#what’s worse is that at the end of 2019 I was in a really good place and feeling very optimistic and happy to be started my senior year | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dilemmaontwolegs · 6 months

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Irresistible || CL16

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!reader Summary: A one night stand comes back to haunt you when your father plans to marry his mother. Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, smut, cheating, time skipping, kind of taboo (future stepbrother) WC: 6.1k F1 Masterlist || One || Two

December 2019

Two years ago you had spent an amazing week in Monaco during a European getaway. It was meant to be a once in a lifetime trip but now you sat opposite your father at the kitchen table in your family home trying to understand what he was saying.

“…the kindest woman. You’ll love her, just like I do.”

He fell in love so now you were expected to leave behind everyone you knew and just start a new life with his new family. You knew he had been happier since the trip but you never would have thought it was because of some long distance relationship. He had kept that to himself for a long time.

“Can’t you just have a midlife crisis like everyone else?” you asked. “Why are you moving us across the world for a stranger?”

“Did you not hear me? Pascale is not a stranger. Please don’t make this harder than it needs to be. I love her.”

Resentment built and you pushed your chair back as you stood up. “You loved mum too, and look how that ended.”

Your father sighed and you immediately felt guilty for the heaviness in that one breath. It wasn’t his fault your mother decided domestic life wasn’t for her and left when you were just a baby. It wasn’t his fault that she met a man who had a motorcycle and flirted with the wrong side of the law. And it certainly wasn’t his fault that they crashed in a high speed police chase when you were 15.

You sank back into your seat and picked at the chipped Formica table top. “I’m sorry, dad.”

A calloused hand from a life of hard work gently patted yours. “It’s a big adjustment, pumpkin, but you said Monaco was a beautiful place. I thought you would be happy.”

“It was, but I’ll never see my friends.”

“I’m not saying you can replace them, but you’ll make new ones. And even with the different timezones I’m sure you can make arrangements to video call each other.”

He was making an effort, you could recognise that at least. “Fine. I suppose it won’t be that bad.”

August 2017

All of the streets seemed to look the same, the stonework buildings towering over you as the afternoon sun dipped even further below the mountains that bordered the place. You had no idea which way it was to get back to the hotel and you weren’t going to risk the international roaming charges to use the internet on your phone, you already spent most of your savings on the clothes in the bags that hung from your wrists.

You were too busy looking up and trying to get a sense of direction that you didn’t see the man getting out of his car. Pain flared in your knee as a door slammed into it and you dropped the bags to clutch your leg that throbbed and drew a groan from your lips. It was worse than hitting your funny bone and you grabbed the hood of the car to balance when you nearly teetered over.

“Mon Dieu, est-ce que tu vas bien?”

You couldn’t understand a word he said but the accent was almost enough to make you feel better, until you looked up. The setting sun cast a golden glow around the man and you swore he was more beautiful than the godlike statues you had seen in Rome the week before.

“I, I,” you stammered stupidly as he knelt down beside you and repacked the bags that had fallen to the street. His bright green eyes lingered on the red lace bra and panty set you had spent a small fortune on before he cleared his throat and shoved them in the bag. “I don’t speak French.”

“You should really be watching where you are walking,” he said as he stood up, his accent saturating his words and making the scolding sound sexy. And it was most definitely a scolding. “You could have been hit by a car.”

“I was,” you pointed out as you tested your leg and winced when you put your weight on it.

“I meant one that was driving past. It was a good thing I was parked.” He looked down his nose and shook his head. Somehow this stranger had managed to make you feel guilty for disappointing him, and it started to infuriate you.

“I really don’t think this is all my fault,” you snapped as you swiped your bags back. “This is a footpath, and that is a no parking zone. Maybe you should concentrate more on where you should be driving than how I should be walking.”

You narrowed your eyes at him and he did the same until his lip twitched and a smirk broke out. “You think I am a bad driver?”

You looked at the double yellow lined he was parked over and squared your shoulders. “Does a duck quack?”

He mouthed the question back before he understood what you were implying and laughed as he took a step closer. “I like you, you are funny, and delusional. What is your name, and what are you doing tonight?”

You were still trying to figure out if he had complimented or insulted you when someone called out and stole his attention before you could answer.

“Charles, dépêche-toi!”

You both turned to the group that had arrived, all of the young men looking almost as handsome as he did. They had to be from the same modelling agency, or there was something seriously strong in the water here.

“Well?”

You looked at Charles and found he was still waiting for an answer. “Probably still trying to find my hotel.”

“Funny,” he chuckled before waving his friends off. “Je te rattraperai plus tard.” He took your bags and stuffed them in the backseat of his car before offering his hand. “I can’t have you walking these streets all night, god knows what trouble you could cause.”

“I was doing fine, until you hit me with your car, and now you want to drive me in it? Nuh-uh, I would rather take my chances on foot.”

You stepped around him to get your bags back, or at least you tried to but your aching knee gave out. You would have fallen to the pavement but a strong arm curled around your waist and pulled you against him.

“You could have just asked if you wanted to hold me, biche.”

“Excuse me?” You pushed away from him and gritted your teeth through the pain. “I’m not sure in what world you think that is flirting, asshole.”

Charles threw his head back with a laugh and easily caught up to you, his palm heating the small of your back as he guided you around to face his car again “Biche, not bitch, it’s a cute little deer. I can call you Bambi instead, I quite like that. Unless you want to tell me your name?”

You rolled your eyes, unsure whether the endearment was an improvement at all, but stepped into the car when he opened the door for you. “No thanks, I don’t know if you are some sort of stalker.”

He laughed again before walking around to the driver's seat. “What hotel are you staying in?”

“The Fairmont.”

The flashy car roared to life and you turned to face Charles when his laughter grew. “So you would tell a stalker where you are staying but not your name?”

“That sounds to me like you are admitting you are a stalker,” you shot back with a daring arch of your brow. “Besides, I’m staying with a man that would snap you like a twig if you tried to turn me into a skin suit. I don’t have anything to worry about.”

“Your boyfriend?”

You snorted at the question and shook your head. “My father.”

He smiled at the news as he pulled out into the traffic and drove the short distance to the hotel. Your meandering had only left you two streets away from it so it was probably more of a nuisance to drive you there but Charles didn’t seem to mind.

“Are you enjoying the city?”

“It’s beautiful,” you said with a nod. “It’s almost a shame to leave tomorrow.”

“Have you been to Jimmyz?”

“Not yet.” You had heard of the club but most nights had consisted of a late dinner with your father and then bed. It was actually the first day you hadn’t spent hanging out with him, he had gone to get a haircut that was long overdue after all the travelling and you had used the alone time for a little girl shopping.

“You should come tonight, my friends and I are going and I owe you for hitting you with my car.”

January 2020

Your father thought it would be a good idea for Pascale to come and stay for a week before the big move. She owned a hair studio so it was easy to take some time off and she was due to arrive any moment. He had all but begged you to make an effort with Pascale before leaving for the airport. He had never brought a woman home, or at least while you were there, so it was strange to see how he fussed over the crumbs in the kitchen sink.

You did a quick final inspection through the house but with most of the belongings already sold or shipped off to Monaco there was next to nothing that could make a mess. You only hoped all your things arrived in time at the other end. It was bad enough you were going to be staying with one of your step brothers to begin with but it was only for a few weeks while the renovations on the new house dad and Pascale had bought were finished. He promised that your room would have a view of the ocean and your own bathroom - it was absolutely a bribe but you were fine with that.

The car pulled into the driveway, past the large real estate sign with an unmissable SOLD sticker across it. You had seen a handful of pictures of Pascale on your dad’s phone but when she stepped out of the car you realised they didn’t do her justice. Despite being on multiple planes that never made for a decent sleep, she looked refreshed and even her hair was still in a perfect blowout. She was really pretty, or maybe it was the bright smile she gave your dad when he parked the car.

“Do I look alright, Peter?” she asked as she touched her hair nervously and straightened her blouse.

“It’s not an interview, sweetheart,” he chuckled as he grabbed her suitcase. “You look beautiful.”

August 2017

The club was unlike anything back home. The music seemed to seep into your skin, the bass vibrating in your bones. Even the air was intoxicating with the promise of a night of bad decisions.

“Bambi, I didn’t think you would actually come.”

You turned away from the bar and found Charles drinking in the sight of your short, tight dress. His eyes followed every line, dip and curve of your body and he bit his lip as he dragged them back up to your face. For the price you had paid you were happy it had the desired effect.

With your confidence bolstered you sent him a smirk and grabbed your drink that had been placed down. “Well you did say you owe me, you can start with my drink.”

Charles didn’t look away as he reached into his pocket and stepped closer, his hand reaching past to slap a bill on the bar top. His scent reached you, the cologne inviting you to lean closer and inhale the decadence of vanilla and bergamot. “The usual, please.”

He could have stepped back while his drink was made but he chose to stay close, his eyes flicking down your cleavage to see the red lace set he had been daydreaming about all evening. “How about we get out of here?”

You had fantasised about a summer romance since the trip began, what young woman wouldn’t when they were going to Europe? But you hadn’t been able to conjure a face as handsome as his when you closed your eyes late at night and your hand drifted beneath the blankets. Now you had the opportunity in the palm of your hands and you weren’t going to let it slip from your fingers.

Tipping your head back, you met his green eyes that dared you rise to the challenge. “Lead the way.”

February 2020

You were jet lagged and exhausted when you finally reached your temporary accommodation.

“Charles is just on his way back from work but he shouldn’t be too far away. Make yourself at home, sweetheart,” Pascale said as she helped you with your bags.

The apartment was bare with mostly blank white walls and a few framed pictures of Ferrari cars. It was a typical boy space that was in desperate need of soft furnishings to liven it up, but that wasn’t your problem to deal with.

“He just bought the place so he’s still finding his ‘vibe’,” Pascale noted when she saw you eying up the empty space, the words sounding like they were verbatim and not her own. “But there’s two bedrooms and two bathrooms so you’ll have your own space. The builder said our house will be finished in a few weeks.”

“It’s great, Pascale,” you assured her as you set your bag down on the bed with a long yawn. You were surprised to find it had a floral duvet and a sheet set already made up - something you were sure she had done for you.

She nodded and placed your other suitcase down before leaving, closing the door most of the way. “I’ll let you rest for a bit.”

You woke to voices down the hall and found a blanket had been draped over you at some point.

“Can’t she sleep on Enzo’s couch? I don’t even know her, she could try to sell my things. There have been stranger things done before.”

“Ah-ah, no, and she doesn't even watch racing. Peter said she had no interest in the sport.” Pascale sighed heavily, the same way your father did when he was having to repeat himself. “She’s a lovely young lady, and she’s going to be family so please treat her as such.”

August 2017

“Where are we going?”

Charles just smiled and kept driving through the quiet streets before pulling into a hotel far nicer than the one you were staying in.

“You live in a hotel?”

He laughed and tossed his car key to the valet driver. “No, but I have a roommate who would probably not be very happy with me if we woke him.”

He already had a room and led the way to the elevators with the confidence of a man who had certainly been here before. You didn’t mind, you were hardly a saint, and you knew exactly what you were doing when you dressed for the night out. You knew how you wanted the night to end.

For a man who looked eager to undress you, like he had done with his eyes, he didn’t touch you until the door was firmly closed behind him. But once that door locked shut it was as if the leash he had kept a hold of himself with was dropped and he pinned you against the wall, his lips finding the hollow of your neck.

The temperature in the room seemed to swell as his kiss climbed higher and he finally reached your lips. You moaned at the feel of his hands roaming your body and his tongue slipped past your parted lips when he dragged the zip down your spine.

“J'ai envie de le faire depuis que je t'ai vu pour la première fois. You are so fucking sexy.” [I have been wanting to do this since I first saw you.] He stepped back and watched the material fall away to reveal the tempting red lace he had been dying to see.

Your heart skipped a beat at the hunger in his eyes and you reached behind your back to unclip the bra. It was thrilling to watch the colour of his eyes fade to black as you revealed more skin to him but when you reached for your panties he spurred forward to stop you.

“Mine,” he stated as he brushed your hands aside and hooked his fingers into the waistband instead. Falling to one knee, he dragged the lace down your thighs and let them tangle around your ankles before kissing your hip. Your head fell back against the wall with a thud as he nudged your legs apart and pulled one leg over his shoulder. “What’s my name?”

Your forehead crumpled as his breath warmed your cunt and you buried your hands in his hair to hurry him up, but he was too strong.

“What’s my name?” he repeated.

“Ch-Charles,” you stammered as his fingers teased your entrance without delving further, driving you wild with need.

“Good girl, remember that when I make you scream.”

The words left you drunk and you would have dared him to make good on them but his tongue found your clit and two fingers curled into your cunt. All thoughts left your head while he was knelt fully dressed before you and all too soon his name echoed across the room as he brought you to your first of many highs.

You could barely walk by the time you collapsed on the king bed and your head was spinning from the various positions you had found yourself in. You only bothered to move when a phone vibrated on the bedside table and you reached over to see if it was yours.

Giada: When are you coming home?

“Need a break, Bambi?” Charles teased as he returned from the minibar with a bottle of water, cracking the top off and offering it to you first.

You took the bottle with a grateful smile and swallowed a few mouthfuls to ease your dry throat. “Who’s Giada?”

His eyes flicked to his phone and he grabbed it, quickly replying to the message before tossing it aside and caging you beneath his body. “My roommate. Now, where were we?”

You should have been in a dead sleep but something had woken you. It was an ungodly hour given the darkness that was still outside but it did mean you saw the light of Charles' phone. His soft snores were silenced by the pillow he buried his face in and you took a second to admire the sight of his toned body in the moonlight.

Giada: It’s so hard to sleep without you here. I love you xxx

You slipped out of the bed without waking him and hated how good the ache between your legs felt because of him. You should have known a man like him was bound to have a girlfriend. She was probably a model.

You quickly gathered your clothes and dressed on the way to the door, closing it silently behind you. No one had to know you were even there and in a few hours you would be heading to the airport, never to see Charles again.

It took far longer than you expected to find your way back to the hotel and your father was already awake when you entered the room.

“You look like you had a rough night.”

You continued on your way to your bedroom in desperate need of a shower before packing. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Fair enough.”

You reemerged looking refreshed but you still felt contradictory inside. You told yourself that you did nothing wrong but it didn’t help when you knew there was a woman waiting at home for the man you had fucked. Fucked didn’t begin to cover what you had done - he had hung the stars and the moon, he had expanded your mind to the pleasures that could be sought with the right experience and partner. He had ruined you for all the men back home.

You fought to tug the zip of your suitcase closed, more than ready to leave the place behind, and growled in frustration. Your dad knew better than to bring attention to your mood but he gently moved you aside and closed the stubborn zip himself.

“How was your night?” you asked as you went to the kitchenette and made a strong brew of coffee.

He smiled to himself and picked up the suitcase to add it to the pile by the door but his smile dimmed when he saw how miserable you looked. “Nothing special, I just had dinner and a walk by the water.”

Normally you would have picked up on the lie, but you were too self centred to notice how happy he looked. He was glowing.

February 2020

You followed the voices to the living room and found Pascale in the doorway saying her goodbyes. You couldn’t see the face of the man she was talking to, only a head of dark hair, but he turned when his mothers attention was drawn away.

“You…” you breathed as you recognised the green eyes that had haunted your dreams for two years. Pascale frowned and you plastered a fake smile as you held your hand out. “You must be Charles.”

“I am,” he hummed as he looked at your hand before enveloping it in his much larger one. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”

“I’ll see you both for dinner tonight, Charles can drive you until we get you a car.”

Charles seemed to be hearing the news for the first time. “I can?”

“Yes, you can. Now make sure she feels at home alright, maybe introduce her to some of your friends.” Pascale blew a kiss and left Charles to close the door.

