#help (Italian tv)

[tennisarchives]

jannik sinner and carlos alcaraz discuss playing against each other in 2023

[suedeness]

[omarfor-orchestra]

I don't care about them anymore but something about spn actors coming to Italy for the con and watching everyone lose their minds about some kids in jail is hilarious to me

[msue0027]

A musical is an opera that you can actually understand.

[emily84]

i mean it's physiologically impossible for an italian tv show to pass the bechdel test, like, ever, but also like, they could just end up fucking nasty like they do in my head i mean what

[kisses4reid]

understand? pt. 1 | ·˚ ༘ spencer reid ,,

summary - you’re a polyglot translator assigned to work for the bau in a cross-national case, and there’s a doctor who wants to impress you.

genre - fem!reader, SHE/HER r, fluff, meet cute, you know more than spencer and he’s attracted to that

warnings - you're both awkward, mentions of gross case file photos, little research about polyglots actually done so there are inaccuracies, cliffhanger for part 2.

w/c - 1.4k

a/n - thank you for the req anon!! there was multiple parts to this but i really like the first idea so that’s what this fic is about, might keep the other idea for later hehe. i did change some aspects. love you, thank you for the support <33 there will be multiple parts!!! stay tuned!!!

req - hi pia 💞💝🩷💓 how r u? i hope you’re feeling wonderful! this is my first time requesting smthg i apologize if i get something wrong! i’ve been having 2 thoughts about spencer x fem!reader, where reader is a russian translator and idk they meet cute or she has to work with the bau helping them on a case. just wanted to give these ideas to you, obviously feel free to do anything with them! i really enjoy your work and your writing is incredible! i have your notifications on so i am always reading whatever you post! have a great day pia 💝 lots n lots of kisses for u!

This was not what you expected. 

You, a woman in your late twenties that spent most of her time in a room listening to voices and decoding foreign messages, didn’t know what you expected. But this: a scary boss, an italian old man, and a skinny college kid, was not it. 

“Y/n L/n? I’m Aaron Hotchner, the unit chief, and this is Agent Rossi and Doctor Agent Reid.” 

You nodded your head, thick hair covering your top eyelashes as you glanced at the men. Agent Rossi shook your hand, and Dr Reid simply stood and gawked at you. To be honest, it made you worried. You had been warned this was a close knit team, that they trusted each other more than anything and that you shouldn’t get attached to any of them as you’d only be assisting them for one case.

Maybe they just didn’t warm up to new people. 

“I’ll do your formal introduction to the rest of the team now, if you’re settled down.” He asks cooly. You like the way his voice rasps, it’s assertive yet comforting. 

“Yes, of course. I can’t wait.” You smiled reassuringly at the unit chief, not ignoring the raised eyebrow you received from the silent young man now behind you.

Aaron Hotchner, your new boss for the next week or so, lead you to a large room with a circular table sat in the middle. There were two other women, one blonde and one raven haired, and another bald man that glanced at you immediately after you entered. They smiled at you and trailed your steps to where you stood beside the unit chief in front of a large TV screen.

“Everyone, this is Agent Y/n L/n. She’ll be assisting us with the Becker case you’ve all been informed of. She’ll mainly be our translator and interpreter, but she’ll also be useful for cultural identifiers and anything that we wouldn’t notice otherwise.” 

You nodded along, never being a fan of introductions since you moved to America as a small child. 

“This is JJ, our liaison, Agent Emily Prentiss and Agent Derek Morgan.” 

The ladies smiled at you, in fact all of them did. They were surprisingly open to the fact you would be joining them, the fact made your shoulders loosen and a breath to be let out discreetly. 

Next, you were on a long plane flight to Maine with Agents you had known for little under two hours, conversing about victim profiles and motives. The table in front of the ladies and your boss was strewn with victim files and gruesome photos. And while you weren’t a stranger to the dangers and violence the job brought, you had gotten comfortable with only hearing about it and not seeing it. So you opted to hover around the table and stay silent, you weren’t a trained profiler after all, just a translator.  

There was a wave of cologne that disrupted your senses, causing you to angle your head back, only to be greeted by the tall doctor. 

You smiled softly, assuming the closeness was due to the aeroplane's arrangement. Also because you got the vibe that Spencer didn’t like you. 

“Are you okay? You seem uneasy,” he asked. It was the first time you heard his voice. And it was as adolescent as you imagined for someone so young, but it had a sophisticated edge to it, with a honey-like undertone. Finding things in voices as if they were perfumes was something you unconsciously started to do since working as a translator.

“I’m fine.” You grinned reassuringly, turning back to focus on the team’s findings. 

Spencer furrowed his eyebrows slightly and stepped away, sitting down beside Morgan who had taken a seat at the back. Morgan squinted at his friend, noticing the rare confusion splayed on his face as he stared in your direction. 

“What’s up? Pretty girl got your tongue?” Morgan removed his headphones with a cheeky smile displayed on his handsome face.

“For someone who specialises in languages she doesn’t talk much.” 

Morgan smirked, “Maybe not to you.”

“I didn’t do anything wrong though.” Spencer ripped his gaze off the back of your head.

“You’ve been staring at her since she walked through those doors. You were so distracted you didn’t even greet her this morning.” Morgan pointed out. Spencer tilted his head confused, a small blush creeping up his neck. “I watched the whole thing from the conference room, so did JJ and Emily.” 

The tall boy slumped in his chair and forced himself to look out of the plane’s window, avoiding a reply to Morgan as he knew it would only result in more teasing. You were physically attractive, everyone could see that, but the thing that caught Spencer’s attention was your intelligence. He was no stranger to being a polyglot, he learnt languages for fun, but you were simply next level. Morgan studied Spencer’s face for a second before raising his attention to your hovering state. “Agent Y/n L/n.” Morgan called, causing Spencer to widen his eyes and immediately adjust his slumped position in his plane seat. You turned your head in surprise, slightly confused why you would be needed anywhere else than the files you had been translating for the past two minutes. Your heels were silent against the carpeted floors, but Spencer could sense your presence anyways. 

“How many languages do you speak?” The stoic man asked, his eyes darting between you and the doctor below you. You were not short, your genes didn’t allow for it, but you had noticed you were only taller than JJ and Rossi in the team and it felt foreign to not tower over everyone. “Um, I speak 8 languages fluently, and 4 languages semi-fluently.” You stated, readying to turn back to assist the team before Morgan spoke up once again

“Did you know that pretty boy can speak Spanish and German?” 

Before Spencer could help himself, he corrected the man, “And Latin and Russian,” Spencer turned his head up to you, “But I can understand more.” 

You smiled, genuinely impressed and confused on how a man that young could learn that much. But to be fair, you were in the same boat. The nickname got your attention, locking it in the back of your mind to remind yourself that the people you were working with did in fact have senses of humour, and weren’t just heartless officers. There wasn’t any reason to think that though, as you had been cared for with respect and even Prentiss made a funny remark beforehand. It sort of felt like a family dinner you were intruding on. “That’s impressive, Doctor Reid.” You reply genuinely. 

“I mean it’s nothing compared to you though,” his voice was pitched slightly higher and his hands started motioning to nothing in particular, “your brain is constantly changing from high activity to low activity when you're translating from one language to another. Your language network, the lateral frontal lobe, is constantly lighting up and dimming down depending on what language you hear, ordinary people’s language networks only turn on and off.” 

Morgan smirked and glanced up at your intrigued and surprised expression. You nodded, a small blush coating the tips of your ears as you responded, “Thank you.” You didn’t really know what else to say, which is funny for someone who understands so many languages, so you simply smiled and turned back to the table. Spencer slumped again, watching you walk away and asking himself why he would inform a pretty girl about her own brain, when she most definitely already knows about it. 

“Don’t worry too much, Reid.” Morgan called, grabbing Spencer’s attention. The boy raised a brow, not understanding. “She digs it, I can tell. But she’s just like you, knows how to speak in a million ways and still doesn’t know how to small talk.” 

You landed without any more awkward interactions, and got introduced to some sheriffs in Maine, one of them giving you a tighter handshake than the rest and a stare that could only mean unpleasant things. It wasn't something sexist or creepy that lingered in his eyes, it was more like hatred. Spencer took the sheriff's attention away from you after noticing what the whole team did, and asked him to show him the records they kept at the precinct.

Emily Prentiss came up behind you and placed a hand on your upper arm, squeezing it like she understood what you had thought you'd seen. Out of everyone else in the team, she would understand the most.

taglist (open!!): @jeffswh0re @reap3erslov3 @candyd1es @0108s22m @aurorsworld

[laviejaguardia]

Happened to start le Otto montagne right before the movie is available so now I'm torn between continuing with the book that I'm 15 pages in, or saying fuck it and watch the movie

[queer-ragnelle]

Beginner’s Guide to Medieval Arthuriana

Just starting out at a loss for where to begin?

Here’s a guide for introductory Medieval texts and informational resources ordered from most newbie friendly to complex. Guidebooks and encyclopedias are listed last.

All PDFs link to my Google drive and can be found on my blog. This post will be updated as needed.

Pre-Existing Resources

Hi-Lo Arthuriana

♡ Loathly Lady Master Post ♡

Medieval Literature by Language

Retellings by Date

Films by Date

TV Shows by Date

Documentaries by Date

Arthurian Preservation Project

The Camelot Project

If this guide was helpful for you, please consider supporting me on Ko-Fi!

