jurian asked playfully, his tone laced with familiarity.

It was nice to see how close Lucien had gotten with Jurian and Vassa, especially since his friendship fell apart with Tamlin. Lucien deserved this, deserved a circle.

You let out a nonchalant hum, absentmindedly playing with a strand of your hair. "You know, Eris isn't all that bad..." you trailed off, your thoughts drifting.

"Maybe not with you... He's always had a soft spot for you," Lucien interjected, shaking his head with a knowing look.

You playfully kicked your foot against his thigh. "What's that supposed to mean?"

A knowing smirk tugged at Lucien's lips. "You know exactly what it means. He's just always been softer with you."

You rolled your eyes, recalling your recent interactions with Eris. Soft was not a word you would use to describe him—perhaps playful or teasing, a little mean even, but not soft.

"What were the infamous Inner Circle like to be amongst?" Vassa interjected, redirecting the conversation.

"Fine, polite, worked hard," you replied, feeling Lucien's subtle fidgeting beside you. You knew the question he wanted to ask but didn't dare. "She wasn't there; I haven't met her yet," you added softly, referring to his mate.

You watched as your friend glanced down at his drink from your words, his usual witty exterior faltering for a moment. Lucien hadn’t indulged you in the finer details of what had transpired between him, Elain and the Shadowsinger. What had caused Elain’s abrupt withdrawal of contact from them both, but the strain it had on him was obvious.

The one thing Lucein had shared, was that she hadn’t outright rejected the bond yet, you hoped that was some glimmer of something worth holding onto.

Your fingers moved instinctively, reaching out to gently press against your friend's cheek. His eyes fluttered shut momentarily at your touch, before you playfully pulled on his cheek with a tug. "Get out of that pretty little head of yours, Lucie," you teased, tapping his cheek once more.

The touch had pulled his mind back to reality, as he swore under his breath and smacked your hand away.

"Gods, you fae are so complicated, with all your complexities, bonds and relationships," Jurian quipped, his tone laced with amusement. You couldn't deny he had a point. Whether politically, platonically, or romantically, there always seemed to be layers upon layers, it’s what was making your new job all that much harder.

"Oh like you humans are any better." Lucien retorted quickly, there was a playfulness in his tone as he sipped on his drink.

"I'm sure if everyone got together and shared some drinks, we'd all be fine," Vassa added, as she raised her drink in the air. The liquid sloshing in her glass.

"Yeah, why can't we all just get shit-faced and go dancing or something? Nothing bonds people like a shared hangover," Jurian grinned.

The room filled with laughter as Lucien remarked something about the last time Jurian was hungover, Vassa quipping in. Your thoughts left you for a moment as they drifted to what Jurian had said.

Getting drunk and dancing had always been a release you’d loved, one shared by most fae and humans. Perhaps one the the few similarities you all shared. And although "getting shit-faced" wasn't the most elegant phrase, the sentiment behind it rang true.

“You two are actually onto something there…” you spoke, the words leaving your lips as your idea formed in your mind. You’d sat up now, looking at Lucien who only frowned at you.

"I'm pretty sure we can't arrange for everyone to have a huge piss-up," Lucien remarked dryly. “As much as I’d love it, it doesn’t feel very…appropriate.”

"We’re obviously not going to organise some sleazy boozer” you rolled your eyes at him.

“Shame.” Jurian piped up.

“But we can arrange a ball.” You smiled that dangerous grin that you knew Lucien found hard to ignore. “Phyrthian’s first ever Peace Ball” you continued, coining the term there and then.

Lucien leaned back into the couch, still looking at you as he digested your words. He was chewing on the inside of his cheek, perhaps figuring out logistics for your outrageous idea.

But slowly that fox-like grin you loved so much spread across his lips.

He put his glass up in the air “A fucking Peace Ball…”

You quickly raised your glass with a chuckle, Vassa and Jurian raising theirs too.

Trade agreements, a school, diplomatic martial arrangments and now…a fucking Peace Ball. Lucien had made the right call bringing you on board; there was no one more convincing, more persuasive in all of Prythian. You and your pretty words would bring peace to this land, even if you had to force it upon them.

“Cheers!”

