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leclerc-hs · 4 months

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pairing: charles leclerc x nanny!reader summary: in which charles is an idiot and you decide to make him suffer for a little bit warnings: smut, angst!, exhibitionism (kinda?), breeding kink!, language, 18+!, bad french!!! (please correct me and i'll edit), barely proofread (sorry if there’s mistakes my eyeballs hurt) word count: 5.9k (LENGTHYYYYY) author's note: had to give us some angst obvi....but also smut bc single dad charles is so hot. let me know what you think! I can't believe it ended up being this long but it felt like it was impossible to end. xoxo. please blow this up bc the effort I put into writing this took 100% of my brain power away lmao. also I got an anon request to write about nanny getting a internship with a fashion company which is included in this! french edits made by the lovely @dannyramirezwife (idk what I would do without you)

part 1 part 2

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yourusername

liked by landonorris, charles_leclerc, and 52,789 others yourusername welcome to miami 🐚🧡 view all 1,321 comments yourbsf but how do you kill it every time??? landonorris mmmm papaya looks good on you🍊 charles_leclerc how do I dislike a comment? liked by yourusername and 7,829 others yourusername 😂 user guys omg. user charles is NOT having it charles_leclerc beautiful. but please stick to red ❤️ user CRYING user lando is def on his shit list user lando wants her so bad lmaoooo

yourusername

liked by scuderiaferrari, charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, and 78,992 others yourusername luigi follows only the ferraris 🏎️🏁 view all 4,391 comments scuderiaferrari as you should! ❤️ user OMG SHES IN MIAMI!!!! user does this mean his daughter is there!!!! user i would hope. unless she's not doing her job lol user we need baby leclerc content!!! charles_leclerc damn right ❤️ yourbsf miami looks gooood on u. wanna move? yourusername 😏 charles_leclerc absolutely not user charles gtfooooo user what does charles just stalk her comments?

charles_leclerc

liked by scuderiaferrari, yourusername, arthur_leclerc, and 1,582,817 others charles_leclerc special guests this weekend ❤️ we’ll keep pushing as always. view all 5,717 comments scuderiaferrari the most precious guests EVER user literally. user guys he’s using plurals again!!! user it has to be about @/yourusername too user crying they’re so cute carlossainz55 can’t wait for her to design my next helmet 🌶️ charles_leclerc OUR* yourusername sweet baby girllllll 🩷🧸🎀

lando.jpg

liked by charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, and 274,892 others lando.jpg mrs. 305 tagged yourusername view all 3,672 comments user omg. user are her and lando dating? user i hope not user they would be so cute carlossainz55 damnnnnn 🌶️🥵 lando.jpg don't poke the bear @/charles_leclerc charles_leclerc 😒 yourusername don’t ever let me take another tequila shot again lando.jpg should i cancel the ones i just ordered to your room? yourusername you BETTER be joking charles_leclerc is that why i opened the door to shots? charles_leclerc mon dieu user no like she's so pretty user they're sharing a room!??? landonorris tagged yourusername in a story!

seen by charles_leclerc, yourbsf, carlossainz55, and 900,281 others yourusername

liked by landonorris, carlossainz55, maxfewtrell, and 65,428 others yourusername who let lando behind the dj booth last night???? tagged landonorris view all 2,318 comments maxfewtrell he’s such a 🐍 user omg her and lando?? user lando has been in love with her for so long user can we just take in that charles didn’t like this post? user charles has a habit of not liking any of her posts with other men 👀 user ariana what are u doing here user where is charles?? user prob with his daughter bc she clearly isn't lol user it's HIS daughter landonorris i'm so lucky user WHAT!!!!!!! user GUYS HELP user IS HE CONFIRMING?!!!? yourusername you need to stop trolling the internet lando user DJ LANDOOOOO HAS RETURNED

YOU BEGIN TO wonder whether the universe harbors some inexplicable grudge against you. Because really, you always make sure to check in on your friends often. You always make sure to pay your bills on time, if not earlier. Heck, you even make sure to donate to a different charity every month. Yet, as the jet encounters heavily turbulent skies on the way to Miami, the persistent question echoes in your mind ‘why me?’.

Luckily, a bundle of joy rests on your lap, cupping your face in her hands, and playfully squeezing your cheeks. A sweet distraction from the terror you feel inside. It’s adorable how earnestly she tries to impact calmness in you, even though her eyes are half shut with sleep.

“Ne sois pas effrayé,” Don’t be scared. Her voice maintains its gentleness as she swiftly loses interest in your cheeks, redirecting her tiny hands to play with the ends of your hair. “Je suis là avec papa.” Me and papa are here.

“Chérie,” Charles coos at his daughter, picking her up from your lap and resting her down on the bed. “Repose-toi bien," Get some rest. He tucks her into the bed, a space far too vast for her tiny body, nestling her favorite fluffy bunny stuffed animal by her side. You observe in admiration as he plants a gentle kiss to her forehead, then tenderly strokes her hair in a soothing manner.

“J’ai besoin qu’elle me borde, papa,” I need her to tuck me in. Her tiny fingers point to you and your heart instantly tightens. With a slight shake in your steps, you make your way to the bed, sitting on the side of it. “Bonne nuit, ma petite.” Goodnight, little one.

“Bonne nuit, maman,” Goodnight, mom. The words were mumbled with sleep, but it was the name that couldn’t be ignored.

For a brief period, both you and Charles experienced a suspended moment, a pause in time. Never had she referred to you in such a way, and you certainly didn’t want Charles to assume you influenced her perception in any manner.

“I don’t know why she said that.”

Caught like a deer in headlights, you pivot your head to face him. Panic courses through you, eyes widened, heart pounding. Yet, as you turn to Charles, he appears nonchalant, offering only a casual shrug of his shoulders.

“C’est bien.” It’s okay.

In a hushed pause, the both of you remain motionless aside from turning your head back to the sleeping toddler, entranced by how peaceful she looks. However, Charles finds it hard to divert his gaze from you. His eyes focus on the serene scene of his daughter’s fingers delicately entwined with yours, even in the depths of sleep, acknowledging the profound connection between you two. In these tranquil moments, where your presence is indispensable for tucking her in, Charles not only appreciates the nurturing care you offer but also recognizes the profound love and solace you impact. He can’t help but feel incredibly fortunate to have you in his life.

Only when Charles’s gentle hands tenderly squeezed the back of your neck, providing a subtle massage to your tense muscles, did you become acutely aware of the extent of your own exhaustion.

“Allez, dormons un peu, d’accord?” Let’s get some sleep, yeah? His lips delicately brushed against the shell of your ear, followed by a tender kiss on your temple, guiding you toward the other bed on the jet. Wrapping his arms snugly around your body, he let the both of you fall onto the mattress. While pulling the covers over both of you, your face pressed against his chest clad in a soft t-shirt. As you planted a gentle kiss above the neckline, you could feel the rapid rhythm of his heartbeat.

Despite the passing of a few months since that initial kiss, your connection with Charles retained a serene simplicity. In the quietude of your shared moments, you found solace. Deliberately, you resisted the temptation to let your mind drift into the what if’s, choosing instead to remain in the present moments.

However, within his mind, thoughts raced at a million miles a minute. Regardless of the casualness of your relationship you both claim to have, he couldn’t stop picturing you with swollen breasts and a swollen belly. The moment his daughter called you ‘maman’, an almost feral instinct surged within him. It was a wild and untamable force. He couldn’t stop imagining you pregnant. Full of his kid. Full of him. The need to fill you up with all of him was all but surging through his veins. All the blood was rushing to his cock, and he knew he needed to get these thoughts out of his head.

“Bonne nuit,” Goodnight. His voice sounded so rough as his arms tightened around you and you easily fell into a quick slumber, feeling so safe in his arms from the turbulent skies.

The abrupt touchdown of the jet resonated through the cabin, rousing you from slumber. A ballet of movement ensued before your eyes met the scene: Charles had migrated to one of the plush seats, his daughter perched upon his knee. The ambient hum of the aircraft formed a backdrop to the unfolding familial vignette, a delicate interplay of affection. As Charles tenderly pinched his daughter’s cheeks, childlike laughter following their hushed whispers.

Charles shifted his gaze towards you, now upright on the bed. Your tousled hair framed a face adorned with the lingering softness of sleep, and your eyes, slightly puffy with remnant of slumber, held a captivating allure. Despite your disheveled state, he couldn’t help but find that you remained the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

“Bien dormi?” Sleep well?

A gentle smile played on your lips as you rose from the bed, indulging in a languorous stretch that showcased the contours of your body. The fabric of the t-shirt clung momentarily, revealing the subtle canvas of freckles adorning your stomach to Charles. His gaze involuntarily flicked away, a reflex triggered by the flooding memories, thoughts of you pregnant resurfacing in vivid detail. The mere glimpse of your stomach had him internally spiraling.

“Uncle Lorenzo and Auntie Char want to see you bébé,” baby. A ripple of excitement danced in his daughter’s eyes as she clapped her hands joyfully at the mere mention of her uncle. Lorenzo and Charlotte had made their way to Miami a few days prior, cleverly disguising their visit as an opportunity to vacation while supporting Charles in the impending race. This strategic maneuver afforded you and Charles the luxury of solitude in the days leading up to the event, a rare and treasured gift compared to the last few months.

“Merde,” Shit. He grunted as his head fell back against the headboard of the shared bed. His green eyes watching you with flushed cheeks as you worked yourself over his cock. “This is where you belong, yeah?”

The morning sun peeked through the curtains of the hotel room. Eliciting a warm glow in the hotel room as you sunk down onto him deeper than before. Your pussy fluttering around his length, appeasing the ache that he created before you even opened your eyes.

You nodded your head repeatedly. “Mon dieu, yes.”

His hands cup your ass, fingers pressing firmly into the delicate layers of your skin, leaving an imprint as if searching for a connection beneath the surface. Controlling your movements, he urges you to move more frantically. The feeling of your hot, wet, pussy squeezing him was almost too much for him to handle.

With each passing second, the pressure of his fingers increased, creating a sensation of both command and invitation at the back of your neck. His touch was a deliberate grasp, not just holding but asserting dominance. Your lips met in a symphony of desire. His tongue slipping into your mouth instantly, brushing against yours as he held you against him. Your nipples flushed against the toned muscles of his chest as you leaned in, and the pound of his hips fucking upwards into you, had you all but mewling into his mouth.

“C’mon mon ange, don’t make me wait.” My angel.

You’re not sure if it was the pet name or the fact that you loved to please him. Or maybe the brush of his body against your clit. But your orgasm came quickly after while the tears spilled slowly from your eyes. He swallowed every moan you gave him like it was his own source of oxygen before flipping both of you over and pushing you face first into the mattress.

Every moan you gave him was like fuel to the pound of his hips. He was completely lost in the feeling of you. “Take it all,” he grunted as he pushed your body into the mattress deeper than before, his eyes not moving from the sight of his cock coated with you and slipping into you.

You were begging and pleading him to give you more, more, more. You don’t know what more he could give you; you just knew you needed it.

“So pretty like this,” he muttered, “like you were made just to take my fucking cock whenever I need.” His thrusts began to slow, but the speed didn’t alter just how good they felt. No, he pushed himself even further, hitting all the spots just right. It was as if he was trying to become one with you. Like he wanted merge you two into a singular existence.

“Cha,” You moaned out his name and you couldn’t see but his eyes widened. His heart clenched at the nickname. He pulled out quickly, provoking a complaint from your lips as he began scooping one of his arms under your stomach and flipping you onto your back. He took a second to just look at you, a shine forming in his eyes as he observed you. You look absolutely fucked. Cheeks flushed, hair all over the place, eyes glossed with satiation, and red marks all over your neck from his fingertips.

“Needed to see your face,” he answered before you could ask, slipping his cock back into your needy hole. The confession making your heart clench and the stretch of his cock had your stomach doing flips. “Besoin de voir tes yeux.” Needed to see your eyes.

His gaze was unwavering and fixed upon you. It was as if sought to etch the intricate details of your face into the canvas of his memory. He wanted to capture every nuance, every curve, and every expression that you made.

“Merde, let me cum in you.” His eyes trailed down your face, to your neck, to your breasts. The bounce of your breasts from the force of his hips had him in a trance, thoughts of you with swollen breasts came back to mind. When he felt your pussy clench around him at the phrase, a smirk formed. “Yeah? Want me to fill you up sweet girl?

“S’il ti plaît,” please. You were pleading. You wanted nothing more. “J’en ai besoin.” I need it.

Charles’s eyes almost rolled to the back of his head at your confession. His groaning and grunting increasing in volume as he pounds into you harder, every inch of his cock pressing against your velvet walls as he releases into you, making you feel all warm inside.

“Tu es parfaite.” You’re perfect. He collapses beside you; his voice was so low that you almost didn’t hear him mumble the words as he pressed his lips to your collarbone before resting his head on the pillows. You felt your cheeks redden almost instantly, brushing off the compliment with a smile and small laugh.

“Je dois prendre une douche.” I need to shower. The mixture of his and yours cum was oozing down your leg. You could still feel the warmth of it. Charles mumbled a soft “mmmm”, already drifting off into a slumber.

You weren’t sure what changed in the few minutes you were in the bathroom, but you could feel the unease build in your stomach as you emerged with a towel wrapped around your frame and skin flushed red from the heat of the water to Charles pacing around the room, a knuckle in between his teeth.

He was agitated to say the least. He felt betrayed by you.

A subtle smile played on Charles’s lips as the sound of the shower resonated in the room, accompanied by your soft hum of a song he couldn’t name. The ambiance of the hotel room cocooned him in a profound sense of peace, and in that moment, he wished he could stay here eternally with you. Kissing you, touching you, inside of you.

When he heard the buzzing of a phone on the table beside the bed, he instinctively reached for it without glancing at the screen, presuming it to be his own. Given the context of it being a race weekend, early morning phone calls were expected.

“Bonjour?” Hello? He let out a cough, clearing his throat from the sound of sleep and satiated desire. The subtle rasp carried with it the traces of his happiness.

“Ah bonjour, hello, this is Camille with Christian Dior.” The woman’s voice echoes into Charles’ ear. He sits up immediately, back against the headboard. His first thought was ‘why is Christian Dior calling me?’ but it wasn’t that abnormal either. Companies reached out to him all the time for collaborations. “I am calling regarding the application we received for the internship and wanted to schedule and in-person meeting.”

Charles felt his stomach twist in knots as he listened to Camille chatter into the phone. Application? Internship? Moving the phone from his ear, he looked at the phone realizing that it was in fact yours and not his. This call was for you, not him. Camille’s voice was muffled as it was pulled away from his ear.

A wave of nausea coursed through Charles, the unexpected revelation at the possibility of you leaving hitting him hard. How could you just apply for another job like that? He felt himself growing antsy and restless as thoughts swirled in his head. Camille, who was confused by the silence, mumbled something about calling back later due to the lack of response from Charles.

He dropped the phone onto the duvet of the bed, standing up and pacing the room while he felt himself begin to question everything. Questioning why you would leave. Does he not give you enough? Was it too much to handle? As his thoughts droned on, taking a turn for the worse, he began to feel angry. Angry that you considered leaving this job. He began to see red.

“Qu’est-ce qui ne va pas?” What’s wrong? You were cautious, not standing too close to him to give him some space. His head whipped in your direction almost too quickly.