Medieval Literature

Page (No Knowledge Required)

The Vulgate Cycle | Navigation Guide | Vulgate Reader

Culhwch and Olwen

The Wedding of Sir Gawain and Dame Ragnelle

The Marriage of Sir Gawain

Sir Gawain and The Green Knight

The Welsh Triads

Le Morte d'Arthur by Sir Thomas Malory

Squire (Base Knowledge Recommended)

The Mabinogion

Four Arthurian Romances by Chrétien de Troyes

King Artus | scan by @jewishlancelot

Morien

Knight (Extensive Knowledge Recommended)

The History of The King's of Britain by Geoffrey of Monmouth

Alliterative Morte

Here Be Dragons (Weird or Arthurian Adjacent)

The Crop-Eared Dog

Perceforest | A Perceforest Reader | PDF courtesy of @sickfreaksirkay

Wigalois | Vidvilt

Guingamor, Lanval, Tyolet, & Bisclarevet by Marie of France

The Canterbury Tales by Geoffrey Chaucer

Grail Quest

Peredur (The Mabinogion)

The Story of the Grail + 4 Continuations by Chrétien de Troyes

Parzival by Wolfram von Eschenbach

The Crown by Heinrich von dem Türlin (Diu Crône)

The High Book of The Grail (Perlesvaus)

The History of The Holy Grail (Vulgate)

The Quest for The Holy Grail Part I (Post-Vulgate)

The Quest for The Holy Grail Part II (Post-Vulgate)

Merlin and The Grail by Robert de Boron

The Legend of The Grail | PDF courtesy of @sickfreaksirkay

Lancelot Texts

Knight of The Cart by Chretien de Troyes

Lanzelet by Ulrich von Zatzikhoven

Spanish Lancelot Ballads

Gawain Texts

Sir Gawain and The Green Knight

The Wedding of Sir Gawain and Dame Ragnelle

The Marriage of Sir Gawain

Sir Gawain and The Lady of Lys

The Knight of The Two Swords

The Turk and Sir Gawain

Perilous Graveyard | scan by @jewishlancelot

Tristan/Isolde Texts

Béroul & Les Folies

Prose Tristan (The Camelot Project)

Tristan and The Round Table (La Tavola Ritonda) | Italian Name Guide

The Romance of Tristan

Tristan and Iseult by Gottfried von Strassburg

Byelorussian Tristan

Educational/Informational Resources

Encyclopedias & Handbooks

Warriors of Arthur by John Matthews, Bob Stewart, & Richard Hook

The Arthurian Companion by Phyllis Ann Karr

The New Arthurian Encyclopedia by Norris J. Lacy

The Arthurian Handbook by Norris J. Lacy & Geoffrey Ashe

The Arthurian Name Dictionary by Christopher W. Bruce

Essays & Guides

A Companion to Chrétien de Troyes edited by Joan Tasker & Norris J. Lacy

A Companion to Malory edited by Elizabeth Archibald

A Companion to The Lancelot-Grail Cycle edited by Carol Dover

Arthur in Welsh Medieval Literature by O. J. Padel

Diu Crône and The Medieval Arthurian Cycle by Neil Thomas

Wirnt von Gravenberg's Wigalois: Intertextuality & Interpretation by Neil Thomas

The Legend of Sir Lancelot du Lac by Jessie Weston

The Legend of Sir Gawain by Jessie Weston

[suedeness]

[bella-goths-wife]

Angel and Charlie talk about pet reader

Warnings: mentions of abuse, mentions of SA, mentions of death, mentions of drug use, mentions of body image and starvation

“Heyyy angel” Charlie said with a try hard nonchalant tone that only showed her clear desperation as she sat next to him at the bar “how’s it going?”

Angel dust raised one questioning eyebrow before giving a subtle look to husk with the clear intention of getting him to leave for a moment. The barkeep let out an annoyed huff before placing angels drink in front of him and leaving to lock himself away with a bottle of whiskey for the night.

“You wanna talk ‘bout her” angel asked but his tone made it sound more like a statement “about pet”

“Whattt” Charlie exclaimed with an overly exaggerated disbelief “noooo”

Angel narrowed his eyes at Charlie with a very clear unconvinced look before taking a swig of his drink.

“Okay, maybe I want to talk about her” Charlie admitted with a sigh before looking at angel dust with a more hopeful look “will you tell me about her”

Angel thought it over before sighing and taking another drink.

“Okay” angel said hesitantly “what do you wanna know?”

“Is her name really pet?” Charlie asked quickly, glad for the opportunity to satisfy the curiosity that had built up in her for a few days now since she met you

“No” angel answered with a shake of his head “that just what the Vs call her”

“What’s her real name?” Charlie asked curiously

Angel goes to answer but something stops him as his mouth hangs open for a moment before closing and opening again.

“Y’know, i actually don’t know” angel realises with a confused look “no one does I think, we all just call her pet or kid”

Charlie has a look of disbelief at the lack of knowledge of your basic information before asking a question.

“What’s she like?” Charlie asked carefully, treading carefully after angel dusts fragile realisation

“…..quiet” angel answers after a few moments thought “but not in like the usual introverted way, more like a scared child way”

“Scared?” Charlie questioned with a confused look “scared of what”

“The Vs, Charlie” angel answers with a sigh “she’s scared of the Vs”

Charlie thinks about it for a few moments before her expression turns somber

“What do they do to her?” Charlie asks carefully “do they hurt her?”

“That and more” angel answers with a scoff “let’s just say their preference for her doesn’t make them less cruel”

“How do they hurt her?” Charlie asks with a concerned tone “is it similar to what happens to you”

“No thank fuck, their relationship with her stops her from going into my situation” angel says with he a grimace “Vox and velvette stick to the usual slappin’ around and so does Valentino, but let’s just say he doesn’t let her being only eighteen stop him from bein’ gross with her”

“That poor girl” Charlie sighs out with a sympathetic expression “how does she cope?”

“Rumour has it round the tower that every time she has a breakdown, they lace her food or drink with something to ‘relax’ her” angel says with a scoff “I’ve seen Valentino pop a few pills in her drink whenever he’s feeling like she’s due a punishment”

“Is there anything we can do to help?” Charlie asks helplessly

“Unless you can figure out how to break soul contracts, there’s nothin’” angel states with a shrug “they have eyes on her all the time, the girl can’t even go to the bathroom without tellin’ one of them”

Charlie sighs and leans her head in her hands as she thinks about the situation before having an idea pop into her head and turning to angel dust with an excited expression.

“She could come here” Charlie says with an excited smile “like you did”

“And how you gonna do that?” Angel asks sarcastically “go into the tv station and ask Vox to pretty please let his pet move here?”

Charlie stays quiet but her excited smile gave all the conformation angel dust needed. He turns to Charlie with a desperate expression

“No, no, no, no” angel dust said desperately, his Italian accent becoming more prominent in his tone “you can’t Charlie”

“Why not” Charlie asks stubbornly

“That’s only gonna make things worse for her” angel tried to explain with a worried expression “you don’t understand Charlie, they have these rules in place for her-“

“I’m sure I can convince Vox to at least let her stay here at night and work during the day like you do” Charlie states, but she’s so far in her own mind concocting a plan that she might as well have been talking to herself “I could assure Vox that she would be safe here, and then they couldn’t hurt her”

“Charlie your not listening-“ angel dust tried to reason with her but is cut off

“Angel I can do this, I’ll be able to convince Vox” Charlie stated with a sure of herself expression “I’m gonna go there tomorrow! And who knows, she might be able to be redeemed”

Angel dust threw his hands up in defeat before finishing his drink and leaving for his room, he knew there was no getting through to Charlie when she had a plan in her head and she was determined.

But god did he hope you wouldn’t be punished to severely for her actions.

———————————————————————

Unbeknownst to either of the two demons, a certain radio demon had been listening to their exchange for some time now with a tight lipped grin.

He knew that the princess’s plan was foolish and could only end up with more severe isolation for you, it was extremely difficult to believe in the possibility that Vox would place you in the same facility where his nemesis was staying.

But he knew Charlie was blinded by her own desperate need to help and fix the demons around her problems, and while it was a lovely trait to have this was a delicate situation.

But no matter, the radio demon had already begun planning his own act of helping you escape the Vs thumb and place you under his instead.

He just needed time to figure out the logistics, and then you would be all his.

Tag list so far

@the-faceless-bride @lilyalone @repostingmyfavs @buttercupfangirl @corvid007 @fandomaddict505

[gurugirl]

STOPPPPP IT THE SHORTS ARE SO SHORT! WTF THE TIGER IS SHOWING! OMG Y/N WOULD GO CRAZYYYYYYY OVER IT. okok so maybe y/n gets jealous that Harry was wearing such short shorts in public that she ends up getting moody and Harry makes it up to her by letting her ride his thigh and fucks her saying stuff like “y’know this cock belongs to you darling” and stuff 😩😩

HAPPY FRIDAY YOU GUYS!!!

PLEASE I've been looking at these pics all day. What is this man thinking????????? I cannot handle him. He's such a tease. And I wrote this way too fast. Sorry if it sucks but this picture deserves a smut piece written about it. He's too fucking hot.

1.6k words

warning: mostly plotless smut, not proofread whatsoever

Y/n was used to Harry being ogled. Always the hottest guy in the room with the most charisma and charm. Everyone flocked to him and everyone's eyes always followed him. He was magnetic. And he knew it too.

As much as she realized she had nothing to worry about she still got jealous of the attention he constantly got. He didn't even need to try. He could be wearing a backwards baseball cap and loose jeans with a t-shirt and people would still be after her man.

And today, their little break away from the business of life led them to a relaxing little outing in the Italian sun. Before they'd even left the villa she eyed his short green trunks and how his fit torso was in full view, the long sleeved shirt draped over his shoulders, totally unbuttoned.

Biting her tongue, she figured she was being silly wishing he'd cover up a bit. She certainly wouldn't take well to him telling her to cover up, not that he'd ever.

But once they were on the beach and about to board their private yacht she did notice women and men alike watching him. His bronzed chiseled abs and pecs peeking out from the shirt, and of course he'd tucked his shorts up a bit to protect the mesh lining from chafing this inner thighs (he always did that because he said his package was too large to sit comfortably in the lining and it gave him a little extra support). His strong thighs on full view holding his tall frame upright as he carried both of their bags.

"Come on," he held his hand out to her as he helped her up into the boat safely.

He could tell she was a little pouty. He knew her too well. Knew he was being eye fucked by half the beach as they walked to the yacht they'd rented for the afternoon.

"What's wrong, love?" He grinned as he pulled at the strap of her bathing suit teasingly.

"Nothing. Just looking forward to getting out onto the ocean."

Harry crowded her space, stepping in front of her so she couldn't look at anything but him, "Yeah? Is that it? You seem to have been awfully quiet all morning. Nothing else you want to talk about?"

She looked up at him and the smirk he wore told her that he knew just what she was pouting about. But she just shook her head and crossed her arms, "Nope."

The low chuckle that fell from his chest as he pushed her arms down and grasped her wrists made her cheeks warm up, "Liar. You're jealous."

Harry kind of liked that she got jealous. Because in all truth, he'd get jealous when anyone would look at her just the same.

"Am not."

Harry walked her backward as the driver of the yacht began to move the boat out to sea, "Let's go down into the suite for a bit. Need to show you something," he gestured toward the door that lead to the stairs to get to the lower level.

She huffed as she carefully stepped down into the furnished room. It was small but there was a counter with a TV above it, a mini bar with fridge, a bathroom, a sitting area and a bed in the center.

Harry closed and locked the door before grasping Y/n's arms and pushing her toward the bed, pressing his chest into her back and speaking into her ear in a dark baritone, "Let's figure out what's got you so moody. Maybe I can help."

She tried to keep her composure but his voice and his skin and his hands always melted her poise.

When he felt her relax into his hold he smiled and kissed the back of her neck, bringing her into the bed with him, "There we go."

Y/n climbed into the middle of the bed and sat on her bottom as Harry spread out next to her, "Hop on. Let's talk."

She looked down at his lap and back into his eyes. She knew his plan. It always worked.

Biting the inside of her cheek she quietly moved to straddle his lap but he stopped her from fully spanning his thighs with hers, "Just sit on the tiger for a minute."

She looked up at him like he was crazy but settled herself right over his thigh, the crotch of her swimsuit right on top of the inked tiger on his strong thigh.

"Good girl. See that," he looked down to how she was sitting on him, "No one else gets to do that. Just cause they can see it doesn't mean they can fuck themselves on me like this. Know you like that, don't you?"