Next Part >> coming soon.

a/n: Decided to post this early, sorry again if it's a little boring, just trying to set everything up. Would love to know what you think so far. How are you expecting this story to unfold? Is there anything in particular you're hoping to see with the story/characters/relationships? Would love your input <3 - Lottie

#⋆｡˚୨ fleur recommends ୧˚｡⋆#azriel x reader #eris vanserra x reader

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fleurrreads · 1 month

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The Nickname Runs in the Family || CL16

Summary: When you end up crying on your father’s shoulder over a boy, Kimi enlists the help of Charles to teach him a lesson. Charles Leclerc x Raikkonen!Reader Warnings: nsfw, fighting, mentions of sex, WC: 2.9k

To the outside world Kimi was known as ‘The Iceman’, garnered for his cold personality in the media and how he never let anything bother him, at home however he was just called isä or dad. You really could have done with more of The Iceman persona because when it came to his family your father was anything but cool and collected.

“Tell me what happened,” Kimi demanded, your tears only streaming faster down your cheeks.

“Nothing happened, dad.”

“Something happened, tytär, don’t lie to me.”

It was stupid to go there after what happened. You should have just returned to your student accommodation at the college but you needed the comfort of home and someone you trusted. Now all of Monaco was going to hear just how hotheaded The Iceman got while your step-mother tried to put your baby half-sister back to sleep.

“Nothing happened!” you sobbed, burying your face in your hands as embarrassment flamed across your cheeks. “I said no, okay. I said no and he called me a frigid bitch before dumping me and leaving me at the party.”

You expected to hear something break, or at least his heavy stomps storming towards the front door. You didn’t expect your dad to throw his head back and laugh, a deep belly laugh that echoed around the quiet living room.

“Ah, that’s my girl,” he laughed as he bundled you into a hug. “I like that, Frigid Bitch. It’s good.”

You snorted a laugh despite the hurt and wiped your tears on his shoulder. “I thought you would be angry.”

“Oh, I am,” he admitted somberly. He placed a kiss on your head before standing up and pulling his phone out of his pocket. You didn’t see who he was calling so late at night but groaned when it was answered. “Hello, Charles. You know everyone in Monaco, where does Devereux Laurent live?”

“Isä! No!”

Your father ignored you as he grabbed his car keys and his jacket, his phone shoved between his shoulder and his ear. “I’m not going to kill the little bastard, fuck, Charles, I just want to have a chat.”

The door slammed shut behind him and you collapsed back onto the sofa with a groan about keeping your mouth shut next time. You were still ruminating over your life choices when the doorbell rang an hour later.

“Charles?” You frowned at the man panting in your doorway like he sprinted across the city before your eyes widened at the split lip he sported. “What are you doing here? What happened?”

“Kimi.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah.”

You grabbed your purse that had been discarded on the kitchen table when you arrived. “Where is he?”

“The police station.”

“Shit, he didn’t do that to you, did he?”

Charles reeled back, clearly offended. “No, you’re asshole boyfriend hit me.”

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” you clarified as you dragged him inside and grabbed a tea towel to wrap a bag of peas from the freezer. Charles flinched as you gently pressed the ice pack to his lips and you sighed. “I’m sorry my dad got you involved in this.”

“It’s okay,” he murmured, taking the pack from your hand to place it on his swollen knuckles that you hadn’t noticed. “I got myself involved when I heard what Dev did. Are you okay?”

“I didn’t get punched in the face,” you said as you playfully rolled your eyes, however you soon sobered. “It's nothing a few drinks and a bad romcom can’t fix, after I’ve bailed dad out first. It’s not like we were together long enough to get heartbroken. Do you want me to drop you off on the way?”

“I’ll drive.” He snatched a set of keys from the hook by the door, but you caught his wrist and took them back.

“That’s Minttu’s minivan.” You hung the keys back on the hook and grabbed a set for your dad’s Rolls Royce Wraith instead. The empty hook beside it was where the keys to his Ferrari Pista usually hung. “She wouldn’t be happy if you crashed her car again.”

“I didn’t crash her car,” he argued as he pocketed the keys and opened the door. “You were driving!”

“I had a shit instructor. You were too busy checking yourself out in the mirror to teach me.”

His finger jabbed the call button for the elevator as he scoffed. “You only know that because you were too busy checking me out to watch the road.”

The elevator arrived but you held a hand out to block him as you stepped into the small space. “Sorry, your inflated ego is too big to fit in here.”

“That wasn’t a denial.”

You ignored him and jutted your head to the fireproof door. “Try the stairs.”

“But we’re on the top floor.”

You smirked as the doors started to close but he darted inside before they sealed shut.