His eyes sparkled with mischief as he locked it and you realised at that moment just how fucked you were because, despite the quick prayer you had sent, Charles had recognised you too. “Hello again, Bambi.”

“Fuck me,” you muttered beneath your breath.

Charles smirked and booped you on the nose as he walked past you and towards his kitchen. “No thanks, you’re going to be my sister soon.”

You hated that for a second you were disappointed before common sense returned and you went to your room to find your phone. “Dad, I can’t stay here.”

“Why not?”

“Charles is an asshole, that’s why,” you whispered angrily, your eyes scanning the bottom of your door to see if he was eavesdropping.

“It’s only for two weeks, three at the most, plus he will be heading back to Italy for work on Monday.”

“Who the hell works in Italy and lives in Monaco?”

“He does, you would know that if you had a conversation with him and got to know him.”

“I don’t want to get to know him, I want to go home.”

“This is home now,” your dad said quietly as you heard Pascale arrive home at the other end. “I’ll see you at dinner.”

You flopped onto your bed with a groan as the call ended. Two weeks. Two fucking weeks. You groaned again as you realised that it may be just two weeks of living with him but there would be a lifetime of having him as your step brother. “Fuck!”

“I might have to get a swear jar to cover your half of the utilities.”

You surged upright and found Charles leaning against the balcony door, a balcony you apparently shared with his room next door. “Can I just make one thing very clear? As far as I am concerned, whatever happened two years ago - it didn’t. Nothing happened. I never saw you before today.”

“Nothing happened?” he chuckled as he walked into the room. “You still have that sense of humour because I remember a lot happening. Do I need to jog your memory?”

You hated how your body betrayed you, how your eyes followed his every step as he closed the distance between you. “You’re actually sick. Our parents are getting married.”

He stopped in front of you, his fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from your face and his eyes traced your lips. “You were gone when I woke up.”

“Giada wasn’t your roommate.”

“No, she wasn’t,” he admitted with that same smirk that simultaneously had you wanting to both slap it or kiss it away. “I have a new roommate now.”

“Not for long, I am gone as soon as the house is ready.”

“Oh, Bambi,” he laughed, swaggering his way back to the balcony door. “I wasn’t talking about you.”

“Asshole.”

“Biche.”

“Charles, you should introduce Y/N to Charlotte,” Pascale said as she poured another wine for you. “That’s his girlfriend. You would probably get along with her, she’s about your age and a very nice girl too.”

You bit your tongue as you raised your glass to your lips and stared at Charles over the rim. Placing the glass back down, you smiled sweetly. “Is that right? I could do with making a girlfriend here, someone to talk about boys with. Maybe she can set me up with a handsome Frenchie.”

A foot kicked you under the table and you chuckled at the glare he was sending you over the greek salad.

“We go to brunch on Sunday,” Pascale said with a pat to your hand. “You should come.”

“Count me in.” You stabbed a sweet cherry tomato with your fork before sealing your lips around it and humming in delight. “This was a delicious meal.”

Charles soon declared he was exhausted from the drive back from wherever it was he worked in Italy and Pascale looked a little disappointed that the first family dinner was cut short. Since he was your ride, you had to say goodnight to everyone too and followed him out to the car that was even flashier than what he had two years ago. His Ferrari fixation was more than just pictures of the cars in his apartment but he drove one too.

“You are quite eager to leave,” you noted as you lowered yourself into the passenger seat, your skirt riding up your thighs as you settled into the leather. Charles inhaled sharply as he saw the hint of your panties peek out and slammed the door shut before storming his way around the car.

“I’m in half a mind to take you over my lap and turn your ass red,” he growled as he pulled out of the driveway.

“Arthur is lovely,” you commented as you smiled at your reflection in the window. You were absolutely enjoying the way Charles gritted his teeth, but he had started this dance in your bedroom. “He offered to keep me company while you are away next week. I think I might enjoy his company more than yours.”

“Biche,” he warned as he broke the speed limit and practically skidded to a stop in his reserved parking spot. “You’re mine. No one else touches you. Ever.”

You slipped out of the car and felt his eyes on your ass as you climbed the stairs to the apartment. Though you had a key you waited for him to open the door and kept your voice low while he fumbled with the lock in his frustration. “Jealousy doesn’t look good on you.”

“Everything looks good on me,” he argued as he turned the key and shoved you through the doorway.

“Is that what your girlfriend tells you?”

“No, she prefers me with nothing on.”

You could understand why that was but didn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing you agree as you went to your room. “Goodnight, Charles.”

“Night, ma biche.”

It was still early but you refused to leave your room, instead opening your laptop to watch a movie. You were halfway through a stupid rom-com when you heard a feminine voice in the apartment and you paused it to check you weren’t hearing things.

“Oh, Charles, bébé, baise-moi!”

You rolled your eyes at the sounds of the headboard banging on the wall you shared and rifled through your bag to find a pair of headphones. It seemed that they grew louder or you became hyper aware of what was happening in the room next door, and a needy throb began between your legs when you heard Charles moan deeply.

Your frustration built until you disappeared into the bathroom and doused yourself in a cold shower, cursing him the entire time you waited for your blood to cool. You could finally think clearly after drying off and recognised he was only making his next move in the game he had started. It was time to start planning yours.

Charles' steps faltered when he emerged from his bedroom shirtless but he recovered quickly and walked past your position on the couch as he went to get himself a drink of water.

“You should try Gatorade,” you suggested as you flipped through the channels leisurely. “I find it better than water after a good fucking.”

“What are you wearing?” he finally asked after emptying the glass in one breath and wiping his lips dry.

“This is how I sleep,” you said as you stretched your legs out onto the ottoman. “Is that a problem for you?”

His eyes followed the line of your legs to the edge of the black and red babydoll you wore and cleared his throat. “No, no problem.”

“Charles, who are you talking to?” A pretty brunette emerged from the room and scanned the room, taking in her half naked boyfriend talking to you who was barely dressed much more than him.

You rose to your feet before Charles could recover and bounced over to the young lady, wrapping her in a hug. “You must be Charlotte, maman’s told me so much about you. I thought I would have to wait until Sunday to meet you.”

“Maman? Sunday?” she asked as she looked at Charles for the answers.

“This is Y/N, my step sister - or soon to be -” he added quietly. “Maman invited her to brunch.”

“We are going to be great friends, Lottie,” you sang as you stepped back with a grin. “I just know it.”

Charles nearly broke his glass as he tossed it in the sink and headed back to his room, returning a moment later with a sweatshirt and jeans on. “Allez, mon amour,” he called to Charlotte as he grabbed his keys.

You pouted playfully as he led her to the door. “She can sleep over, I don’t mind - I have earplugs.”

Charlotte flushed pink and clearly had no idea you were in the house while they were getting down and dirty. It made it all the more entertaining as you waved goodbye. “I’ll see you Sunday.”

Charles waited until Charlotte had passed the doorway before following, casting a final glance your way. “Don’t wait up.”

You felt his presence in your room before you saw him step out of the shadows with just a towel slung low on his hips and the bed dipped under his weight. “Well played,” he admitted, flopping back and making himself comfortable.

Rolling over, you turned to face him and tucked your arm under your head. “Did you think about me when you were with her?”

His lips twitched before he gave in to the smile. “Every fucking second.”

“She’s pretty.”

He reached out and brushed your cheek with his knuckles. “You’re beautiful.”

You could feel yourself falling to the temptation that his lips provided and it was getting harder to resist taking what you wanted. “You should go back to your room.”

“Your lips say one thing but these say another,” he teased as his touch drifted over your collar and down to your breasts, the thin babydoll doing little to hide your nipples that had hardened since he laid down in the bed. “They are begging for something else entirely.”

“Charles,” you whispered as you leaned into his touch before you could think better of it.

“I forgot how good my name sounded on your lips,” he hummed as his hand slipped beneath the material, “but I like it better when you scream it.”

“This is a bad idea.”

It didn’t stop him from rolling your nipple between his finger and thumb and drawing a soft sigh from you. “Why is this a bad idea, biche?”

“Because you have a girlfriend, and you’re my step…step…fuck…” Your eyes fluttered shut as his hand slipped between your legs and he touched you over your panties.

“Let me worry about Charlotte, you just relax and spread those lovely legs wider for me.”

“This is going to end badly.” You knew it but it didn’t stop your knees from parting for him. There was something about him that threw caution to the wind, it had been that way the first time you met too. He was pure temptation. He was the apple and you were Eve, unable to resist taking a bite. “I’ll find somewhere else to stay.”

He bit his lip as he watched how your body danced for his touch. “But not tonight.”

“Not tonight,” you conceded as you watched his eyes darken with lust. “Now please fuck me.”

Charles woke alone for the second time after sleeping with you but he smiled when he heard music playing in the living room. “You stayed,” he teased as he walked down the hall, trying to tame his hair along the way.

“Didn’t have another option but I have found some short term rentals to view next week.”

He froze and his hands dropped to his side. “Wait, you were serious?”

“Yes, this isn’t going to work because if I’m anywhere near you this will just keep happening, and it was a mistake.”

The pop music suddenly grated on Charles' nerves and he grabbed the remote, changing it to another channel before tossing the remote away. You knew he was sulking at the thought of losing his plaything but you ignored him and watched the French news that you couldn’t understand.

Something on the tv caught Charles’ attention though and he sat up straighter, his arms unfolding as his mouth parted in surprise. The breaking news headline was one that was universal and you realised something big was happening.

“What is it?” you asked as he remained fixated on the tv.

“It’s that virus,” he murmured. You had seen it on the news at home before the move, the outbreak reaching all across the globe as it spread person to person. You had been worried about it on the plane with each cough you heard. “It’s spreading here.”

“Okay, and?”

His hand found its way to his mouth and he bit his nails as he listened, translating and relaying the information for you in sporadic bursts. “You won’t need that rental, Bambi.”

“Why?”

He turned to you with an odd look that you couldn’t quite figure out, possibly apprehension or anticipation or a mix of both. “At midnight tonight the whole country is going into lockdown.”

His phone started ringing almost immediately and he excused himself to take the call. “It’s work.”

“Shit, shit, shit.” You grabbed your phone and dialled your dad. “Did you hear what’s happening? What do we do?”

“Relax, pumpkin, it’s going to be fine,” he assured you. “It’ll all blow over quickly, I’m sure. They can’t stop the world from turning, can they?”

You laughed in agreement and felt a little better by the time you hung up the phone, but Charles returned looking stressed as he dropped onto the couch beside you.

“Good news or bad news first?”

You didn’t think it mattered either way and just shrugged.

“Italy is also going into lockdown so there’s no reason to go back on Monday.” He draped his arm over your shoulders and pull you into his side. “Looks like we are going to be seeing a lot more of each other.”

“Is that the good or the bad news?”

“Well, I like my job so not being able to do it is bad for me, but being trapped with you indefinitely certainly sounds good to me.”

“Indefinitely?” you laughed and shook your head. “As soon as the house is done I’m gone.”

Charles' laughter silenced you and his kissed your temple. “Oh, Bambi…The builders will be locked down too, nothing will be finished any time soon. You’re all mine.”

“Shit,” you groaned in realisation. It was going to be impossible to keep your hands off him and from the grin on his face he knew it too.

“This is going to be great.”

Click here for part two.

#charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x reader #formula one imagine #formula one fanfiction #formula 1 fanfic #lando norris fanfic

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rageserenity · 3 months

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It's 2024. Are you still thinking about movieverse!Cherik? Because I am.

For the past several months, there's only been a very slow trickle of posts/fics in the xmcu cherik tag. Let's try to breathe some life back into this incredible pairing!

With one clear winner of my poll, here's thirty prompts for the thirty days of April. (This is a super chill, laid-back event---do these in any order, interpret them as loosely as you like! Create in any medium! Fic, art, gifs, meta, incoherent screaming about the otp…all winners in my book.)

The only rule here is to cherik too close to the sun. Alright. Here are the prompts.

Mutual Pining

Doesn't really even need elaboration! Write that horrifically slow slow-burn. Gif every time McAvoy made insane fuck me eyes on screen. Make a playlist of songs about impossible love.

2. Alternate Meetings

There are endless quotes about how these two complete each other in a way no one they'd met before or after ever did. How else could they have met?

3. Erik Has A Telepathy Kink

This is basically canon. Let my boy get freaky!

4. Canon Fix-It

All the times Fox fucked it up. There are endless options.

5. Hurt/Comfort

Put them in that Situation. Put them in that Blender. Break them apart and put them back together ❤️‍🩹

6. Canon Compliant

Draw that missing scene! Gif your favourite cherik moment!

7. Beach Divorce

Make it worse. Make it better. Show it to us exactly how it was. Break it down in a 3,000 word meta. Go wild!

8. Domestics

Sometimes you just want to see them doing normal couple things. Erik put the gun down.

9. Found Family

The real heart of x-men!

10. Time Travel

There are SO many possibilities here. Stick them in a time loop. Give them a chance to change their past.

11. AU

Love a good AU!

12. There Is Only One Bed

Had to get this one in here. What better way to amp up the tension?

13. Genosha

By some miracle, cherik actually did end up together at the end of 2019s trash bag disaster Dark Phoenix. We aren’t making a big enough deal about this.

14. Declaration(s) of Love

Who says it first? How do they say it and when? Have they said it…without saying it?

15. Jealousy

Need I say more.

16. Reunion

These two have absolutely no chill.

17. Soulmates

Classic prompt, had to get this in here too.

18. The DOFP Aircraft

The TENSION here. Break it down for me. How does Charles feel about his injury? How does Erik feel about his injury?

19. Gay Mutant Road Trip

You already know.

20. Body Swap

SO fun when people have superpowers.

21. First Kiss

When? How? Who initiated it?

22. The Mansion

Mansion!content is a genre of its own.

23. Conflicting Ideology

Give me your theses. Who’s right? Can they ever reconcile completely? Write a fic where it drives them apart.

24. Sebastian Shaw

A trope unto himself.

25. Team As Matchmaker

They had to have known something was going on, didn’t they?

26. Cooking

Charles deserves a good meal. Also, imagine Erik using his powers in the kitchen. The sheer domesticity…

27. Hurt No Comfort

Plenty of scope with these two 🥲

28. Growing Old Together

Giving Sirs Ian Mckellan and Patrick Stewart their props as well!

29. Making Up

*pushes chess board across the table* sorry babe

30. Charles Xavier Did More For Mutants Than You'll Ever Know

Rising to each other’s defense. Only I can insult this man.

I will be tracking #revivecherik to reblog stuff! Here’s a fic collection for the same. Let’s get this ball rolling! Please feel free to send me an ask if you’ve got anything to say! And most importantly, let’s all have fun 😁

*I know a few of you preferred something like a gift exchange because of the commitment factor—I’m super down to organise a tiny one for the handful of us! If this promptathon doesn’t flop horribly, we can hopefully do a whole bunch of stuff :)

If you read this post all the way through, please reblog for reach! Thank you! Hoping you participate come April.

Shoutout to @inmymagnetoera for reaching out and helping with this!

#revivecherik #cherik #charles xavier #erik lehnsherr #xmfc #james mcavoy #michael fassbender #x men days of future past #x men #charles x erik #magneto #professor x

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mickyschumacher · 8 months

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NGL I LOVE UR WORK... ive been hopping thru ur m.list since the last hour.... its currently 1 am and i have an essay to finish before 8 am(im sure my prof will give me more time ik dey love me) anywasy i was wondering if u could do an enemies to lovers with Lewis((like really hated eachother)the reader could be a driver its oky don mind what she does) and then they were arguing abt sumting lewis says something thats completely out of the line and she starts crying in front him then he just kinda leaves her be, a few days later he would go on then apologize to her abt wat he said and then more fluff. (just ignore this if ur not into it or not takin a request at the moment. but im actually just hapi i kind of got the courage to ask u for a request also ur stories are soooo good i admire and envy u at the same time.)

𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐄𝐅𝐓 𝐌𝐄 .ೃ࿐

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: as lewis's former teammate, there are lines that shouldn't be crossed. but a bad move from lewis puts him completely out of line.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: enemies to lovers trope!, poor humour, some fluff, in depth moment of an alternated 2021 wdc (apologies in advance), therefore ANGST, bad race jargon, horner and masi discussed :(, mention of intermittent explosive disorder, misogyny, allusion to racism (not from the reader ofc!), shitting on the fia for a bit, lewis kinda being a dick for probably an unfair reason lol, a proclamation of feelings from sir lewis himself

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: lewis hamilton x red bull!driver!fem!reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 3k+

𝐀/𝐍: you're too sweet to me! 🤧 i couldn't tell if you wanted this to be romantic but i went that way in the end! hope this was good! ♡︎ very very loosely based of swift's 'right where you left me'. but if you argued it wasn't, i would be inclined to agree. proof-read...ish?

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

⋆ •°. 。 .°• ⋆

No one ever truly understood your move to Red Bull. It was in 2019, far from when Max was practically living on pole, so Red Bull wasn't exactly a threat to Mercedes, your previous team. Toto had even put a three-year extension on the table several months before your contract came close to expiring.

Yet you had chosen to sign with the devil.

When the commentators, journalists, and fans took a closer look at your decision, the only thing they could all collectively agree on was that you had moved to Red Bull because of Lewis Hamilton. Because you both couldn't keep your differences aside and Lewis had finally struck your last nerve.

While you weren't quite sure about the last part, the first was true. You had Lewis had never ever exactly met eye-to-eye. Every F1 driver had a specific style of driving. You liked to call Lewis' the 'calm before the storm'. He raced with a composure and maturity that most drivers did not hold. He was particularly calculative and the everyone loved him.

You, on the other hand, had given yourself a new nickname along side 'Flash 13' because you did everything in a flash: you overtook ruthlessly and calculated, you pushed the car till it was undrivable, and you were decisive to the very nanosecond. But you had also garnered yourself the name 'IED', after the behavioural disorder.

In part this nickname was due to the misogyny you faced as the only current female driver in F1 but also due to the sheer anger that bursted out of you whenever you encountered Lewis.

The amount of warnings Toto had given the both of you was simply endless. He had even resorted to putting you two with the team therapist.

The source of your hatred for each other was as clear as day. You hated Lewis' arrogance because somehow it was even worse than Rosberg, Alonso, Räikkönen, and Verstappen. And Lewis hated you for your 'perspective'. You didn't know what he initially meant by that but you regretted asking him. He said you needed to be stronger to be in F1 and that you were far too soft-hearted. Right after you had gotten your first ever pole.

It was ridiculous, to say the least.

No F1 driver was soft-hearted. You were all, simply put, a bunch of dicks. Not literally, of course. Naturally, following that comment, Lewis had pissed you off. He hadn't even had a second to know you before even making that judgement. It was ironic as well, considering your nickname that labelled your anger.

After watching Lewis win several championship titles with you following multiple places behind and seeing you only get angrier with each other, you had decided to call it quits for Mercedes. If people were going to take your annoyance and frustrations with amusement, you were going to head to the angriest team of all and leave your former team fuming.

Two years later, in 2021, you had finally gotten the perfect opportunity.

You hadn't really a clue how exactly Red Bull had made the 2021 car so well that you were matching the speed of Mercedes' car but you didn't care. You were matching Lewis. And Christian Horner was a happy man. A sexist prick but a happy man nonetheless.

Pole was either Lewis' or yours. Either he was a Grand Prix winner or you were. It was a game of cat and mouse, always in a constant pursuit of each other. The same went from your team leaders, Toto and Christian, who practically had the race director, Masi, on speed dial.

And by Abu Dhabi, you were equally tied, locked at 369.5 points. It hadn't been easy after getting penalised for multiple incidents against Lewis, but you were here. Lewis was trying to get his eighth championship and you your first.

You weren't sure how this was going to end. Heck, no one could've predicted what happened that day. But all you knew was that you were not going down without a fight.

You secured pole in Abu Dhabi which had put the entirety of Mercedes and F1 on edge. After a discussion with your engineer and several strategists, you had opted for soft tyres to further your advantage over Lewis.

Despite all of that, it was Lewis who had led the first corner after those red lights had gone out. It was only by turn six did you even get a lead. But it was a moment too short as your former teammate regained his top position by going off into the damn run-off area of the track.

You didn't need to scream in annoyance. You couldn't hear Horner, but deep down you knew he had already called up Masi, demanding an investigation. Your engineer reported to you that the stewards had dismissed it. The gap between you and Lewis was getting bigger, the race was coming to and end, and you knew you needed a miracle towards the end of the race if you wanted to win.

And that miracle was called Nicholas Latifi. The poor guy had crashed into Mick and the safety car was out on the tracks. Thankfully, they were both okay, but the timing of it was simply impeccable.

You had pitted to get new soft tyres and Mercedes was on the fence about heading to the pit lane in fear of the race restarting. So Lewis didn't pit. Miracle 2.

You re-joined the track with five lapped cars in between you and Lewis. And soon enough, Race Control had given the dooming message: lapped cars were not allowed to overtake.

The taste in your mouth was bitter. You had cussed out Horner, asking why you were even seeing these lapped cars in front of you.

Then came Race Control again: only the five cars in between you and Lewis were allowed to overtake. Miracle 3.

But of course, F1 had a flair for the dramatics. Because you were fucking restarting. Putting you and Lewis on a tight show-down for the final lap.

The bad news? Lewis hadn't pitted yet.

The good news? You could overtake Lewis. Miracle 4.

And the headline? You won.

You fucking won.

You were F1's first female champion in history.

You made history... or, well, herstory?

Yes it was controversial. Yes it was dramatic. Yes, questionable decisions had been made.

But you won.

By the time you had gotten out of your car and finished with screaming and crying in pure happiness, you had finally caught a glimpse of Lewis.

A small part of you felt bad. You knew for a fact, that these decisions weren't 'human error' as the FIA would go on to claim the following year in Bahrain.

It was entertainment. It was business. It was money.

You had both worked so hard this year. But the fight between an F1 driver breaking the record for the most championship titles and the first possible female champion in F1 was too good to resist.

Things between you and Lewis after Abu Dhabi hadn't gotten worse. You just talked far less than you normally did. You barely argued with each other anymore. It was disconcerting to say the least. Especially now that you were struggling to match Max's pace, always coming second or third as per the instructions of your engineer. For a moment you thought, what was the point of winning if you weren't going to win again?

━━━━━━━━━━━

You were still determined. Beating your own teammate would be hard. But you weren't a stranger to the idea. You had spent years trying to beat Lewis while purposely being the support for him to win. They were two actions they didn't go together but it had happened.

That being said, the venture was proving to be more difficult than you anticipated. In fact, it had caused a full collision with Lewis in the first lap of the Qatar Grand Prix.

You were so focused on beating Max you hadn't taken a second to look around you.

"What the fuck was that?" Lewis' voice invaded the air as he barged into your driver's room, ridden with sweat and still in his racing gear.

"Look, I'm sorry okay. I didn't see you. It was my fault. End of story," You told him curtly, not really wanting talk to Lewis any further.

"Damn right, you didn't see me. You could've taken me or anyone out! Are you so fucking stuck up your ass that you couldn't see me?" Lewis asked incredulously.

You scoffed at his accusation. It was true. But you didn't like when the truth fell from his lips... especially not when they sounded like that.

"Lewis, drop it. No one got hurt. Let's just move on okay?" You queried, annoyance dripping from your voice.

"Why? Can't handle the truth, L/N?" He laughed gently, almost mocking you. "Right... you were always like that."

You snapped your head towards him, raising a sharp brow. "Excuse me?" You spat as if to say he was becoming dangerously close to crossing a line he did not want to cross.

Lewis folded his arms, shrugging nonchalantly. "What? You don't like the truth. It's simple. I told you that you need to be stronger because you're too soft-hearted. And you hated that. And now that I'm telling you that you're selfish, you obviously can't handle it."

"Oh my God, you are one to talk. Lewis, you are so blinded by your arrogance that you can't see anyone else win. That's why you can't accept that I won right?"

"Not Abu Dhabi, aga–"

"Yes, Lewis, Abu Dhabi again. You are so fucking sour about losing that even when the hate targeted me, you let it. You let them say that my win was due to race and gender. Me, Lewis, out of all people, me."

No matter your differences, you had stuck up for Lewis on many accounts when it came to the FIA, 'fans', and haters. But he wasn't there for you.

You could see dark expression fall onto Lewis' face. "That's not true, Y/N."

"Then what was it Lewis?" You flailed your hands in exasperation. "Because you sure as hell didn't come to my aid."

"Because you didn't deserve it!"

You blinked blankly, arms falling to your side. Your mind took a minute to process the words that had fallen from his lips in mere seconds.

Lewis' face dropped as realisation struck him. What the fuck did he just say? "Y/N, I–"

"Get out," You grumbled.

Lewis did a double-take on the fresh line of tears accumulating on your waterline. He took a step closer to you, hands reaching out. "No, no, no, Y/N, I–" But your words made him stop.

"Lewis, get the fuck out of here before I start screaming like the bitch everyone thinks I am."

You watched Lewis return his hands to the side, clenching his jaw tightly as he made way to the door of your room. He stopped briefly, hesitating to open the door, taking one last glance at you before leaving.

━━━━━━━━━━━

Four days.

You had pondered in deep thought for four days. And after 72 hours, one thing had become obvious to you.

Lewis wasn't with you or any of the other drivers. He was still in 2021, right where you had left him. Not a second had gone by for Lewis where he hadn't thought about Abu Dhabi.

What if he had just pushed for Bono and Toto to get him in that pit lane?

What if he had veered the car a little to the side and you didn't overtake him?

Lewis was still reliving the worst moment of his career and his life and everyone had moved on. Sure, every fan and commentator talked about it time to time. But it was something of the past.

To say you didn't deserve your championship title... you had heard it from several 'fans' and insignificant others. But to hear it from Lewis? It fucking killed you.

You cared about his opinion more than anyone in the world. And he knew that.

You would've never said anything as shitty as that to him or anyone for that matter.

You had worked your ass off to get to F1. Fuck, you had won F2 two fucking times because no one was willing to let a girl on their team... into a man's sport. Every driver worked hard to a certain degree. But you were a girl who didn't grow up with the means of driving yourself to your death every day. If everyone worked hard, you had worked ten times harder.

Everyone knew that you and Lewis had fought. And by the looks of it, they also knew it was far worse than your normal fights. You wouldn't look at him, you refused to speak to him, you spent minimal time in the same room, you had even paid your media fines in full to avoid everyone...

Max had even become some sort of bodyguard, telling Lewis to turn back around when he neared the Red Bull garage.

All of this protection, and yet, he had still found you in your favourite place. The one you both came to when you needed to become level-headed. The top stand of any empty Grand Prix, in this case the México Grand Prix, where the air felt a little bit cooler against your heated skin and you could think for even it was for just a second.

You sucked in a sharp breath, seeing Lewis in your periphery while you were firmly seated. He looked nervous, chewing on his bottom lip and taking cautious glances at you.

"Hey," Lewis greeted, making you raise a brow at his lame entrance.

You forced yourself to look at the rest of the empty seats in front of you. "Hey," You mumbled back, trying to swallow the bitter taste in your mouth.

An unsettling silence enveloped the both of you. You were sure Lewis was here to apologise. But you could also tell he just couldn't bring himself to do it. Not in a selfish way. But in the most guiltiest way possible.

You sighed. "How are you?" You asked gently, peeking out of the corner of your eye.

Lewis winced at your question. Leave it up to you to still be this kind after what he had said to you. "Sorry. I'm so so sorry," He rasped, voice raw with the pain that had been gnawing away at him ever since those god forbidden words had left his mouth.

You nodded slowly, taking another deep breath. "I know you're going to call me soft-hearted but what you said really fucking hurt, Lew," You jested with a brief smile.

Lewis grimaced at your poor humour, before his ears perked up at the old nickname you had given him when you first started getting on each other's nerves. "I know. I'm an idiot for saying something like that. Or that you're soft-hearted. You've worked so hard for all of this. You absolutely deserve everything and that win was only the first of many, I'm a hundred percent sure of it. Your Dutch shortie doesn't really know what's coming."

You gave him a tight-lipped smile after huffing in amusement at his diss towards Max. "Thank you," you told him earnestly. "Although, I am quite positive he is like almost ten centimetres taller than you. But, thanks anyways."

Lewis rolled his eyes. "Have you seen me? You don't think I give off tall energy?"

"You mean tall in insults?" You joked, grinning at the blank look on Lewis' face.

Lewis sighed. "I really am sorry. I didn't mean any of it. And by 'it', I mean all of the insults and fights. I was just disappointed in myself. Even more so that I didn't stand up for you. I'm so sorry."

You drew your eyebrows together, turning your body to face him. Confusion filled you. "Then why did you say it at all?"

"I–" Lewis blew out a small laugh. "Are you sure you want to know?"

"Lewis, can you not see me dying here? Like a whole kitchen set of knives in my back?" You deadpanned.

Lewis rolled his eyes again. So dramatic.

He brought his hands together, staring at you briefly before looking at the empty stand. "Well, obviously, I heard of you before you joined Mercedes. I thought it was ridiculous that you had to get two F2 championships to get a seat, but anyways, I digress. Toto told me, he was considering you even though you had never been in the junior team.

And I remember just being so fucking jealous of you. Toto was consumed by you. He and Horner had been fighting for your seat for so long and now that they finally had an open seat, it was chaos. Toto won, obviously. And then we met each other in person for the first time and I thought you were the most beautiful woman in the world."

You felt your heart begin to race and your skin heat at the sudden proclamation. "You... you what?"

Lewis smoothly glossed over the compliment. "And then we had our first quali together and you beat me. You got pole on your first race. So you were talented and beautiful. A crime, might I add.

And so when you came to tell me, you were so excited with all your talent and beauty, I was pissed. Because out of all things in the world, I had gotten an amazing competitor I was bound to feel for. I thought that by saying you were soft-hearted and all, it would get on your bad side and it would make me less attracted to you. It didn't. It got worse while it got easier to pretend to hate you."

You blinked blankly at him, cheeks aflame. Lewis Hamilton liked you. Your stupid teammate? The same one who's eighth championship you arguably took? "I'm sorry... hold up, we've been fighting for years because I'm a hot, talented, gifted, smart driver and you're a simp?"

Lewis squinted his brown eyes at you. "I did not include all those adjectives."

"I mean... that's basically what you said," You shrugged, flickering your eyes to the setting sun.

Where did all the damn cool air go? You wondered, pressing your hands to your flushed cheeks and feeling your soft palm absorb the molten lava known as your skin.

Lewis chuckled, picking up your flustered reaction quickly. He watched as you suddenly stood up. "Okay, well I'm... I'm going to meet Hugh and find a way to beat Max. See ya!"

Lewis paused, grabbing your wrist. "Wait? What? You aren't going comment about what I just said?"

You eyed his hold on your wrist: it was searing you. You turned to him, lowering your head to meet his gaze. You briefly looked down at his lips before looking back up. "I think I prefer hating you."

Lewis felt you press your lips on his cheek before walking past him. He watched your retreating figure, your kiss feeling heavy on his face, putting him right where you had left him: absolutely and utterly smitten.

#mickyschumacher #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #formula 1 #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton fanfic

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redclercs · 1 year

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DELICATE✰ CHARLES LECLERC.

viii. 'cause I know that it's delicate

— the one where he is rooting for the anti-hero.