She nodded bit her bottom lip.

"That's right." Harry put his hands at her hips and pulled her up and then pushed her back a bit, "Let's see you do it. Show me who this belongs to."

Once Harry got her momentum going she rocked over his taut, muscular thigh gently. Harry kissed her softly and moaned, "See? What they don't know is that this tiger gets his face fucked by the prettiest little pussy. Gets to have your scent all over it. Cause you own it. Don't you, love?"

"Yes." She squeaked pathetically.

She was already so turned on and it wasn't because of the way she was rubbing her cloth-covered clit over his thigh. It was the way he was speaking to her. She could feel herself getting wet slowly and the faster she rocked she noticed Harry's large bulge under his short green trunks.

"Getting him coated, love. Good job, honey. You need a little more? Want to come?"

"Y- yes. I do, Harry..." She lowered her hand from his shoulder to cup his thickened cock, "want this."

"Mmm... want my cock? Want to fuck yourself on my cock? Fuck what's yours?"

She nodded and the look in his eyes turned quickly from soft green to dark and lusty, "Take your bottoms off right now."

She quickly got up to her knees and pulled her swim bottoms down her legs as Harry pulled his green trunks off, his cock bobbing heavily as he leaned his back into the headboard.

She climbed after him, desperate to have him inside of her and she whined as she grasped him and placed his hot, thick crown at her entrance. She paused as she looked him in the eyes but Harry needed her just as much. He put his hands at her waist and pushed her down onto him, groaning lowly at the relief.

"Fuck. This cock is all yours, Y/n. Every bit of me is all yours, darling."

She keened as she felt him inside her guts so deep it ached.

Slowly she began rolling her hips back and forth, grinding her pussy down over him, keeping her clit satisfyingly smeared against his pelivs.

"It's mine," she whined as she put her hands on his shoulders and rocked quickly, the sound of her wet pussy sucking his cock in deep sounded between them.

"Yes it is. Fuck it like you mean it, Y/n. Want to see you own it. Need you to milk me dry."

Y/n gasped when Harry put his hands under her thighs and helped her ride him properly. It was always a task to fuck him this way but so worth the view and the orgasm.

She wanted to make him come so hard. Make him dizzy and mushy and drain his balls of everything he had. She wanted his come inside of her where it belonged. Because it was hers. No one could have Harry in this way. He was her man.

"Yes, baby. Riding me so good. Fuck yourself on me deep, honey. Make yourself come on me baby. Take what's yours, Y/n."

Her chest was getting hot and her thighs were burning as their wet skin slopped together each time she dropped down onto his cock, tucking him deep inside of her so his balls were up against her ass.

Looking down between their bodies it was a sticky, creamy mess. The trimmed hair at the base of Harry's shaft was white with cream and his girthy cock was stretching her out so beautifully.

"Harry! Oh my god. I'm gonna come!"

"Yeah?" Harry widened his thighs and bent his knees the slightest bit so he could take her over the edge and fuck into her so deep she could feel his come in her womb. The moment he began to move his hips into her she yelped and gasped and her fingers dug into his shoulders sharply, "Who's cock is this, baby? Tell me who it belongs to, honey," his words were grunted.

"It's mine! You're mine, Harry!" Her world was spinning as she jolted up each time he punched into her from his position below. His fingers dug into her ass and he clenched his teeth as he began to throb.

"S'right. This cock is yours. I'm yours, Y/n. Fucking gonna make me come aren't you, baby?"

She nodded and then her mouth dropped open and she grew silent as her orgasm washed over her body. Her ears rang as she pulsed over his cock.

Harry choked out a loud moan and filled her to the brim with himself as he stilled his hips and his thigh trembled at the exertion.

Gasps and soft inhaled breaths were stifled when Y/n pushed her lips to his and pressed her chest into his tightly, her arms wrapping around him.

Harry grunted a laugh and pinched her bottom and she jumped.

"Told you I could help. All better now?" Harry cooed at his sweet girl.

Pulling back to look at him she smiled, "All better now."

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[cosmopretty]

I know the Azzi x fem model won't win that vote but can we pls pls still get it 🥺

Azzi Fudd x model fem

SHOWS YOU OFF TO EVERYONE

“My girlfriend is a model” “Isn’t she so pretty” “Yeah her, she’s all mine”

Loves to watch your photo shoots

You pose lifting your hands above your head, tilting your head to the side. Azzi sits behind the camera mouth wide staring at her girlfriend in awe. She knew you were beautiful but wow seeing you in your element was breathtaking. The Vintage Dior two piece skirt set hugged your body and the designer loved it “Mamma Mia Y/n so gorgeous keep going” the designer says his Italian accent seeping into the words. Azzi didn’t take her eyes off you the entire time.

After a while you sit down to get your makeup touched up. Azzi walks over and kisses your forehead “Your so incredibly beautiful baby” she says starstruck. You laugh “Come on Az look at you your the hot one babe” you laugh blowing her a kiss. The designer comes back and looks at you “Oh gosh so gorgeous come on” he grabs your hands bringing you back to face the cameras. You send Azzi a wink before turning your body to the side and posing again.

She was so nervous to first go up to you Paige had to go up for her and be a wingwoman

Paige takes full credit for your relationship since she was the one who got your number for Azzi

You send Azzi a picture of your fit every day even if your together

You style her jerseys for her games she loves to see you in the crowd

Gets a little jealous when the team flirts with you as a joke or compliments you

You walk into the living room and lean above KK and wave at the livestream. Ice looks you up and down “Girl you look good” she says licking her lips then making a face at Azzi. You shake your head “Thanks Icey” you smile and lean over KK again who was sitting in the couch, to read the comments. Paige flicks your forehead “That’s a tiny lil skirt how does Azzi feel about it” she smirks. You flip her off “Your just mad your single Paige” you pout in her face before shoving her.

Azzi lets out a breath looking at your outfit, a tiny black skirt with a black tube top to match. KK pulls your in front of the live and twirls you around “Azzi is the luckiest woman in the world” the freshman laughs. Azzi shakes her head and motions you to come over to her, you stand in front of her smiling “Hi baby” you trace her jaw. Her hands go to your hips and she pulls you in between her legs. She kisses your neck for a second and sucks on it before pulling away and smiling at the little hickey she made “Now you can go back to the live” she smiles with a sneaky look on her face. You open your mouth in shock “Did you just- just give me hickey? Someone’s jealous” you smile and kiss her cheek before jumping onto KK and hitting her with a pillow.

She takes you with her to any event because your her rock and help ease all the anxiety

Geno always asks for you to help the girls when it comes to media days since you’ve been media trained for modeling

Azzi makes all the girls watch your runway shows when there on TV

You get noticed all the time and Azzi loves to see fans running up to you and begging for pictures

THE PAPARAZZI HAS A FEILD DAY WHEN YOU GUYS ARE ON A DATES

You walking out of the restaurant hand in hand with your girlfriend. You smile at her and cup her cheek and making her look down at you. She towered over you by only a few inches “Lets go get ice cream” you say kissing her for a moment only pulling away when you hear flashes all around you both. You groan and hide your head on Azzi’s chest, she wraps her arm around you and you both run back to your car. Azzi unlocks it and opens the passenger door for you before running to the drivers side.

Someone holds camera in your face “Is it true you’re going to be walking for Versace Vogue? Along side Bella Hadid?” you laugh and close the car door before rolling the window down. Azzi looks at you confused “What are you doing?” the basketball player asks confused. You smile “I love my girlfriend yall should see her play basketball” you say winking before Azzi drives off. You laugh and Azzi joins with you “Your always showing me off baby” she laughs. You nod and look at her “Duh you’re the hot sexy athlete and I’m the pretty model it’s my job to show you off” you say matter of factly. She rolls her eyes “No I think I’m supposed to show you off” she looks at you her hand gripping your thigh. You pay her hand and interlock your fingers with hers “Eyes on the road babe” you say.

Your always straddling Azzi’s waist and doing her makeup when your bored and wanna try out new looks

She is so protective of you

Always comforts you when you’re too stressed out or tired

You walk into Azzi’s dorm and run into her arms hugging her burying your head in her chest. She hugs you back “Hey mama” she says softly. You don’t reply instead squeezing her harder, she sits down and you straddle her lap moving your head to her neck. She rubs your back up and down “You okay baby? What’s wrong?” she coos. You move your head form her neck “I’m so tired they want me in Paris next weekend then Milan the day after I’m so tired” a few tears leave your eyes.

Azzi immediately wipes the tears “Hey don’t cry mama it’s gonna be okay. Don’t do anything you don’t wanna do okay? I love you so much” she smiles at you. Taking a deep breath you nod “I love you more” she nods and move one of her hands to caress your cheek. You tilt your head and kiss her softly.

You both tell each other you love each other before every one of her games if your together in person or not

She has some of your magazine covers hung up in her dorm room

Watches your runways and interviews when she misses you

Loves holding you when your both trying to sleep

Plays with your hair 24/7

You paint her nails for her when your bored even though it will be gone in a few days because of basketball

Loves watching you get ready

[celestica-1988]

An headcanon for every Tokyo Revengers character. Some are funny, other are not.

Mikey favorite holiday is Halloween cause he can eat as many sweets as he wants and nobody can tell him shit.

Draken secretly wants to go to a spa with Emma. Draken babysits Toman, Emma takes care of the Sano household and they need to rest. He gets flustered if he thinks about sharing a bed with her or taking a bath together at the offsprings.

Baji feeds stray cats and others animals. Animals are naturally drawn to him for some reasons.

Chifuyu likes to watch TV programs of plane crashes. He dreams to be a pilot and he wants to learn how to avoid situations like the ones in the programs.

Takemichi started reading and watching thrillers in the hope they help him sharpen his ability to investigate

Kazutora still has nightmares of his father beating his mother.

Mitsuya keeps himself updated on what is popular amongs kids so he can sew cool things to his sisters like clothes or stuffed animal.

Hakkai is secretly learning Italian since he loves the Godfather series.

Taiju favorite film is Shark Tale.

Pahchin sleeps cuddling his dog.

Pehyan reads scientific books so he can came up with more witty come backs on Pahchin brain.

Angry is really loved by the elderly people in his neighborhood because he's always ready to help them in any way despite his grumpy face. One of the grannies taught him the perfect recipe for ramen.

Smiley is an hardcore naruhina shipper and won't hesitate to fight if someone insults his otp.

When Mucho saw Sanzu for the first time he thought he seemed like a stray cat. That's why he approached him with food aka cheesecake.

Sanzu would like to fix his relationship with Senju but he doesn't know how. Senju is always with Takeomi and he hates Takeomi. He's also scared that if he stops checking on Mikey, even for a second, something bad will happen to him and Shinichiro would have died in vain.

Kisaki has an album of pics of Hinata that he took when she didn't notice.

Hanma really loves movies with a lot of action and comments loud every scene of violence saying what he would have done instead if he was the protagonist.