“You’re still not denying it.”

“So you really went swinging for my honour?” you deflected as he hit the button for the garage level, exposing his swollen fist again.

“You sound surprised.” He leaned back against the wall and looked at his hand, massaging the tender bruises. “When I saw he was still at the party…”

You frowned, first at the fact that Dev went back after leaving you there, asshole, then at the fact Charles knew where he was. Charles was definitely not at the party, if he was then you would have heard the women going feral for him. “How did you know he was there? You don’t follow him on Instagram.”

“Not on my main account,” he said with a shrug. Anyone that Charles followed on social media made sure to announce the news like it was an instant ticket to ViP treatment, and Dev would have been no different. It was also the exact reason you went by Y/L/N, your mother’s surname, instead of Raikkonen. You didn’t want to be used by people for the name you carried.

“You hate him, why would you follow him?”

“It doesn’t matter why.”

“It does to me.”

Unfortunately the doors opened and he pushed off from the wall to stride past without an answer. A flash of lights responded to the click of the button on the keys and Charles slowed his steps for you as he led the way to the sedan parked in a secluded corner, the space beside it empty of your fathers red Pista. Charles stopped at your door and opened it for you, his eyes scanning the open space that was empty and quiet save for the whine of the elevator leaving the level.

“For you,” he admitted as you slipped into the leather seat. “I followed him to keep an eye on you.”

The door closed and you watched him walk around the car, dropping into the driver’s seat before pushing it back to suit his longer legs. He then silently adjusted the mirrors and turned down the heavy rock music that blasted when the engine started. You didn’t know what to say, all you had were more questions that could only lead to more confusion.

“You deserve better,” Charles said, breaking the awkward silence as he pulled out into the street.

“He was just drunk.”

“That’s not an excuse. You deserve someone who will wait until you are ready to have sex, not try it on drunk and at a party.” His words were seething by the time he finished and his knuckles turned white from the tight grasp he had on the steering wheel.

“Uh, Charles, I was joking about my honour…I’m not a virgin.”

“Wait, what?” The car slammed to a halt and he earned a toot from the Lamborghini behind before it drove around when Charles didn’t move. “Since when?” he asked as he turned in his seat to face you.

“I didn’t realise it was such a big deal. Was I meant to stand at the corner and hold a sign that said ‘deflowered’ in Times New Roman or Comic Sans?”

He didn’t even blink at your icy tone and heavy sarcasm. “But Dev said he dumped you because you didn’t want to have sex. He didn’t force himself on you, did he?”

“Oh my god, no! I can’t believe we are having this conversation, Charles.” You figured it couldn't get any more awkward as you looked out the window into the sleeping city. “Sex wasn’t the problem, he was upset because I didn’t want to have sex with him.”

“Oh…oh.” He cleared his throat and put the car back into drive before continuing his way to the police station. “So, uh, is there anyone you do want to, um, have sex with at the moment?”

“Why? Are you offering?” It was meant to sound teasing but there was too much curiosity in it.

His face flushed pink and his lips parted two twice before his voice worked. “I don’t do casual.”

It wasn’t a no, and that somehow made things both better and worse as a new possibility began to worm its way into your mind. You didn’t like the hope that fluttered in your stomach. Charles was a friend. Charles was someone your father trusted after Seb vouched for him. Charles was off limits.

By the time you had filtered through the thoughts he had induced, Charles was pulling into the police station and you hoped your dad was fairing well behind bars. It turned out you had no reason to worry as you walked inside and heard his voice from behind the glass wall.

Kimi was being well taken care of by the officers. He had a coffee in one hand, a pastry in the other and was answering questions that had nothing to do with Dev. You cringed as he recounted why he missed meeting Pelé years ago, but Charles chuckled along with the policemen as you knocked on the door.

The Monégasques fawned over their hometown hero while you watched Kimi pull himself to his feet, cracking his back that had stiffen while he was sat down.

“I thought you would be in maximum security by now,” you said as he pulled you into a hug. “What did you do?”

He patted your cheek and smiled mischievously. “I like Charles even more now.”

He gave you nothing else but that was expected. Whatever happened was obviously not on the record and you wanted to keep it that way, especially since he didn’t have a single scratch on him - like he hadn’t been in a fight at all. You were quietly contemplating that knowledge when you climbed into the backseat of the Wraith and your father readjusted everything on the driver's side back to how he had it.

“You took the fall for Charles, didn’t you?”