❝𝘉𝘶𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘤𝘩. 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘢 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘺 𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘢𝘱𝘩𝘰𝘳. 𝘔𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘴.❞ —𝘉𝘦𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘊𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘴

warnings: did somebody say charles-centered chapter? third person pov, hate, mention of last chapter's panic attack, misogyny (i'm sorry!!! i'm going to let y/n have peace eventually i swear!!!) foul language, cheesy taylor swift references, 2.4k words (+articles as always!).

masterlist ✢ next

Can we stop proving Taylor Swift right for once? When she wrote 'My reputation's never been worse' back in 2017 we thought that would be the end of it. But in more recent times (2017 was AGES ago, guys, come on) the lyrics are still relevant and being applied to actress y/n y/ln's life. Her reputation truly has never been worse.

One thing is being called bad at your job. Which, okay, she is not (I am not biased, I'm just not stupid). y/n is great at being a RomCom actress, she has a stylist that sells her well and has good social media presence. Or had, since that's all gone now.

Even if she was lucky enough to really start making it in Hollywood, we can't ignore the fact that for the past two months y/n has been exposed as a really bad person. AND SHE'S LETTING IT HAPPEN!

While a lot of people in social media have come to her defense in the rejected marriage proposal topic, saying she doesn't have to say yes if she doesn't feel like it, others say it's what she 'owed' to Aidan Kim.

Sources, who are still yet to be revealed, have talked to magazines and celebrity sites about her romance with the guy she only sees as a toy. Does y/n have feelings at all? I guess Charles Leclerc didn't like what she said about him, since there were no pictures of them together at the Spanish Grand Prix. Losing your boyfriend and your reputation in the same week must hurt.

But that's not even the main issue here, why is y/n letting all of this happen right in front of her eyes? Hello, girl, speak up! Does she really have nothing to say in her defense?

People are eating her alive and what she does is post her luxurious breakfast in Monaco, Elix cans and Ferrari Special Edition merch. y/n doesn't care what is being said as long as people keep talking about her. You're going to regret this, girl. That's all I'm saying.

For now, let's say goodbye to the 'Queen of RomComs' reputation (2019-2023).

By Bridget Garcia

Matilde Bassi comes in the defense of y/n y/ln after last week's new discoveries on her breakup, a turmoil that has followed y/n for months now.

"She owes nothing to Aidan Kim. She's a self-made woman, and it's frankly disgusting how people want to give her achievements to some man." The former Broadway star said in an Instagram Live on Sunday June 4th.

After comments asked for her thoughts on the rejected engagement, Bassi didn't hold back: "y/n, just like every woman, has the right to say no. It's a proposal, not a sentence. Good for everyone who is brave enough to know what they don't want in their lives anymore."

Matilde hasn't walked away unscathed after such brave statements, people have started to crucify her on social media. Comments go from how she doesn't deserve to keep playing Juliet to how they're glad she lives in Italy now so they can't come across her on the street, Bassi is suffering similar repercussions to that of her beloved friend.

Let's remember Matilde and y/n were seen together in Europe in May, enjoying a short break in Rome before attenting the Monaco Grand Prix, where y/n went to see alleged boyfriend Charles Leclerc.

What do you think? Is Matilde Bassi right, or should she have kept her comments to herself and held on to whatever amount of love the public still had for her?

FROM CHISMETIFOSO ON TIKTOK: "THE FERRARI BOYS TALK ABOUT Y/N Y/LN" PT.1 & 2

[female voiceover in spanish]: ❝Charles went back to Monaco for the week off before Canada, and stopped to take pictures with fans like he usually does. Someone was brave enough to ask him what was up with y/n, besties, you won't expect what he said.❞

[Charles Leclerc, in english]:❝I am lucky to have a woman like y/n in my life, she's an amazing person and a great friend—[cut off]❞

[female voiceover in spanish]: ❝The Carlos video was sent by a fan that met Carlos in Spain, she also asked about y/n and Charles and Carlos assured she's loved by everyone.❞

[Carlos Sainz, in spanish]: ❝y/n is friends with everyone at Ferrari because we spent a lot of time together, I like her a lot she's fun to be around.❞

[female voiceover in spanish]: ❝Well, what do you think besties? Are our Ferrari boys on a PR stunt or do they really like certain actress that has brought nothing but drama to the table since they met her?❞

June 7th, Maranello, Italy.

Charles was already having a bad day before they told him about the PR meeting. Although it seemed impossible, this season's car got shittier every time and it made his confidence drop a little more every time he got on it and failed to drive properly. Was winning Monaco really just a lucky strike like everyone kept saying?

Spain was definitely a whole weekend to forget, not only for the shitshow that the Grand Prix had been. He couldn't stop thinking about y/n's panic attack and the way she had cried in his arms that same night.

Charles is not oblivious to everything that is happening around her, and how it did seem to get worse every time. When he first met her, he didn't think it would get to this point where people who didn't even know her would inflict torture and mental abuse on her all day every single day. And although Charles has been through a fair amount of online bullying as a professional athlete and public figure, it's not in the same way that what y/n is being subjected to right now.

"Are you listening, Charles?" the Ferrari PR manager asks, tapping her fingers in front of him, a few drops of coffee jump from his red styrofoam cup and into the white surface.

He nods, uninterested. Charles couldn't care less about whatever the Elix guys have to say. He sees the way the worst of them, Stuart Schaffer, looks at y/n. Lascivious, filthy. Charles has thought about punching him more times than he would like to admit.

There was a whole presentation on how Ferrari is being perceived by fans all over the world right now, touching on several points starting with Carlos and him, the last three races and finally, the people that surround Ferrari.

"Elix is experiencing a drop in sales, and we believe this to be due to a certain public figure that has been seen around the Paddock..." the Elix representative is saying, pointing at a graph that ends at the bottom of the page.

"Maybe it's just that your drink is shit," Charles' mouth is quicker than his brain, and he knows he's completely fucked himself over by the gasps that run through the table. Except for Carlos, Carlos has to hide his laugh with a cough. "I don't know."

The only reason he drank it so often, even when cameras were off, was because he didn't know what to do with his hands when talking to y/n.

"Charles!" the PR manager hisses. There have been several times in which he has earned that hawk-like look from her, but it still fazes him.

Yet, he doesn't back down.

"If you were going to talk about y/n and blame her for whatever disaster is happening with your company, you should have at least asked her to come. Talking behind her back is low."

y/n's absence didn't surprise him, she was back in L.A. first thing Monday. And although he's glad she's not here to listen to these bunch of assholes blaming her for their mistakes, he wishes she was just to see her, to make sure she'll be okay.

His name is passed through the table again in hisses and warnings, and finally he lets go.

"This is your fault too, kid," Stuart Schaffer has his hand in a fist on top of the table, red blotches coloring his face and neck.

Charles loathes the word kid coming out of his mouth. Him and y/n are of similar age, and she's not a 'kid' in his eyes.

"If you weren't fucking that bitch while she had a boyfriend, this wouldn't be happening."

His ears are ringing and he knows it's his face now that's tinted red.

"Get out, please Charles," the manager intervenes before another word can come out of his mouth, or worse, before he reaches Stuart Schaffer with his hands. "Now."

Charles' veins feel on fire as he gets up from his seat and walks out of the conference room. Biting the tip of his tongue so as not to curse Stuart in every single language he knows.

Carlos makes eye contact with him as Charles closes the see-through door and shakes his head. 'They're going to give you so much shit,' his eyes say. And he's right.

The meeting takes an hour more and he's in one of the offices, buzzed with caffeine and bored out of his mind. He has, regretfully, scrolled down the hell that is Twitter. He's even more pissed off than before, and the caffeine is making him desperate to get out of his seat.

“How bad is it?” Charles asks when Carlos crosses the door.

“A little bad,” Carlos isn’t stressed, he even smiles. “For you mostly. But looking at the bright side, no more Elix.”

No more Elix also means no more money from them. Which won’t make a difference, he thinks.

“Thank God,” Charles lets his head fall down the back of the couch. His nape hurts.

“It also means no more y/n,” Carlos’ tone has changed and he’s looking at Charles with that puzzled look that means he wants Charles to expand on his thoughts.

“She can still come if she wants to,” Charles replies, still feigning tranquility. “I’ll give her a pass.”

And he really hopes y/n wants to. Because all he's done lately every time he goes back to the Ferrari Suite during race weekends is look for her around the room, hoping that she'll be looking at him already. It’s like pieces fall into place when it does. He knows he'll miss her if she's not there anymore.

"Yeah, me too," Carlos plops down on the couch next to him, putting his hands behind his neck. "Do you think she's okay?"

Charles shrugs, an impassive gesture that doesn't reflect the turmoil inside his brain and heart. He is worried about her, and has been for a while. "I'm sure she is, she's back in Los Angeles." They have texted often since he left right after the Grand Prix, but it isn't the same as hearing her voice tell him it's alright.

Carlos stares at him for a few seconds more, thinking his next words through. It's not like he doesn't notice the way Charles looks at y/n every time they're in the same room, he also isn't ignorant to the get-together they shared in Monaco—the one Charles shared zero details about—or what happened in Spain when neither made it to dinner.

But he wonders if Charles is aware of how hard he is falling and what kind of a mess he's getting into.

Carlos likes y/n too, although it took them some time to become acquainted. y/n knows how to throw the exact words at him to tease him, she's brilliant, and when people aren't putting her down, her good mood is contagious. She's like sunshine coming through the curtains on a warm morning.

Yet, it's obvious he'll feel more protective over Charles. He knows it's a mistake to spend so much time on social media, not only looking at what people say about himself, but about Charles and y/n, the cruel lies and twisted truths. He has thought about asking Charles whether he's really aware of the way things look to the outsiders, or how they're tearing him down too.

"What is it?" Charles asks, frowning.

Carlos shakes his head. It's not his place to say anything about his infatuation, if that's what this is. "Why don't you give her a call?"

"Yes, I might." Charles nods absently, looking at his lock screen. Pierre has sent him another link to more news about how he's a homewrecker. Pierre calls him 'loverboy' and makes fun of every new article that comes out about y/n and him. Charles hasn't found it entertaining once.

"Charles," the PR manager doesn't have to raise her voice in the silence of the room. "Come here, right now. Please."

"Told you," Carlos mutters, crossing his legs.

Charles groans and gets up. A reprimand isn't the end of the world when his car gets progressively shittier and luck left him a while ago.

And when he's not sure of when he'll see y/n again.

Charles knows he doesn't need to 'fight' in the name of y/n, or that she even would like him to. She warned him weeks ago that he shouldn't get into the nightmare that this situation is. But he'll be damned if he's going to continue letting people put her down at his expense.

y/n is not a damsel in distress, he knows. And standing up for her doesn't make him a knight in shining armor. It makes him a decent human being and a good friend.

Charles thinks really hard about this, way often. Is it okay that his friend makes his heartbeat quicken every time they're together? He feels like a teenager again, with butterflies flying around his stomach when he thinks about her. Not to mention the fact that he's tried to flirt with her several times, to no avail.

There are many things in the world that Charles wishes he could change. His luck, to begin with. But he really wishes things were different when it comes to y/n. He wants her to have peace, he wishes she'd never had to deal with panic attacks or anxiety induced by hate. He wishes they'd met in another time, when things weren't so fragile and the world could stay away from them, and wherever he knows he wants things with her to go.

And he wishes he knew if he's brave enough to deal with all of it.

"Hello?"

The wave of emotion hits him from head to toe and it takes him a moment to catch his breath. He's worse than a teenager, he knows. Charles has never acted this way before, and it makes him vulnerable in a way he doesn't completely dislike, but isn't comfortable with either.

"Hello y/n," he says, after clearing his throat. "I was um– I was just thinking about you."

There is a pause on the other side of the line and Charles looks at the clock on his nightstand. He did the math to figure out the timezones three times, yet he does it again.

"Hi Charles," her voice comes after a sigh of relief, "Were you?"

"Uh– yeah, I– I just wanted to know how you're doing."

Another prolonged silence and Charles adds: "Is that okay?"

y/n chuckles, "Of course it's okay."

"So, how are you?" Charles continues, anxiously pacing around the room. He wants to ask the right questions. "How's L.A.?" maybe that's not one of them.

"Well, it's Lalaland, what can you expect?" there is movement in the background and then a door shuts. "How's Maranello?"

"Well..." Charles isn't sure if Elix has called her already and he doesn't want to be the one to break the news. "The usual. Praying for improvement every week."

"That's something we have in common," y/n's chuckle comes without humor this time. "But I'm going back to New York in a few days, so that's something to look forward to."

Charles smiles. "Do you need any help with moving?"

"Are you flying from Italy to help me move back to New York?" y/n laughs and her genuineness is back.

"I could, if you needed me to."

He has never felt more awkward in his life, or giddier.

"Thank you, Charles. But I have two suitcases with me, I can handle it like a big girl."

It's Charles' turn to laugh, he has stopped pacing. “Just let me know if you need me, y/n.”

“I think I will.” y/n says, and after some consideration: “Can you stay with me on the phone? Just for a little while.”

And Charles is embarrassingly willing to drop everything and stay on the phone for as long as she needs to.

“Yes, sure,” he replies instead, “What do you want to talk about?”

And they talk about everything and nothing. Silly commercials, pet-peeves about airports, favorite colors and long forgotten songs. It takes more than a little while, but neither care about how much time has passed.

It’s not mental gymnastics realizing he likes her. Likes her, likes her. He feels like he’s inside one of her RomComs; already pining for her. What would the name be? Something cheesy and catchy, like 'Racing Hearts'. He likes it. And hates it, too.

“Y/n?”

“Yeah?” She interrupts her story about the nightmare that Paris was when filming Parisian Valentine, not minding cutting her story short.

Regret comes immediately because he doesn’t know how to fill the silence now, not with the words he wants to say.

That he knows how delicate things are right now. That he likes her for who she has shown him to be and how he is impatient to know even more about her. But he knows he’s probably going to scare her away if those silly words actually come out of his mouth.

“I like talking to you,” Charles says instead. The caffeine hasn't left his system, but he knows the new buzz comes from something else.

“But?” Y/n prompts, he can hear the change in her tone.

“No buts. I like it, I like you.”

“I like you too, Charles.” She says softly, and he pictures the small smile on her face. The one she saves for the times she's one hundred percent comfortable, like when they were at the lake in Monaco.

“And I want you to be okay,”

y/n lets out a shaky breath that makes the microphone crackle. “We are okay, though, aren’t we?” She’s thinking about the tabloids again.

“We are okay. We’ve been on the phone for two hours,” he laughs, and, regretfully, lets out a yawn before he can help it.

“Get some rest, Charlie,” y/n lowers her voice too. “Thank you for staying with me.”

The endearment, although common when people try to be cute to him, sends another wave of giddiness through his body.

"Anytime," he doesn't fight her goodbye because it's a lost cause, especially after he let on his tiredness. "I mean it."

"Thank you," she repeats, "You're a good friend."

Charles smiles, that's enough for now, more than enough for now.

"See you soon, y/n." Charles assures, a smile on his face.

"Goodnight Charlie."