Kokonoi talks about his days and his thoughts to a framed pic of Akane. He feels like she's still with him.

Inui plays guitar and he's interested in spiritism.

Izana throws darts to a Karen Kurokawa pic pinned on the wall because she ruined his life and his relationship with Emma and Shinichiro.

Kakucho shaves his hair by himself. He's not comfortable with people touching his scar.

Shion is unexpectedly good with children. He's a bit chaotic but overall a good babysitter.

Mochi is really good at cooking and he's proud of it.

Rindou started going to the gym because he was tired of being teased for his chubby cheeks. His guilty pleasure is eating Mac Donald food.

Ran loves 70s lamps, the one with bubbles that are moving up and down inside. They help him sleep.

South loves to dance Latin dances like samba, cha cha cha, rumba etc...

Wakasa has got some fishing trophies in his apartment.

Benkei appears as a tough guy but he loves to sleep with plushies.

Shinichiro has got an organizer that uses as his diary in which he writes his thoughts and notes all of his siblings birthdays.

Takeomi is always scolded by his relatives because of how he wasted his life, raised Haru to be a lunatic and ruined the relationship between Haru and Senju.

Hinata secretly trains in martial arts to help Takemichi, even though she knew he probably won't let her take part in a fight.

Emma often thinks at how good it would be if Izana lives with them. She wants him to have a family.

Yuzuha listen to heavy metal as a let out of her frustration for living with Taiju.

Senju sometimes wants to be adopted by Wakasa so she won't have Takeomi around and maybe Sanzu would visit her. She also hate Concordes.

[totaly-obsessed]

Unexpected Meetings

Alessia Russo x reader fic

-> The reader forgets Alessia's team bonding and bursts into the room, her teammates don't know about the reader

➳ Masterlist

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

Alessia had been at the Arsenal Women’s Football Club for about three weeks now. She was settling in nicely. The girls were welcoming and happy to have her, most of them already familiar with each other in one way or the other.

Every Friday there was a team bonding session, those were quite helpful for the new girls to get to know the team and form friendships. The blonde had offered a movie night at her place for this week's ‘Team Date’ as she liked to call them.

None of the girls had been around to her place after the move. It was her family and Ella who helped her move. Oh – and you of course! Being the striker’s girlfriend of just shy of two years you were living with her. So, it was not only the blonde's move, but yours as well, being offered a position as a teacher at one of London’s many schools. It could not have been more perfect.

You knew that the girls were going to be at your apartment, you really did. A co-worker of yours, a quick new friend offering you a place to stay for the night. But somehow, you forgot.

The girls were arriving at your apartment, one after the other, getting comfortable on the large couch Alessia had insisted on buying as you moved in. The floor in front of the TV had been covered with a mattress as well as a mountain of blankets and pillows.

“Less this place is incredible. Just look at your kitchen, man!” Beth was in awe of the apartment. To be fair you had put a lot into making it as comfortable and homey as possible for the both of you.

“Yeah w- I am really happy with it.” With a deep blush, she was hoping, that no one noticed the deep blush on her face. And no one did – except the ever so attentive Leah Williamson.

“It is quite big though Less. Don’t you get lonely?” The Italian sputtered out some weird response about getting a dog to fill the void.

“Where is your bathroom then Russo?” Katie had been suspecting nothing to this point, but it was in the bathroom, where she noticed it. Two toothbrushes, towel sets, and bathrobes. Upon further inspection, she noticed the many shoes in the cabinet, many of them with heels and a lot smaller than the sneakers that undoubtedly belonged to her teammate.

The brunette saw Alessia’s gaze, wary of her wandering around her apartment. Then her eyes fell to Leah who had a subtle smirk on her face. “Oy, Viccy! Change with me, would ya?”

And just like that McCabe had gotten what she wanted, leaning close to Leah. “When do ya reckon she’ll tell us?”

The blonde shrugged. Carefully she pushed aside the fringe that had fallen into her eyes, once again. “We’ll see.”

Meanwhile: You have had a shit night. The school was holding a teacher conference until late in the evening wanting to discuss changes in the school. You had not even been there for longer than three weeks and you were already starting fights with misogynistic, homophobic, old, white men.

With all of that still fresh on your mind, you could not wait to tell Lessi everything. The footballer understood that you did not need or want solutions, you needed someone to be angry with you and still hold you when you cried.

And she could do that incredibly well.

In a hurry you threw the apartment door open, it was freezing outside and you could not wait to fall into bed with your girlfriend. How you did not notice the massive number of shoes in your hallway, you still do not understand to this day.

It was quiet, aside from a movie blaring from the TV. Alessia liked her movies and shows, always having something on in the background. “Less! You won’t believe what happened, baby!”

Hastily you threw your coat onto the bench, stumbling over one of your own shoes. The woman in question shot up in her position on the couch, as did every other woman in the room, looking at her with wide eyes, but keeping quiet.

“That old twat Mister Grimm, or whatever-“ you were out of breath stumbling over your words, still loaded with anger, “said, that it is ‘okay for boys to slack off but girls need to work even harder’.”

An angry huff could be heard from the hallway, where you were fighting with your scarf, not finding the way out of it. “And he wants the girls' grading to be harsher, because ‘boys need more concentration to pay attention than the girls’”, while Alessia couldn’t see you yet, she could imagine the air quotes you were inevitably doing – her teammates were quite amused by your annoyance, but interested nonetheless.

“What does that even mean? How can someone be so-“ By that point you had wandered into the living room, at least twenty women were looking at you.

Fuck.

You had forgotten Alessia’s team night. “

Less I am so sorry.” The blonde however wasn’t even mad (or surprised).

“It’s fine baby, I wanted to introduce you to them anyways – just made it easier.” She stood up, hugging you close to her. “C’mon Russo! Don’t be shy, give ya missus a kiss!” It was Katie who found her words first, wanting to embarrass the Italian.

But Alessia was not as bashful as expected, and instead pulled you into a bruising, passionate kiss – her teammates cheering in the background, hollering at the two of you. After pulling away, because you were still out of breath due to your ranting, she mumbled a quick “I missed ya, amore.”

Now it started to sink in, the reality of standing in front of the entirety of the Arsenal girls, who didn’t even know you existed up until now. Alessia however was beaming next to you, swaying your joined hands between you. “Guys, this is my girlfriend. Baby, these are my teammates.” 

“Hi. Nice to meet you guys.”

It was silent for a second, but it was Caitlyn who started the conversation – “So what did that Mister Grimm say?”

Just hours later Alessia could not help but smile – you were cuddled on top of her, in a deep conversation with Lotte, next to her, about some book both of you had read.

This day could not have been better if she tried. She was home.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

liked by stanwaygeorgia and 44.331 others

alessiarusso99: Team-Bonding Movie Night style!

[lifeofpriya]

City of Love, Pool of Dreams - Thomas Ceccon

author's note: no gif this time unfortunately 😔 this fic may or may not have been come to fruition thanks to @2manytabsopen and i's daily chats and yeah...i hope y'all enjoy this Olympic-edition fic!

summary: A chance encounter during the Olympics ignites a passionate romance between you and a certain Italian swimmer...

You found yourself in Paris, the City of Lights, during the Olympics. The cobblestone streets were alive with the electricity of competition and camaraderie. Athletes from around the globe mingled with tourists and locals, creating a pattern of languages, colors, and emotions. As you strolled along the banks of the Seine, the gentle murmur of the river mixed with the distant cheers from the nearby stadiums. You paused at a small café, drawn in by the aroma of freshly baked croissants and the sound of laughter spilling out onto the sidewalk.

As you opened the door to enter the café, you accidentally bumped into someone exiting. You turned to apologize, and your eyes met green eyes that were so familiar to you, but you couldn't place where from.

"Pardonnez-moi," you murmur, the words slipping out at the same moment you realize who you've collided with. Thomas Ceccon, the Italian swimmer you've watched race to victory on TV recently, stands before you, his wavy hair slightly disheveled from the encounter. He smiles and extends a hand to help you regain your balance.

"It's quite alright," he says, his Italian accent lilting the words like a melody. "I should have been more careful." His eyes dance with good humor, and you can't help but feel the warmth of his presence.

You take his hand, noticing the firm grip of a trained athlete. As you both laugh off the minor collision, the café's door swings shut behind you, leaving the bustle of the street outside a muffled backdrop to your conversation. The interior is cozy, with wooden tables and chairs that have seen a thousand conversations, and walls adorned with vintage posters of French cinema. The smell of strong coffee and freshly baked bread fills the air, making your stomach rumble.

"Would you like to join me?" Thomas asks, gesturing to an empty table by the window. You nod eagerly, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves. This is not a meeting you could have ever anticipated.

The sun breaks through the clouds as you sit down, casting a warm glow over the café. The bell above the door jingles again, announcing the arrival of more customers, but you're too caught up in the moment to pay them much mind.

"So, what brings you to Paris?" Thomas asks, his eyes genuinely curious. His casual demeanor puts you at ease, and you find yourself sharing more than you usually would with a stranger.

"I'm just here to watch the games and take in the sights," you reply, smoothing out your clothes, still slightly disheveled from the collision. I've always wanted to visit during the Olympics. It's like the whole world is here."

Thomas nods, his eyes lighting up with enthusiasm. "It's incredible, isn't it? Everyone coming together for the love of sport. Have you seen any of the competitions yet?"

You admit that you haven't had the chance to attend any events in person, but you've been keeping up with the news. "I haven't had a chance to get tickets, but I've been watching the highlights every night," you say, a hint of disappointment in your voice.

Thomas's eyes light up. "Well, I might be able to help with that," he says, a playful smile playing on his lips. "I have an extra pass for the 4 x 100m medley relay finals tomorrow. Would you like to come?"

Your heart skips a beat. "Are you serious?"

Thomas nods, his smile growing wider. "Absolutely. It's going to be an incredible race. And it's my last event before I head home."

You can't believe your luck. Sitting in a quaint Parisian café with an Olympic gold medalist, sipping on steaming cups of café au lait, and now being offered a ticket to the most anticipated swimming event of the games. "I'd love to," you reply, trying to keep your cool. "But aren't you supposed to save those for family or something?"

Thomas waves off your concern. "My family's already got theirs. Besides, I'd rather share the experience with someone who truly appreciates it. Plus, I think it'll be more fun to have a friendly face in the crowd." His words warm you from the inside out, and you find yourself accepting his generous offer without hesitation.

The rest of the afternoon is a whirlwind of conversation as you share stories about your hometowns and your own passions. Thomas tells you about his rigorous training to get to the Olympics, and you listen, captivated by his dedication and love for the sport. In return, you speak about your own life, feeling surprisingly open with this charming stranger.

As the sun dips lower in the sky, casting a warm glow over the café, you both realize the time has flown by. "I should get going," Thomas says, glancing at his watch. "I have to be at the village soon. But I'll see you tomorrow, right?"

You nod, feeling a mix of excitement and anticipation. "I wouldn't miss it for the world."