They both swivelled back to look at you. Charles’ eyes widened, while your father’s narrowed.

“Fucking hell, I’m not going to tell anyone,” you growled as you threw your arms up in exasperation. “I just want to know what actually happened tonight.”

Charles waited to see if your dad wasn’t going to explain as the car pulled out of the station car park. After a moment of hesitation he took a breath and started to rattle off the truth.

“I called Kimi when I realised Dev was still at the party. It was only a block away so I thought I would meet him there to point him out.”

“I was just about at the address he gave me when he called. I got there as fast as I could but Charles was already inside,” Kimi said with a proud chortle. “Got a few good hits on the little bastard too.”

“Iså,” you warned as he enjoyed the violence just a bit too much and Charles looked sheepishly down at his hands. “Why did you fight?”

“You know why. I couldn’t stand by and let him talk about you that way.”

“Good man,” Kimi said with a stern nod.

“And you, what did you do, dad?”

“What I had to do,” he said with a shrug. “I’m retired, Charles has a career.”

You stretched the seatbelt and leaned forward to hug your dad and kiss his cheek before doing the same to Charles. “Thank you.” Your eyes lingered on Charles as his eyes said everything he couldn’t with your father in the car.

“He’s not pressing charges but there may be some questions if anyone caught the fight on camera. You might want to give your PR team a heads up.”

It took a moment to realise where you were and why the car had stopped outside the venue where the party was still in full swing. Drunken revellers could be heard behind the velvet curtain hanging over the door and your father handed his keys over to Charles with a shake. “Make sure she gets home safe. I’ll pick it up in the morning, no scratches.”

“Yes, sir,” Charles promised with a nod before getting out.

“You’re trusting him with your Pista?”

“I trust him with you, the car I can replace.”

You surprised him with another hug as your door opened, your voice thick with emotion as you said, “thank you.”

“Do you want to come home?” he asked quietly. “I can make up the sofa bed.”

“No, it’s fine. I don’t think I’ll want to get out of my bed tomorrow.”

“Fair enough. Love you.”

“Love you too.” You stepped out and Charles closed the door, placing his hand on the small of your back and guiding you to your father’s favourite car. “He doesn’t even let me drive this, you know.”

“Maybe that’s because you don’t support Ferrari,” Charles teased as you buckled yourself in.

“I support it now.”

“What changed your mind?”

You dared to look at him and met his green eyes. “You.”

—

“Awww, she called her little puppy,” Dev taunted as he spotted Charles walking towards him.

Charles chuckled, but it held no humour and his smile was dark. You had never seen that look in his eye and your thighs clenched in response. “At least she will still call me. You just lost the best thing you never deserved.”

“Well you can have the frigid bitch, good luck getting her to put out though. Fucking cocktease.” The snort Dev made was cut off by the fist that crashed into his nose and then the both of them were going to the floor, grappling and twisting until Kimi darted into the fray and grabbed Charles.

“Go, she’s at home,” Kimi ordered as he pushed Charles back the way he came. “I’ve got it from here, kid.”

The video looped back to the start and you watched it twice more before determining you were fucked. It hit you like a train, the pressure slamming into your chest as you realised you were in love with Charles. No one had ever stood up for you like that, or taken a punch for you or risked their career. But he had.

You stayed cocooned in your blankets for most of the morning, watching the video footage from the night before and it became your new favourite binge worthy entertainment. It would probably be classed as insanity if anyone knew you had become addicted to it, but it was only the fact someone knocked at your door that you placed your phone down.

“Charles? I’m getting a little déjà-vu here,” you commented as you opened the door and found him sweating.

“Will you go on a date with me?” he blurted out. “Please.”

Your brows shot up at the outburst and you checked the student halls were empty before pulling him into your room. “Uh, you do realise who my father is, right?”

“I do, thank you for your concern,” he chuckled. “I was actually just with him. I wanted his permission to ask you on a date.”

“Well that explains why it looks like you’ve been running for your life.” You looked at your door expecting to see it kicked in. “Was he chasing you?”

“What? No, I wasn’t running. Fuck,” he groaned as he ran his hands over his jeans to dry his clammy palms. “I was just nervous about asking you out. You still haven’t answered my question.”

“I will.”

“Answer the question or go out with me?”

“I will go out with you,” you clarified with a laugh.

Relieved, he took a seat at the edge of your bed and sighed happily. “I have been waiting years to ask.”

“Seriously?”