─── team principal radio: ❝thank you for reading! are we loving charles or not? thank you to everyone who lets me know their thoughts and interpretations of Delicate, it's incredibly motivating for me to keep writing and it makes me super happy! if you're a ghost reader, i also appreciate you, but don't be shy to interact♡❞

✰ paddock club members: @sassyheroneckgiant @flowerchild-96 @fangirlika @shegotboreddsoo @roseamongthorns13 @cissyp @chimchimjiminie16 @saturnsrinqs @roni-midnights @gayyvodka6 @studioreader @its-ash-not-grey @lu-morningstar-2 @ferraribabe @reidsworld @feelslikestrawberries @celestialams @kosmosgalore @heeseung-baby @missenclod @buendiabebeta @mycenterfold @aces-tattooartist @burningrred @you-bleed-just-toknowyouarealive @rainybabe25 @ru-kru @lazybot @teenagedreams-cl @cool-ultra-nerd @kuskumu @formulakay3 @bisexual-desi @somanyfandomsbruh @icarus-nex @haziefairy @xjval @xoxoloverb @sainzleclercs @headinthecloudssblog @incoherenciass @bookophiliac @torrie421 @nooshytushie @azxula @steephanie07 @anonymous8462 @tbisloneely @pukklv @bn7921 @be-your-coffee-pot @fdl305 @lovely-blackinnon @landonorrizzz @ruleroftheuniverse @ivegotparticulartaste

want to join the paddock club? click here!

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 imagines #f1 x reader #formula 1 imagines #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 x reader #f1 x y/n #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x you #f1 x you #cl16 fanfic #cl16 x reader #cl16 imagine

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5ueckers · 4 months

Text

you belong with me — teaser

a/n : i wanted to have this finished by today but 😢 here's a lil snippet instead! for context, this specific part takes place in july of 2019, before the start of p's senior year of high school, and reader is her best friend and teammate. happy valentine's! 💕

paige doesn’t get what you see in him.

for one, he’s really not that cute, contrary to what all your other friends believe— there are a million five–foot–ten boys with curly blond hair and green eyes in the world, and you’re pretty enough to have any one of them that you want. for two, he’s so boring. he’s always got you holed up at his ridiculously large house doing something lame, when you could be with her, actually having fun. and lastly, he’s not even that good of a boyfriend. sure, he takes you out on dates and drives you around in his stupid car and surprises you with flowers and gifts, but those are all things she’s done for you and she’s only your friend. it’s the bare minimum, and you deserve a lot better than that; you deserve the world.

she thinks she might actually be sick, watching him tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear and smile at you, leaning in for a kiss. his face is actually so gross, she gags.

“stop, leave her be,” azzi’s voice comes with a little laugh as her hand closes around paige’s forearm, tugging playfully, but the blonde still struggles to tear her eyes away. “paige.”

“they’re disgusting,” paige gripes as she finally looks away, taking a sip of her dr. pepper, not even bothering with her burger and fries anymore. witnessing that interaction ruined her appetite.

“they’re in love,” azzi teases, dragging out the ‘o’, and paige grumbles around her straw, eyes rolling dismissively.

you aren’t in love with him. yeah, it’s been three months since you officially started dating, but paige actually knows you; you’ve liked plenty of guys since she met you in seventh grade, and none of them have ever really meant anything. soon enough, you’ll get bored of him, just like all the others, and it’ll go back to just being you and her again, like it should be.

hopefully, that’s before the season starts in november. she doesn’t want to have to see you with him at homecoming, or even worse, at one of your games— she’d really be revolted, then.

“no, i agree with p,” kayhla chimes in on the conversation. “get a room!” she shouts, hands cupped around her mouth to accentuate the sound, earning the attention of you, him, and everyone else in the wendy’s.

your eyes get all wide and your cheeks tinge red, and the table erupts into giggles at your embarrassed reaction. you step away from him, finally, and turn back to the counter, smiling politely at the cashier as she slides a tray of chocolate and vanilla frosties toward you, and another toward him. paige can’t help but feel a bit smug when you return to the table and reclaim your seat next to her— it’s an end–seat, so he has to sit across from you both. she casually stretches her arm out over your shoulders, and shoves a spoonful of chocolate frosty into her mouth with her free hand.

“you guys are mean,” you say, reaching out for one of her abandoned fries. you don’t do anything about her arm.

“don’t be a freak, then,” paige replies, and you jab her in the side with your elbow, which only makes her laugh harder.

“oh, you have no right to be calling anyone a freak,” you retort playfully. “don’t make me bring up last summer—”

“woah, nah, okay! okay, you win!”

paige throws up her hands in surrender, and everyone at the table laughs again— everyone, except for him. you, on the other hand, laugh especially hard. she can’t lie, it’s vindicating knowing there are parts of you that he hasn’t yet breached, that she can make you laugh this hard and he has no clue why.

that she actually knows you. unlike him, paige isn’t temporary. you’ll get bored of him, and things will go back to being the way they’re supposed to be.

just you and her.

#fic : you belong with me.#paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers #wlw #uconn wbb #lowkey girls like girls by hayley kiyoko coded too now that i think abt it #alsoooo the ended of this passage is subject to change cause i don’t like itttt

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 2 months

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AITA for not walking my dog with my neighbor anymore?

I (20sNB) graduated from my masters program in 2019 and moved back home with my parents. It was meant to be temporary, but before I could save up enough to move out, the pandemic hit. I ended up living with my parents until late 2022. During that time I was responsible for walking our dog. I ended up meeting and connecting with a handful of other dog owners in the neighborhod and we would walk our dogs together and let them play together at a local dog park.

One of these dog owners, C (70sF) turned out to live right around the corner from me, so we started walking our dogs together very often. Her dog has always been a bit domineering, and my dog has always been a bit submissive. But for a long time they played together very nicely. They would run and chase each other and play with the toys we brought to the park for them. Sometimes they would play fight, but I could always tell from my dog’s body language that she was having fun, and wasn’t actually feeling threatened or scared.

Of course, C and I also ended up bonding. She’s a retired kindergarten teacher, and she’s very, very nice and kind, and I would consider her a friend. We now exchange baked goods on holidays and she sends me birthday and christmas cards now that I don’t live down the street from her. And since I moved out, whenever I came to my parents’ house to visit, I would call her up so we could walk the dogs together and catch up.

However, a few months ago, while my mom was walking our dog at the dog park, a different, even worse behaved dog, attacked and bit her. This attack was bad enough to draw blood, and my mom had to take her to the vet and get her on antibiotics and everything to make sure it didn’t get infected. Plus, the dog we had before this one, got sick and almost died because of a bite from an unvaccinated dog, so this was pretty scary for us. But it ended up being okay. No infections and the wounded healed well. But ever since then, our dog, who previously was very social and good with other dogs (we took her to obedience school as a puppy, so she was socialized very early on) has become much more nervous around other dogs, especially new dogs.

We’re trying really hard to resocialize her, and she’s slowly getting better. She still sometimes growls at new dogs, though. Which brings us back to my neighbor and her dog. Her dog is poorly socialized, and growls and barks at other dogs. I know my neighbor tries her best to fix her dog’s behavioral issues and has even worked with specialized dog trainers to no avail. But I’ve noticed that my dog is much more likely to growl at other dogs when we walk with C and her dog, because C’s dog growls. Not only that, but I’ve noticed that when they play together, my dog doesn’t enjoy it anymore. Now, her body language does read as threatened and afraid when C’s dog play fights (C’s dog is a boxer, which means she loves to play fight.)

So, I’ve started not calling C when I’m in town. I feel guilty about it because I really like C and avoiding her feels like a shitty thing to do. I feel like I'm basically ghosting her. But I know if I reach out to her, she’ll bring up walking the dogs together. Walking the dogs is the entire basis of our friendship and the only reason we spend time together, so I can hardly tell her I don’t want to do that anymore.

AITA? I just want to take care of my dog, and right now walking with C is not only causing my dog unnecessary stress, it’s re-enforcing bad habits that I am trying really hard to break.

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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schizoprophet · 9 months

Text

It is not a secret about me that one of the things I like to do is read stories in the Bible and get sad about it. That's like, that's been a pastime of mine since I was a child. Let me find the story that really makes me feel sad for the person in the story who I can't help because one, they've been dead for years if they ever existed in the first place. And two, if you're reading a story to try and help the people in the story, then you have approached the whole thing from the wrong end. Because you can't, that's the thing you cannot really do except to choose your own adventure books. And the Bible is not one of those. So one of the best stories to read if you like to read the Bible and make yourself feel sad for the people in it is the story of The Last Supper. Jesus Christ gets a bunch of his friends together, right? And then let's take the Jesus part off just as a person. You get a bunch of your friends together, right? And you have dinner, this big old dinner, you know, some bread and whatever, some wine and it's cool to be with your friends. It's fun, it's a good feeling, you know. And then you just get a vibe, there's a very, very, very specific vibe that you get. Right. And these are your friends so you can speak your mind around them. You can tell them how you feel and you say, you know, one of you is gonna sell me out. I just know it. You've - you've had some wine at this point. So you know, you can say that. Your friends will not judge you for speaking what's in your heart at this moment, and some of them are also, they've had a couple of glasses of wine themselves. They immediately go God, no, you are my friend. I would never, I would never, man. I want you to know person to person tonight. I will never sell you out. You, we've meant a lot to each other over the past couple of years and I will not sell you out man. And Jesus is like, OK, it's all good, you know, and they all do this. And one of 'em doesn't say shit. And he knows and he knows they both know and the one who's gonna do it feels worse than the one who's gonna suffer for it. Because he sort of knows I'm gonna do this thing. I guess I am. I don't want to. These are my friends, they're all gonna hate me. And in one version of the four gospels, Judas, uh, having sold Christ out, who normally then gets arrested and murdered by the state. Right? Um, in one version of the gospel Judas immediately goes and hangs himself. I've always - when I was a child I was like, oh, man. I mean, I understand that it'd probably be a tough one to live down in Jerusalem if you're the guy who killed Jesus. But, I mean, you know, that seems like kind of an extreme. This song is called cry for Judas.

-- John Darnielle about Cry for Judas, Tivoli de Helling on 2019-11-14

#tmg #tmgbanter #tmg banter #the mountain goats #cry for judas #there is not a day on this earth i don't miss @tmgbanter #chatterchirping

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thenewausten · 3 months

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Quackity Imagine: It's not too late. Part 1: "You don't change, do you?"

"Y/N?"

When you dated Quackity in 2018 and when you broke up one year later, in 2019, you didn't want to nor expect to see him ever again. Like, never. But for some reason, to make your night even worse, maybe, he's in front of you right 'fuckin now. "Oh, God." You whisper. He's different. More handsome, for sure. His hair is bigger, he's healthier and seems to be happier aswell. Well, good for him. You're terrible. "Are you okay? What happened?" He asks as he sees your blurred makeup (we can say you've been crying in the bathroom). "I'm fine." He approaches you a little and you move away. "Hey, it's okay. I don't bite." He says and you roll your eyes. "Do you still hate me, Y/N?" Alex seems to be chocked when you don't answer. "Really?"

"Really, what? I mentioned you to my therapist last week, I wasn't expecting to see you ever again." You say, a little irritated. "I'm sorry, okay?" You sniff your nose and wipe your tears. "Can I help you somehow?" Alex asks, approaching you again. "You can leave and promise you won't talk to me again."

"I can't do that, Y/N." He answers. "Why not? It was very easy for you to get out of my life in 2019." You, Alex and even the fly in the air heard the bitterness in your voice.

"I'm sorry, we can talk about it later, but I won't let you here in this state." He says. "Please, Y/N."

"Fine." You say, angry. "Can you take me to a calm place, please?" You ask him and he nods.

You follow Alex to the exit of the party. Shit, when you bought your beautiful green dress you didn't know it would end with you getting in the car of your ex-boyfriend.

"Can I drive to the beach?" He asks and you nod, quietly and, of course, crying. "There's a box of wet wipes in the glove compartment if you want to use them."

"My makeup isn't that bad." You say and he laughs a little. "Yes, it's." You roll your eyes and open the glove compartment. "Do you have a girlfriend?" You ask. "No, you?"

"I was engaged but my boyfriend broke up with me that night, so..." You shrug. "What an asshole." He whispers. "You did the same, shut up." You say and Alex ignores you, instead, he asks: "Why did he break up, Y/N?"

"I think he got tired of cheating on me." You said and Alex sighed. "Well, at least I never cheated on you." He jokes and you roll your eyes. "Fuck you, Alex."

"Sorry." He says. "I actually want to drink so badly." You whisper. "I can buy some wine and then we can go to the beach, what do you think?"

"It seems like our old dates." You mumble and he laughs. "Shit, that's true."

"You don't change, do you?" Alex opens his mouth to answer but then closes it again, and then, says: "Well, I can say that if I took a girl out on a date nowadays, it wouldn't be on a beach to drink wine." He says. "What? Did you get rich?!" You ask with a ironic smirk on your face. "No, but I have better conditions and more sense." You laugh. "That's new."

"Oh, shut up." He laughs. "I'm a different man, Y/N."

"I believe in you, Alex. You're probably worse than before."

"Jesus Christ." He mumbles and stop his car in front of a supermarket. "I'm going to buy the wine, do you want something else?" He starts to get out of his car. "Can you buy me a chocolate bar, cheetos and a pair of slippers?"

"Whatever you want, princess." He says, you roll your eyes and watch Alex approaches even more of the supermarket. Damn, you felt terrible. Your groom was cheating on you and broke up with you and now you're with your ex boyfriend which you never got over. You were willing to move on, you always were, but you never did. You even got engaged and still couldn't get over Alex completely. You start to cry again, now because of him. Why your 'fuckin brain, heart and stomach couldn't understand he's not yours and will never be?! Not again?

You had Alex for a fraction of time and it was enough to want him forever. What a joke you were.

You wipe your tears as you see him coming back, he opens the car and gives you the bag. "How much do I owe you?" You ask. "Don't worry." He says. "Good, I don't have any money with me." He laughs. "Thank you, by the way."

"Oh, so you know how to say it, uh?" He starts to drive again and you smile a little as you open the bag and see your favourite chocolate bar. "My favourite. You remembered." He nods. "I used to buy it to you every month, how could I forget?" You smile again and grabs the slippers. Your number. "You have a good memory."

"Yes, I have." He stops and you see you're already on the beach. Alex takes the bag on your lap with an "excuse me" and opens his door. While you take off your heels to put on your slippers, he opens the door for you to leave.

"I have a towel here, wait." He opens his car and grabs the towel. A Mexico flag. You giggle a little and then follow him to the beach, he puts the towel on the sand and sits in it, you do the same. "Here." He gives you the wine and you open it. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"My therapist will lose her mind when I tell her what happened." You whisper and he laughs. "I'm serious. 'Oh, yeah, my groom was cheating on me and then he broke up with me, then I saw my first boyfriend... Yeah, that one you made me block in every social media! And then we went to the beach so we could talk.' She'll die."

"What? Did you block me in every social media?" He asks, confused. "Uhum." You drink the wine while Alex's still in silence. "That's why I couldn't find you on Instagram." He whispers. "Did you try to? Why?" You're the one confused right now. "I just... I wanted to see how you were, I guess."

"You're seeing now, I'm a piece of shit." You answer, drinking again. "You look good, actually." He says and you roll your eyes. The last piece of your heart is gone and it's Alex's fault. "So, what do you do?" He asks. "I have a Coffe Shop with a friend and a Flower Shop with my mom." You answer him. "That's so cool. How's your mom?"

"She's good." You answer. "Can you take me to my house? I want to cry so badly right now."

"Sure, but... I mean, is it good to be by yourself right now?" It's better than be with you, you thought. "I live with my friend. She's actually my best friend."

"Okay." He gets up and helps you to, he opens the door of his car for you and then enters on the other side. "Can you pass me your address?" You nod, telling you his address and watching put it on GPS. The drive to your house is a bit silently, when Alex stops in front of a cute house with a beautiful garden, you look at him."Yeah, it wasn't that bad to see you. Thanks for the ride." You start to open the door to get out but Alex holds your arm. "Wait, please." He says as you look at his face. "Can I see you again?"

"What? Why?" You ask him, so chocked you almost screamed. You expected to never see him again after this night. "Because I want to talk about what happened."