Thomas leaves a generous tip on the table and stands up, his tall frame towering over the tiny chairs. He slings his backpack over his shoulder and extends his hand once more. "It's been a pleasure," he says, shaking yours firmly. "I'll meet you at the stadium's east entrance at 7 pm tomorrow then. Don't be late!"

You nod, your heart racing. As you watch him weave through the café and out the door, you can't shake the feeling that this is all a dream. The café seems to deflate slightly without his energy, and you sit there for a moment, lost in thought. The rest of the afternoon is a blur of preparation - finding the perfect outfit, re-reading the event schedule, and trying to calm your nerves.

\\\

Soon enough, tomorrow arrives. You wake up early, the excitement of the night before still buzzing in your veins. You take your time getting ready, choosing an outfit that is both comfortable for the long day ahead and presentable enough to be seen with someone as notable as Thomas. The sun is high in the sky by the time you leave your hotel room, casting a golden hue over the city.

You arrive at the stadium with time to spare, the anticipation building with every step you take towards the east entrance. The grandeur of the Olympic venue is a stark contrast to the quaint café where you'd met Thomas. The air is thick with the scent of popcorn and anticipation as fans from every nation mill about, adorned in their country's colors.

As you wait, you can't help but feel a twinge of doubt. What if he forgot about you? What if he'd just been being polite? But then, like a beacon of hope, you see him approaching, his green eyes scanning the crowd until they land on you. He waves, a grin spreading across his face, and you wave back, feeling a flutter in your stomach.

"You made it!" Thomas says as he reaches you. He's wearing the Italian team's colors, and the Olympic rings on his jacket glint in the sun. Are you ready for an unforgettable night?"

You nod, unable to find the words to express your excitement. He takes the ticket from you and leads the way through the throngs of people to the designated section. The stadium is a cacophony of noise, with fans from all corners of the globe cheering and waving flags. The atmosphere is electric, and you can feel it zipping through the air.

As you take your seat, you're struck by the sheer size of the pool. It stretches out before you, a blue expanse that seems to go on forever. The starting blocks gleam under the lights, and you can't help but imagine the tension that must build up there, the anticipation of the race to come.

Thomas notices your awe and chuckles. "It's pretty amazing, isn't it?" he says, his voice full of pride. "This is where dreams are made or broken."

"Go get them, Thomas!" You couldn't help but smile at the Italian as you nudged him playfully. His eyes lit up with a competitive fire, and you knew he was eager to dive into the water. The air was thick with anticipation, and the hum of the crowd was a constant reminder of the magnitude of the event unfolding before you.

As the evening progressed, the tension grew palpable. Athletes from various countries paraded into the arena, each step they took resonating with the weight of their nation's hopes and dreams. The time for the 4 x 100m medley relay grew nearer, and you found yourself leaning forward in your seat, the excitement building with every minute that ticked by.

Thomas's team was announced, and the crowd erupted into a symphony of cheers. You spotted him in the pool area, his eyes focused and intense. He caught your gaze and flashed a quick smile before turning his attention back to the water. Your heart raced in sync with the rhythm of the crowd as the starting gun went off.

The swimmers dove in, and the race began. Each stroke, each kick, every split second counted. The Italian team took an early lead, and you found yourself standing, hands clutched together, willing Thomas and his teammates to victory. The sound of water splashing and the buzz of the audience created a crescendo of energy that seemed to pulse through the entire stadium.

You watched Thomas's powerful strokes, his arms slicing through the water like a knife. The Italian fans around you were a sea of green, white, and red, their shouts of "Forza, Thomas!" echoing in your ears. As he approached the final stretch, you could see the determination etched on his face, the muscles in his arms bulging with the effort.

The race was tight, with the Americans and the Australian teams hot on Italy's heels. The tension in the air was so thick you could almost taste it. You held your breath as Thomas made the final turn, his legs kicking furiously. The crowd's cheers grew louder, each one a shout of encouragement that propelled him forward.

As Thomas reached for the wall to tag his teammate for the final leg, you felt your heart pound in your chest. The Italian team was still in the lead, but the margin was slim. You watched the final swimmer, the freestyler, dive in and slice through the water like a torpedo. The stadium was a blur of motion and sound around you, but your eyes remained fixed on the pool.

The race was a nail-biter, with the lead changing hands multiple times. The American swimmer was closing the gap, their strokes powerful and precise. You could see the determination in the Italian's eyes as he kicked harder, reaching deeper for the speed that had brought him to this moment. The crowd around you was a mix of hope and fear, each nation's supporters willing their team to victory.

As the race's final moments ticked by, the Italian freestyler pulled ahead, his stroke a thing of beauty and strength. The crowd's roar grew deafening, a wave of sound that seemed to lift the swimmers out of the water. You clenched your fists, feeling your heart race in time with the music's pounding bass and the cheers' rhythm.

Then, it was over. The Italian swimmer's hand slapped the wall, and the buzzer rang out. The crowd erupted into a frenzy of cheers and applause. You looked at Thomas, who was now standing at the edge of the pool, chest heaving and a smile of pure triumph spreading across his face. The Italian flag was draped over his shoulders, and his eyes searched the stands for yours.

When he found you, his smile grew even wider. He pointed at you, the universal gesture for 'we did it.' You couldn't help but laugh and cheer along with the rest of the crowd. The adrenaline rushing through your veins mirrored the race's intensity, and you felt a part of the victory, despite being a spectator.

After the race, Thomas made his way to the stands, navigating through the ecstatic Italians. His teammates hugged him tightly, their faces a mix of exhaustion and elation. When he reached you, his eyes sparkled with excitement. "Thank you for being here," he said, his voice hoarse from the chlorine and the screams.

You nodded, still trying to catch your breath from the excitement. "That was… amazing," you managed to say.

Thomas leaned in closer, his voice barely audible over the cacophony of the stadium. "It means so much to have you here," he said, his eyes searching yours. "I couldn't have done it without you."

You felt a blush creep up your cheeks, unsure of how to respond. Before you could say anything, a swarm of reporters and photographers descended upon the victorious team. Thomas was swept away in a whirlwind of flashing lights and questions, but not before winking at you and promising to catch up later.

\\\

As the excitement of the relay finals waned, you made your way out of the stadium, feeling both exhilarated and slightly lost. The night air was cool against your flushed skin, and the city's lights twinkled like stars in the sky above. You wandered the streets of Paris, the games' energy pulsating through the city's cobblestone veins.

You soon found yourself on the pathway that led to the Eiffel Tower, the iconic structure casting its shadow over the bustling city. The air was still electric with the excitement of the games, but here, amidst the tourists and lovers, there was a sense of peace. You decided to sit on a bench, giving yourself a moment to process the whirlwind of emotions you felt from watching Thomas' victory.

As you sat there, the Tower's lights began to twinkle, a magical sight that seemed to mirror the spark in Thomas' eyes when he'd found you in the crowd. The sound of a distant accordion played a soft tune, and you felt a gentle nudge of nostalgia for a place you'd only just arrived in.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a familiar voice. "Mind if I join you?" Thomas appeared, out of breath but beaming. He'd managed to escape the media storm and track you down. His wet hair clung to his forehead, and his eyes searched yours, looking for the same awe that you'd seen in the pool.

You nodded, your heart racing. "How did you find me?"

Thomas shrugged off his backpack and sat beside you, his eyes still gleaming with excitement. "I had a feeling you'd be here," he said with a grin. "This is where everyone comes to reflect on the magic of Paris."

You couldn't help but smile back, feeling a sense of camaraderie that went beyond the typical fan-athlete dynamic. The Tower's lights continued to dance above you, casting a soft glow on the two of you as you sat in companionable silence, watching the world go by.

Thomas leaned back on the bench, his eyes still glued to the Eiffel Tower. "You know, I've competed in so many places, but there's something about Paris that's just… special."

You nodded in agreement. "It's like the whole city is alive with excitement."

Thomas turned to you, his eyes shining with a newfound warmth. "And meeting you has made it even more unforgettable."

You felt your cheeks flush as you tried to find the right words to respond. "Thank you," you finally managed, your voice barely above a whisper.

Thomas' smile grew softer, and he leaned in slightly. "Do you believe in destiny?"

You tilted your head, considering his question. "I like to think so," you replied, your voice barely audible over the Tower's twinkling lights.

Thomas nodded, his gaze lingering on the Tower before returning to you. "Then I guess it was destined for us to meet here," he said, his voice a gentle caress against the night air.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you felt your palms begin to sweat. You had never felt so alive, so seen. "I suppose it was," you murmured, not quite meeting his gaze.

The Tower's lights continued their rhythmic dance, casting a soft, romantic glow on the two of you. The accordion's tune grew faint, as if giving way to the conversation that was about to unfold. You looked up at Thomas, his features softened by the dim light, and realized that this moment was more than just a chance encounter. There was something genuine in his eyes, something that made you want to believe in fairy tales and happy endings.

"So, what happens now?" you asked, breaking the silence. Thomas took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving yours. "Now, we enjoy the magic of Paris," he said, his voice filled with promise. "We've got the whole night ahead of us."

[hey-kae]

A kiss, a Cake, a Flight, and a Heart Attack

Or four mornings where Charles wakes you up.

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!reader

Request: read here

Warnings: Language, sexual implications, slight nudity, google translate italian (once), mentions of burns and fire, charles needing to stay away from the kitchen.

a/n: one thing about me is i will have charles mess up in the kitchen… But i actually had fun writing this and i hope you’ll like it! It’s a long one cause i added a bit to the request so buckle up (thank u @stcrgazings for helping me with this one) & Big, big apology to the person who sent the request cause it was sent in october🙃

A kiss and i’m all yours for the day:

He’d been awake for hours now, moving from room to room, doing random things, fidgeting around the apartment, struggling to find something to occupy himself with.

He had this habit that occasionally classified as a bad one. By six in the morning, he’d be up and running no matter what, even on his days off like it was the case today.

Sometimes, he would go to bed at night with the decision made that he was gonna sleep in the next day, only for his biological clock to ring it’s alarm right as the sun begins to rise, his body too used to waking up early.

The situation was no different this time. He woke up at a quarter to six, refused to get out of bed for over half an hour, hoping and praying he’d go back to sleep until he lost hope and stumbled out of the bedroom with stomping feet, and now he was awake all alone, sat on the balcony with a cup of fresh juice on the table by his side, gazing at an elderly neighbor in the apartment accros from him as the man sat watching TV, drinking coffee and chatting with someone that was out of Charles’ field of vision.

The sunlight was still a soft glow, slowly illuminating the streets, casting Monaco under its golden, calm spell, and in the midst of this scene was Charles, looking so serene, but oh so bored with his legs propped up on another chair as he waited for the clock to tick a bit more, anticipating the moment when you’d finally stretch your arms above your head and groan in bed, signaling that you were awake, not happily but awake all the same.