Your attention was drawn to the wrinkle lines etched on Charles’s forehead, marking the aftermath of his furrowed eyebrows. The subtle creases and wrinkles, usually absent in is carefree demeanor, painted you a picture of his current inner turmoil. When you shifted your gaze to meet with his narrowed eyes, the cautious padding of your bare feet seemed to echo.

It was an unfamiliar sight to witness Charles engulfed in such a storm of emotions. The stark contrast to his usual carefree and joyful demeanor. He was blinded by his rage as he muttered the next words.

“Es-tu idiote?” Are you stupid? His jaw was clenched. A soft gasp left your lips as you clutched tighter onto the top of your towel, feeling rather exposed now. “Demande à Christian Dior.” Ask Christian Dior. His spat out the name Christian Dior with such disdain. As if it were dirt on the bottom of his shoe.

Your eyes widened, everything clicking. You weren’t sure how he knew, but he was answering your internal thoughts before words could form on your tongue.

“Ils t’ont appelé. J’ai répondu par erreur.” They called you. I answered by mistake. He let out a loud sigh as he leaned against the dresser across from the end of the bed, his forearms flexing as he gripped onto it tightly. You noticed the definition of his muscles and veins forming on his arms. He was squeezing the dresser, trying to gain some relief from such anger swirling within him.

At first, you wanted to argue him for answering your phone. But you knew him. You knew he wasn’t snooping. He said it was a mistake, so you took his word for it.

“Qu’ont-ils dit?” What did they say? You weren’t sure how to approach this conversation with him. You especially were not expecting it to go this way, with you wrapped in only a cotton towel.

His eyes narrowed to an almost imperceptible slit, the vibrant green drained from any warmth of presence. “Are you serious?” The exasperation in his voice reverberated through the room. Your question seemed to strike a nerve, leaving him incredulous. Was that all you had to say? The absence of an explanation hung in the air, adding more tension to the charged atmosphere between you two.

“Ne me crie pas dessus.” Don’t yell at me. You felt your own anger building at his attitude. Who did he think he was? You padded back to your suitcase, grabbing whatever outfit you could without paying attention. You weren’t sure what you even grabbed or if it even matched, but you didn’t care. You were too busy listening to Charles raise his voice.

“Don’t walk away from me.” He pushed off the dresser, trailing behind you. “What is this internship you applied for?”

You didn’t answer right away, instilling more anger within Charles. “Answer me. You’re just going to leave like always?” His tone struck you with disbelief, the harshness leaving an unexpected sting. The air was too intense. You needed to get some air.

Like always?

You turned and faced him. “Are you asking me as my boss or my fuck buddy?” You knew it was a low blow, but it was so unfair for him to be this mean to you. It wasn’t even necessarily his words but his tone that bothered you most. He spoke to you as if you were a child who needed punishing.

You had a shirt half-way over your head and black leggings on. “It’s just a summer internship. I didn’t even do the interview yet, but you seem to know that already.” You waved him off, rushing around the room to get your stuff. You needed to get out of here. You weren’t going to sit here and let him berate you.

“You can’t just leave.” He followed you to the door, gripping your wrist to pull you back towards him. You yanked your arm out of his grip.

“You’re just like everyone else.” His words tumbled out incoherently, much like uncontrollable word vomit. He could feel the panic rising in him as you made your way towards the door. “Right. Use me and then leave. It’s all I’m good for.”

His words twisted your stomach, and you chose to overlook the burning ache in your heart.

“Fine. Just go fuck your ex-boyfriend or something. Or Lando. I know he wants you.” He stood there, chest heaving up and down with his heavy breaths. You pulled the door open, standing in the frame, you took one last glance at him.

“Va te faire foutre.” Go fuck yourself. And with that you were out the door.

“Je n’arrive pas à le croire!” I can’t believe him! “C’est vraiment un connard.” He’s really such an asshole.

“Babes, you’re g’na need to speak in English for me to understand,” he laughed before taking a sip of his beer, “you muppet.”

You playfully rolled your eyes at Lando, seated across from you in the elegant ambiance of the hotel restaurant. Adorned in a snug black dress, every curve of your figure accentuated, the crystal jewels meticulously tracing the contours of your breasts. The garment displayed a subtle dip between your cleavage, adding an enthralling touch. It was safe to say you looked fucking good. Or as Lando said, “holy fucking shit, you took the air out of my lungs.” Which in response, you couldn’t resist a playful shove to his shoulder.

In the aftermath of the argument with Charles, you found yourself in the company of Lando, driven partly by Charles’s mention of him. Despite the strained circumstances, your connection with Lando remained strictly platonic. However, Lando’s penchant for flirting was a constant, adding a playful dynamic that colored your friendship. Thankfully for Lando, he was the reason you were able to even get a change of clothes seeing as you left the hotel room earlier in complete disarray. It was still your day off, one that was originally supposed to be spent with Charles. Lorenzo and Charlotte were still taking care of Charles’s daughter, leaving your night wide open.

“Martin’s driver is picking us up soon,” Lando declared, drowning the remainder of his beer and emphatically slamming the bottle onto the table. There was still two more days before the race weekend began, meaning Lando wanted to go out to which you agreed easily. Meanwhile, you maintained a composed sip from your glass of wine. With a playful glint in his eye, Lando added, “Get your dance moves ready muppet.” The prospect of the evening ahead seemed to carry a promise of lively escapades.

Your laughter echoed, creating a buoyant atmosphere as you seamlessly fell into a comfortable conversation with Lando. His easy-going nature and banter helped soothe the lingering nerves from the earlier argument with Charles. In that moment, you felt nothing but gratitude for Lando’s presence.

The vibrant lights of the club painted the atmosphere in a kaleidoscope of colors, while the unmistakable scent of alcohol lingered in the air. The club pulsated with energy of the intoxicated crowd, bodies swaying to the vibrations of music surrounding them. It wasn’t until you reached the DJ booth that you felt a wave of reassurance wash over you.

The night unfolded with a multitude of shots, some in which you had to pretend to take, just to save yourself from vomiting on the floor. The music provided a lively group, thus creating a joyous atmosphere. You surrendered to the rhythm, dancing through the hours, deliberately steering clear of thoughts about the brunette Monegasque who typically occupied your mind.

As you slid out of the booth, making your way to the bathroom, you finally pulled your phone out of your purse. The screen was littered with missed calls and multiple messages, most from nonetheless Charles.

from Charles (dilf) Where are you? 18:45 You’re such a brat. 19:19 Really? You’re with Lando? 22:47 Could your dress be any fucking shorter? 22:51 Tu essaies de me tuer 01:27 You’re really testing my patience 01:46

You didn’t answer. Feeling triumphant as you snickered to yourself at his messages, him clearly struggling with the concept of you being out with Lando. Slipping the phone back into your purse, you continued your night, leaving all worries behind. Because if you didn’t, the mere reality of the argument with Charles would have you vomiting on the floor.

It was honestly insane how the sun was just beginning to rise. Yet, you and Lando were just stepping foot into the hotel not even a few minutes ago, drunken laughter between you both as you exited the elevator to Lando's floor. No doubt, pictures of you and Lando surfacing all over the internet tonight. But you weren’t worried about that. What you were worried about was the angry brunette standing outside of Lando’s hotel room door, his arms crossed, and eyes tired as if he didn’t sleep the entire night.

You and Lando both sobered up quickly from the sight of him, brooding in front of the hotel door. Charles opened his mouth, utilizing both of your native tongue to exclude Lando from the conversation.

“Tu es putain de sérieuse?” Are you fucking serious? The harsh tone he used drew you back to the argument that had occurred earlier in the day. Or should you say yesterday?

“Que fais-tu ici?” What are you doing here?

He rolled his eyes, teeth gritting as he looked over to Lando smiling beside you with his hotel room key in hand. “Muppet, are you sleeping over, or no? I’m tired.”

Charles didn’t afford you a moment to respond before swiftly shutting him down. The gaze he directed at Lando carried a lethal intensity, a silent warning that spoke volumes. “Absolutely fucking not.” Charles’s grip tightened on your arm, an assertive pull guiding you down the hallway toward the elevator. Surprisingly, you didn’t resist, allowing the momentum to carry you forward. You looked back at Lando who had a smirk on his face and winked at you. What a fucker.

The elevator enveloped you both in an oppressive silence, interrupted only by rhythmic beeping accompanying each floor you ascended. Charles maintained a deliberate gap between you, yet his hand remained firmly clasped around your wrist. In the mirrored surface of the doors, your eyes locked onto each other, breaths syncing. As the doors finally opened, Charles propelled you out with a gentle push, his body behind yours.

It wasn’t until you both stepped into the hotel room that Charles unleashed a torrent of emotions upon you. His voice, thick with a mixture of anger, jealousy, hurt, and worry, carried the weight of the pent-up emotions he had been harboring. He had seen the stories, the posts, and even the photos of you at dinner, images captured by fans.

The way you smiled at Lando in the pictures had him throwing his phone. And don’t even get him started on the dress. The fucking dress.

“Do you like Lando?” He sneered, jealousy bubbling inside of his chest.

And because you felt like stirring the pot even more, you smirked. “Yes.” And although it was the truth, it wasn’t what Charles thought. You felt bad as you saw his face fall, but he deserved it just for a little bit at the very least.

You could feel all the thoughts racing through Charles head before he pulled you both towards the balcony, staring at the city skyline instead of at you. He pinched the bridge of his nose, his voice thickening with emotion, “What about me? What about us?”

“As a friend.” You finally announced, turning your body to fully face Charles. “I like Lando as a friend, Cha.” You confirmed, a groan leaving your lips. “Do we have to do this right now? I’m so tired and my feet hurt.”

“Oui.” Allowing no room for further complaints, Charles pulled you into an embrace, his arms enveloping you and effectively trapping you between the warmth of his body and the balcony railing. He nestled his head in the crook of your neck, finding a moment of relief in the reassurance that you were back, and in his arms. The tight hold on you spoke of relief.

“You’re mine,” He states. “Label or no label.” He's possessive in the way he speaks and touches you. Like he needs to get his point across. You feel him laugh as his fingers trail around your front side, trailing down until he can slip them up the front of your dress, pressing his fingers to your lace covered core. It was almost too easy. The dress was so short.

The desperate ache in the pit of your tummy grows with each swipe of his thumb along your covered clit. You began to forget why you were even fighting in the first place, his hands on you felt too good. You lulled your head back against him, making more room for his lips to attack on your neck.

Your ability to articulate words faltered, your legs turning to jell-o under his embrace. With one arm securely wrapped around your waist, he became your anchor, ensuring that you remained standing.

“You want my fingers?” His lips are hot on your ear. He slips his fingers beneath your underwear, feeling just how wet you really are. It was almost too easy. “So fucking wet and warm, mmm.” He groans as he slips one finger inside of you, moving it so slowly that you began to get frustrated with the pace. Your hips rut, trying to speed up his fingers, but he holds you in place removing your ability to move.

Your body begins to tremble as he increases the pace of his finger, inserting another one and curling it, hitting the spot you ached most. You want to cum so badly; you want to soak his fingers and tremble around them. “So greedy.” He takes your ear lobe in between his teeth, nibbling gently on it before trailing his tongue down the rest of your neck. “Taking my fingers so well.”

You groaned, his words pushing you towards your climax quicker than anticipated. He could tell you close with the way you were squeezing his fingers so tightly, and the way your words were almost incoherent. As soon as your arm reached back, your fingers brushing through his hair, he pulled his fingers out of you.

“No!” You half-shrieked at the loss of contact, pulling his hair in the process. Your face blushed and eyebrows furrowed from the loss of his fingers.

“Tell me you’re mine.” He flips your body around, your back flush against the balcony railing now. The breeze continues to blow your hair around, no doubt making a mess of it.

“You tell me you’re mine.” You bite back, refusing to say it first. Charles began laughing, it reverberated in his chest.

“Oh, mon ange.” He ignores what you say, trailing his eyes down your body. “This fucking dress.” His words are sharp as he begins gripping the ends of your dress and shoving it upwards, exposing you completely to him now. He placed a quick slap of his finger tips to your clit, the shock and sting of the slap turning you on more than you could imagine.

He pulls you forward, hands squeezing your neck, the area right under your jaw line to be more specific, lips immediately pressing against yours. There was nothing gentle about this kiss. It was hot, messy, and wet. A clashing of teeth and tongue as he sucked on your tongue. Leaving you almost no room to breathe in the process. But you didn’t mind, his kisses were intoxicating.

The firm presence of Charles’s hand on your neck persisted, the subtle pressure from the pads of his fingers inducing a dizzying effect. It was a tactile reminder of his control, a touch that left your head spinning, and wanting more. “I’ve always been yours.” He doesn’t let you respond before he’s pulling your lips back to his. This time, his fingers slip back into your heated core, assaulting and curling them just how you needed them. You breathed hotly into his mouth as your orgasm crashed over you. It was quick and hot. Charles could’ve sworn he was going to cum right in his pants at the feeling of you squeezing his fingers, coating them in you. He’s never been more jealous of his fingers in his life.

He flips you around again, fumbling with the button of his pants as he shoves them down, them falling to a pile around his ankles. He wasn’t slow, rubbing the tip of his cock through your slick folds, he teased you both for a little bit.

When he finally slipped into you, you swore you were going to cum again. You had to squeeze the railing harder to prevent yourself from doing so. You wanted to cum with him.

“Squeezing me so well.” He moaned, the wind picking up and the only glimmer of light was from the sun barely peeping over the horizon. You couldn’t believe you were doing this, out in the open of a hotel balcony, but the thrill of it made it that much more exciting.

“Tu aimes ça, hm?” You like that? He pushes you forward so that your chest was pressed to the railing, your head dangling over the edge as you looked down from the height of the building. Everything looked so small from this height. “Want the whole world to know you’re mine.” He continues.

“Want to fill you up.” You clench hard around him, soft moans escaping your lips into the air in response. Charles couldn’t help but feel his heart pound as he muttered the next words. “Want to fill you up with my cum, want to fuck a baby into you.”

At first, he was nervous muttering the words aloud. But the clench of your pussy around his cock only eased his nerves. Your moans increasing in volume told him just how much you liked that too.

“Merde,” Shit. You were mewling into the open air, the increase in pace of his hips had you seeing stars.

“Are you gonna let me?”

“Yes!” You were yelling it repeatedly. His fingers crawled their way around your body, slipping into the dip in the front of your dress and pinching your nipples. He rolled your nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

“C’mon donne-le moi.” Give it to me. And boy did you. You both came with a loud cry, the sound of his hips slapping into your backside a faint noise compared to the moans. The warmth of his cum seeping into you for the second time in less than 24 hours. Although, you were on the pill, you still liked to play along with the idea of being pregnant. The idea of Charles filling you up turned you on like no other.

You both took a few seconds to recoup, trying to catch your breath. He pulled out slowly, but brought his fingers down, pushing the mixture of both of your cum back inside you. He didn’t want a single drop of it to go to waste.

He turned you around, bringing your lips to a sweet kiss.

“Je suis désolée.” I’m sorry. His eyes hold your own. “I should’ve said it sooner. I didn’t mean any of it, I swear. The idea of you leaving had me freaked out, you didn’t deserve any of it. You..”

A small smile graces your lips as you see how genuine he is and you lean up on your tippy toes, bringing your lips back to his. Essentially shutting him up, his hands wrap back around you, lifting you off the ground as he carries you back into the hotel room, both of you collapsing into the bed.