He nodded before flopping himself down comfortably and you dropped down beside him. “Your dad scared me,” he admitted as he took your hand in his.

“But not anymore.”

Charles smiled and it was one so similar to the video that was still playing on loop. He seemed to recognise the muffled sound coming from the blanket at the same time you remembered it was there and fished it out. “You’ve seen it.”

“Once or twice,” you lied. “I see why you’re not afraid anymore. That’s one hell of a right hook.”

“Oh no I am definitely still afraid of Kimi,” he corrected as he rolled on his side to face you. “But I am done watching you date assholes when I know exactly how you deserve to be treated. I want to give you the world, if you’ll let me.”

#⋆｡˚୨ fleur recommends ୧˚｡⋆#charles leclerc x reader

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fleurrreads · 1 month

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𝐫𝐜 - 𝟐:𝟏𝟏𝐩𝐦

you slept at tannyhill every night now.

it was commonplace to see you making breakfast in the kitchen, by the pool with sarah or inside watching some silly movie with wheezie. that was only sometimes though, since all your time was usually spent with rafe.

he liked having you around at tannyhill all the time—he thought it was cute. you wait for him to get back like a little housewife, looking pretty and pampered and tan, like he wants.

he doesn’t like waking you up early when he’s leaving for the day. you used to set your alarm to get up and drink coffee with him but he’s started turning it off—you don’t have any reason to be up that early.

sweet and always compliant, you do as he says, sleeping in. rafe presses a kiss to your forehead in the morning before he leaves, day filled with meetings and business things that he doesn’t always tell you about in detail. you just know that he’s gone.

“stoppin’ by barry’s and then the club with kelce. we’re playing golf with-” you listen to rafe while he puts on his watch and his rings, but you drift off half way through. you feel the warm press of his lips on your skin and the sound of him saying goodbye.

you’re not sure when it happened—you used to get up early and get ready for the day, filling your summer days with friends at the beach and your books by the pool and never going more than an hour alone. but now that you’re with rafe, it’s so easy to sit around and wait for him. you don’t even want to see anyone, you just want the hours to pass until he’s back.

maybe it’s not healthy. you don’t really care much even if it’s not.

you fall back asleep, and wake up when the sun is pouring in between rafe’s dark curtains. you stretch and debate going downstairs to eat something, but after brushing your teeth you crawl back into rafe’s bed. the sheets smell like him and you stare awfully long at the pillow he sleeps on. shifting the pillow to lay on it, you fall back asleep, not waking up until you hear the door to his room open.

rubbing your eyes, you glance up, hoping it’s not ward looking for him since you’re just in one of rafe’s shirts and nothing else, but the shape in front of you gets closer and clearer.

“what’s this? been in bed all day, kid?” you yawn again.

“what time is it?” you question, laying back down against rafe’s pillow.

“two in the afternoon.” he comes and sits by the edge, stroking your hair while you melt into his touch. “got any plans to get up today?” you shake your head.

“your bed’s comfy. and it smells like you.”

“that’s cute, kid. gotta get up eventually.”

“you’ll have to make me.”

“that can be arranged.” you giggle, lifting yourself up to give rafe a hug, head resting on his shoulder. "but i like you like this. don't have to lift a finger, do'ya?"

“no," you agree, nodding your head. maybe you could get used to this. "missed you.”

“i’m back now. nothin’ to miss.”

“i still do.” rafe presses another kiss to your forehead, and you nestle in further. “i could fall asleep like this.”

“yeah, no.” in one motion he scoops you up, placing you on your feet. you yelp in surprise, fighting against his grip.

"i'm still tired! i thought you wanted to spoil me, this isn't spo-"

“shut up. c’mon, we’re gonna go shower.” that shuts you up right away.

“okay,” you sing sweetly, suddenly compliant.

“yeah, i knew you'd get out of bed for some dick. little freak.”

#⋆｡˚୨ fleur recommends ୧˚｡⋆#rafe cameron x reader

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fleurrreads · 1 month

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happy easter my beloveds 🐣🌷🍰🐰🧺

#easter #easter 🐣#🐰

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fleurrreads · 1 month

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A gentle reminder that the person you're sending hate to is a human being. Not a corporation, not a government agency. A human being who reads your words and internalizes them.

If you don't like their work, unfollow them. If you don't want them on your blog, block them. If you feel comfortable doing so, you can DM them and let them know that something they posted bothered you. Often times, it's a matter of misunderstanding that can be easily cleared up with conversation.