He waited over an hour like that. He scrolled on his phone, listened to music, read a few pages of a book he had bought a few days ago, made himself breakfast and ate it… It seemed like he did so much, like a lot of time had passed but when his finger met the screen of his phone in a gentle tap and his eyes read the numbers on the screen, he let out a loud groan at how early it still was. It wasn’t even seven yet and so he sat patiently until that patience wore thin after a few moments.

Hoping it was now a decent hour to wake you up, he tapped his phone screen again to check the time, only to be disappointed once more by the numbers reading just a few minutes past 7.

“Putain.” Fuck. He mumbled to himself and threw his head back.

It was a day off, and what he loved about his days at home was that he got to spend them with you, but he couldn’t help that he was an early riser and you just about despised the morning, and so he waited.

Around eight, his patience had run out and his boredom levels had skyrocketed.

Usually, you woke up around 9:30 and so, he sat there for five more minutes, his mind getting decently creative with the gaslighting methods it was pulling on itself to reach the conviction that it was close enough to nine thirty.

It wasn’t, it really wasn’t but Charles got up nonetheless, leaving his cup and book right where they were as he headed straight to the bedroom as not to give himself any time to rationalize this.

His hand reached for the cold knob, he opened the door and peaked his head inside to sneak a look at his soundly asleep girlfriend.

You looks so peaceful and relaxed, asleep on your stomach, the fluffy covers blurring the outline of your body, leaving him to admire what was visible: you hiding your face in his pillow, hugging it close to you simultaneously.

An advantage of him waking up before you every day was that he got to witness this, the fact that you found comfort in his scent lingering on his side of the bed and on his pillowcase. Sometimes the sight gave him a weird sense of melancholy, especially on days where he was in a rush, with nowhere near enough time to appreciate this. Sometimes, i tugged at his heart since it left him picturing you asleep, all alone while he was across the world from where he was supposed to be, right by your side.

Today, it made him smile widely as his heartbeat picked up its pace.

He stepped into the room and closed the door behind him again then started taking cautious steps to the bed where he got back in under the sheets with you and slowly pried the pillow out of your grip, replacing it with himself.

He pulled you into his chest, grinning widely when he felt your arms subconsciously wrap around his waist and your head snuggle into the crook of his neck like it was instinct, his shirtless state making this so much better for him.

Mindlessly, his hand reached for your hair, his fingers brushing through it carefully while he leaned his face forward and placed a quick kiss onto the top of your head, making you snuggle further into his chest.

With a lingering smile, he spoke in a low voice, “Bonjour, chérie.”

Instantly, that made you groan, because even in your barely conscience state, you knew that little sentence was Charles’ morning shenanigans kicking off.

“Uh-uh.” You grumbled, hiding your face completely against his shoulder, hoping he would take the hint, and when he went silent and still for a few minutes, you really thought he did. You fell back into deep slumber while holding him, falsely assuming he was gonna leave you to be.

However, this was Charles, insistant as ever. His silence was in fact just him plotting.

“Baby, come on. Lève-toi.” Get up. His voice was soft and hushed as his hand slipped down your body, under the sheets and right under your oversized shirt -his shirt that you were sleeping in, his fingertips delicately meeting the soft skin to lightly trace patterns up and down your back, eliciting goosebumps on your skin, the feather feel of his touch making you arch into him instinctively.

Your complaint was half-hearted, spoke into his neck in the form of a groan of his name, the vibrations of it sending a shiver down his spine.

“Oui?” He whispered, feigning clueless about the fact that this was a complaint.

“Fuck off.” You mumbled back, making his lips twist up in a smile that slowly progressed into a slight chuckle that you too felt against your chest while Charles allowed his head to rest against the headboard.

“Tu veux pas te réveiller?” You don’t wanna wake up? He asked, already knowing the answer to that.

“Too early for baguettes.” You whined again, rolling off his body, back onto the mattress, covering your head with the pillow to tune your annoying boyfriend out.

Meanwhile, Charles was trying to figure out who even mentioned baguettes, because he sure didn’t.

“Baguettes?” He frowned.

“Ugh…” you sighed, “English, Charles. Too early for french.”

Just as your muffled voice met his ears, his laughter took ahold of him, shaking his body and the bed along with it.

The plan to keep your eyes shut under all circumstances, the only guarantee to another meeting with sleep, was failing. You gave up and peeked at him, tossing the pillow onto his head, “I hate you, Leclerc.”

Charles, with a quick reaction, grabbed the pillow and held it to his chest while your hands rubbed at your face, moving up to angrily toss back your hair that had covered your face.

You propped your body up on your elbows and rubbed your eyes again, pouting as you did so, leaving Charles, who still had a soft smile lighting up his features as he watched you with soft eyes, to take in the adorable sight of your messy hair and pouty lips.

“That’s okay, amour. You’ll go back to loving me in an hour.” He smiled, in his head the scenes of the many forced early mornings replaying.

“No, ‘cause i’m going back to sleep.” You remarked, frustration bubbling in your chest at his insistence.

Forcefully, you yanked onto the sheets, forming them into a cocoon covering you up to your head.

“But, baby… I’m home with you all day today.” Charles sounded disappointed now, but you were too sleepy and not awake enough yet to argue with him on the subject.

However, in your head, you were wondering why the fuck did a day off need to start as early as school does? It was truly beyond you, the answer to that question.

“Alright, then…” you heard him rustle off the bed, sighing as he did, “I did tell Andrea i don’t wanna train today so i can stay here with you,” he explained as he started opening and closing closets and drawers, “if you’re too sleepy to spend time with me - which is totally fine by the way, i’ll just give him a call and tell him to meet me at the gym or something.”

You blinked your eyes open at the statement, the disappointment tainting his tone and the fact that he so desperately wanted a full day with just you just now sinking in. You wanted to spend time alone with him as well. It would be so utterly disappointing if you woke up later to realize you had wasted this opportunity.

By the sounds of it, Charles was already dressed since you heard zippers being pulled up and clothes being tossed around.

Blinking your eyes repeatedly, you sighed and prepared to interrupt his plan, but before you could, you heard him unlock his phone, probably preparing to call Andrea.

Hurriedly, you pulled the duvet off your head and mumbled, “Charles, wait…”

However, there he was, stood in the middle of the room, grinning like an idiot, still shirtless and in his sleep shorts.

His trick had worked perfectly and now you were awake and he had absolutely no plans whatsoever to meet up with Andrea and as you glared at him with a piercing gaze, he broke out in a laugh and practically jumped on top of you, the covers still covering you cushioning his weight as his arms wrapped around you.

“Good morning.” He smiled widely while looking down at you.

“That was low, Leclerc.” You pushed at his shoulder, frowning deeply.

With one eyebrow raised, he replied, “I can still call Andrea.”

“You know what? Maybe you should. You are a pain in the ass at this point, Charles.”

His arms snuck around your waist to firmly hold your body to his as he flipped the two of you over so you were comfortably laying on his chest.

“Now you’re just hurting my feelings.” He playfully said, watching as your head found it resting place on his shoulder, “I though you would like that i’m all your for the day.”

The annoyance on your side was beginning to waver, a small smile now replacing the frown on your face as you spoke against his skin, “You’re all mine every day.”

“Of course i’m always yours, baby.“ His heart was beating faster as he spoke and admired your slowly relaxing features, “I just mean i’m home with you today.” Charles kissed your forehead.

“Um, i do love that, bébé.” You reassured, your hand trailing up to his cheek, you fingers running along his jawline, feeling the stubble that had grown, “It’s just your morning chronicles that i hate.”

“Just think of it as more time together, all alone in our apartment.” He replied, leaning into your touch, “Now, give me my good morning kiss.”

That, you would never refuse so, your lips met his in a sweet kiss throughout which, you felt his hands on the smile of your back, hugging you to him as your lips moved briefly against his before you relaxed back on his chest, accepting your fate that your day was gonna start now.

“What time is it?” You asked out of curiosity, yawning at the end of the sentence and lifting yourself a bit, getting ready to get out of bed.

Instead of an answer, Charles just gave you a tight-lipped, wide smile and pulled you back down, telling you he loves you right against your ear.

“What’s important is that we’re gonna spend so much time together, n’est ce pas?” …right? The cheesy smile he was displaying showed you one thing. It was still early as fuck.

✩★✩

A cake and a weird smell:

The previous night had been amazing. The party was loud and chaotic but absolutely perfect. The music was picked right to your taste, the drinks were all your favorites and all the people you loved were all gathered under one roof, all having fun with seemingly no other cares in the world.

And Charles… he was - and is - the best boyfriend on so many different scales. His insistence on making every day special went above any beyond on special occasions, especially on your birthday. He had organized everything to utmost perfection, planning every detail of your birthday party himself, down to the type of confetti used and the font on the “Happy Birthday” banner hanging elegantly on the entrance of the club he had chosen for the occasion.

In fact, he had planned everything down to his own appearance for the night, picking out your favorite clothes of his, styling his hair how you liked it - just the right proportion of messy and put together, using your favorite perfume of his and putting on the ring you loved so much.

Last night’s surprises were perfect and the way he took care of your every need once the two of you were finally alone, in the dimly lit environment of your bedroom, was even more than that.

Even falling asleep in his arms was perfect, but now, at past ten in the morning, he was awake and out of bed and you were back to hugging his pillow to make up for his absence.

Charles had woken up later than usual today due to how late he stayed up last night, but as soon as he was awake, he put on some sweatpants and headed right for the kitchen, pulling an apron over his bare chest before starting to dig through the cabinets, pulling out all the ingredients and utensils he needed until he was left with a pile of stuff on the counter. His eyes were still scanning the things he prepared as he grabbed his phone and rung up his mom for help.

“Maman, j’ai besoin que tu me donne la recette la plus facile que tu sais pour faire un gâteau.” Mom, i need you to give me the easiest cake recipe you know. He rushed over the phone and when his mom started telling him what to do, he put her on speaker and started following the directions silently, only interrupting the flow with small remarks such as “Attend, y a des coquilles d’œufs dans le bol.” Wait, there’s eggshells in the bowl.

Charles, for once, was more than meticulous with absolutely everything. He had triple checked the amount and the label of each ingredient he added before mixing with extra caution to make sure he wouldn’t be making a mess. By the end of the preparations, he was so sure this cake would turn out just like his mother’s, delicious and homey, made with so much love and that alone left him beaming as, in his mind, he imagined your reaction to him waking you up to something he made you himself.

Once he poured the batter into the cake mold and put it in the oven, he said goodbye to his mother and went to check on you.

Like always, he was grinning like an idiot as soon as his eyes met the sight of the one he loves so dearly. He stilled in his spot and leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed in front of his chest while he silently watched you sleep, your bare back and your messy hair being the only two clear parts of you that were showing. Still, that was enough to leave him with thoughts of his love for you and for the simple thought that you were his girl, that he was the one you loved.

Charles, in opposite to all other mornings, was being extra cautious not to wake you up just yet. That would ruin his plan, what would subsequently put him in a bad mood since he’s been planning this for weeks, the only thought in his head while doing so being the smile you’d give him when he woke you up with another surprise, this time one that’s just yours and his to see and remember. Days ago, he snuck out while you were busy and bought you the gift he would be giving you today.