“Even if I got a new job, I’m still yours.” You started. “But actually, there’s this great nanny job I heard about.” Charles feels panic forming in his chest again. But you continue on, “It involves the cutest little girl ever. I also heard that the dad is so hot and cool. Did I mention he’s single?” You joke, laughter erupting between the both of you as he cradles you into his body.

“I don’t think he’s single.”

“Yeah. He definitely isn’t.”

And that was all he needed to hear.

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc #f1 imagines #f1 x reader #charles leclerc angst #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc fic #f1 imagine #don't wake the kids cl16 #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #f1 x female reader #f1 x oc #charles leclerc x you

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gffa · 9 months

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You know why the Jedi are right in this scene? Because it's literally how the Force works, this moment is undivorceable from the very basic worldbuilding fact that: The Force works based on their emotions. That is part of everything to do with the Force in the movies, that is the very first layer of the foundation of how it works! If they use the Force while they're afraid, that is straight up a path to the dark side, that's not just what the Jedi say, it's how Star Wars' worldbuilding functions. “Once you become afraid that somebody’s going to take it away from you or you’re gonna lose it, then you start to become angry, especially if you’re losing it, and that anger leads to hate, and hate leads to suffering. Mostly on the part of the person who’s selfish, because you spend all your time being afraid of losing everything you’ve got instead of actually living. [....] So that is ultimately the core of the whole dark side/light side of the Force.” –George Lucas Fear is the path to the dark side. It doesn't matter if the fear is justified or not, it's not necessarily a moral or value judgement, but it just is how the Force works. So, the scene in The Phantom Menace goes like this: Yoda: "Afraid are you?" Anakin: "No, sir." Yoda: "See through you we can." Mace: "Be mindful of your feelings." Ki-Adi: "Your thoughts dwell on your mother." Anakin: "I miss her." Yoda: "Afraid to lose her, I think, mmm?" Anakin: "What has that got to do with anything?" Yoda: "Everything. Fear is the path to the dark side. Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to suffering. I sense much fear in you." The Jedi are repeating Lucas' explanation almost word for word in this scene, fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate, hate leads to suffering, this isn't what the Jedi decided was how things work, it's how the Force works as decided by the guy who created the Force, they're absolutely, 100% correct about it. And that's why it's important that Anakin isn't acknowledging his fear here, that it's not that he's afraid that's the problem or what the Jedi are saying is the problem--the Jedi express emotion all across the movies! that whole "there is no emotion" thing is NOWHERE in the movies or TCW! that is something Lucas himself never put in ANY of his canon!--but that he won't even be mindful of his feelings. Being mindful isn't immediately purging them, it's acknowledging that they're there, working through them, eventually letting them go. "But it's normal for a nine year old to miss his mother! How can they say he's bad just for--" They're not saying Anakin is bad. Nobody is saying Anakin is a horrible person for missing his mother! Nobody is even saying that Anakin is a horrible person for not being mindful of his feelings! Nobody is saying that it's Anakin's fault that he doesn't have the tools for better emotional regulation! But they are saying that he's not a good fit for the Jedi. And they're right! He's not a good fit for the Jedi! Not one single Council member even so much as implies that this is any kind of judgement of Anakin as a person or that he's bad for it! They're saying he doesn't have the rock solid foundation that a Jedi needs because that's how the Force works--and they're right. Every commentary Lucas ever makes about Anakin's fall is that he didn't want to regulate his feelings, he didn't want to let go of things.

The Jedi never once say or imply that that would make Anakin a bad person or that he's a failure because he didn't magically have things he wasn't taught, but they're saying that it would make him a bad fit for being a Jedi and they can already feel--given that they're psychic space wizards who can sense others' feelings--that he doesn't really want to change. ("He's nine! You can't judge a character at that--" Girl, it's a fairy tale meant to illustrate Lucas' personal philosophies about emotional regulation via fairy tale logic, not hyperrealistic examinations of characters, come on now.)

Which doesn't make Anakin a bad person or that he's in the wrong for being scared and not having the tools to deal with it. The Jedi can say "He's not a good fit for what we need to be because of the way the Force works." and not have it be any kind of condemnation of him as a person. His later actions, once he has the training and support to know better, sure. But nobody's saying the nine year old is at fault. They're saying the nine year old doesn't have the foundation he would need, which it doesn't matter that it's not his fault, it's still quite literally how the Force works, that you need that foundation.

#lumi.txt #star wars #anakin skywalker #jedi order #meta

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theshadowrealmitself · 1 year

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Making myself laugh at an au where it’s Peter Parker, became a vigilante at age 10, has been one for like 16 years now, so 26 years old max. and still, inexplicably, has his identity a complete secret, and so his file with SHIELD, if they knew him, should have stuff about him having spider abilities and a healing factor and a spider sense that helps him sense danger even without seeing it, etc

And so Spiderman thinks that his file, because they don’t know anything, just looks like a ton of question marks

But instead, it’s full of their observations that they’re 100% sure are correct based on misunderstandings and misconceptions, and that file just keeps leading to wild rumors, which end up just hiding Spiderman’s identity better, so the file’s like:

Spiderman must be about 50+, clearly knows how to fight, knows First Aid, has trouble working with others, knows military lingo (he figured it out as a kid due to various vigilante situations that put him near them), is clearly trained (they mostly think this because of the experience he picked up and because of his spidey sense), is a genius super scientist who makes his own equipment (this parts true but they don’t know he’s been mutated, they think it’s all equipment), etc

So they’re all like, obviously, Spiderman used to work for SHIELD or something (maybe there’s a rumor or they did actually used to use a weaker version of the soldier serum on agents, so they all think at most Spidey has weak super strength), definitely a government scientist at the very least, went on the run as lone wolf soldier after he witnessed some corruption*, maybe the government even killed off his family when he refused to do something corrupt, and now he wears bright clothes because he’s sick of working in the shadows, etc

(*misunderstanding based on the fact that one of the reasons why Spidey refuses to join SHIELD is because of how often it gets revealed that Hydra infiltrated it but then it gets covered up, and it’s getting covered up because they don’t want citizens to lose faith in SHIELD, like I have no doubts every single time Nick Fury is going out there and getting rid of them all, but to outsiders it just looks like SHIELD refuses to take accountability and is covering it up because they’re still there, and Peter’s Jewish ass can’t take any chances with that)

#Peter Parker #we don’t talk enough about him being canonically Jewish #Spiderman #spider-man #spider man #I full heartedly believe that every time it gets revealed that there’s hydra agents #SHIELD just handled it terribly

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allthecanadianpolitics · 21 days

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Every morning, Indigenous men at the Waseskun Healing Centre north of Montreal gather for a healing circle, where they smudge, share stories and sometimes gain spiritual guidance from elders.

The centre is the equivalent of a minimum-security prison but here, the men are called residents, rather than inmates, prisoners or offenders. [...]

Waseskun is among 10 healing centres across the country that are funded by Correctional Service Canada and reserved for Indigenous offenders serving time in federal custody. The lodge, one of the oldest in Canada, sits amid the tall pines and rocky land of Saint-Alphonse-Rodriguez, 100 kilometres north of Montreal.

It is the only federally funded healing centre east of Manitoba and is one of six in the country that is Indigenous-run. Waseskun, which has been singled out by Public Safety Canada as a success story, serves only men and has 22 spots reserved for those who were sentenced to terms of more than two years. [...]

Zinger said there’s an urgent need for more and better-funded Indigenous-led healing centres to provide alternatives to conventional prisons. Almost three decades after the creation of the first healing lodge in Canada, there are only 139 beds across the six community-run healing lodges in Canada. Lodges run by the CSC provide another 250 beds. [...]

Tagging: @newsfromstolenland

#cdnpoli #Indigenous persecution #healthcare #mental healthcare #budget plans #there's 10 of them how are you underfunding them fucks' sake

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lucysarah-c · 2 months

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WE NEED AN ENTIRE STORY OF LEVI AS A BABY BOY DADDY! LIKE PLEASE ITS ACTUALLY TOO GOOD 🙏🙏🙏🙏😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

PLEASEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏😭😭😭😭😭😭😭🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏😭😭😭😭😭😭

You all have inspired me to write a one-shot, so I'll post it soon. Thank you so much!

But since I'm on it, I think I'll give you a few headcanons.

In my idea, Levi didn't have many children, and while sometimes my scenarios may change depending on the situation, mostly Levi's boy would be an only child. This wasn't Levi's original idea, and I'll explain why.

Leaving aside whether in the canon period of time there are real contraceptives or not, I 100% believe Levi is a highly meticulous guy. If he needs to pull out and count days in the old-fashioned way, he will. If he has to wear condoms every single time, he will. I believe Levi would try to make sure that if he ever has a child, it would be planned, as far as is humanly possible, of course. Sometimes contraceptives fail, etc.

In my mind, I believe Levi and Y/N decided or happened to have a kid around the time before the expedition to Wall Maria. There was about half a year when the scouts waited for the correct time to do the expedition to Wall Maria. Well, I believe she probably got pregnant around that time. I believe it was a mix between Levi transitioning a lot of emotions after Kenny's death, etc., and having more free time on his hands since they weren't doing expeditions while preparing for the mission… and well… let's say they decided to go handy, haha.

With that said… I think Levi would hardly admit it out loud, but he's one of those guys who always wanted to be parents, so they kinda said, "You know what? Fuck it, if it happens, it happens," and well, it happened almost immediately. Levi hears the news around two months later, and let me tell you, this man is all over the moon. He wants to be part of EVERYTHING. For me, Levi wants to prove that he is better than the men who failed his mother and also failed him. Levi wants to prove he can be a present father.

She goes to the doctor for just a check, he wants to be there. Better keep his man informed because he would ask a million questions. He's a first-time father, and she may sneeze, and he's all worried. Levi saw too many women die in childbirth or from difficult pregnancies in the underground. He's blessed with the chance of being a father, but also terrified. Levi feels that if he loses his love just because he "grew selfish" and asked for more (aka asked for a kid), he would feel horrible.

Anyways, back in the day, men waited outside during birth, and I believe they would try to kick Levi out of the room, and he would be like, "and who is going to stop me?" He wants to be there.

Now is when his baby boy comes into the picture. I believe, and God bless the mother, he was such a healthy CHUNKY boy. He was BIG. Those kinds of kids that look so healthy but at the same time, it's like "he literally sucked her dry, that baby took anything the mother has to offer."

Like, she's too tired after childbirth, and the nurses offer Levi feeding bottles with milk to keep the baby eating while the mother rests… and the baby is EATING to the point a doctor comes, pats Levi's arm playfully, and says, "Hope you've a good salary, Captain, because that kid is going to eat like a horse."

Perhaps these are the only few times that Levi is the most excited out of the two, she's tired from all the work, and Levi is over the moon. Ah, but don't you dare to touch his baby without washing your hands. If Levi could force you to take a bath in chlorine before even getting close to his baby, he would.

Aside from that, I think Levi's baby boy that I've named in my mind "Adrien" because Y/N thinks that naming her kids with A's to match the last name, especially since Ackerman's are finally able to not be in hiding.

In my mind, Adrien inherits Kenny's height. Yes, as you heard, KENNY'S HEIGHT. 190cm (6'3"). He's a big boy. I think it's funny that all the doctors check the baby and say, "haha, he's going to be tall!" and Levi is there looking at her like "… I don't like to admit I'm short as fuck, but if the kid isn't mine you can tell me," joking obviously, lmao.

"Levi, the kid is a photocopy of you."

Adrien is an extremely playful, happy, and hyperactive kid. He's so cheerful, and it makes Levi wish his mother was around so he could ask if he was such a cheerful kid too.

Chunky fat legs running down the halls as he doesn't even speak properly, but he already knows which office is daddy's office. He loves horses, he loves playing soldier, he loves being a daddy's boy.

This is when I mention that I believe Levi having a single child wasn't his original plan. I think he wished to give Adrien a sibling to make sure he won't be alone in life if anything ever happens to him as he was. But the whole rumbling happened, and after that, Levi was too busy trying to move him and his family outside of Paradise and after that settling down, taking care of Gabi and Falcon, that well time flew, and when everything was back to calmness, haha, well let's say that Levi had to admit that the train had left the station, and his energy to go back to change diapers had kinda withdrawn, lmao.

Finally, I think Adrien was a very hyperactive kid mainly because of the Ackerman genes. He has energy, he has strength, he has the abilities. He just has too much bottled up and doesn't know how to get tired. Levi is basically running around making sure the kid isn't jumping from the roof or climbing the kitchen cupboards. He probably ends up signing him up for a bunch of activities: baseball, self-defense classes, football, triathlon.

I have a bunch of other headcanons, so let me know if you want more!"

Tags!: @nube55 @justkon @notgoodforlife @nmlkys @humanitys-strongest-bamf @quillinhand @thoreeo @darkstarlight82 @i-literally-cant-with-this @angelofthorr @aomi04 @levisbrat25 @fxnnyackerman @secretmoneybearvoid @s0meb0dy-0nce-t0ld-me @trashblackrainbow @l3visthighs @hum4n-wr3ckag3 @hannieslovebot @feelingsandemotionsnotexplored @flxrartsstuff @starrylevi @rithty @mariaace @ackrmntea @emilyyyy-08 Wanna join my tag list? Here!

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struggling-with-drivers · 3 months

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More brainrot thoughts, blame and thank @pucksandpower

Au where Charles is a gold digger and Max is the f1 driver Charles wants.

Okay okay okay so, can you really blame Charles, like can you really blame Charles?

His mom had been arm candy to his dad, that much was by no means a secret. It might have influenced his way of looking at life, more than anyone realised. But it's not like he wasn't influenced by anything else he grew up with.

The opulence that surrounded him, the over indulgences lurking in every corner, the wealth that absolutely did not whisper. Especially not during those few weeks the entire country breathes for Formula racing.

Charles was raised in luxurity, and it was everything he had ever known. The words your face is all you're worth, had been intrgrained into his mind and body since he was a child. He had showed no really skill in any of his subjects, neither any of the 100s of sports his Maman had rotated him through. He was hopeless at seemingly every single one of them, it did however make him a very interesting person, and if there was one thing Charles Leclerc could.

It was talk.

Charles was a great conversationalist, and an even bigger flirt. Cheeky in just the right way, and seemingly obliviously innocent in every other. Except he knew what he was doing, he knew he was a tease, especially when he ran his hand over someone's chest and practically purred into their ear. About how good he could be.

Then he would pull back, bat his eyelashes. Hook, line and sinker. Charles was have an amazing night, and then be showered in gifts and hush money. With an invitation of next time tucked away in his back pocket.

Pierre had called him a practically unsafe escort once, Charles had corrected him, he was in fact being very safe.

Then Pierre had brought along his Formula 1 colleagues, and can you really blame Charles?

Max had seemed so sweet, so forbidden in the crowd of Eden. Charles wanted to sink his teeth into Max, if not for the hush money, but for the way those eyes would look at him when he begged for more.

Then Max had rejected Charles, even after he had touched his chest, even after he had purred in his ear. Max had even resisted the way Charles battered his eyelashes at him.

What Max hadn't been strong enough to do, was look away. His eyes had been fixed on Charles's open shirt since Pierre had introduced Charles to the other. His gaze locked to the way that translucent shirt had a cut so deep, so when Charles bend over, Max could see his belly button. Not that he needed the gap, the shirt itself was seethrough enough on it's own.

Charles had guided Max's hand to his side, and Max had excused himself for a drink.

Abandoning a full drink on the table.

He had needed air.

Max didn't see Charles again for a month, and he should have known better, in fact he should have expected the beautiful man to show back up in his life. Because then there Charles was. Right at the Monaco GP, walking down the Paddock, his arm linked with someone else, dressed in all red, supporting Ferrari.