You are wishing ill on someone's child, someone's parent, someone's friend. You are telling someone's partner, someone's sibling that the world would be better without them.

To anyone out there receiving anon hate, your presence is so important. Not just on Tumblr, but to the people around you.

Take deep breaths, turn off anonymous messages, and keep yourself safe. Your worth is far beyond the scope of what any hateful anon can even fathom.

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fleurrreads · 1 month

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#୧ ⋅₊ fleurcore

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fleurrreads · 1 month

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wish i had a metalhead to save me from a moshpit too 😖 this was amazing pookie 🫶🏼

whiplash - e.m.

eddie munson x fem reader

warnings: teeny tiny violence, reader has a panic attack, eddie is the sweetest, eddie and reader are in college

a/n: this is absolutely inspired by my first experience being shoved into a mosh pit at an avenged sevenfold concert when i was a wee teen. i hope you enjoy xx.

also shout out to my love @xxbimbobunnyxx for helping me with the title and some of the dialogue, and my bby @undead-supernova for beta reading for me. ILY BOTH SO MUCH 💕

hot, sweaty bodies were pressed against you at all angles, nearly suffocating you. at this point you couldn’t even see the band playing on the stage, a sea of taller bodies now blocking your view.

when your best friend asked you to attend a metallica concert with her you didn’t exactly know what to expect.

but this definitely wasn’t it.

the small venue was packed, the air filled with the smell of sweat, marijuana and cigarettes. your choice of a leather jacket felt incredibly stupid as it was now tied around your waist due to the growing heat surrounding you.

your palms felt clammy as they clutched onto the hem of your friend’s shirt. the constant moving of the crowd seems to pull her farther and farther away from you. until the swirling pit of metalheads swallowed you both whole, losing sight of her head of blonde hair instantly.

your panicked shouts of her name were drowned out by the screech of an electric guitar— your body now being shoved around to the chants of ‘pounding out aggression.’ the song eerily fitting as you see a ringed fist connecting with another man’s jaw.

your heart is beating in your ears, that familiar feeling of panic washing over you as you continue to be shoved around like a rag doll amongst the group of men. until you somehow landed on top of someone… who had been knocked to the ground moments before you.

before you have time to react a large hand quickly wraps around your forearm, yanking you up and out of the dizzying circle of death. you all but let the stranger carry you through the crowd. the male shoving past throngs of people until you’ve safely reached the back of the bar.

you barely register his voice as you lean against the brick wall, chest rising and falling at an embarrassingly fast rate. your eyes squeeze shut as you attempt to get your breathing under control. those same hands that pulled you out now resting carefully on your shoulders, helping to ground you.

“hey sweetheart, you alright?”

his face finally comes into focus as you blink your eyes open, your heart now beating against your ribs for a completely different reason.

he was painstakingly gorgeous, full lips lifting up into a soft, dimpled smile. “there she is— hey man can i get some water?”

he slaps his hand on the bar top, the clear liquid sloshing out as a glass is slid over to him. his chunky rings clinking against the side as he grips it, now holding it up to your lips. “it’ll help, trust me.” you gladly take the glass from him, gulping down the lukewarm tap water.

“thank you…” you mumble, setting the now empty glass back on the bar and wiping the corners of your mouth. mentally forcing yourself to stay put, despite the bigger part of you wanting to run out of the bar from sheer embarrassment.

“are you here by yourself?” he asks, as you shake your head in reply before resting it against the brick wall behind you. the brunette seems to be studying you as you take in some slow but shaky deep breaths. letting yourself do the same as your heart begins to return to a normal rhythm.

even in the muted light you can see his dark curls were damp with perspiration, bangs sticking to his forehead. no doubt from being in the middle of that pit for quite a while. his cut off band tee showing off an extensive collection of tattoos. that soft smile morphs into a small smirk, as you realize you’ve been gawking at him.

calming breaths long forgotten.

“you can g-go back out there… w-wouldn’t want to keep you from the show.” you fumble over your words, now finding the sticky floor and your beat up sneakers far more interesting than the gorgeous metalhead before you.

the male chuckles, casually resting his shoulder against the wall next to you. his hot breath fanning over your cheek as he leans closer, “not a chance sweetheart. until we find your friends, you’re stuck with me.”

you glance back up at him, surprise crossing your features. knowing most people would gladly leave you behind in the shadows, especially considering the band that’s owning the stage. that sentiment alone makes the butterflies raging your insides flutter even faster. the chaos of the crowd is now forgotten as he grins sweetly down at you.