Sighing contently, he closed the bedroom door again and headed for the living room where he sat down for a total of about 10 minutes since he was unable to stop checking on the cake, anxiously waiting to decorate it with the candles he had secretly bought and hid in the highest cupboard, the only one you couldn’t reach. However, he eventually got carried away when he had to take a call related to the mechanics of this season’s car. The issue was that the car was doing everything but functioning according to calculations and so the call went on for longer than he was expecting and he was getting worked up over the conversation, what bugged him even more because he was supposed to be in a good mood today.

“Mi dispiace, devo andare. Forse ne parleremo di nuovo domani?” I’m sorry, i have to go. We’ll talk about this again tomorrow maybe? He ended the conversation and rushed to the oven, already cursing since the smell invading the kitchen wasn’t quite right.

With oven mitts ready, he opened the door and a whiff of smoke burst out.

It was bad.

His eyes narrowed to protect themselves from the heat and smoke as he grabbed the cake pan and brought it out onto the nearby counter.

Immediately, his shoulders dropped and his heart sank at the sight.

The cake looked burnt to a crisp, dark as coal. It looked so bad, he had to bite his lip and look away so he wouldn’t break out in a stream of cuss words.

What was he supposed to do now? He wanted this special moment with you so badly, it was making him feel helpless that he wouldn’t get to surprise you like he had been planning.

He angrily turned off the oven and closed its door back up.

His mind was racing and he was indescribably angry now as he paced back and forth, wishing he had some sort of a back up plan, but he didn’t because he really thought this was foolproof, and it would’ve been if it wasn’t for that damn call.

Charles felt hopeless now. This was supposed to be your own little private celebration of your birthday after a very public party yesterday, something to remember years down the line when you’re all grown, most probably married, after you’ve had kids that would steal most of your privacy, leaving you to reminisce on moments of recklessness and affection that you shared unbothered during your dating days, these current days. This morning was supposed to be special.

“Bordel de merde.” Fucking shit. He cursed, tossing away the mitts still in his fist before storming out of the kitchen onto the balcony, trying to escape the awful burning smell filling the apartment.

The road below was busy and loud. Thankful for the distraction, Charles watched while still trying to figure something out, his eyes following a pedestrian running along the sidewalk until a store down the street caught his attention, making an idea spark in his head.

Within a minute, he was dressed and out of the apartment, practically hurling down the sidewalk until he burst through the door of the shop, a patisserie.

“S’il vous plaît, dites moi que vous avez un gâteau que je peux acheter immédiatement.” Please, tell me you have a cake i can buy immediately. He blurted with no greeting, taking the two workers who instantly recognized him by surprise. They stood there dumbfounded and staring at him like he was a ghost until one of them snapped out of it and went up to help him.

Luckily, there was a few plain white cake that they make for last-minute orders, so they wrote on it what Charles had asked them to and just like that, he was hurrying back home with relief, the smile having returned to his face.

He wanted for this to seem more laid back so he changed back into his sweatpants, deciding that there was no need for a shirt, then he opened just about every window in the house to let out the awful smell and he cleaned up the kitchen before taking a look around to made sure everything was spotless. Once he was satisfied, he got the cake out of the box, reached for the hidden candles and meticulously placed on in it, grabbed the small bag that had your final gift from it’s hiding place and he made his way to the bed.

He rested the objects in his hands on the nightstand and he climbed in next to you, burying his face in your neck, sealing a quick kiss against the soft skin there.

“Bébé…” he started softly, his hand moving your hair away and massaging your shoulders as he moved around to kiss your cheek, his soft trail of cautious kissed trailing towards your exposed back.

Even in your sleep, a shiver ran down your spine when his lip met the spot between your shoulders and without even knowing it, your head tilted to the side to give him more room to kiss your neck.

Charles knew you like he knew the back of his own hand. You absolutely melted the second he would start kissing your jawline and you neck. It was by far your favorite place to be kissed and he always acknowledged that, always payed extra attention to the supple skin under all circumstances. No matter the situation, he loved your reactions to his soft kisses.

Like always, he awaited the response and watched your body respond to him with a small lazy smile on his face. His hands moved down your sides, down to your waist until he was able to pull you to him while you groaned at him, taking the covers with you before accepting your fate and snuggling up against him.

You leg hiked up until it was resting on his waist, locking him in beside you for the moment as you reveled in the feeling on his fingers tracing down your spine and his breath fanning on your forehead.

He know you wouldn’t complain about the time he was waking you up at today, but he also knew it wouldn’t be any easier to wake you up. Your hatred for waking up was a staple of your personality and so, over the time, he came to the conclusion that the slower and the softer he woke you up, the better your mood would be, so he planned to let you take your time today.

Your thumb moving on his waist where your arm was resting was enough of a sign to him that it would be minutes before you would flutter your eyes open and blink up at him lovingly like always.

His arm remained around your body while he folded the other under his head, giving himself just enough leverage to be able to quietly gaze at you.

He had an amazing ability to catch the hints you throw and to pick up your cues with perfect accuracy, enough accuracy to know his cue when it came, so for now, he just littered kisses anywhere he could reach, the top of your head and cheeks mostly, making you smile as you slowly took awareness of the room, the surrounding sounds and the texture of Charles’ sweatpants against your bare legs.

Judging by the smile slipping your sleep, today might actually be one of the rare good mornings that you actually enjoy and Charles was ecstatic. All he wanted was for you to be happy and comfortable. That was the case for every second of his being, for every day of his life since he first laid eyes on you, so one can only imagine the amount of joy he wished for you on the morning after your birthday. He felt something foreign to him every time he spent a special occasion by your side, something bigger than him and beyond his understanding, like he would literally offer you his world and all of the stars just as soon as he finds a way to wrap them up into a present decorated just as beautifully as you were.

There was a breeze traveling through the apartment, tickling your skin in its passing, giving you goosebumps that got you pulling the covers up to fully cover your body, frowning and pouting as you did so, successfully pulling Charles’ heart into a spontaneous dance that oftentimes took him by utter surprise. Loving you was so special, so rejuvenating that Charles knew he would never get used to it; it would always feel new and fulfilling.

He couldn’t resist it. He leaned over, kissed your lips lightly and pulled away smiling, the thoughts in his head still intoxicating him, but he was surprisingly met with an objection in the form of your arms wrapping around his neck, bringing him back in for another kiss with your eyes still shut.

His hand rested on the side of your neck as he kissed you, this thumb moving so delicately along the skin while you scooted closer and closer to him, never giving up a chance to be in his arms. For a minute, thoughts of cakes and gifts got lost between your lips and his and the way they moved in synchrony against each other, as if all along, they were meant to find each other in the deepest and darkest depths of life, like you and Charles were always meant to find each other, and so he kissed you.

He kissed you with everything in him, with every ounce of love he’s ever felt in his life, all while under the charming casted spell of your hand on the side of his neck, comforting every bad thought that had ever troubled him.

He didn’t have it in him to pull away, so he kissed you until you broke away and looked up at him with sleepy, but shining and glimmering eyes, ones so full of love, it made him blush ever so shyly as a wide smile creeped up on his face, lighting up his features and prompting him to wrap you in a tight hug while you giggled against his chest, a smile on your face – a rare sighting at such a time.

That’s when he snapped out of it, right as you whispered a hoarse but soft “Bonjour” to him.

His body was still shielding the sight of the cake and gift away from you and for that he was thankful. He didn’t want the surprise getting spoilt.

He straightened up just as you lifted yourself off him, still using the fluffy duvet to cover yourself up as you stretched your arms in front of you, you eyes tight-shut as you yawned one last time and turned sideways to face him.

Charles was quick and opportunistic. Within those few seconds, he had grabbed the cake and held it up in front of you. He was just lighting the last candle as you turned to face him, your brows instantly raising as a big smile appeared on your face.

“You did not.” You sighed, the feeling in your chest indescribable.

“Tu mérites le monde. Ça, c’est rien.” You deserve the world. This, it’s nothing. He grinned, bringing the cake closer to you, but you couldn’t even shift your gaze away from him at that moment.

Your eyes locked with his happy ones, the color of them seeming way lighter as he looked at you for a second too long, making you chuckle and look down as your cheeks heated up. He couldn’t help it though. The way you looked at him always captivated him, the thought that someone could love him that much, as much as your looks were telling him that you do, giving him an urge to drop everything and run away with you.

“Come on, bébé. Make a wish.”

You looked back up at him and shut your lids, the one wish you could think of after such an amazing birthday being plainly obvious. You repeated it three times in your heart, hoping and praying that it would come true before you blew the candles and opened your eyes to the sight of Charles swiping his finger across the lettering – “Joyeux Anniversaire, mon cœur” Happy birthday, my heart – gathering whipping cream before leaning closer and putting it on your nose, making you laugh while he took in just how happy you seemed, just how happy he was and just how adorable you looked.

He wanted to keep this memory. Years down the road, this sight of you would be one of the things he’d want to show your kids.

“Peux-je prendre une photo?” Can i take a picture? He made sure to ask, his eyes sparkling as he smiled.

Laughing, you replied, “Mon cœur, je suis nue.” My heart, i am naked.

You looked down at the covers pulled up to right under your neck.

“I’ll make sure there’s nothing showing. Plus, it’s only for me to see.”

You thought for a mere second then you nodded and gestured for him to hand you the cake. You posed for him, pulling a silly face at first that efficiently showed you your favorite sight in the world, Charles’ dimples as he smiled from behind his phone.

He inspected the photos a few minutes later while you hugged him with a fluttering heart just before he gave you the gift he had prepared then made sure to feed you enough cake for three birthdays.

However, as soon as you were out of the bedroom, a burning smell invaded your senses, making you question Charles about it, prompting him to tell you the story of his burnt cake with embarrassment tinging his tone.

“Aw, baby.” You hooked your arms around his neck and pulled him in, planting a kiss onto his blushed cheek, “I still appreciate that, Charles. You are adorable and you’ve done more than enough for me these two days, bébé.” You reassured, inching you lips closer to his until they met in a passionate, feverish kiss.

It was safe to say that was one of the few mornings you actually loved, if it counts as a morning.

✩★✩

A flight and a bit of a fight:

Just because the location and the bedroom were different didn’t mean the morning dynamics between you and Charles changed, except this time, he had no choice but to wake you up in a hurry, fully knowing he’d have to face a grumpy girlfriend for the first hour of the day.

For the first time in a while, you had taken the decision to accompany Charles to a Grand Prix, packing up and taking off with him mid-week, both of you beaming at the thought of extra time together.

Make no mistake, it had all went amazing but then Monday morning came around and you had to catch the flight back home, at 6:30 in the morning, meaning you’d have to be at the airport even earlier than than.

It was a personalized hell for both you and Charles, you for obvious reasons and him because he’d be on the receiving end of the complaints. There was no way this was gonna end with anything but a fight, but it was the only flight to Nice airport with an opening and you had no other option than to board it.