Max should have brushed it off and moved along, so why couldn't he?

Why was the only thing he could think about as he accepted the trophy and got doused in champagne, that a certain beautiful man clad in Red would look better in Blue?

Pierre - who Max didn't think he had talked to more than few times in the last year - had clasped his shoulder, warned him not to be stupid. Then that was it, and Max had seen him move away, hug Charles, and pepper a few kisses on his cheeks, before Charles had nuzzled his way back under the arm of some guy Max didn't know. Not that he cared.

But Charles had looked at Max, even as the Monégasque kissed the cheek of his lover? Keeping the eyecontact, as though he had forced Max to watch, a way to taunt this could be you. He needed to get his shit together, they had met once, and seen each other twice.

Then came the victory celebrations, and Max didn't know how Charles had ended up on his lap, there was plently of spaces left in the booth, but he had picked Max's lap as his preferred seat. Except, Charles hadn't looked at Max not even once. Even he had kissed Pierre hello, right there, on Max's lap.

His eyes had been glued to Charles.

Who did not even look at him once, and Max - fully sober - was feeling so fucking intoxicated. Over this guy, a stranger, a something. Something dangerous, something that reeked of scandals.

When Charles had gotten up, all eyes turned in his direction as he sauntered away. Max knew, for he had looked as well.

Monaco GP was over, and Max could relax, at least that's what he told himself. The world had other plans for him, how had Max never realised how small Monaco really was. That Damned beauty seemed to show up everywhere, at the coffee shop, when he was on a run, even at the paddle club.

Had Charles always been around?

Except, each time he saw the Monégasque a longing feeling spread through his chest, it was followed by the reminder, Charles was always looking at someone else. Max doesn't think he saw the same person twice with an arm around Charles.

Max wondered briefly, in a moment of weakness, and post nut clarity, would the price be worth the feeling of his hands on Charles waist. Then he had chased the thought away, with the unnessecary paperwork, and NDA's and besides. Pierre had said to not be stupid. Pierre - who probably cheered every time Max made a slight mistake - had warned him.

Charles knew his effect on others, he was fully aware of each set of eyes that followed him. Nothing thrilled him more than walking through the street, being someone's accessory, and everyone appreciating him. Charles had quickly found himself enjoying a specific pair of eyes, they belonged to a certain Dutchman. Someone Charles would never had imaged being able to get with a few years ago. But that had been when Charles was younger, and now, he had honed his skills well enough.

He knew that it was only about time before Max Verstappen would break.

Max will sometimes see Charles hanging around the paddock during the European stint of races. He had convinced himself that he had become immune to the magnetic pull of the charming Monegasque. But it was quite a shock when - after having made the long journey to Suzuka - he sees the familiar perfectly messy hair.

More somber than he had ever seen Charles before. The beauty had traded in his typical Ferrari red for AlphaTauri white and navy, and a guest pass declaring him “Guest of Pierre Gasly.” Then he had joined Pierre on a track walk.

Max had watched as Pierre and his trainer continued making their way around the Suzuka Circuit even as Charles wandered towards the run-off area on the outside of the Dunlop Curve. And then Max watched as the normally composed and aloof man fell to his knees.

Max looked around. No one else seemed surprised to see the Monegasque’s body shaking as he sobbed on the gravel. Max had spotted Daniel across the track with his own trainer and nudged his way over to the Australian.

“What’s up with him?”

"Charles Leclerc?" Daniel questioned, "You don't know? He's Jules- was Jules god son."

"Oh," Is all Max said, he didn't know what else he should have said.

And Max felt so stupid, how hadn't he made the connection before?

No wonder no one else had seemed surprised, that Charles was constantly hanging around the paddock, wearing Red when his friend was in white and blue.

No wonder that in addition to being especially close with Pierre, the older drivers seem to have a bit of a soft spot for him. He probably should have realised there was more going on after hearing someone mention Pierre and Charles grew up together.

They'd all seen that the sport can take and take and take - the sobbing man of front of him was proof enough of that.

Max had barely realised, he was standing in front Charles before the words. "It sucks." Had rushed out of his mouth, and god, the other man snorts. Too taken aback with what Max just said, to have realised he stopped crying.

He looked up at Max, and a brief thought barrels through his mind. Fuck Charles looks good on his knees. But then Max reminded himself that that was probably pretty fucking inapproiate. Instead he reached a hand out, a sort of apology, but definitely an attempt to help to other to forget what Max had just said.

"Thank you." Charles smiled at him, the tears were still fresh on his chins, but Max could breathe a bit lighter when his hand clasped with Charles. He rest his other hand on Charle's back, as he wobbled for a few moments. Before Max realised where they were, retracting his hand to his side, far too fast, far too uncomfortable.

"Thank you." Charles repeated, letting go of Max's other hand. Max made an attempt to not show the disappointment on his face, the way the Monegasque smiled at him, told him he had failed. And Max didn't mind loosing that much when Charles looked at him like that.

With a few weeks in the back mirror, and some alcohol in their bodies. Charles had found himself with Max in the driver's penthouse apartment.

Max's lips were moving against his own, but then Max spoke, and Charles just wanted him to shut up. That's why he kissed him to begin with.

"What's your price?"

Charles froze for a moment, before returning to running his fingers over Max's sides.

"Your guilt will tell you tomorrow." He murmured back against Max's lips, so Max was aware of how Charles worked, and for some reason, it hurt.

Charles had never been paid directly, never a predetermined amount, it was all in hush money and gifts, places he had been taken and shown off, the clothes on his body, the drinks in his hands, the jewellery around his neck and fingers. Pierre had once called him a prisoner in golden chains, and Charles had told him he was full of shit.

But then Max cooked him breakfast.

This was not part of the deal, this was not part of anything. This was not how this was supposed to go. Max was supposed to tell him it was a mistake, and pay off Charles to keep quiet. Not cook him breakfast.

"Why- why are you-" His voice failed him, the Monégasque known for his smooth tongue, and tempting words, cannot speak. His greatest weapon had been lowered by a man in a silly apron.

"I don't regret anything."

Charles had been gifted jewels by princes and dukes and lords. He had been gifted Ferraris and Lamborghinis and Bugattis by billionaires. He had even been gifted a yacht by a sheikh once (long story). But this was the first time that he had been made to feel human after. That someone had gifted him the feeling of being wanted for more than his body. And now he feels like crying at the sight of slightly charred toast and scrambled eggs.

Max seemed to panic at the distress Charles was feeling. Unable to understand what was going on, not that Charles blamed him at all.

"I'm so sorry," Max had rushed out an apology at the first sight of potential tears, "are you vegan? Celiac? Fuck I should have asked, I have celery! Do you want celery?"

Charles had laughed at that, tears in his eyes at the sight of the formula 1 world champion reduced to panic because someone like Charles might not like his breakfast.

"I fucking hate celery," Charles had told Max, feeling a lot better, despite the Dutchman's confusion and seemingly oblivion to all the feelings that had been cruising through Charles.

Then one of Max's cats had jumped on the counter and tried to kidnap Charles's toast, and Max had set chase after the cat, and Charles had found himself thinking.

I could get used to this.

#lestappen #max verstappen #Charles leclerc #f1 #Fic #Delia brainrots

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bonefall · 3 months

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how do surrogacies for cats in another Clan work, socially? With honor siring you don't have to stick around once the cat you're siring for is pregnant; but with surrogacies you're going through an entire pregnancy and kitting process, which your Clan will probably catch onto at some point. Do you just... go off to give birth and come back and tell your Clan "bad news they didn't make it :( they all got uhhh eaten by a hawk sry all" after dropping them off with the cats you surrogated for

The out of universe reason is simple logistics. Some parents can't give birth but they still need a visit from the stork, with how small Clan sizes are.

In-universe, it's a whole process.

MOST surrogacies are done by family, or are in-Clan. A sibling who is able to get pregnant will do so, with the expectation that their family member will take and raise the kits.

More are done on a sort of "open book" policy. Onestar and Whitetail are an example of this; One wanted kits and asked White, but didn't want to coparent. She agreed, and neither one kept it a secret.

So Whitetail is not Heathertail's MOTHER, but it is known she was the honor-sire.

Likewise though, it's within your rights to keep it secret, even within a Clan. If you asked Onestar where the kit came from, invoking Queen’s Rights would shut it down.

But you could put two and two together that Whitetail was probably pregnant and stopped being so right when Onestar became a Mi.

For the record though. Listen carefully.

not every cat who is expecting will suddenly flash like a neon sign indicating it. The whole Clan will not suddenly get a text saying "DUDEHEART IS PREGNANT." Some people just don't show. Some cats don't smell that different. It's rude to ask unprompted and even worse if you guess wrong. Like real life.

Please understand.

On the Anthro-Scale, from 100% feral cat to 100% fuzzy human, BB cat gestation is closer to the feral cat than most of their other behaviors. So this is not the same "big deal" as a human pregnancy.

In general, I write "medical" topics closer to real cats than the Erins do. I mostly take "liberties" in the portrayal of disabilities so THOSE are closer to the real humans in my audience

intelligent cats are not going to be correcting me on my incorrect portrayal of Feline Diabetes, but I could unwittingly cause harm in spreading diabetic misconceptions that real people try to clear up, y'know?

Anyway. What that means is that warriors giving birth is not the federal issue that it is for humans. It's still not TOTALLY safe, but dying in childbirth is exceptionally rare, plus being much less painful and considerably faster

"The Birthing Stick" means something is wrong.

So there's several factors at play within Clans, but Out-of-Clan surrogacies are much more interesting.

These are usually arranged at Aftergatherings. They were rarer before the move to the Lake, which now sees waaaay more cross-clan friendships.

USUALLY the Clan's Cleric will be involved, which IS technically a waiving of the Queen’s Rights. Leafpool simply doesn't interpret it that way.

A more "traditional" Cleric, like Littlecloud, will NOT be involved for personal safety and comfort reasons. This makes a bad situation but that's the reality of QR (and is a reason why Fire Alone cats think QR doesn't go far enough.)

Kits are always given to the parent before 1 moon. Fading Kits aren't socially questioned if they fade before that 1st moon. So it's pretty easy to hide it.

"All of my litter was faders" is unfortunate in the way that a car accident is unfortunate. "Shit, are you ok?" "Is StarClan trying to keep a close eye on you? Are you going to try again?" Etc.

"Frequent Flyer" surrogates, like Brightheart, often keep a single kitten from each litter to avoid the implication of "bad omens."

If they aren't Brightheart who likes raising kittens with her mate, the kitten is often given to an in-Clan parent who wanted a child.

Most surrogacies aren't "free," but it does depend on who's doing it for you.

Like all other things in BB, this looks very different between generations, and depends heavily on the "attitudes" of the Clans at the tine. But, Queen’s Rights will protect you from revealing too much. STILL, surrogacies ARE harder than sirings. Just not impossible.

#cw pregnancy #Tw pregnancy #Pregnancy #Clan culture #Better bones au

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matan4il · 6 months

Note

Hello. Can I ask why everybody is calling Israel a "colonial" state? Because it annoys me very much when I see that for three main reasons:

1. My country was a former member of the British colonial rule. Do you know what happens when a country gets colonised? Every bit of the wealth generated went to the Crown, every political decision had to be approved by the Crown, laborers were exploited as much as possible, my people were directly under the orders from a British Monarch who actively hated them. The economy was in shambles after we got independence. As far as I know, since the state of Israel was created, it does not answer to any foreign country (the UN is not a country). How is this a European 'colony'?

2. Most(All?) people who immigrated to Israel were refugees. If Jewish people living in Europe did not have any ties to the land of Israel and were completely 100% European, why were most of them killed horrifically during the Holocaust for not being the right race? Why does nobody talk about the expulsion of Jews from the surrounding Arab countries? Where should these people go?

3. People also seem to forget that governments can be stupid. Just because they are the ruling party does not mean they're capable of making sound decisions for their people. Even a non-colonial government makes bad decisions. If you can separate Trump from the rest of the US, why can't you do the same for Israel?

I do not want to reduce the suffering of the Palestinian civilians. However using the wrong terminology is not the way to help these people. Please correct me if I'm wrong, but I'm really tired of this 'colonizer' takes.

(I hope I made my point clear as English is not my first language?)

Hi, lovely Nonnie!

Please, your English is great! I would have never guessed you're not a native speaker. :D

And you are absolutely right about every single point. Also, my heart goes out to you! I'm so sorry that your people have also suffered due to colonialism. I'm sending you BIG hugs!

Colonialism is what destroyed my people. After our homeland was repeatedly colonized, the Roman colonizers went even further than previous regimes, and expelled most of our ancestors from this land (a small Jewish minority wasn't, and that's why there has been a documented continuous Jewish presence in Israel for over 3,000 years). The expelled Jews became a spread out minority in other countries. With such small numbers in each country, it was easy to vilify us, we were vulnerable to every attack, with hardly anyone defending us, and no real option to defend ourselves. The Holocaust happening to us is directly linked to this way that we were forced to exist for almost 2,000 years in the diaspora.

Meanwhile, our land continued to be repeatedly colonized by different regimes. Each one did exactly as you said, exploited our country for their own benefit. The Ottomans, as just one example, cut off so many trees to build the Hejaz railway (which connected today's Syria to today's Saudi Arabia for the purpose of Muslim pilgrimage to the Saudi mosques), that the Land of Israel went through a desertification process. When Jews started returning in substantial numbers (because in small ones, there were always individual Jews who tried returning to our ancestral land), we did exactly what native populations try to do, restore the land, through continued research and development, to its pre-colonized state.

That's on top of the fact that, as you mentioned, we don't answer to or serve any European (or western) country. Colonies serve a metropole, but there is none for Israel. It's just our country. It's just the place where we live, even when it's incredibly difficult, because it's our ancestral homeland, which we've returned to, after our ancestors prayed for that for almost 2,000 years.

You're also spot on about the fact, that Jews were always discriminated against and persecuted in every country in the diaspora (with a few exceptions in South East Asia, the most important one being India). We were treated that way precisely because there was a historic recollection that we are foreigners. That we were south west Asians, living as a minority in countries that never truly wanted us, like Norway, or Spain, or Morocco. That's why it was so easy to kill us in the Holocaust. That's why it was so easy to expel us from Arab countries. Because we were never truly accepted by the locals.

But even after expulsions and surviving the Holocaust, there are so many places in the world Jews could have turned to! Places where there would be less resistance to us forming a country. Yet, the overwhelming majority of Jews rejected such suggestions. If they hadn't, then we would have truly been colonizers. But that's not what we yearned for. We always dreamed of returning to our homeland, so eventually it became evident to everyone that there's only one real option for a Jewish state, and that is in the Jewish ancestral land.

The reason why people claim that Jews are colonizers of their own land (some deny all historic ties Jews have to Israel, despite every piece of evidence to the contrary, while others acknowledge the Jewish history of Israel and the continued Jewish presence there, but claim that it's been so long ago, it doesn't count anymore. I've never seen any other native group being told that there's a time limit on their native rights. Have you?) is because it allows a narrative that once again vilifies Jews.