"The past is the past, Alex. It stays behind." You say. Oh, fuck you, you couldn't even forget him, what was you saying?! "Really, Y/N?" He's ironic in his words and you sigh. "I don't want you to pass your whole life hating me and don't living in peace with yourself." You didn't know what to say, but you nod. "Okay, I'll pass you my number." You say, automatically. Alex gives you his phone so you can put your number there. "Thanks."

"Goodbye, Alex."

"See you soon, Y/N."

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoy the writing! :)

Requests are open!

#quackity #qsmp #qsmp brazil #quackity imagines #quackity x reader #alex quackity #quackity imagine #quackity x y/n #quackity x you #quackityhq #qsmp brasil #quackity fluff #quackity fanfic #quackity headcannons #quackity qsmp

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drivestraight · 2 months

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Obv no pressure!!!!!!!!! And sorry if it comes off that way ❤️❤️ I was just wondering if u would ever consider posting the 4fic?? Just on tumblr even

i keep forgetting OMG but here is part 1 (4.2k)

THE SET-UP

They don’t do this very often anymore. Hang out, just the four of them.

George, Alex, Lando, and Charles.

To get closer to the truth, it’s not like the four of them ever properly hung out at any point in time, in the strictest sense of the phrase. They’d stream together on Twitch during COVID, yes, and they get on well in the paddock. But that doesn’t exactly count, when George thinks about it. Not even in 2019 did the four of them ever really hang out willingly, outside of work, not even just George, Alex, and Lando, no matter how much media they were shoved into together throughout the year. These past four years, they’ve just all been too busy. Besides, Charles and Lando have their own friend circles. Charles prefers his hometown Monegasque friends. Lando has Max F and Max V and Martin G and Daniel R and Quadrant and—whatever the fuck ever, really.

George and Alex, well. Different case. Not the point.

Even closer to the truth: they had more time and less fame before Formula 1, and they would hang out outside of races. Underage pub crawls, house parties with friends from secondary, even during their F2 season. Which George won, by the way.

So.

Formula 2.

George, Alex, and Lando were close back then despite being competitors. They were the weirdos. No one liked Lando because his dad was rich and bought him a spot in McLaren’s junior academy; no one liked Alex because he was a Red Bull junior and Asian, but not Asian enough; and no one liked George because—he was George.

Jokes on everyone else. They were the winners. They’re the ones who made it to F1.

All this to say: the three of them were close back then, but they’re not as close anymore. Still, good times. They had many good times.

One memory George holds quite dear to his heart is Alex accidentally knocking Lando into a bush that George puked on. Yes, George is quite fond of that night.

But then, that three-way friendship didn’t exactly include Charles at all. All of them were friends and friendly with Charles even in karting, but those days, Charles wasn’t exactly part of their little group. It was just George and Alex and Lando. Or George and Alex.

Which is probably why they’re here, in Charles’ teeny tiny flat.

They were in Spa, the four of them chatting before free practice. Alex had offhandedly asked why they haven’t gone on their little drunken adventures like they used to. Then, Charles made a shocked noise, small and offended, and demanded to be included.

Demanded is probably a strong word. His eyes went wide and curious. He tilted his head to the side and pouted at Alex, then Alex spluttered and said, Of course, you should come!

As if they had tangible plans.

However, they ended up making plans, and it was a miracle that they all had a weekend free in Monaco before Alex fucked off with Lily to Majorca.

And it’s not like George doesn’t like Charles.

He likes Charles a lot, actually.

It’s just, sometimes—

All the time.

It’s hard to tell what his humor is. George’ll say something, try to crack a joke, and Charles will look at him with these big, round, open eyes. Not understanding, or worse, understanding, and choosing not to play along.

Not in a, like, malicious way. But in a why did you say that? sort of way. Which is probably worse. He’s always very nice about it, very earnest. But his sincerity knocks George off-guard. Sometimes, George wishes Charles was more like Alex, laughing at everything and playing everything off like a joke just to maintain an ounce of control. Twist things the way he wants them to be twisted.

Right, yes. Charles.

It’s easier with him online. Voice chat. That way, George doesn’t have to see his microexpressions and feel self-conscious, analyzing each of their conversations.

Charles has a very expressive face.

Alex gets on with him a lot better.

He makes Charles laugh, a lot. A lot. And while George has made Charles laugh plenty of times, it’s never actually been on purpose. It is more like—George saying something unintentionally funny, and Charles slowly bursting into giggles, or Lando and Alex making George the butt of the joke and Charles laughing along just because he wants to fit in.

Ah. George needs to be more charitable.

Returning to Charles’ teeny tiny flat:

They’ve just gotten back from Jimmy’z. Honestly, George was having a great time: Alex was all giggly on his shoulder sipping on a fruity cocktail and Lando had been up by the DJ stage and Charles was off at the bar chatting with some girl. But then Charles sprinted to them and tugged on George’s arm and said, We need to leave.

So they left.

They found Lando first, of course, floundering as he tried to get this girl’s number. They dragged him out of the club, the four of them squeezed into an Uber, tried to be as polite as possible to the driver, and here they are now:

Charles’ teeny tiny flat. On the floor circled around the coffee table in the sitting room. Lando took the couch because—of course he did.

“So?” Lando demands, frowning. His cheeks are flushed, his curls a mess. “Why’d we leave? I thought the point was to get pissed, and I’m not even.”

George would disagree. But, well.

Charles huffs and crosses his arms over his chest. “I saw someone that I did not want to talk to.”

Alex snorts. He flushes this lovely color of pink whenever he’s drunk, George has noticed. Quite lovely. Very lovely. “Who? An ex-girlfriend?”

Charles kicks lightly at Alex’s thigh. They’re deep into summer, hot, sticky. Alex is wearing these little shorts. Not so little, really, but right now, George can see the meat of his underthigh, muscle hidden.

“Ex-boyfriend,” Charles corrects.

Alex dyed his hair to this auburn shade of brown the other month. George likes it better, like this, if he’s being honest. Obviously, Alex looked amazing as a blond—Alex looks amazing no matter what, but he looks softer like this, not a blond bombshell, alien and out of reach, grabbing everyone’s attention. Instead, just George’s best friend.

“Which one?” Alex asks, propped up on his hands, flat to the ground behind him. His shin hairs tickle George’s. Under the table, George only now realizes, they’re touching.

“Jean,” Charles answers.

“Oh,” Alex says, brows furrowing. Overdramatic. Alex likes being dramatic like that. He looks a little goofy right now. Silly, maybe. “I never liked that guy.”

Charles sighs. “It has been a while, but our breakup was…” He turns to Alex. “How do you say it…”

“A shit show?” Alex supplies, grinning warmly. George feels so warm.

Charles laughs, shoulders coming up to his ears. “Yes, a shit show,” he repeats, the syllables odd and unfamiliar on his tongue, mouth curling emphatically. “He—”

He.

Charles keeps talking.

But George:

“Wait, wait, wait. Your what?”

Charles turns his head to George. Blinks. Slowly. Tilts his head to the side. Confused.

“My ex-boyfriend,” he repeats, like this isn’t earth-shattering information.

George gawks. Mouth open. Jaw unhinged. Eyes bug-wide. The full mile. He glances over at Alex, who looks just as confused as Charles, then Lando, who’s looking down at his phone, disinterested.

Charles blinks again, seeming to understand George’s confusion. “Oh, you don’t…?”

“I don’t what?” George snaps, feeling like he’s just had the rug pulled out from under him. Feeling like the odd one out. For the first time in their little quartet, George feels like the outsider.

“I am gay, George,” Charles deadpans. “Did I never tell you this?”

“Uh,” George says, wincing at how his voice cracks, “no?”

“Oh,” Charles replies, blinking. His mouth parts into a small circle. He bats his eyelashes, demure, and George feels something ugly twist in his belly. “Well. Sorry, I think I forgot.”

George suddenly feels very sober.

“But you—your girlfriend—”

Charles shrugs. “She is a good friend. It is always good to have a public girlfriend.”

Well. This explains a lot.

“Lando,” George starts, head whipping toward him, “did you—?”

“Mmh. I didn’t like Jean either,” Lando replies, still not looking up from his phone.

George makes a noise. “How do you guys know this Jean?”

Alex snorts and rolls his eyes. “George, you know Jean. F2?”

Jean. Jean Jean Jean. George thinks and thinks and—

“Oh,” George says, Jean’s face materializing in his head. George never really talked to him; they ran in different circles and drove for different teams, but George vaguely remembers narrowly missing out on a win because Jean wouldn’t get out of the fucking way when George was trying to lap him. He lost the win by three seconds. To Lando. That’s about all he remembers of the guy. “Wow.”

Charles… dated him.

Suddenly self-conscious about how he’s coming off about this whole thing, George stumbles to clarify, “I mean, mate, obviously I don’t care. It’s not a problem. Like, of course I don’t have a problem, I’m just shocked, mate. I would’ve—”

“Oh, calm down, George,” Alex says, grinning beatifically. “Yes, yes. You’re an ally. You’re teammates with Lewis Hamilton. Love is love. We know. You don’t need to give us a little speech.”

“Sod off,” George mutters, kicking Alex under the table. “Why did no one tell me this?”

“Not my fault you have a stick up your arse when it comes to sex,” Alex jibes, kicking George back. “I think talking about gay sex would’ve given you a heart attack.”

George huffs, cheeks warming. Like, fine. George is self-aware enough to know that he gets a bit dodgy when it comes to sex. But that’s the way he thinks it should be, anyway. “Doesn’t have to be about gay sex, does it?”

“You should try it,” Alex says. “It’s fun. Quite different.”

Charles hums carefully, eyes big and curious, assessing. George feels like he’s being taken apart. “Yes, George. I think it would loosen you up,” Charles says, too sincerely.

From the couch, Lando snickers, chewing on his hoodie drawstring.

Charles frowns and glares at him. “What?”

Ah. Charles hadn’t even caught the double entendre.

Wait.

His head whips to Alex. “You have?” Had sex. With a man. George can’t get any of the words out.

“Oh, c’mon,” Alex says, easy and casual like George’s whole world isn’t falling apart. “You know I like blokes.”

Well, sure. George did know that. He knows everything about Alex. Alex is his best mate, after all. But Alex’s sexuality was an irrelevant, inconsequential little fact that George’d merely hold in the back of his mind. His best mate happened to be bisexual. That didn’t change anything.

“Yeah, I guess,” George admits, “but—Lily?”

“Again,” Alex says, “you know we have an open relationship.”

George laughs nervously. Yes, right. He’d forgotten about that.

He’d honestly—

He doesn’t know. He hadn’t actually thought Alex and Lily were acting on that.

“You’ve never thought about it?” Alex asks. “A little hanky-panky with the lads? Never?”

George chokes. “The lads? Plural?”

Alex waves his hand. “Hyperbole.”

Lando, hoodie drawstring still in his mouth, asks, “What’s that?”

“What’s what?”

“Hyperbowl,” Lando butchers. George isn’t sure how he made it past primary.

“Like,” Alex says, “when you tell your girls on Raya you have an eight inch dick. Hyperbole.”

The drawstring falls out of Lando’s mouth. He sits straight up, inflamed. “I do not tell them I have a—”

“Lando, you have an eight inch dick?” Charles asks, suddenly very interested in the conversation.

Alex snickers. “The point is that he doesn’t.”

Tomato-red, Lando bumbles, “Oh, bugger off. It’s not like you’d know.”

“Anways, George?”

George scratches the back of his head. Is it hot in here? Is it just him or the shitty insulation in Charles’ flat?

He thinks back to the original question and replies, “I cannot say I have thought about it.” He swallows. Because honestly, he hasn’t. He’s, like, twenty-five now. That’s far too old to be having sexuality crises anyway. Still, drunk, and a little too honest for his own good, he starts to ramble, “Like, I don’t think I. I mean. Haha. I am very happy with, er. Women.”

Not like George has been getting much lately, not after his less than ideal breakup with Carmen at the start of the season. And he isn’t like Lando either: going on apps or picking up a girl at the club is, like, his worst fucking nightmare. Rock fucking bottom. He’d rather go celibate than go on Tinder.

“So, like. You know. Men don’t.” God, why is George still talking? “I have my own, er. Likes. And I don’t think that—”

“Oh,” Alex sighs, exasperated, “don’t be such a prude, Georgie. Here—”

Fireworks. Butterflies. Violins.

No, none of that, actually. Just Alex’s mouth. George wouldn’t trade it for the world.

It has been so long since George kissed someone. Since George was kissed by someone.

Alex has a hand cupping his cheek—so tender and gentle that George shivers beneath him. Yes, beneath him. George isn’t on his back, but it’s taking all of his core muscle strength to keep himself somewhat upright with Alex half on top of him and half in his lap, kissing him. Alex, Alexander, Alexander Albon is kissing him.

His tongue runs along the seam of George’s mouth, and with a gasp, George parts his lips, mouth going slack, finally realizing that Alex is kissing him, and he isn’t kissing him back. He’s a bloody idiot, that’s what he is, he thinks, as he surges forward to return the kiss, and—

Ah.

Alex sitting back on his heels, eyes a little wild, mouth pink and slick.

Anticlamactic.

George makes a soft noise, feeling like he’s just been taken apart, disemboweled, ribs in all the wrong places.

It feels like—

Feels like the comedown after Brazil 2022. He got a taste of a win, and now he’ll spend the rest of his life knowing what it feels like to stand on the top of the podium.

Now, he’ll spend the rest of his life knowing what Alex’s lips feel like against his.

It’s not like it was a fantastic kiss, or anything. George has had better. Loads better. This wasn’t even a proper kiss. George hadn’t even managed to kiss back. And it wasn’t like it meant anything either.

It was just Alex.

“Hey,” Charles whines, sounding like he’s pouting. Only sounding like it—George couldn’t possibly know what Charles looks like right now. He isn’t looking anywhere but at Alex. It just isn’t possible for him to take his eyes away. “Why do you kiss George and not me?”

Lazily, Alex throws his head to the side, looking at Charles. In the meantime George stares at the lovely column of his throat. “Been there done that, Charlie.”

George sucks in a breath.

“Don’t look so jealous,” Alex says, chuckling, his gaze returning to George. George doesn’t even want to imagine what he looks like right now—what Alex sees. “It’s not like you were up for grabs.”

“Ah,” George says, shuddering. It’s just—the way Alex’s voice sounds, the way he’s looking at him—

“Oi, oi,” Lando sounds, swinging upright so that his shoes are finally off the couch and on the ground. “This is getting a bit too gay for me. I’m calling a Lyft.”

“Lando,” Alex laughs, “you are quite literally dating a man.”

Lando, ever prey-like and anxious when it doesn’t matter, blushes and says, “Oh, fuck off. Me and Max aren’t dating. We’re just, um…”

He reminds George of a snapping turtle, in a way: hard-shelled, prickly, and goes through puberty late.

At Lando’s words, Charles’ head rises, which is rather striking, George reckons, since he hasn’t said a word this whole conversation. His face scrunches up, brows furrowed, almost irritated. He’s frowning when he asks, “Lando, you are with Max?”

“Fewtrell,” Alex clarifies.

“Oh,” Charles exhales, tension releasing from his shoulders as Lando blushes an even brighter red and blubbers incoherently.

“Don’t get the wrong idea,” Lando says, flustered and bitchy. “I’m not with Max. Fewtrell or Charles’ Max—”

“Um,” Charles says, looking a little furious, “he’s not my—”

“Whatever,” Lando says, waving his hand vaguely. “Anyway, I’m leaving—mmph!”

Oh, alright then, George thinks, watching as Charles yanks on Lando’s wrist and pulls him down to the floor for a kiss.

Lando yanks himself away, and in the process, bangs his knee on the underside of the coffee table and hisses as he falls onto his back. Clearly still very drunk. Charles is laughing at him. So is Alex, honking and boisterous. George feels too shocked to find the humor in this.