“i’m eddie by the way.”

the music has seemingly gotten louder since the two of you left the crowd, now having to shout your name back in reply despite the lack of space between you. his smile only widens as you turn to face him fully, crossing your arms over your chest. “and what is a fair maiden like yourself doing in a place like this?”

you can’t stop the giggle from leaving your lips as he gestures dramatically around the dingy bar before his dark eyes are back on you. “oh no reason at all… just needed a study break.” he can tell from the ride the lightning t-shirt adorning your frame that you’re teasing him, but he plays along anyway.

“so you stumble into a random metal concert, only to get caught in a circle of death? that’s quite the break sweetheart.” he nudges your foot with his own, earning another giggle from you. “something like that, yeah.”

he hums in response, running a hand through his unruly curls. “duly noted— i’ll have to take study breaks like that more often,” the two of you quickly fall into easy conversation, no longer paying attention to the concert goers surrounding you.

despite having only met him less than half an hour ago, you both seem quite comfortable with each other. any embarrassment from your small panic attack now a fleeting memory as he tosses his head back with laughter. the sound warming you from the inside, out.

“gotta say i’m a little shocked, first show and you’re already hitting the pits like a pro.” he jokes, leaning in a little closer to you. the scent of his spicy cologne washes over you, making your head spin, “practically took that guy out by sitting on him.”

you groan in embarrassment, playfully shoving his shoulder as he laughs again.

“i’ll have you know i’m quite fond of the music… just not the…” you gesture towards the sea of bodies that are jumping, shoving and headbanging to for whom the bell tolls. “moshing?” he finishes for you, as you nod sheepishly.

before he has a chance to say anything else, a loud squeal fills your ears as a body slams into you at full force. nearly knocking you over in the process, “there you are babes! i’ve been looking for you everywhere!”

earlier you would’ve been relieved to hear your best friend’s voice, but now you can’t help but feel a twinge of disappointment. hoping your emotions aren’t written across your face, but she doesn’t seem to notice. she’s a little too preoccupied with staring at the male leaning next to you.

“now who is this?” her tone is overly playful, wiggling her eyebrows at you suggestively. before she can embarrass you further, you elbow her in the ribs. effectively stopping anything else from leaving her mouth besides a little huff.

“eddie munson, certified mosh pit rescuer at your service ladies.”

he does a little half bow, causing both of you to break into a fit of giggles. “wow… a modern day knight in shining armor huh?” she teases but seems impressed nonetheless, “wish i had a hot guy to pull me out of there, i basically had to army crawl my way out.”

even in the shitty bar lighting you can see his cheeks are tinted pink from her compliment, nervously rubbing the back of his neck. “it was nothing really, just happy to help.” he shrugs before pushing himself off the wall, sliding his hands in the pockets of his ripped jeans.

“modest too? where did you find him?” she gushes, gently bumping her hip into yours. “and does he have a brother?” she whispers that part to you, ignoring the way you roll your eyes at her.

“well i see you’re in good hands now sweetheart, i hope you enjoy the rest of the show.” as he turns to leave you feel your friend shove you forward, giving you a look that screams, ‘are you insane? don’t let him get away!’

“eddie wait!” you shout, gently tugging on the male’s wrist before he gets too far. that dimple making another appearance as he turns back to you, “miss me already?” eddie teases, fully enjoying the flustered look that crosses your features.

“i uh, i-i’d really like to thank my knight in shining armor properly… maybe over coffee?” you nervously chew on your lower lip, praying that you didn’t read this entire interaction wrong.

but seeing his face light up squashes any doubt, watching as he grabs a pen off the bar. holding the cap between his teeth as he takes your hand, scribbling his phone number onto your palm with a satisfied grin.

“looking forward to it sweetheart.”

he mumbles, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand before disappearing into the rowdy crowd.

tagging some moots who seemed interested 💛

@babygorewhore @hellfirenacht @thepurplelovewitch @impmunson @voyeurmunson @madelynraemunson @take-everything-you-can @corrodedcorpses @serasvictoria @munsonhoneybaby @splendiferous-bitch @eddiesxangel @taintedcigs

all dividers made by yours truly 💕

#⋆｡˚୨ fleur recommends ୧˚｡⋆#eddie munson x reader

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