When the worst thing Jews could have been was of an evil religion, they described us as evil in religious terms (accusing us of having killed Jesus, and accusing us of using the blood of non-Jewish kids to bake a special kind of bread meant for religious purpose). When the worst thing Jews could have been was of an evil race, they described us as evil in racial terms (describing us as being sub-human, and accusing us of wanting to take over the world, to destroy it for the rest of the human race). Now that de-colonization is such a powerful (rightfully so) narrative, the worst thing Jews can be is evil colonizers... So guess what we're suddenly described as? Evil colonizers, who plot, steal, abuse and genocide another population (when in reality we consented to coexist with it 76 years ago).

I hope that sort of answers it? Basically, it's the newest form of the same age old antisemitism. Find the worst thing Jews can currently be, and depict them as that.

Thank you for seeing past the vilification! It means a lot. I'm sending you lots of love! xoxox

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

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lex9923 · 2 months

Text

Tw// SA

This will be my one and only official statement on this situation, because frankly I’m done with all of this mental hopscotch happening.

I am a sexual assault victim. I was the same age as Caiti is now when it happened, and I was cornered with his hands down my pants touching my vagina and up my shirt touching my boobs, while I tried to get away and make it stop. I still to this day don’t know who my attacker was, but it will follow me for the rest of my life. It’s been five years since then, and my story has not changed once. Not ever. I hadn’t told people for a couple years cause I thought since I didn’t know who my attacker was, I wouldn’t be believed. As well as the fact that I came forward about a sexual harassment I faced at a job and was met with “well, boys will be boys”. Through it all, I am here, and I survived.

Watching the reaction to this situation from both of the main parties involved, those who weren’t there, those who were, and the fans had sent me spiraling. I’ve spent the past two weeks reliving that trauma from five years ago cause I thought I misinterpreted my assault as something else. I had not, and never have. It’s been incredibly invalidating watching the alleged “victim” change the story multiple times, make fake texts, omit important information, all while not even listening to the person she accused of a criminally offensive act.

Caiti is absolutely allowed to feel uncomfortable and regret what happened after the fact, but it is not, and will not ever be assault-unless George actually did touch her boobs, and then that will be a different discussion, but with her credibility disappearing, I’ll only believe it if he admits it himself. I’m trying to extend grace to her being young, sexually inexperienced, and caught up in online culture, but it’s hard the longer this gets dragged out. There are things you do when approaching a situation like this:

1. You absolutely need to provide evidence and proof of your claims. You can’t prove something that never happened, but you can prove something that did. It’s why it’s innocent until proven guilty. Expecting people to blindly believe you is delusional at worst and ignorant at best.

2. You must absolutely have your story 100% correct and factual to how you perceived what happened, before bringing forth any accusations. Using purposefully charged language and then changing the story to match the one you accused is not it. Nor is changing your story yet again when people are catching on to the inconsistencies.

3. Allow the accused person to defend themself. You can’t expect people to listen to all of your claims-most of them blindly doing so-and then get upset when people wait for both sides to say their piece, especially when you present no evidence at your initial statement. Again, you have to prove guilt. If you can’t prove it, the accused are allowed to defend themself.

4. You are in no way obligated to accept apologies, but acknowledging one was made-multiple times in fact- is the bare minimum. Trying to change your story one last time to make it seem even worse than what you both agreed upon, and then hiding behind “I’m not going to address this anymore” is manipulative at worst and cowardly at best.

I hope Caiti gets therapy, cause it’s clear she’s been severely affected by something, though I’m not sure she even knows what it is. I also hope she learns from this, and next time utilizes the “direct message” function every single app has. This could have been a dm, and the way it spiraled has been a shitshow and her intentions are coming off less and less pure the more this gets dragged out. I’m so sorry she was uncomfortable, and regretful, but until she shows any proof whatsoever of any assault happening, it will never be. I hope she heals, and I hope she gets better friends cause they have all failed her.

For George, I’m sorry this got blown so out of proportion and no one even privately talked to him about any uncomfortability being felt. I’m sorry his friends are performative. I’m hopeful that he was made aware of things he wasn’t before, and will do better next time. He is not irredeemable, and I believe growth is possible (the difference in his two responses proves as such). I hope this isn’t the last we see of him or his content, and I hope he can heal from this as well.

To my fellow SA survivors, I’m so incredibly sorry that our trauma has been thrown around like this. Our hurt and pain do not deserve to be mocked in this way, and I wish it would’ve never even happened. You’re stronger than what happened, regardless of how shitty this situation has been for us. And as a 24 year old, I like to consider myself a big sister of sorts, so I love all of you. We got through it then, we’ll do it again.

Speaking woman to woman, I’m sorry this has been so messed up. This will make it harder for us to come forward in the future and that is indescribably frustrating. However, that does not take away from the pain and hurt we went through, and I hope if you do have the strength to come forward, you are believed.

I’m done with this whole situation. It should not have come to this point, and if you stayed this far, I greatly appreciate you reading this. One last time. Caiti, I’m sorry you were so uncomfortable. Get therapy, better friends, and take a break from the internet. George, I hope you learn from this situation, and I’m sorry you were made out to be a criminally offensive person before giving your side or anyone ever speaking to you.

I hope you both heal.

I hope sexual assault victims having to relive trauma, and are affected by this continue to heal.

I love you all.

Lex

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kasdan · 7 months

Text

Matching Costume Headcanons

masterlist

Pairing: marvel characters x gn!reader

Characters: Frank Castle, Loki, Carol Danvers, Kamala Khan, Bucky Barnes, Peter Parker, Yelena Belova, Matt Murdock, Natasha Romanoff, Wanda Maximoff

Warnings: franks part was so fluffy and cheesy it hurt my heart and then theres matt being the biggest whore, nat is a menace

happy halloween all!❤️

𝑭𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒌 𝑪𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒍𝒆

he finds the costumes in the closet when he’s looking for something

“oh god”

knows exactly what it means even when he sees you and your innocent smile standing in the doorway

doesn’t even want to go out for halloween, but now he has to because he’s not going to turn you down when you look so excited and you obviously put time into finding the costumes

complains about how the costume fits on him and how it’s too tight in places

will put on a smile on his face even if he might not feel 100% into it, but by the end of the night he’ll won’t be able to help the genuine smile on his face, even if the costumes are of the dumbest things

gets tired of certain accessories on him and tries to take them off for a while, but is forced to put them right back on when he sees the look you have on your face

doesn’t care what he’s wearing he’s just glad he’s spending time with you and wouldn’t have it any other way

will put this costume or any other costume on again if you want him to mans actually will not care as long as you’re there with him

𝑳𝒐𝒌𝒊

when you bring up the idea of matching costumes together he’s confused at this custom

“why would you want to dress as something else?”

you eventually convince him to do it and can see that he’s more excited for it than he lets on

lets you do all the planning as it was your idea after all

he pretends to be reading and fully immersed in the book when you’re putting some things together for the costumes

he’s not good at hiding his interest

when you ask him to try on the costume for the first time he’s very reluctant and makes a big deal out of it

you practically have to push him into the bathroom to change, him mumbling about how he can just use magic to put it on, but you insist that he has to put it on the correct way

will complain the entire time when out in public while wearing the costume about “dumb midgardian traditions”

will do it again next year if you ask really nicely:))

𝑪𝒂𝒓𝒐𝒍 𝑫𝒂𝒏𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔

you have multiple different costumes that you change into as the night progresses

is very committed to the different costumes

one costume she carries a boombox around on her shoulder and you know that mf is so heavy to be carried around like that

has you both take a picture of every single costume you change into

goes out dancing with the costumes on and you have the time of your lives

will put out the wackiest dance moves, attempting to make them correlate to the costume she’s wearing, but ends up just jumping around

will run down the street and drag you along with her, she enjoys the freeing feeling of the wind along with the costume she’s in

hosts a halloween costume party so she can show everyone both of your costumes at once

overall she really just likes halloween

you’ll bake food and treats while in your costumes

she’s really tempted to dress up for the entire week of halloween but eventually just decides to do the day of when you mention the work that would have to go into it, even though she had enough costumes to do so

you did it really just to save yourself so you wouldn’t have to dress up for an entire week

𝑲𝒂𝒎𝒂𝒍𝒂 𝑲𝒉𝒂𝒏

she brings up the idea of matching costumes with the most excitement out of anyone

will have bruno make both the costumes— captain marvel of course but if you want to make your own she would be ecstatic and check up on the progress of it practically every minute

won’t stop talking about the costumes and how cute you guys are going to look in them

has her costume done months in advance

keeps giving you tips on different things you can do with your costume and adds the same things to her costume

the week of halloween no one can get her to shut up

she’s bouncing off the walls as halloween draws closer and the time to wear our costumes comes

her parents are constantly trying to get her to calm down but she’s kamala and she’s going to be excited when she gets to dress up as her favorite superhero

when you guys are out with your costumes she’s constantly raving on how cute they are and how you have the best costumes

already talks about next years costumes when the night is barely over

𝑩𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒚 𝑩𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒆𝒔

you surprise him with the costumes when they’re finally finished and are ready for him to see

he’s caught off guard by them, not being prepared for you presenting him with matching costumes, even though he knows halloween is coming up and you were bound to do something for it

he’s always down to try new things, so instead of dismissing and ignoring the outfits, he’ll embrace them and get excited to when you both can wear them out together

even if you guys don’t go out and do something he’ll still find dressing up in the costumes and doing whatever you guys do fun

as long as the costumes aren’t incredibly cheesy and dumb

when you suggest dressing up as tom and jerry he’s completely against it after you had to explain to him what it was

ends up going out in the costume anyway because he can’t bring himself to turn you down when you seem excited, even if it’s because of him being humiliated

will look into doing it again next year, but has to have a say in the costumes from here on out and won’t be afraid to turn any ideas down; he let you have your fun this year

𝑷𝒆𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒌𝒆𝒓

has a million costume ideas you guys can do together

from peanut butter and jelly to two of the ninja turtles this man has everything you wouldn’t have even considered in a million years covered

takes this more seriously than some major school assignments

if you turn down all the ideas he has he’ll just go and come up with more until you eventually agree to one

has multiple color palettes to choose from for the costumes to make it to your liking

takes so many pictures of you two in the costumes

you will find him enthusiastically showing off the costume to other people and motioning to you from across the room as he talks

will want to make it an annual thing from this point on after you two got so much positive feedback

he wants to go everywhere with the costumes on; into every store and restaurant just to show them off happily leading the way as you trail behind him

you have to force him to take it off and put on regular clothes at the end of the night when he’s very reluctant to take the costume off

𝒀𝒆𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒂 𝑩𝒆𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒂

you both dress as the dumbest things you could possibly find

you walk around spirit halloween to find something and she grabs everything she sees

there’s a point where you find a mask and you walk up behind her to scare her with it

she screams inside the store, almost punching you and you have to quickly shush her and pull the mask off to show her that you’re not a murderer under it

she just stares at you with an open mouth and wide eyes before she starts to laugh asking why you would do that between the laughs

you practically try on half the store, forgetting you’re there to find costumes to actually go out with

she comes out of the dressing room with tears in her eyes from how hard she’s laughing when you put on peppa pig costumes you found

you two almost get kicked out of the store when she knocks over accessories on a shelf and has to rapidly put everything back

picks out the most random accessories that don’t go with the costumes at all

you stay in the store until it closes and you have to rush to check out the costumes you eventually decide on

you both go out drinking and have a good time in the costumes that you eventually get

𝑴𝒂𝒕𝒕 𝑴𝒖𝒓𝒅𝒐𝒄𝒌

doesn’t really see the point of matching costumes since he won’t even be able to see what you look like, but caves when he can tell that you really want to

questions little tiny accessories that you have to clip on for him

you mess with him saying the costume is neon pink and his eyes visibly widen for a second before he realizes that you’re messing with him

will find himself smiling the whole night especially when people comment on the costumes

talks you up and gives you all the credit for the costumes if people ask about them

you purposely make his costume pants extra tight (for no apparent reason)

the little whore knows you did it on purpose too and will make you regret it

“accidentally” keeps dropping his glasses and bending down to pick them up

you offer to pick them up for him but he insists that he’s fine doing it himself

causes multiple instances in where he has to walk in front of you for something

he’s such a whore.

𝐍𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐚 𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐟𝐟

picks out all the details for the costumes

she says every accessory makes a difference, no matter how small the detail is

the costumes are so tight they might as well just be painted on

makes the costumes identical to each other, with just the color of them being slightly different

walks in like she owns the place with your rightful place next to her

won’t let you leave her side for the whole time when you’re both wearing your costumes

she says you both have to be seen together with the costumes at all times or the magic will disappear

just smiles at you when you tell her you have to go to the bathroom and she motions for you to lead the way

you just sigh knowing you won’t be able to do anything about it and if she follows you into the bathroom she follows you into the bathroom

now you’re stuck with her and every year you’re going to be in the same boat you’re in now

𝐖𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐚 𝐌𝐚𝐱𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐟𝐟

you both spend time planning the costumes figuring out what you’re going to be and the design on how they’re going to look

you make a joke of you both going as witches and apparently the idea just stuck so now you’re designing different witch costumes you both can wear

makes the costumes as cliche as possible with the pointy hats and brooms

gives you a pointed look when you hold a broom up to her and she doesn’t grab it at first but then can’t help but let out a laugh as she grabs it

she even makes her costume have red highlights throughout it

will talk in the cliche witches voice

you’ll be getting a drink or washing your hands and she’ll come up behind you with her hands out and fingers bent

“i’ll get you my pretty”

it actually scares you because you’re not expecting it

you whip your body around, about to attack the intruder behind you when you just see wanda there and she starts laughing at your reaction

she draws the line at the cackle you ask her to do

at one point you run around on your brooms, zooming through different people

makes sure to stay home earlier in the night so she can pass out candy to trick or treaters

all photos used were found on pinterest ❤️

buy me a coffee ♡

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no-psi-nan · 5 days

Text

Saiki K ships with the most canon evidence, RANKED:

#5) Kuboyasu x Saiko

#4) Teruhashi x Saiki

#3) Toritsuka x Saiki

#2) Aiura x Saiki

#1 ) Nendo x Saiki

Reasoning in Brief:

#1) Nendo x Saiki

Nendo is the longest running character in the series after Saiki himself and immediately starts calling Saiki "aibou"/partner after Saiki saves him from a false accusation and he "saves" Saiki from bullies. Saiki uses his powers pretty freely in front of Nendo and Nendo always protects him, most notably at the end of the series when Saiki "loses" his powers. Saiki's bond with Nendo is so strong that even Nendo's father immediately gets attached to him in the past, and Nendo Sr.'s ghost is the only one he can see without Toritsuka's help. The second light novel states that without Nendo, Saiki would never have made friends with any other characters.

#2) Aiura x Saiki

Aiura's predictions are 100% correct according to canon and this is never contradicted. Saiki works with Aiura flawlessly in saving Yumehara's life multiple times in a row. Aiura's help was pivotal in stopping the volcano and she even helps in the cat tank arc despite not being physically involved. Aiura disagrees with Saiki's official stance of not helping others (though he's a liar who helps anyways) and they both grow as characters through the disagreement. By the end of the series, Saiki willingly accepts all of her invitations to go out for dessert alone together while knowing that she considers it a date and that she wants to have his babies.

"What if Aiura meant platonic soulmates?" <- every single one of Aiura's compatibility ratings and the other soulmate prediction given were explicitly romantic, unlike Saiki's favorability meter which seems to work with both platonic, romantic, and even parasocial relationships.

#3) Toritsuka x Saiki

Toritsuka is allowed to physically hug Saiki at school in public even though everyone knows Toritsuka as The Germ and it could screw Saiki's reputation big-time. The cat tank arc literally has them saving each other's lives. Incredible amount of homoeroticism, particularly in the 3-days fasting chapter.