Scrubbing his mouth with the back of his sleeve, he stammers, “What was that for?”

Charles shrugs. His face is pink and filled with glee, eyes sparkling. “Alex wouldn’t kiss me.”

“That’s the only reason why?” Lando asks, lifting a brow.

Charles giggles. “I like you, Lando,” Charles says, like it’s nothing, like Charles Leclerc liking someone means nothing. George wonders what that is like, to be able to say something like that without shame or anxiety. To be able to throw things into the air like that. I like you with the self-assurance to know that it will be well-received. That your attraction will be reciprocated.

“I think you are very cute,” Charles finishes, swaying a little.

“Not cute,” Lando huffs, crossing his arms over his chest, which strangely, George reckons, makes him look cuter. “I’m sexy.”

“Yes,” Charles says, giggling harder, his shoulders rising to his ears, “you are very sexy, Lando.”

“You’ll say anything to anyone,” Alex snorts, watching them with curiosity.

Charles keeps his eyes on Lando when he says, “When I want them in bed, yes.” Lando’s throat bobs, a mouse caught in the trap. Yes, George thinks, that’s what it’s like being looked at by Charles: caught in a trap. “Is that something you would like, Lando?”

“Uh,” Lando squeaks.

“Or will your Max get mad at me?”

Instantly, Lando shakes his head, a bit like a dog coming out of the bath. Doesn’t even make a snippy comment about your Max.

Charles kisses him again.

It isn’t anything like the last kiss, abrupt and awkward. It isn’t anything like when Alex kissed George either. This one is—

George has to look away, face hot.

“Oh, don’t do that,” he hears from the side.

“What?” George asks, his insides feeling gooey.

“Look,” Alex says, then his hand is on George’s burning cheek, turning it to face Charles and Lando. Lando, who is sitting in Charles’ lap. Charles, who has his hands firmly on Lando’s waist.

George swallows. The room is far too small and the only sounds are the slick-wet sounds of kissing, and heavy breathing. Now that George is looking, he can’t look away no matter how much he wants to. Like a car crash, he thinks absently. Sweat drips down the side of his neck, where Alex’s hand is placed now. George’s whole body feels on fire.

Alex isn’t saying anything. They only—watch. Watch as Charles slides a careful hand under the seam of Lando’s shirt, snaking along his lower back. Lando squeaks and pulls back from the kiss, panting against Charles’ mouth. Desperate, George thinks. They both look a little desperate right now.

More than a little. Faces flushed, clothes wrinkled, making out on the fucking floor in front of a fucking audience.

“It’s kind of late,” Lando mutters, so quietly that George can barely hear him over the sound of his own breathing.

“Yes, ah,” Charles says. Lando crawls off of him, uncoordinated; whatever spell the both of them were under seems to be broken. Charles turns toward George and Alex, his lips swollen, looking thoroughly kissed. His shirt is riding up. Lower: a massive tent in his jeans. George forces his eyes to drift back up to Charles’ face, settling on his mouth. “Maybe everyone should go.” After a beat, he adds, “I am very drunk.”

Lando is avoiding eye contact, playing with his fingers, hands positioned conspicuously over his crotch, inhibitions remembered.

George swallows, his voice hoarse when he says, “We can tell.”

Alex collects Lando off the floor, and George and Charles follow them to the door, silently.

“I’ll get these two home safe,” Alex promises, clasping a hand on both George’s and Lando’s shoulder. Lando bats his hand away.

Leaning against the wall, Charles smirks and says, “You owe me a kiss, Alexander.”

Alex smiles back at Charles. George stiffens at the reminder that Charles has Alex wrapped around his fucking finger, even now. “I’ll pay you back with interest next time, Charlie.”

After that, they start to shuffle out the door, but then Lando, still inside the flat, says, “Charles.”

George and Alex turn around.

Head tilted, Charles asks, “What is it?”

And that’s all he’s able to get out before Lando is grabbing his face and kissing him. Hungrily. Charles makes a shocked noise as he’s backed up against the wall, melting.

It’s a chaste kiss, all things considered. After only a moment, Lando pulls away with a smug smile, and Charles looks—dazed. Kiss-stupid and slack-jawed. George wonders if that’s how he gets when he isn’t in control.

“We should,” Charles starts, throat bobbing as he stares at the three of them in the hall. He licks his lips, cheeks red like his car, and scans each of them with his eyes. “All of us. Again.”

All of us, George thinks. Not just Lando, not just Alex. All of them. All four of them.

“I mean. Only if you all want.”

Charles, George registers, is looking at George. That’s where his gaze has settled. And George realizes that, yes, he is the limiting factor here. Because apparently, a-fucking-pparently, Charles has a history with Alex, and George’s more than half sure that if Charles and Lando were only marginally less drunk than they are, they would have fucked tonight.

Alex and Lando are looking at him too.

What’s the harm if George says no?

No, no. Wrong question.

What’s the harm if George says yes?

He doesn’t want to be the odd one out. What he wants is—

He turns to look at Alex, looking at him with curious eyes. George’s gaze drifts and drifts—Alex’s pink mouth, the shape of it, remembering the feel of it against his own.

George made his decision a long time ago. Charles and Lando—they’re just the implications.

Shuddering, he turns back to Charles, and nods his head.

Monaco is small enough that practically everything is just a walk away. Lando’s flat is the closest one to Charles’; George and Alex drop him off. On the way, surprisingly, they don’t chat about what happened back at Charles’ place. Instead, they grill Lando about whatever’s going on between him and Fewtrell, only to get absolutely nothing.

George’s flat is the closest to Lando’s, so Alex walks him back. And they don’t talk at all, at least until they’re outside the front door and George is about to walk in.

“Hey, um,” Alex says, biting his lip. “Tonight was a lot.”

“Yeah,” George admits, finding no use in pretending otherwise.

“So,” Alex starts. “Are you, like, sure? About—getting all together again? I feel kinda bad that like—I dunno. It was kinda like, we were ganging up on you. If you feel pressured in any way, I couldn’t live with myself, so, uh—”

Alex rambles. He’s a rambler. George knows this about him. Alex is a horrible storyteller, always telling the punchline first, then filling in all the gaps. Even then, he always forgets important parts, tells it all non-linearly and it never makes sense to anyone but him.

The truth is, as much as Alex’s blithe, carefree nature obscures, beneath that persona, he does just as much overthinking that George does.

And George—

Perhaps he isn’t as sober as he thought he was, but he feels clear. For the first time tonight, he feels in control. Brave.

He does what he wanted to do earlier, back in Charles’ flat, when Alex pulled away and George surged forward.

He kisses Alex. Mid-sentence, mid-word, mid-apology.

It’s just a peck, really. George thinks that if he properly kissed Alex right now, he might do something absolutely stupid, like drop to his knees and try to blow Alex under the cameras of his building. Even if he’s never done that before, he thinks he’d do that for Alex.

If Alex asked. If Alex wanted. He’s too afraid to ask if that’s what Alex would want.

Alex is smiling at him—and it’s one of his soft smiles. George feels so dizzy and stupid. “Not so straight then, are you?”

Heart hammering, George remembers to be brave. “Probably not.”

Alex licks over his mouth. George wants.

“Alright then,” Alex says, pupils wide. “We’ll talk in the morning? All of us?”

Yes, George thinks. They will.

And, against all odds, they do.

#4fic #the fic is called “the anatomy of a joke”#i still don't love it but...#my writing #there's like 3k more in the doc but none of it is coherent

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strangertheories · 2 years

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I'm talking about the bullying in this fandom yet again, because it's only getting worse from what I've seen on TikTok.

I'm convinced that all of the people going on about how awful the Stranger Things fandom have just never been in a fandom before. The things they list as cringe are fanon ships, headcanoning characters as queer, canon personality vs fanon personality, reader x character fanfic, cosplaying and fan conventions. Which is literally every fandom? People getting dressed up as characters they like and singing songs and dancing together is not a new thing. Even in the precious 2019 fandom, people would cosplay and sing Never Ending Story.

If this is what you think a wild toxic fandom looks like, then you're new to fandom culture. People are just having a bit of harmless fun, it's not like they're sending needle cookies or glass shard cupcakes to writers and fans (if you know, you know). Sure you might think it's cringy or get second hand embarrassment, but that's on you, not on fans just having a laugh and celebrating a show they like. Keep those thoughts to yourself and don't be a bully.

I also think it's really ironic because I feel like a lot of these fans are watching the show with their eyeballs glued shut or something. Your beloved characters from that show are "cringy nerds" too. They cosplay as Ghostbusters and sing the theme song. They love comic books and horror movies. They play Dungeons and Dragons. And people will watch the show, love these characters and then go bully fans in real life. I literally saw someone with an Eddie profile pic saying that alt people are to blame for the fandom becoming cringy. They'll say they're most like Mike or Lucas or whoever else but if you bully people for being nerds, chances are you're a lot more like Angela or Troy.

The issue with this fandom isn't people cosplaying or writing fanfic; it's bullying. If we're talking about this fandom not being good, let's talk about people bullying fans, let's talk about how horrible some of you treat Millie Bobby Brown, let's talk about how some fans are homophobic or sexist or racist or about the issues the show has with portraying minorities. Those are actual issues that we should speak about, not people having harmless fun. I'm not trying to be annoying or oversensitive or whatever but it's just so abundantly clear that all of the people calling this fandom cringe are not used to fandom culture.

PS stop trying to gatekeep the second most popular show of all time, everyone watches Stranger Things, deal with it.

#stranger things #byler #ronance #steddie #jargyle #jancy #stancy #elmax #lumax #elumax #jopper #joyren #st4 #st5

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ravenwoodalum · 7 months

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on karamelle, why it sucks, and redeeming azteca's reputation.

I just got to Karamelle for the second time, and good lord. I hadn't forgotten how much I hated it, but it hit me like a wall of bricks. And I'm already preparing myself to marathon it and be fucking done questing here for at least a year.

I think it breaks down like this.

Baby's first workers rights movement/sugary-sweet surveillance state Listen. I know this is a game that doesn't allow for player characters to have much individual impact on the in-game narrative. I know we've had to do errands for cops. I know we work for a war criminal. I KNOW there are flaws in the system. But there's something about the way that Karamelle's set up that makes it all feel so. much. worse. And that's the fact that Karamelle has such a stellar reputation within the Spiral before this. The happiest place in the Spiral, the sweetest treats in the Spiral. Everyone seems to fucking love this place. Almost no one outside of those actually working there seem to understand how corrupt it is. And so the YW is talked down to at every turn, like this is their first exposure to a corrupt environment. And sure, maybe it is within, canon. YW gets isekai'd at a very young age and then made into a child soldier, maybe this is actually the first time in canon that they've been introduced to these concepts. But (and this may just be me) it feels really rude to the player -- who might actually have experience with these ideas -- to make them feel like a fucking idiot with the dialogue options. Karamelle's characters just feel rude.

Oh, so the Gobblers were a fatphobic, Roald Dahl type thing from the start. Cool cool cool. Any of you ever read Roald Dahl's book "The Twits"? It's a very unremarkable story all things considered, except for this bit.

Aside from Roald Dahl's unavoidable history of antisemitism, does this remind you of anything? Honestly, this reminds me of the Gobbblers.

We first meet the Gobblers around level 10 in Wizard City -- creatures driven by consumption. And then we get to Empyrea and hear that the Alphoi -- skinny "civilized" creatures -- can become Gobblers if they eat too much or are unhealthy in their eating habits. Which makes one of our oldest running enemies a loop-around fatphobic thing, ESPECIALLY when we get to them in Karamelle, the home world of the Gobblers. Rosina, especially, just oozes fatphobia and diet culture. The literal vilification of being fat isn't even subtext, it's just text.

The Old One, The Cabal, and what to do when your escape from the world ends up shoving what you were escaping from right back in your face. When I was in sophomore year of college, fall of 2019, I had one of the worst mental health periods of my life. Antisemitism was fucking everywhere, I was always a moment away from a panic attack, and it felt like no one understood. While I'm lucky in the fact that I was able to get an official diagnosis for genetically inherited PTSD, alongside the reassurance that I wasn't fucking crazy, there was a period when I just needed to go home for a moment. So when I was going back to my dorm from the dining hall to make sure all my stuff was ready to go, I opened up tumblr and made a post on a long-gone RP sideblog I had for the Swedish Chef (y'know, from The Muppets? long story), and before I'd even gotten halfway across campus, I'd received threatening and violent messages from someone RPing as Borat, which only got worse when they realized they were talking to an actual Jewish person.

That escape from reality didn't even last five fucking minutes before the horrors I was trying to avoid found me.

Now, Wizard101 has always been a source of comfort for me. I made my account fourteen years ago, and I do not know what my life would look like if I hadn't done that. There are flaws with this game, yes, sure, but over the past five years (since I got a wiz compatible laptop) I've developed a bit of a reliance on it to get me through the horrors. No better form of escapism.

But no art form is free of the horrors.

And Wizard101 has the fucking Cabal and Old One.

The Cabal within the fiction of Wizard101 is a secret, nefarious organization pulling the strings on events across the Spiral, controlling history from the shadows. This term literally originates in antisemitic conspiracy theory, with the term 'cabal' originating from the term for Jewish mysticism, 'kabbalah'. And I promise you, you've heard plenty of applications of this conspiracy theory in real life too. It feeds into the idea that Jews (or 'global elite') control the government, the media, the banks.

And then, we get to the man in control of it all. The Old One. Whether or not this was intended, he's a walking, talking antisemitic caricature. The octopus as a symbol for the mythical Elders of Zion is a longstanding dogwhistle (see attached for a guide to this and many other visual dogwhistles). "Oh, he's based on H.P. Lovecraft-" So he's based on the works of a famous racist and antisemite, cool cool cool.

It's just exhausting, walking through a world that is so clearly modeled after Germany and other parts of eastern Europe, and finding antisemitism around every corner. And even more exhausting considering it's almost impossible to tell if they meant to do it. Antisemitism is so fucking ingrained in the world at this point that I don't actually know what they meant to do here, what they did maliciously or out of ignorance, or if any of it was put in with the purpose of turning it on its head. Over the past few years, it has become glaringly obvious that a lot of people don't realize when they're running across antisemitism, or even taking part in it. Including people I really thought would know better.

Side note. For those of you who know I see Dasein as Jewish, you may be wondering how I balance that out with the antisemitic nature of The Old One, since they share a physical form. I think of it like this. Dasein did not choose The Old One. He did not choose to resemble that, but he can attempt to reclaim it. Dasein's Judaism comes not from the resemblance he holds to the hatred that haunts us, but from the love that keeps us going. He questions authority and longstanding tradition, chooses to do what's right instead of what's expected, and is kind in the face of hatred. He literally makes himself, and a world, out of nothingness. Something out of Nothing. He's so Jewish you guys.

The Spiral's "Worst World Award" goes to... I know we all say "fuck Azteca" pretty often on this website, but I don't think it deserves to be deigned the worst world in Wiz. My main gripe with Azteca is how inaccessible it gets after Xibalba strikes -- the flashing lights aren't exactly photosensitive friendly. Which further lends frustration to my completionist nature, meaning I have to finish all quests, badges, and fishing before I finish the world (making it take forever to finish). Aside from that, there really isn't that much wrong with the world (and if you argue that it sucks because you can't save Azteca, I get it, but some tragedies are inescapable by their very nature). It's a problem of gameplay, versus a problem of plot in the case of Karamelle. And maybe its just because I'm a writer, but problems with plot feel much more egregious. I really do think Karamelle deserves more vitriol than it gets.

G-d, I can't wait to get to Lemuria.