#4) Teruhashi x Saiki

While they have the most explicitly romance-coded screentime of every pairing by far, Saiki never willingly goes out with Teruhashi and never considers telling her the truth about his powers. Teruhashi also never gets to find out about Saiki's real personality and struggles to compliment him even towards the end of the series. Teruhashi also doxxes Saiki to her simps in the invisible milkshake-stealing chapter even though she thinks giving Saiki any Valentine's chocolates in public would lead to both his death and WWIII.

#5) Kuboyasu x Saiko

Homoerotic rivalry practically drips from every single interaction they have. Nuff said tbh.

Why didn't X ship make it to the top 5?

> Kuboyasu x Kaido

Way more bro-coded than romantic. Kaido turns red at the thought of hand-holding, if there was canon gayness then it would be obvious.

> Akechi x Saiki

> Kuniharu x Kurumi

Akechi only got approximately 3.5 seconds of screentime 😔

> Nendo x Hairo

That was a joke bonus panel. Also, as much as Hairo considers Nendo to be his rival (even though he freaking cheats against him...), Nendo never seems to reciprocate, rip...

First chapter of the serialized Saiki manga is domestic violence between them over one (1) supermarket coffee jelly.

#DID NOT MEAN TO POST THIS YET #whoops........#ahhh well. controversy time.#nopsi nonsense #saiki k #saiki no psi nan #sknpn #the disastrous life of saiki k.#tdlosk #nopsi meta

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serasfanfiction · 2 months

Text

Inspired by this Twitter thread.

Part 1

If asked about it later, Lucifer would have sworn it was an accident.

Well, his discovery was. Everything else? That was 100% on purpose.

The incident in question came about like most interactions with Alastor. Alastor messes with Lucifer (for no reason, Lucifer might add). Lucifer retaliates (with mixed results). Alastor tries to get under his skin. Lucifer casually reminds him can squish that little static bitch like a bug, thank you very much.

And so on and so forth, most only stopping when Charlie interrupts them.

It was all going pretty much to script. Alastor had just made a comment about his parenting skills - look, he knew he had messed up, but he was here, now, and trying! - to grind his gears when Lucifer found himself inspired.

Alastor wanted to rile him up? Well, fine! Two could play at this game.

Because while Lucifer's parenting skills - or lack there of - was a sore spot, Alastor wasn't without his own triggers. Case and point: The Radio Demon absolutely loathed it when men touched him. Granted, he didn't like it when anyone he didn't tolerate touched him, but men in particular was a hard no-no.

Lucifer honestly tried not to poke that beast. He knew why all of his people, these wretched and terrible sinners, were in Hell. All he had to do was take one hard look at any of them and he'd know. And oh, how he knew every single one of Alastor's victims. Could lay the names of all of them, especially that first one, at his feet if only he thought Alastor regretted even a single one of those deaths.

So he knew why the seemingly unflappable radio host hated to be touched and he genuinely tried to respect that boundary even when his own weren't respected.

But sometimes Alastor pushed and pushed until he got his reaction.

In this case, it was Lucifer in a small duck form landing right on Alastor's head.

Alastor froze as the Devil laughed at him, static emitting from him like he'd hit a bad station. Lucifer took advantage of the opening to nip at one of the tufts of hair he'd always seen sticking up on the guy's hair, only to realize:

"Are these ears?"

He let out a quack of pure delight. On either side of him, the little black antlers he'd never really paid attention to began to enlarge. Lucifer proceeded to put two-and-two together and got: "Wait, are you a deer? Does that mean you have a tai--"

He was cut off by an overly large black and red claw swipping him right off of Alastor's head. It was at this point, Lucifer realized that Alastor had grown in size, eyes manic and maw agape. He clearly intended to take his chances with attempting to eat his king.

Which, rude. Clearly, he needed to learn to take it if he was going to dish it out.

Lucifer easily shifted into a serpentine form, before slithering out of Alastor's grip. To avoid the drop, he shifted back into duck form, keeping just out of reach.

"Ha!" He taunted. "The dreadful Radio Demon, hell bent on treating everyone else like prey, when really--"

"Dad!"

Lucifer spun around, spotting none other than Charlie. While her interruption was indeed like clock work, the look of disappointment on her face was new. And so terribly damning.

Lucifer fluttered to the ground, taking to his humanoid form as he touched down. Behind him, his nemesis creaked oddly, as if his bones no longer had any cushioning between them. "Hey, Charlie, I..." He trailed off as his daughter didn't spare her hotel's manager the slightest glance. They all knew what to expect from Alastor. Alastor would always be none other than himself. She'd clearly expected more from her father.

Who'd just as clearly disappointed her.

Again.

Lucifer shrunk into himself, suddenly finding his victory tasted like ash.

Charlie placed her hands on her hips, stance . "Alastor, I know you like teasing my dad. And Dad, I know Alastor can take some getting used to, but can't you both please just try to get along?"

A figure in red came up beside Lucifer, the correct size and shape to indicate Alastor had returned to his normal shape. Lucifer didn't dare look at him, keeping his gaze fixed solely on His daughter's face.

"Ah, forgive us, my dear." Alastor says it like he'd never lost his cool to begin with, charm turned up to the nines. "We merely got a bit carried away. No harm done."

Charlie sighed, stance already softening. She never liked being stern. She much preferred to be a problem solver. She eyed the two of them. "I'm not going to ask that you like each other. Just promise me you'll at least try not to antagonize each other."

Lucifer side-eyed Alastor, who had the gall to appear serene as an untouched pond.

"Dad."

Lucifer's attention snapped back to Charlie. "I..." Her expression was bordering on disappointed again and he felt his arguments crumble. "Of course, Char-Char. Anything for you."

Her smile was like a sunrise dawning over Eden. Lucifer resolved himself to actually try to avoid fighting with his daughter's business partner.

Charlie turned that expectant look on Alastor. Alastor's smile softened into something fond and indulgent, true despite the slight distance to it. "Very well, my dear Charlie. I promise not to antagonize your father."

Charlie, always willing to give someone the benefit of the doubt, clapped her hands together. "Oh, thank you, both of you!"

Lucifer wasn't entirely certain he believed a word Alastor said, but that was between the two of them.

Tbc

Part 2

#radioapple #hazbin hotel #alastor #lucifer morningstar #deer lucifer fic #there's some deer!lucifer content floating around my twitter feed #i blame this all on that #first deer!lucifier appearance in part two #which ive already started #i just ran out of steam for tonight

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toastyrobos · 5 months

Text

When flowers do the talking (Wrecker x female reader one shot)

Word count: 3116

((You had no idea why wrecker always came by the medical bay or would bring the occasional small batches of flowers. He said he was just being nice. You had no idea why he was doing it. It’s not until Tech let’s it slip that Wrecker likes you, That you realize how much he has occupied your headspace so you rush to find him))

Once again your eyes drifted over to the bouquet of flowers resting in the vase next to the window. Rain pelted the glass as per usual. That was the one thing you didn’t particularly like about Kamino. Torrential rain. On most occasions it didn’t bother you, but on days when it just poured you weren’t too keen about it.

A week ago though your spirits had been lifted. By the same individual who seemed to know just when a heavy rainstorm was brewing. You had no idea how he knew, but giving the vase your full attention, you didn’t mind. In fact you actually enjoyed it.

Anytime the well built member of clone force 99 would come by it put a smile on your face. Most days it was as simple as a hello or how is your day going. He didn’t get to stay for long, as he usually was called away for missions often. No surprise. Given the groups track recorded.

But he would make up for it. The row of flower vases that use to line your windowsill as a tall tel sign.

Every time Kamino was due for heavy rain, Wrecker would bring you another set of flowers. Your first instinct was where was he getting them from? Kamnio was surrounded by multiple bodies of water. Things like flowers were not within the planet’s surface?

The second thought was why was he giving you of all people flowers? Was it because you were one of the main medical staff members and he wanted to show you his appreciation?

That didn’t seem correct. You were simply doing your job is all.

Your next thought seemed even less plausible. Making you shake your head at how ridiculous it sounded.

Whatever his reasoning for gifting them to you was it didn’t really matter anymore. It was sweet and made any stressful rainy day you experienced brighter.

“(Y/N)?” You lifted your attention to the two figures hovering in the doorway.

Your eyes grew at the state both of them were in. Especially their resident brainiac.

“Tech”. Stunned you were at the way he was limping and clinging onto Hunter for support. Instantly you dropped whatever task you were preforming and moved over to him. Wrapping an arm around Tech’s figure you helped Hunter guide him to the empty medical table.

“What happened?” You immediately questioned the two of the them. Or whoever would ever answer you first.

“A training exercise”. Hunter answered, crossing his arms over his board chest. “We decided to test out a new formation and well it did not go to plan”.

“Technically it did”. Tech held up a finger. “By my calculations we had an 80% chance of success”.

You turned your back to them, digging through your medical supplies for a brace and bacta spray.

“Not 100% though”. You merely said.

You heard Tech exhale behind you. “The chances of a 100% success rate are exponentially low to near impossible. Wrecker’s purists in expressing his romantic attraction towards you, by the use of colorful flora and fauna has a higher success rate I’ve determined”.

You stopped what you were doing. Everything pausing around you.

“What?”

For a few minutes no one uttered a single word. You shook your head. You must have heard him wrong.

Hunter was the first one to break it. “Tech!” He scolded his fellow squad member.

Tech blinked. Not understanding the gravity of his actions he had caused.

“I thought it was obvious”. He simple explained repositioning his slipping goggles.

Obviously it was not. And frankly the very notion of it sounded ridiculous.

You chuckled nervously. “Thats impossible”.

With equipment in hand you twisted back around to attend to your current patient. Who had no idea the affects his statement had on you or your racing mind and heart.

Hunter did, however. The minute Tech had revealed Wrecker’s rather obvious secret he witnessed the way your complexion paled for a brief second before your cheeks shifted to a light shade of pink. The way your heart skipped a beat momentarily then picked up in speed. He was about to say something, but you beat him to the punch.

“Wrecker doesn’t have feelings for me”. You argued, ripping open a bacta patch. Something about the cooling nature of it against your heated skin felt refreshing.

“Your wrong Tech. The flowers are just him being nice”.

Patch in hand you brought it up to the exposed skin of his leg and applied it. Tech hissed slightly from the cold sensation of the patch meeting the warm temperatures of his body.

“Technically you are correct”. He began. “Wrecker is the most accommodating and indulgent one out of the five of us, however it has been visible to each of us, in multiple instants, that he attracted to you. Romantically that is”.

You blinked.

“If I may (Y/N). Wrecker is quite taken by you. Infatuated I believe would be the proper term. On several occasions each one of us has witnessed him speak about you with such significance. From my research it would appear he was, as I’ve read, as though he was ‘floating on air’”.

You opened and closed your mouth. Processing his words. The meanings. The implications in which they held.

This…this couldn’t be true. Could it though?

Again you shook your head. Tech was wrong. Strange as it sounded. Wrecker was just being friendly. Kind. Generous. It’s who he was. Strong and ruthless as he could be in battle, he also had a heart of gold. Wore it on his sleeve.

There was absolutely no way that some like him could harbor romantic affection for you.

And yet. The mere idea of it gave you pause. Was he just being nice? We’re the array of different flowers just a friendly gesture? Or was there more to it?

Racking your brain for anything, you stumbled upon a recent memory. A day when everything that could go wrong, had gone wrong.

Sitting at your desk, body hunched over, you hadn’t noticed him come in. He coughed to get your attention. To which you immediately looked up, eyes meeting his brown ones. Another Bouquet of flowers were in his gloved hands. Red roses this time. Your favorite.

You were beyond exhausted, however the second you eyes landed on him every bad moment from the day vanished like it never had existed.

The way he would stumble over his words every time that he talked to you. How flustered he became in your presence. How he avoided your gaze in certain situations.

It was if everything around you had stopped. Frozen in time.

By the maker.

How had you not noticed it before. It was all right there! Plain as day to see! And you had missed it.

Had missed every single detail.

Maker..

He had feelings for you. Wrecker had feelings for you.

Heat immediately pooled in your cheeks at the sudden realization. Butterflies fluttering away in your stomach at what ever single arrangement of flowers now meant.

From where he was residing, Hunter could see your poor attempt at concealing your flustered appearance. His brown eyes catching yours only making your blush deepen.

It felt like your entire face—no, your entire body was tingling with warmth. Caused by the same individual who had gifted you such treasures.

It was then you came to a second, more deeper realization.

You reciprocated his feelings. You had feelings for Wrecker.

How his wide grin could light up a room. The way he would take an interest in your day. And above all, the flowers. The flowers….

“(Y/N)”. Hunter called out your name, but you couldn’t hear him.

Millions of thoughts and memories had taken over your mind. You were starting to question the nature of every time Wrecker would say hello to you or was nervous around you.

Was every one of them him taking an opportunity to work up the courage to eventually tell you how he felt?

Looking back on them it had to be. You were absolutely certain of it. The way his gaze would linger on you for far longer then normal.

“(Y/N)!” Hunter’s raised voice snapped you out of your trance.

You blinked. “I-I’m sorry. I just..”.

Your voice drifted off. An overwhelming feeling taking control of your body. Everything suddenly becoming clear. And you knew what you needed to do, before you could rationally think it over.

Before either one of them could utter another word, you dashed out of the medical bay, stumbling as you rounded the corner. Nearly straight into another person.

“Sorry!” Not stopping for even a single minute, you briefly apologized from further down the corridor.

All you could think about was locating Wrecker and telling him exactly how you felt. That you reciprocated his feelings. That you wanted to be with him. Or at the very least give whatever this was a brewing between you two a chance.

However you didn’t know where to start looking. With Hunter and Tech back in the infirmary there was a high probability that their squad was staying put for a bit. As evident by Tech’s minor sprain. Meaning that Wrecker was here. Perhaps near by.

They had just come from the training field. Maybe they had made their way back to their barracks. You rounded another corner. Kriff why did every single hallway have to look the same with its blinding white interior?!

Taking another left you came face to face with the open door to their barracks. You ducked your head inside momentarily to see if he was here. Everything inside laid so still. As if untouched for a while. Kriff. He wasn’t here.

“(Y/N)?” You recognized that voice. You quickly snapped your head in that direction to find Echo walking towards you, a bit confused to find you at his door.

“Echo I need to find Wrecker. Where is he?” You cut off him impatiently, before he could ask what you were doing here of all places.

Puzzled, he pointed down the hall. In the direction he had just come from. “In the hanger, why are—“

Even before the entirety of the sentence could leave his lips you had already dashed off. Running in the opposite direction you had come from. Fully intent on finding Wrecker and letting him know your true feelings. Adrenaline pumped through you veins as you raced down multiple halls. Your destination near.

Finally. Rounding the last corner, you stopped briefly, eyes frantically scanning the surrounding bay to see if you could find him or the Marauder.

Eyes widened the minute you spotted it. Off to the left, housed between a weapon storage vault and another larger vessel. Then you eyes found him.

Nothing stopping you, you quickly darted across the hanger bay. Legs pumping, burning from the excessive running you had done today. But you paid it no mind. No. Reaching Wrecker was all that mattered.

As if he could sense your presence, his frame twisted around to see you coming at him full force.

“(Y/N) what are you—Mmfph”. You flung your body into his, impulsively crashing your lips onto his, cutting him off and rendering him completely speechless.

Realizing what was happening to him, Wrecker reached his arms around your fragile frame securing his hold onto you. The warmth of your body up against his chest mixed with how sweet your lips tasted, maker he thought he was for sure in heaven.

You tasted so delightful on his lips. Like one of those nectar infused cocktails down at the 79. But better. Much better. Richer. More flavorful. Like honey. And he loved honey.

For you, the second your lips touched his it was like fireworks going off. Electrifying and loud, but bright and spectacular. He was so gentle in the way he held you. Careful to not let his strength become too much. Applying just the right amount of pressure.

Maker did you absolutely want to continue kissing him. But you also came here with a purpose. To tell him that you felt the same way about him that he did about you.

Besides you had a good hunch that once you laid everything out in the open, getting to kiss him would become a normal occurrence.

Reluctantly you pulled away. To his disappointment.

But he quickly recovered, staring straight at you. A puzzled look in his eyes. “W-what was that for?”. He questioned you. Vaguely worried that he was dreaming what was happening to him right now. Bracing himself, he had to be sure it was all truly real.

“Tech”. You took in a deep breath, steadying yourself. “He told me everything, Wrecker”. He continued to stare at you, perplexed. What did you know?! There was so much that Tech knew! What had he told you?

“I know about the flowers”. His eyes widened. Tech had told you that secret. Oh dear. “I know that you…you have feelings for me”.

He swallowed slowly, feeling his throat dry at your eyes scanning him. Frantically he opened his mouth to say something. Like Tech was wrong. Or that you had missed heard him or—

“And I wanted you to know that I care about you too”. You admitted out loud finally. To both yourself and him. Having your own confession out in the open felt invigorating. Like a weight off your shoulders.

Even if you had only realized the truth of it all less then twenty minutes ago. It didn’t matter.

Wrecker stood there stunned. Frozen, you wrapped up in his arms. Was he dreaming? He must have been. Because he most definitely misheard you.

“Y-you mean it?”. He responded before he could give it a second thought.

You nodded. “I do. I didn’t realize I did until Tech told me how you felt”.

It was true. You hadn’t really thought about it until Tech put the idea in your head. The the idea of you and Wrecker made perfect sense to you.

He made you laugh, brightened the gray days you would have, and you adored his goof ball energy. And if you were being completely honest, you liked a man who could swallow you up in a single hug. Wrecker checked all the box’s for you.

You lifted your hands up and took his face between them. “I really like you Wrecker”. You confessed wholeheartedly. “I really do”.

The biggest smile you’d ever seen erupted across his face. The pure joy and happiness radiating off of him was contagious. You felt him light up like a thousand stars in the night sky. The browns of his eyes glowing like two embers.

“I love you”. He crushed his rough lips onto yours, catching you off guard. For the briefest of moments you were unable to register what he had said. But then you quickly melted into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck, leaning into him.

You couldn’t explain the feelings that coursed through your veins, but somehow you felt whole. Like this is where you were meant to be. Being embraced by an individual who was responsible for much joy in your life.

Breaking apart, both of you were left breathing heavily. Lungs near exasperated from the lack of air flow. But it was worth it.

“Wow! That was…wow”. You giggled at his simple minded description.

“Yeah”. You mumbled, shyly biting your bottom lip.

His smile softened as he studied your flushed cheeks. “Maker your really beautiful”. He complimented you without a second thought.

Instantly your entire face flared up at his very honest observation. Normally you did not get embarrassed, but now with everything coming back to you, including a clear head, you made the discovery of just how emotionally driven you’d been.

Not that it was a bad thing, it just usually wasn’t your style. Yet in this situation you were grateful that you had been a bit…reckless in allowing your heart to guide you. For it had led you down this path. To this.

“And your eyes. But especially your smile. Your smile (Y/N) is incredible”. Wrecker confessed. “It was the first thing I noticed and man oh man did it reel me in! It was like I was seeing the sun for the first time”.

You’d seen Wrecker passionate and enthusiastic numerous times, mostly when talking about being on the battlefield. Destroying ‘clackers’ as he referred to them. But never about you. Let alone your smile. You didn’t even know that he liked it that much. The way he was describing it however made your heart swell.

You were too stunned to speak. So he just kept on going. “When I brought you flowers you would always smile, like I was your favorite person, so I-I kept on bringing you some. Umm…even if nothing happened, I’d at least get to see you smile and that would make any day better then it was”.

He brought you flowers, not just because he cared about you, but because he wanted to see your smile?

Dan Ferrik. You swore your heart would melt at that. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing him confess to you!

“Wrecker, you really like my smile that much?”

Wrecker shook his head. “No. I love it”.

Now you were positive your heart was melting. If not your heart then your eyes. Tears had started welling up in them, only to overflow down your cheeks.

“Y-you do?” You asked to which he nodded, leaning in to lay his forehead against yours. Your heart was beating rapidly at this point. No end to its frantic nature in sight.

“I love everything about you”. Now it was his turn to be flustered, but it did not bother him.

He confessed all that he wanted to. All that he needed to. And never in his wildest dreams would he think that you’d feel the same way. But by golly he was so thrilled that you did.

Placing you back down on the ground, to avoid anymore suspicious stares, he scratched at the back of neck. Nervous ticks finally setting in. But he was grateful for your lingering touch. Your hand Iaced with his. Fingers tangled together. Making him feel slightly less nervous.

“Would you like to umm…go out?”

Leaning up on your tippy toes, you placed a gentle kiss on his cheek. “I would love to, Wrecker”. You both beamed from ear to ear.

“Tomorrow?” His smile as bright as ever.

“Tomorrow”. You echoed, spinning around. But not before you uttered one last thing.

“Oh and I’m looking forward to the Bouquet”.

#star wars #bad batch #star wars the bad batch #i love the bad batch so much #the bad batch wrecker #wrecker bad batch #wrecker x reader #bad batch wrecker x reader #bad batch x reader #clone force 99 #wrecker fanfic #megabeewrites #star wars oneshot #bad batch fanfic

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nolita-fairytale · 1 year

Text

call sign: tennessee whiskey | rooster x fem!reader & hangman x phoenix | chapter two

summary: you and phoenix make plans to dinner on saturday, instead of going to the hard deck. (rooster x reader-heavy chapter)

warnings: enemies to lovers, slow burn, eventual smut, swearing, mentions of death, strong possibility of military inaccuracies, second person pov, no use of y/n,

wc: 5.2k

listen to: you're all i need - marvin gaye & tammi terrell | the playlist

chapter one | masterlist | chapter three

“Will you slow down, Whiskey? Run’s over,” Phoenix says, trying to catch her breath as the two of you walk back up the beach.

“Just trying to keep up with you,” you shoot back, slowing down your power-walk pace as you make your way up the beach. “So damn competitive.”

Nat had in fact set a blistering pace for your morning run, and now, you were on a roll, using every muscle fiber in your body to propel you uphill to your first cup of coffee. You can already tell that you’re going to be sore tomorrow. Why did you think it was a good idea to go on a beach run this morning? It was practically a hike just to get back and the two of you had your first meeting back on base at 0800 sharp.

“And you’re not?” she quips, causing you to laugh.

“No, you’re right,” you concede to her, making your way up the steps that lead off of the beach.

There’s a coffee place across the beach entrance and it’s the first place you intend to go before heading back to the barracks to get changed.

You and Nat order your coffees, taking them to go as you cooldown on your walk back to the barracks. The sun has just risen and it’s nice to have a moment to yourself before things get serious again. It became apparent on day one how high stakes this special mission is and you can tell that it’s already beginning to affect everyone. It’s only been a few days of grueling training and everyone’s already looking forward to having the weekend off.

“So… I saw you and Rooster talking the other night at the Hard Deck,” Phoenix prods, changing the subject.

“Not this again,” you groan, taking a sip of your latte in an attempt to breathe life back into your body. “You have anything to do with that?”

“You can’t blame me for being excited! I have been trying to get the two of you in the same room since we met in Bosnia,” she defends herself before continuing her explanation.

“And somehow every time I do, you’re deployed, or he’s deployed, or you have a trip planned, and the only time he can come visit me is when you’re visiting your dad or blah blah blah. I mean, this is a freakin’ miracle!”

“What’s up, Phoenix? Why are you so intent on setting me up with this guy anyways?” you ask, stealing a glance in Nat’s direction.

“Because!” she exclaims with an exasperated sigh. “You both are the best people I know and I think you have a lot in common. More than you know.” She chuckles to herself before continuing with:

“Plus I think in all the time I’ve known him, he’s had maybe one or two serious relationships? You know how this job is. I just-, I think he’s really ready to settle down and… I think you’d be good for him.”

Her response makes you chuckle, but you still feel hesitant.

“I don’t know, Nat,” you drag out. “It’s not like we’re here to date, though, perhaps the Navy should’ve thought twice before putting their best and brightest all in the same room together.”

She laughs because some days it’s like the fuckin’ Olympics when most of these people are in tip top shape, tension and testosterone ramped up to 100, and single. How could it not be like the fuckin’ horny Olympics?

“This mission is… somethin’ else,” you continue. “I mean. No one on active duty’s pulled something off like this – not even Maverick. I’m not sure any of us can afford to get… distracted… right now. If we get selected for this mission-.”

“When we get selected for this mission,” she interjects, quick to correct you.

“… I don’t know I can do my job if I’m up there just… thinking about him… and his porn ‘stache,” you giggle, completing your sentence.

“Oh, so you’ve been thinking about it?” she’s quick to quip.

“I never said that,” you defend yourself playfully.

“Well, he’s been thinking about you,” she says in a sing-song voice, earning a funny look from you.

She shrugs, waiting for you to take the bait, as you open your mouth to ask:

“Wh-, what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothin’,” she shrugs again, coyly. She’s satisfied with herself, because whether you want to or not, Bradley Bradshaw’s already distracted you. “He just made it a point to ask me if you were single yesterday, is all.”

“Huh,” you hum in response.

You know she means well and you can’t fault her for her persistence. Over the last few days you’ve been around each other, you can see why she wants to set the two of you up. Rooster’s good looking, he seems kind, and he’s a phenomenal pilot – something that makes him even more attractive to you. In any other circumstance, you’d be all for it, but the parameters of the mission have had you on edge all week.

“What?” Natasha presses you.

“Nothing. It’s just funny because that first night at the Hard Deck-, he asked if me and Jake were a thing,” you admit, as the two of you get closer to the barracks.

She lets out a dry laugh.

“I don’t blame him!” she exclaims. “Who’d meet you… and then Hangman… and ever think you’d have enough in common to be friends! Not to mention the two of you are weirdly very affectionate – and I’d like to add – publicly.”

She follows it up with another fake vomit, earning a laugh from you.

“Jake is family. It’s the Texan in us,” you shrug, defending you and Jake’s relationship lightly.

“So…?” she asks, waiting to hear the end of this story.

“What?” you ask back, as the two of you approach the barracks.

“So did you tell him that or not!?” she pries, the curiosity killing her.

“Yeah of course!” you exclaim with a laugh, before deciding to turn the tables on her. “Don’t worry, Phoenix. I told him Jake’s more your speed anyways.”

“You did what?!” she practically screeches, using her free hand to grab your forearm. Phoenix pulls you to a sudden halt, practically glaring you down in response to what you’ve just said.

“I’m just kidding, jeez. Relax!” you cry out, holding your hand out. “But don’t think I don't notice the way he looks at you.”

She scoffs, “Bagman looks at anything that moves like that.”

“So you’ve noticed?” you shoot back.

This is so payback.

She groans, shoving you playfully.

Was it that obvious?

Phoenix likes to think she’s quite good at squashing any kind of affectionate feeling she’s ever had for Hangman behind sarcasm and snarky jabs at the arrogant aviator. It never occurred to her that – suddenly feeling very self-conscious about it – that you may have noticed what’s been lying beneath it this whole time.

Then again, you’ve known him the longest.

And you know her so well.

But she’d rather not talk about her and Jake right now, reminding herself that there is no her and Jake.

Nat shifts her focus back to you.

She’s not ready to give up just yet because there could be a you and Rooster and she spent most of last night before bed cooking up a plan.

“Why don’t we go out this weekend? Maybe we skip the Hard Deck on Saturday… go to a nice place for dinner and get dressed up. Blow off some steam?” Phoenix suggests as she smoothly changes the subject.

“Yeah, that sounds great, actually,” you agree, because it does sound great. “Should we make it a girls’ thing? I can invite Halo.”

“No!” Nat protests, immediately pulling back on the intensity so that you don’t catch on. “Nothing against Halo. But we haven’t really gotten to catch up much, one on one. Next time.”

You shoot her a funny look, mostly because she’s acting really strange right now.

“Okay, you fuckin’ weirdo,” you tease, agreeing to her weekend plan.

“Great! I’ll look up a cool spot and send you the details,” she squeals excitedly.

What you don’t know is that Natasha Trace has no intention of showing up.

You spend most of your Saturday resting. You grab breakfast with Halo, your WSO, before taking a solo walk along the beach. Everyone’s gotten a single for this three week stint at TOPGUN (a courtesy, you suspect) but living in a glorified college dorm room feels surreal.

It’s nice to get some recharge time, especially after such a long week. To say it’s been brutal would be an understatement: there’s the never-ending sets of 200 pushups, the fact that this uranium enrichment assignment seems to be a near-suicide mission, and the tense relationship Rooster seems to have with Maverick that’s impossible to ignore.

Your phone buzzes as you walk back up the beach, heading back to your bunk for a quick nap. It’s a text from Phoenix – a link to a cute little Italian restaurant along the San Diego Bay.

You’re quick to reply with a little humor.

You: How romantic.

Phoenix: Date night!! Lol.

Phoenix: Rooster let me borrow the Bronco to run some errands so I’ll meet you there. Wanna take Uber there and I’ll drive us both home?

You: So I can drink more wine than you? Absolutely.

Phoenix: Not everything is a competition, Whiskey.

You: LOL. I didn’t mean it like that, but deal.

Phoenix: 7 pm. Don’t be late 😘

Phoenix: And wear something cute.

You laugh, because you know she hates it when you’re late. And you’re almost always running a little bit behind.

You: Can’t wait to spend a night out of uniform.

You: And I’ll try my best.

Phoenix: Think of it as a ‘who can get there earliest’ competition.

You: ☠️

You spend the afternoon doing absolutely nothing before getting ready for dinner with Phoenix. You appreciate that she volunteered to drive because you’re ready to blow off some steam. You put on one of your favorite sundresses, something you brought along with you for after the mission. Your plan is to stay in Southern California for a week or so longer before you return to Lemoore. It helps to have a fancy friend with an investment banker husband and an extravagant summer home in Encinitas.

You can’t remember where they’re summering this season instead. A chateau in Provence? The Amalfi coast? Or was it Mallorca she’d mentioned over the phone a few weeks ago when you’d made this arrangement? Regardless, you’re just glad they let you use the place when they’re not there.

And it seems as if Phoenix’s earlier challenge is working, as your Uber pulls up to the waterside Italian restaurant at exactly 7 pm.

There’s a first time for everything, you think to yourself, knowing that Nat will be more-than-pleased that maybe your punctuality – often only reserved for work – is beginning to trickle over into your personal life.

“Reservation for Trace,” you say to the host.

“Right this way,” the host replies warmly. You follow the young man outside to a waterside table set for two. There’s a small tea candle lit in the middle of the table with a soundtrack to match the soft, beach vibes.

You’re surprised to find that Nat hasn’t gotten here yet, especially since she made such a big deal about being on time. Your phone buzzes, and you have a text from Nat that reads:

Got caught up in errands. Running a few minutes late but be there soon!!