#behold. the long awaited kvetch.#wizblr #w101 #wizzy101 #wiz101 #wizard101 #y'all better check out the resources i've linked :gun:#there really is something to be said about fantasy worlds where Judaism does not textually exist but antisemitism DOES.#like hmm. where did that come from. anyways.

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copperbadge · 1 year

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Hi Sam, how did you come to the conclusion you should be tested for neurodivergence? I've been reading a lot of Temple Grandin (Visual Thinking is fantastic) and see so much of myself in her books. But, I, too, am, let's just say well into adulthood, and I don't know if my life would change that much with a diagnosis. The only thing I can think of doing with a diagnosis is telling my siblings and childhood bullies that they picked on someone who had a reason for being "weird." But it doesn't change anything. Beyond the medication, did you find any solace? Thank you for sharing your journey.

I was just thinking I should do a post about this....

I don't recall the specifics and have never been able to find the post again, but sometime prior to 2019 I made a joke about having a short attention span, and someone said something like "Oh, did you finally get a diagnosis?" and I said haha no, I don't have ADHD, and a bunch of readers went, "Uh, you very clearly do." Some of them added that they thought I knew and was just being discreet about it. (As if I have ever been discreet about anything in my life.)

So I figured, okay, probably there's some level of neurodivergence there, given that my mother and siblings all have various diagnoses, and my father was clearly autistic. (Knowing what we know now about how ADHD can mask as other mental illnesses, there's a strong chance this comes from my maternal grandmother, who was the person in the family I was most like when she was alive.) I tried a couple of times to get evaluated and always had either slow or nonexistent responses from the clinics I reached out to, so I stopped trying. I had a ton of coping mechanisms in place and was in a good spot in my life, so I thought honestly, what would it change?

But by the end of 2021, while I was still in a pretty good financial place, and my career was doing well, I could tell that if things kept up as they were I was going to tank my job purely through being unable to get through a day doing productive work the way I used to.

I thought, well, if this is ADHD and it's getting worse because the whole fucking world is on fire, I have two options: I can assume I have it and just do the reading and figure shit out on my own, or I can get evaluated, get professional advice, and possibly get medicated. That seemed like the best return on investment, so that's what I worked on. My goal was primarily medication, because I didn't see myself being able to change much else about my situation on my own. And, truthfully, medication has been the biggest change -- I actually have an essay about that queued for the anniversary of my starting Adderall. But while it hasn't been a massive life-altering world-shattering change, all of this was worth it purely for the medication.

Uh, momentary sidebar in my memoir: there are downsides to having a diagnosed disability -- discrimination, legal barriers to certain things like holding government jobs or adopting, etc. Those have to be weighed when you're considering evaluation. If you think you may have autism, there's not necessarily an advantage to having a formal diagnosis unless you need accommodations; if you think you may have ADHD, the huge advantage is access to medication, which doesn't exist for autism as far as I'm aware. So your particular flavor of neurodivergence might dictate whether you get a diagnosis, or whether you just start operating on the assumption you have it. Both are valid, I think, it really depends on what's going on in your life and what you want to change.

Anyway, I have been doing other research, reading journal articles and pop psychology and talking to people, and that's been good, but even if I had none of that, the medication has been so helpful in getting me back on an even keel and then making life even better.

This sounds kind of weird to say but I'm not generally someone who needs a lot of solace. There is some relief in knowing that at least some of my fuckups in life weren't something I could have prevented by simply having more strength of character or working harder, and that's nice, but it's something I could have had without a formal diagnosis -- just like you could simply tell your siblings and bullies you have a diagnosis. (Being real, I doubt they'd care; bullies gonna bully whether you had a reason to be weird or not, and none of that would have been your fault regardless of your neurology. But it's all very situational, as I'm sure you know.) I wasn't badly bullied as a kid and there's nobody really to...tell, in the sense you're thinking of. But I didn't get into it for emotional solace; I got into it to fix a life that was, albeit extremely slowly, starting to fall apart. So if you're someone, as most people are, who derives emotional satisfaction or catharsis from having the diagnosis, I think it probably would be pretty helpful. But even if you aren't, like me, if you can get medication or accomodations, I think it's worth it.

#sam has adhd

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asgoodeasgold · 4 months

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A life in the Pink with Matthew Goode (Part 6 - Final)

"In the grand scheme of things, it could be an awful lot worse".

All ends well in Matthew's Pink world. Herealises he is living his best life really.

This concludes my MG Pink posts. It was a lot of fun, what a gem of an advert 🩷. Matthew is priceless.

�� My edits from "A life in the Pink with Matthew Goode" 2019 Autumn-Winter campaign.

📷 Matthew Goode at the premiere of A Single Man, London, Oct 2008. Photographs by Danny Martindale/FilmMagic/Getty

My Pink blog Part 1:

My Pink blog Part 2:

My Pink blog Part 3:

My Pink blog Part 4:

My Pink blog Part 5:

Link to advert:

https://vimeo.com/369869326

#matthew goode #matthewgoode #a life in the pink #pink shirts #pink shirtmakers

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dianethepisceswitch · 3 months

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🧞‍♂️I watched Aladdin🧞‍♂️

Please read this post to gain needed context. Thanks.

**Spoilers for Aladdin (obviously) and Twisted Wonderland (Book 4 and Yasmina Silk Event)**

TW: Negative portrayal of Arabic people, general ickiness

Tropes Completed: 1, 3, 5, 6, 7, 9, 13

🐅The Good🐅

Every. Song. Fucking. Slaps. The only exception to this is "Arabian Nights", which is just because Bruce Adler's singing voice didn't match the song. But Will Smith's version from Aladdin 2019 is perfect.

Gorgeous animation except with the CG in the Cave of Wonders. That's the only scene that dates the movie

Every character is flawless. I especially loved the Sultan, when I wasn't really expecting to. Even though he's forcing Jasmine to get married, you can tell that he truly wants what's best for his daughter.

Robin Williams as the genie and Gilbert Gottfried as Iago was perfect casting.

I. Love. Jasmine's. Voice. She sounds so cute while also sounding strong, powerful, and sensual at times.

I WANT RAJAH. He's so fucking cute.

Watching Aladdin after playing Book 4 is an enhanced experience. I didn't think I could appreciate Jamil anymore than I already did. But thing change I guess, because HOLY FUCK. I love Jamil 10x more than I already did after seeing his inspiration. Jafar is so evil and mischievous, I love it.

A Whole New World needs to be seen to be believed. Go watch it right now, if you haven't. I will take no slander.

I love Aladdin and Jasmine had opposite drives, but are kind of the same in a way. Jasmine made her life worse by running away so she could follow her heart. Aladdin made his life better by lying so he could follow his heart.

Ugh, I love the apple symbolism.

🐍The Bad🐍

I'm not really a movie person, but I feel like it took a long time for the movie to really get started. It felt like it took 30 minutes for Jasmine to start running away, and another 30 minutes for Jasmine to get caught. I know it didn't take this long, but that's how if felt.

Abu was really annoying after the first few times he was on screen.

The law that Jasmine has to be married by her 16th birthday was both unnecessary and gross. That combined with the fact that Jafar ends up trying to marry her and people keep pointing out how old he is. The cherry on top of this disgusting sundae is the kiss towards to end. Like, no? That did NOT need to happen. Him calling her "pussycat" before that was so fucking rancid, it literally made my eyes water and I gagged.

🐪The Bad- A Racist Background🐪

The song, "Arabian Nights", originally contained the lyrics:

Where they cut off your ear If they don't like your face It's barbaric, but hey, it's home

This paints Arabic people as barbaric and violent people. After large criticism from Arabian Americans due to the racist lyrics, Disney agreed to change the lyrics. This was largely due to a meeting with the American-Arab Anti-Discrimination Committee back in 1993, a year after the films release.

🌺Twisted Wonderland References🌺

In the Yasmina Silk event, the owner of the silky melon stall owner mentions that Jamil stole one while in middle school. This refers to the scene where Aladdin and Abu work together to steal a melon from a stand.

The Golden Scarab on Jamil's Dorm Uniform card mirrors the Scarab in the movie

During "One Jump Ahead", Aladdin and Abu attempt to hide with pots on their heads, which is something Jamil used to do when he would get in trouble.

"...Give me adequate cause. To send him packing on a one-way trip. ..Whoopeeeeeeeee! So looooooooooooong! Ex-Priiiiiiiince Aaaaaaaallllllliiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!"(Aladdin) "Your personality flaws give me ADEQUATE cause... To send you packing on a one-way trip to the ends of the earth! WHOOPEEEEE! SO LONG! MWA HA HA HA HA! Ex-Housewarden Kalim! HYAAAH HA HA HA HA HA!"(Book 4)

The peddler in the beginning is a shady figure who attempts to sell the viewer useless objects that are marketed as valuables, which is something that the various merchants in Silk City attempt to do to Jamil's classmates.

The flower in Jamil's hair on his Yasmina Silk card looks identical to the flower Aladdin gives jasmine during "A Whole New World".

🐒Additional Notes🐒

Aladdin has earned two direct-to-DVD sequels, The Return of Jafar(1994), and Aladdin and the King of Thieves(1996). Aladdin has also had a live action adaptation in 2019.

While not created by Disney, Twisted: The Untold Story of A Royal Vizier, is a parody musical based around Aladdin.

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jhugas · 1 year

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‘UNDERSTAND WHAT?’- Park Jimin

✿✼:*ﾟ:༅｡.｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ･⭑

Genre: angst, sad, fluff

Pairing: ex! Jimin X 8th member! Reader ; exes to lovers ; angry confession

Summary: You and Jimin start arguing about your break up, and he decided to clear few things up.

Word count: ~1,2k

Warnings/tags: mention (no details) of depression, anxiety, insomnia, pressure, nausea, work; lot of crying.

✿✼:*ﾟ:༅｡.｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ･⭑

You and Jimin dated for four years, and broke up in 2019, in the middle of the Love Yourself Tour due to the pressure and amount of work you had. Though, you would have preferred to stay with him. But he was so convincing that you just assumed he didn’t love you anymore, and used your work as an excuse. So to not pressure him or annoy him, you just agreed.

It’s true, the pressure and the huge amount of work you two had, especially during the tour, made it hard to really focus on each other. But still, you loved him and didn’t want to leave him.

Knowing that he was the first person you really gave your trust to and that made you happy, your break up broke you in pieces.

He was your first love, first kiss, first time, first person to make you feel loved and happiness.

When you broke up, you had to carry on with the concerts and it was so hard.

How were you supposed to act like nothing happened, when you lost the love of your life?

You didn’t even tell the members. Even though they saw that something had changed between you two, they just thought you had a little fight. Then, around a month after, during a dance practice, Namjoon saw you weren’t giving enough efforts. So he lightly scolded you in a little room before asking you what was wrong, and you finally spit out that you broke up.

The news spread quickly in the kpop industry, from idol to idols, since they all knew how perfect you two were together.

One night, you and Jimin were in his apartment. It’s been four years you broke up. And it still hurts like the first day. You never stopped loving him, but never tried to flirt with him again since.

You’re talking about the tour that’ll happen in 2025, and suddenly, a feeling of sadness and loneliness invades you. Flashbacks from 2019 come back.

{[20th March 2019]}

You broke up last night. And you couldn’t feel worse than now. Heart broken, nauseous, exhausted… everything to fail a concert. But tonight, you had to perform.

When you went to eat breakfast in the hotel, and saw the beautiful man that broke your heart sitting down, looking fine, like nothing happened… you decided you wanted to move on the quickest possible.

The soundcheck was alright, seeing army made you feel a little bit better. But again, he was on your mind all day. And seeing him act like nothing happened truly shocked you. He didn’t even tell you hi or smiled at you. He just ignored you, like you didn’t exist.

{[during the concert]}

It’s time to sing ‘The Truth Untold’. You hold back your tears from falling, to not alarm Armys, and sing your parts.

…

‘You know that I can't,

Show you me,

Give you me’

…

‘But I still want you,

I still want you’

…

It’s the end of the song, the instrumental plays for a good minute or two. But suddenly, Armys start screaming. You turn around and your eyes fall on Jimin, crying on the floor. He looks so sad.

It’s too much for you, you held back your tears for too long. You let yourself fall on the ground and hide yourself as you’re silently crying.

{[backstage]}

Once you get backstage you immediately run to the toilets and start crying again. If it’s only been a day, then why do you miss him so much?

Someone knocks on the door, and without even saying anything, you unlock and open the door. You look at the floor, and immediately recognize those shoes. It’s him.

You look up and see his swollen eyes, red cheeks and nose, and messy hair. But most importantly, his plump, pink almost red lips.

So kissable, but impossible to kiss for you from now on.

All he did to you was a loose hug. Not even touching your body with his hands. He leans in your ear and says:

‘I’m still here for you.’

With a soft, broken voice.

Since, you had reoccurring dreams about him coming back, running towards you and finally hugging you the way you deserve it. Occasionally, you’d have dreams where he kissed you and laughed. His smile… his beautiful smile. You missed it…

But you also had nightmares. Where he shouted how much he hated you, how much you’ve changed and worse.

{[now]}

‘You alright?’

Jimin asks. Brushing your hair behind your ear and noticing your eyes filled with tears.

‘I am…’

You answer quietly.

There’s a silence. The only noise is the one of his hand rubbing your back. He knows. He knows what you’re thinking about.

‘It was hard wasn’t it?’

He says.

‘Why did you break up with me?’

You ask. Too tired to even think straight. If you did, you wouldn’t have asked that.

‘I never really wanted to break up with you. I swear. If I could’ve stayed with you, I would’ve.’

He says

‘Are you serious? Are you saying I could’ve avoided depression, anxiety and insomnia?! I also never wanted to leave you stupid!’

Your voice rises and your breath speeds up.

‘What do you mean? When I said we might need to break up, you immediately nodded and agreed!! I didn’t even mean it. I just wanted to have a talk!’

‘I agreed because I didn’t want to be a burden!! And you… you acted like nothing happened! Not even a week after, you talked to me like everything was fine when it wasn’t!! I cried for you! I really did!’

You cry out. Finally opening yourself and telling him what you wanted to tell him for a long time.

‘Y/n… you know I hate to argue with you… I also cried. I cried a lot more than you think. Depression, anxiety, insomnia… I also had it. It’s not a competition. And if I acted like this. It’s because I missed you!’

He yells and tears start forming in his eyes, blurring his vision.

‘I also hate fighting with you!!! We just can’t help it! … Did you really think I didn’t miss you too? Are you that emotionally broken? Obviously I missed you obviously I did! But I needed space. I needed to get you out of my head.’

‘I didn’t just miss you y/n…’

He asks as he bites his bottom lip in frustration.

‘Not even a day after, you lost all your feelings! How did you stop loving me in few hours!!’

You yell at him.

‘Y/n… you don’t understand do you?’

He says more softly.

‘Understand what?!’

You ask. Tired from yelling and arguing with the man you still love.

‘That I love you!! I love you y/n I love you!! I always did and always will! Don’t you get it? I can’t just leave you! I am in love with you!’

He yells with his broken voice before staring at you, waiting for a response.

There’s a silence. You wonder if this is a dream again. You take some time to think.

‘… I love you too you idiot!!!’

You push him in frustration but he comes back and hugs you tighter than he ever did. Crying in your hair and salting them. Your head held by his shoulder.

‘Then why are we fighting again y/n… I love you’

He whispered.

‘I don’t know. I love you too, Jimin.’

You whisper back against his neck, tears still rolling down your cheeks.

Thank you for reading :)

Reminder: likes are very very appreciated! But reblogs and comments truly help the writers get more exposure <3

Masterlist

#army #bts #fanfic #scenarios #one shot #imagine #Jimin #Jimin x reader #Jimin angst #Jimin fluff #Jimin one shot #bts fanfic #Jimin fanfic #Jimin fic #8th member

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