You type back a quick:

All good. See you soon!

You chuckle, shaking your head, because of course, the one time you’re on time she’s running late. Leaving your phone on the table for now, you look over the menu, picking out a bottle of wine for the two of you when the waitress comes by.

Sure, it’s summertime, but you know Nat can’t stand white wine, so you settle on a bottle of chilled red that seems refreshing enough for a Southern California summer night.

After the bottle of wine comes to the table, you glance down for the time, and when a few minutes turn into fifteen, you start to worry.

Where the hell is she?

You grab your phone off the table this time with the intent to call Natasha. It’s then that the host reappears, ushering a tall, brunette man in your direction. You’d recognize him anywhere with his Hawaiian shirt open, layered over a white tee. That combined with his signature mustache and the aviators are practically his own version of a civilian uniform.

What the hell was Bradley Bradshaw doing here?

He spots you, and you watch as he exchanges a few words of gratitude with the host, before making his way to your table. You stand up out of your chair, really fucking confused as he approaches.

“Hey,” he says as he approaches, removing his aviators and tucking them into the neckline of his t-shirt. He shoots you a friendly smile, but you can tell that he’s just as confused as you are.

“Hi,” you greet him. “What’re you doing here?”

“I’m supposed to be meeting Phoenix here for dinner. What’re you doing here?” he asks back, causing your jaw to drop.

“Oh you’ve got to be kidding me,” you scoff, with a shake of your head.

That conniving, scheming, little firebird

“What?” you hear Bradley ask.

“I-,” you start, letting out another amused laugh before taking a breath. “I was also supposed to meet Nat here for dinner, and it’s just now occurring to me that… she… never planned on showing up in the first place.”

“What do you-?” Bradley begins to ask, before realizing what you mean. “Oh shit.” He laughs too. “She parent trapped us.”

“I think so, yeah,” you nod in agreement, a half-apologetic smile on your face as you look at him.

You both turn your attention to your phones as both of them go off, signaling a notification.

It’s Phoenix.

I love you both, but you’re so damn stubborn. Don’t hate me for what I had to do.

You and Rooster share a look, exchanging a laugh between the two of you.

“Wow. I can’t believe-, well, I can. But I can’t believe her!” you remark, still in disbelief that she managed to pull this one over on you.

“Yeah this is… only a little embarrassing. She’s…” he sighs, looking out across the bay for a moment.

“Something,” you complete his sentence. “So what do you want to do?”

Bradley focuses his attention back on you as he says, “Looks like you’ve already ordered a bottle of wine.” He pauses briefly to take the sight of you in. “And it’d be a shame to waste such a pretty dress, don’t you think?”

He’s not hiding the fact that he’s very obviously checking you out, and you can’t say that you don’t like it.

“I was also really looking forward to having pasta tonight,” you add to the ‘reasons why we should stay and have this date’ list.

“What do you say?” Rooster asks, gesturing towards the table with a hopeful look in his eyes.

You pause for a moment, just to appreciate how handsome he is before saying: “Why the hell not?”

As you move to sit down, Rooster’s right by your side, pulling your chair out for you like the gentlemen his mother raised him to be.

“Thank you,” you smile, feeling your heart skip a beat.

You put your phone back into your bag as Rooster returns to his side of the table, sitting down across from you.

Okay. So this was happening.

Damn, you think to yourself.

Nat always finds a way to get what she wants.

And you’re not sure whether you want to thank her or kill her later.

But you push your thoughts about Nat’s little scheme away to focus on getting to know Bradley. You’re here now, so why not see if Nat’s been right this whole time about the two of you.

You strategize with Rooster, choosing a few things that you can share together in order to try as many things that seem appealing to the two of you. You tell him about how you fell in love with Italian cooking when you were stationed for a year in Naples and he confesses that he doesn’t know all that much about wine even though he thinks he should. You tell him that Halo’s a sommelier and that you’ve learned a lot from her about it. He thinks you should all go on a wine tour sometime and you like that he wants to make future plans with you.

“So you’re at Lemoore, right?” he asks, in reference to which Naval Base you’re stationed at.

“Yeah, and you?” you ask back

“Oceana. Virginia Beach,” he replies. “But I just got back from a deployment overseas.”

While he tells you as much as he can about his last deployment (and he can’t tell you much) you can’t help noticing the song that plays in the background. You smile to yourself, hearing the comforting and familiar notes followed by:

“You’re all I need to get by…”

“Oh, I love this song,” you groan in response to the Marvin Gaye duet.

“Really?” Rooster asks, surprised by your reaction to one of his favorite motown hits.

“Oh yeah,” you emphasize, your eyes lighting up as the song continues.

Nat had always said that the two of you had a lot in common and Bradley begins to understand why.

“I’m surprised you know this song,” he blurts out, immediately regretting the words that have flown out of his mouth.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you tease him flirtatiously.

But it doesn’t throw him. He’s smooth as he plays it off, shrugging with a:

“I thought I was the only one left these days who listened to the classics.”

“Well, you’re not so!” you exclaim with a giggle. Now you’re intrigued. “I’m surprised you know this song.”

Then again, this is the man who had managed to rope an entire bar into singing “Great Balls of Fire” with him the other night. Maybe you shouldn’t be so surprised.

“What can I say? I’ve got good taste,” he flirts back, eyeing you.

Shit, Bradley thinks to himself.

You’ve got great taste in music.

You’re fucking gorgeous.

And the silky slip dress you’re wearing has his imagination running wild. He can’t stop thinking about how flimsy the straps of the dress are, and how one of them somehow keeps managing to slip off your shoulder. His eyes follow your hand each time you reach up to pull the strap of your dress back over your shoulder, your fingertips gliding across your bare skin. It’s got him thinking about all kinds of things…

Bradley looks at you like he wants to devour you, and you’re trying your best not to let him do it, right at the table.

You clear your throat, trying your best to focus on the fact that you were just talking about your favorite motown classics a second ago.

“I don’t know where you got your great taste in music… but my dad owned a record store when I was growing up – well, he owns a record store now, but it’s a different one. He’s a musician too and he’s always felt really passionate about supporting Texas musicians on the up and up,” you share with him, explaining some of your most personal connections to music.

“Actually, fun fact: he had both Gary Clark Jr. and Leon Bridges play at the store he had in Houston.”

“Yeah?” Bradley asks, encouraging you to share more.

He could listen to you talk all day, especially about music. There’s something in the way your eyes light up that makes his heart flutter as he hangs on every single word.

“Yeah. After my mom died he remarried and he and my step mom opened up a little record store / cafe in Austin after I left for the naval academy,” you continue.

“I think that was the last thing he ever expected – me joining the military. I don’t think he and my step mom really got it at first, them both being artists and whatnot. I mean, Dad was like… a total hippie in his day. Protested the Vietnam War and everything. But it paid for college and they’ve come around.”

“Wow,” is all he says, marveling at you. “You are so much cooler than Hangman.”

You let out a loud, unexpected laugh in response to what he’s just said.

“What makes you say that?” you ask, in regards to the somewhat random connection.

“I just-, I didn’t know Texans could be cool,” he stammers out, earning another laugh from you.

“Well. We are. Jake and I are also from very different parts of Texas. He’s a good ol’ Dallas boy,” you shrug. “Which is probably why he’s such a dick.”

Rooster chuckles, gazing out over the bay, before bringing his attention back to you.

“You two have quite the rivalry,” you bring up, curiously.

Rooster shrugs, “I guess.”

But he doesn’t want to talk about Hangman right now, and neither do you.

“I uh, I’m sorry to hear though… about your mom,” he says quietly, catching you off guard. He knows exactly why he wants to hear you talk about that, but he’s not sure if he’s ready to share why yet.

“Oh!” you gasp, a little caught off guard by his redirection. “That’s-, thanks. We lost her when I was really young. Car accident.”

He nods slowly, in understanding.

“I lost my dad when I was really young too,” he shares, empathetically. “Training exercise gone wrong.”

“He was also a pilot?” you ask, your voice soft.

“Yeah, aviator in the Navy. It’s actually why I learned to play piano,” he continues. It’s also why he joined the navy too – despite what Maverick had done – but he’s not sure he’s ready to share that part yet. “Used to play all the time with my mom when I was a kid. Some of my earliest memories with him.”

“Oh I’m so sorry, Bradley,” you say, using his proper name. Using his call sign just doesn’t feel right for the intimacy of the moment.

“Thank you,” he replies, his voice still quiet.

Rooster thinks it may be too much: telling you about his dad and his mom in the same night. Besides, wasn’t this supposed to be a date?

He clears his throat, ready to change the subject as he dryly says, “Wow this is uh-, great first date conversation.”

“No I-,” you begin, reaching across the table to place the gentlest hand on his forearm. “I know it’s not the cheeriest topic but… I’m glad you told me.”

You wait a beat.

“I-... I’m glad that I know that about you. And thanks. For listening to me.”

You share a smile with him as the two of you stare across the table at each other. You don’t move your hand just yet, because the warmth of his forearm underneath the palm of your hand feels too good. There’s an intimacy here that wasn’t there when the night started and you decide that you like it.

“So your dad’s a musician. What about you?” he asks, changing the subject.

“I dabbled a little with a whole lot: piano, guitar, and briefly explored playing the clarinet for about six months in high school. I’m good enough to get by, I guess? But… nothin’ like my old man. He still plays gigs in the little performance space at the record store,” you answer, happily.

“If I recall correctly, you’re quite the piano player yourself,” you say, offering up another chance for him to share something with you.

“Gives me something to do in the barracks if there’s one on base,” he replies, casually, as if the other night hadn’t been some of the best piano playing you’d heard in a long time.

“And if there’s not?” you inquire, raising an eyebrow.

“I bring my own!” he declares, unapologetically.

You laugh.

You can picture it now: while the rest of his squadron is trying to sleep, he’s three floors below playing Jerry Lee Lewis at two in the morning on his BYO-electric keyboard.

“Oh wow, your squadron must hate you,” you joke with him.

He chuckles at your sassy remark, “Tell me about it.”

You’ve got a fire inside of you that he really fucking likes.

By the time your food comes, you’ve talked about everything: from your time at the naval academy and his at UVA, whatever the hell carbonic maceration means about the bottle of wine you ordered and how wine can be so pretentious, best to worst pizza toppings, ranked. You think you could sit here and talk to Rooster for hours. He’s charming – not in the way that Jake or any of the other suave southern playboys you grew up around are – but he’s sweet, genuine, and you really can’t get over the fact that you actually like the mustache on him.

“Hi guys. No rush, but I just wanted to bring by your check,” the waitress says politely, as she comes by the table.

The sun has completely set, the evening lit only by the lights from inside, the tiny tea candles on each table, and the gas lamps that line the patio. You really weren’t kidding when you called this place romantic.

“Do you wanna split-,” you offer.

“I got this,” Rooster insists, firmly. You watch as he takes care of the bill, handing his card back to the waiter.

You watch the interaction carefully, looking from him to the waiter inquisitively. He seems more than eager to pick up the bill, so you let him. Maybe it’s the wine, or the fact that you’re really enjoying this night, that emboldens you to ask:

“So this was a date?”

Bradley smiles, a flush of pink running across his tanned cheekbones.

“I think Phoenix made that clear,” he says. “And you know she’d kick my ass if I let you go dutch with me.”

You giggle, nodding in agreement, before shooting him a suspicious look.

“Were you… in on this?” you drag out.

“Would it matter if I was?” he asks back, something soft in his chocolate brown eyes.

“No,” you shake your head, quick to reassure him. “This… is the best date I’ve been on in a long time.”

“For the record,” Rooster starts, leaning in towards you. “I wasn’t. This… was all Phoenix.”

He waits a beat before adding:

“But I kinda wish I had been.”

“Yeah?”

He smiles before admitting, “This is the best date I’ve been on in a while too.”

You both decide to head back to the barracks, realizing that Phoenix had thought out every single piece of this. Now it made sense – why she asked you to Uber here when you had a perfectly good car. She really made sure neither of you could deny that this was a date.

A really good date.

You watch as Rooster leads you to his car, following you to the passenger side so that he can open the door for you.

A true gentleman.

Damn, he was already making this really fucking hard. All you want to do is let him peel off your slip dress and forget all about this special op.

“Rooster, wait,” you say, turning so that your back is pressed up against the passenger door.

“What’s up?” he asks, a hint of concern in his voice as he towers over you.

He’s so close to you right now, and you can smell the remnants of the cologne he was wearing earlier. It wouldn’t be so bad if you just-.

“I want to be honest with you,” you begin, so that you don’t do the thing that you really want to do. “This mission scares the shit out of me. And it thrills me. And… I really want to go.”

“Okay…” he trails off, only smiling a little because he finds you so damn cute when you get passionate.

“It’s just, normally, after a date like this, I’d definitely kiss you,” you continue boldly, earning a smile from him. “Amongst… other things. And I’d want to keep kissing you and I wouldn’t think twice about getting all kinds of wrapped up in whatever this is.”

You pause, fighting all of your better instincts to just do it.

“I just don’t know if-, if I can start something right now… and not get distracted and… I don’t know if either of us can afford to get distracted, especially in the face of something like this mission.”

You’re beginning to over explain yourself but it’s like you can’t help it as the words tumble out of your mouth.

“I mean, it’s not like this is some regular deployment. Usually we’d have more than three weeks to pull off something this complex and this is something that no one has managed to do before and every day the hard deck drops and some does the time limit-. It’s not like I’m expecting you to wait around for me or anything but-.”

“Whiskey,” he cuts you off, the dumbest grin on his face as he does.

“I understand,” Bradley says, taking a step towards you.

“You do?” you ask, sounding much more surprised than you intended to.

“Yes,” he smiles back at you, reaching up to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear. Your heart flutters and you’re suddenly questioning why you can’t just kiss him now.

“You’re right,” he agrees, his voice soft and sweet as he reassures you. “We can’t afford to get distracted. So we’ll wait. Till after the mission.”

“Really?” you ask.

“Like I said before. This is the best date I’ve been on in a long time too,” he admits, earning another smile from you.

“Maybe… we can get to know each other as friends over the next two weeks?” you suggest, hopefully. “Explore what else this could be after the mission.”

“I think that’s something I can agree to…” Bradley trails off, pausing before he adds, “... under two conditions.”

“Okay. Let’s hear ‘em,” you encourage with a giggle.

“When this is all over… I’m taking you out on a second date,” he says, laying his first condition out on the table.

“And the other one?” you ask curiously, tempted to just wrap your arms around him.

“And the other one…. While I’d love to get to know you…” he leans in, dangerously close to you now before continuing with his second condition.

“…Don’t think for a moment, sweetheart, that we’re just friends.”

The way he whispers the last part in your ear sends chills down your spine, and you have to bite back a moan as you feel his body press up against yours.

You’re not sure how you’re still breathing as you whisper, “I think that’s something I can agree to.”

“Good,” he rasps, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear. “Let’s get you home.”

He pulls away from you, allowing you to step aside, so that he can open the passenger door for you. You climb into his Bronco, your heart racing from your conversation with Rooster. And in the spirit of condition number two, a few minutes into the drive, you tangle your fingers with his, and you hold his hand for the rest of the way home.

Just so he knows that your intentions are anything but friendly too.

The next two weeks can’t go by fast enough.

a/n: i swear i gave myself heart palpitations while writing this. *hyperventilates bc they're so damn cute wtf*

read: chapter three

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