Charles, tired from the weekend and in need of sleep as well, wasn’t too happy about the timing either, but he pulled himself through it. He got up while it was still dark outside and got everything ready, even preparing the suitcases and carry ons to go, leaving you asleep for as much time as he could, but the clock was ticking closer to the time you’d have to get going and he had to wake you up at that point.

He headed to the kitchenette in the suite beforehand, preparing your coffee for you in your travel cup, hoping that would help his case a bit and when he had no other choice but to go disturb your sleep, he grabbed the cup and very quietly entered the bedroom, drew the blinds and neared the bed, putting the travel mug on the nightstand and crouching down by your side.

“Baby…” He started, hating this already, “You have to wake up.”

No response.

He sighed. “Listen, mon coeur, we can’t do this today.” He brushed back your hair and kissed your cheek, “The flight won’t wait for us.”

No response as well.

“Oh, c’mon. You knew i had to wake you up early today.” He shook you by the shoulder, just enough that you stirred.

He thought that was a good sign, a really good one but then you grabbed the duvet and covered your head with it and he groaned in such annoyance.

He didn’t have the energy for this, not today. He was just as exhausted. He also needed a lot more sleep and his burning eyes were a constant reminder of that.

“Baby,” he practically shouted, “get up. Get up.” Charles repeated, then said your name so many times and he still got nothing.

He called for you again, leaning down above your sleeping figure now, “You have ten minutes to wake up. We can’t be late.” He tried to keep his voice gentle but he was struggling. He was in such a bad mood, it was astounding. He also wasn’t a fan of the time of the flight but what was he supposed to do?

Charles just kept trying and retrying to get you up until his patience had started wearing thin.

He grabbed the blanket and pulled it away from you, grabbed your hand and started tugging on it gently, cooing your name like that’s gonna help.

“Baby, please.” He was practically whining now, shoulders slouched as he struggled to maintain his composure.

“Fuck off.” Charles heard you mumble into the pillow. Usually that would be a sign of progress but today he took it personally for some reason.

“Great. Perfect even. I’ll just leave you here.” He let go off your hand and covered you back up before crossing the room and leaving it, heading into the main chamber of the suite.

“Je vais me perdre la tête dans cinq minutes.” I’m gonna lose it in five minutes. He was mumbling to himself as he paced back and forth, aware he couldn’t just leave you here. He wouldn’t do that, he loved you too much to be that cruel with you, so he found himself huffing and stumbling back into the room, preparing himself for another round of frustration, the time passing making his anxiety rise as it did.

Much to his surprise though, he walked in and was greeted with the sight of you sat in bed with a blank expression on your face, but hey! Your eyes were opened at least!

“Bonjour, bébé.” He said, his tone still tinged with the annoyance he had been feeling. He still attempted a smile nonetheless, but he was slightly scared of your expression.

“Fuck off, Leclerc.” You replied, gesturing for him to get out.

“Oh, ne fais pas ça!” Oh, don’t do this! He groaned and came closer, “Tu savais qu’on doit se lever tôt aujourd’hui, pour qu’on prenne le vol.” You knew that we’d have to wake up early today, to catch the flight. Charles attempted to remind you, now kneeling one knee on the mattress.

“Get out, i don’t wanna fight. And stop it with the baguettes again.” You curtly replied, not giving a single flying damn about logical reasoning for the time being.

“Baby, don’t be like this.” Charles pleaded.

“Charles, please. You act like you’re still getting to know me. Get out so i can get ready. Us talking means us fighting right now.” You stormed off the bed, “I’m up now, you can fuck off for a few minutes.”

The sentence ended with you disappearing into the adjoined bathroom, aggressively locking it behind you, leaving Charles to roll his eyes all alone by the bed while you repeatedly splashed cold water on your face. Yeah, Charles might be right, but it was too early for you to comprehend it all the same.

All the final preparations for the flight home were done in utter and tense silence, from getting dressed to organizing the carry ons and how you were gonna fit everything into them, dividing all the remaining possessions you had between your backpack and Charles. The communication in that concern was done through death glares and tossing things at each other from across the room.

“On a tout. Allons y.” We have everything. Let’s go. Charles said half an hour later, signaling you should get going now.

Coffee then flashed in your mind, the thought of going without it being torture. You can still make one in your travel mug before leaving, you figured so you left Charles tapping his foot on the floor by the door and disappeared back into the suite to get your caffeine dosage ready. Only then, you realized you had no idea where your travel mug was and you had no recollection of putting it away. Charles must’ve done that.

You sighed in frustration and called his name. Seconds later, he was by your side.

“My travel cup…” you mumbled, your voice still hoarse.

Smiling slightly, Charles stopped your search through the hotel cupboards, “Viens.” Follow me. He grabbed your hand and dragged you back to the entrance where the table by the door had your cup, your phone and your headphones.

“I made you your coffee, ‘cause i knew you were gonna be in a bad mood.”

With a snap of a finger, you started feeling guilty about how rude to him you were being when he was being this thoughtful. After all, he was just making sure you wouldn’t miss the only flight home available.

“C’mon.” He handed you your things and took care of the backpacks and suitcases himself before he opened the door and gestured for you to walk out in front of him.

You gulped as you took in his soft expression, the smile on his face being your enemy for once because it made you feel astronomically bad.

“Merci.” You murmured, cheeks heating up as you walked past him, giving the quickest and shiest of kisses on the cheek, making him grin and shake his head.

On the plane later, when he pulled your legs onto his lap, his thumb caressing your ankle as he assured you that you can go back to sleep, you slipped out the apology you felt like you owed him.

“I’m sorry…about earlier.” You said, looking down at your lap.

“T’inquiète pas.” Don’t worry. Charles reassured with a loving smile that slowly evolved into a chuckle, “I know you by now, i don’t take your morning insults seriously anymore. Ma princesse déteste les matins, je l’ai compris. T’en fais pas.” My princess hates mornings, i got it. Don’t worry. He said as a joke, one that was true to both your knowledges. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your forehead as you blushed further.

“Je t’aime.” I love you. You mumbled to him in reassurance and reaffirmation before you gave him a brief kiss on the lips.

“I know, don’t worry. I love you too.” He pulled you to him, his arms around you as he hugged you back to sleep.

✰★✰

A heart attack and you’ll be the death of me:

Charles was so sure he had it covered.

As he tiptoed around the room in the faint dawn light, he was so sure he could go about his morning without disturbing you.

He woke up early as usual, at 5:30 sharp.

Strike one was his alarm waking you up, what earned him a quick death glare from you while you were mostly asleep, just peaking out from under the covers to give him that murderous morning look of yours while he fumbled around to get to his phone and silence it.

He smiled at you then; more like grimaced actually, then he slid out of bed and went straight into the bathroom, where he took a quick cold shower because “he’s a psychopath like that” as you described him. He just found it energizing on mornings where he had no motivation but a ton of things and trainings to accomplish throughout the day.

Dripping in water, he patted back into the room barefoot with a towel wrapped around his waist, whistling a tune stuck in his head, then stopping himself from doing that once his eyes met the sight of your sleeping figure, only for the messy symphony to resume mindlessly in a minute.

Part of your bedroom floor was hardwood while the remaining parts were porcelain, incredibly shiny porcelain that was a true hazard when wet, or when the person walking on it had bare feet and was leaving a trail of water behind him, but Charles never learned that. Charles himself was in fact the hazard at that point.

He continued the trajectory towards the wardrobe and drawers that had his clothes, in other words, the slippery part of the room, barefoot and leaving a trail of water to mark his trajectory, and the minute his foot met the shiny flooring, he was struggling to steady himself. In his own vocabulary, he had no grip. Softs in the pouring rain type of catastrophe.

Strike two was him using the duvet covering you for leverage.

His foot inevitably slipped and glided along the shiny flooring and down went Charles, grabbing onto the duvet covering you as if it was a solid that would sustain his weight while he collapsed, yanking it off the bed as he did.

He landed on the floor with a thud and widened eyes and the sheets fell on top of him.

Sleep wasn’t your main concern then, not when you bolted awake to find your boyfriend, in all his might, on the floor whining in pain.

Your heart skipped a beat as worry took over you, effectively waking you up within seconds.

“Fuck, are you okay? What happened?” You jumped up to him, crouching down by his side, your hand grabbing his as you attempted to help him up. Instead, he was dragging you down with him until he utilized his own strength to help you lift him off the floor. You tried hard no ignore the way he was still fumbling to keep himself covered as you helped him up, you tried really hard because if you didn’t you’d end up laughing and feeling bad later.

“Are you okay?” You asked worriedly as you sat him on the bed, visually inspecting his body for any bruises or injuries while your heart beat out of control.

“I’m okay.” He answered, rubbing over his back and wincing then adjusting his towel as if he just realized that he severely lacked of clothing.

“You’re sure?” You asked again and he nodded.

“How many times have a told you not to walk barefoot over here after showers, Charles?! You fucking scared me, you idiot.” The anger set in as the worry faded.

Time and time again, he almost slipped because of this, only this time he made actual contact with the floor instead of grabbing onto a dresser or something nearby. Time and time again, you’ve told him to watch out but here he was, frolicking around the bedroom with this wet feet with no cares in the world, not even for his safety.

“Okay, maman.” He got up and kissed you with a bit of an eye-roll, “You go back to sleep and i’ll get going in a bit.” He grinned.

“I will go back to sleep. Are you sure you’re okay, though?”

Smiling at the care peaking through your anger, he reassured you again.

“I’m sure, don’t worry.”

You took a once-over at him, scanning every part of him to make sure all was actually well, your breathing just starting to go back to normal as you did so, but worry still riddling your thoughts.

It wasn’t easy to wake up to the person you love collapsed on the floor. He scared you – for him- beyond words.

“Baby, i’m okay. I swear.” He chuckled and pulled you for a quick hug, interrupting your examination.

“Okay…” you yawned and made you way back to the bed, “If you feel anything wrong during the day, tell me so I can go with you to the doctor.” You mumbled to him just as you pulled the duvet back onto the bed, covering yourself up completely with it.

“I don’t think I will need that, but okay, mon coeur..”

You hummed back at him and he went back to getting dressed, wearing socks – Ferrari socks, and slippers this time.

His usual gym attire is what he went with, pulling on some shorts and a Puma shirt and trainers. He grabbed everything he needed out of the room so he wouldn’t have to disturb you again – phone, headphones, car keys, gym bag… - and he headed out into the kitchen to prepare himself a quick breakfast.

Charles stood in front of the fully stocked fridge, his hand on his waist as he scanned his options, a slight pain in his lower back distracting him.

The scene of the fall started playing in his mind and he couldn’t help laughing as he imagined how he must’ve looked like, loosing control over his steps and tumbling down the way he did.

Shaking his head with a smile on his face, he grabbed eggs out of the fridge, olive oil from the counter, salt and pepper from the drawer and a pan from the lower cabinet before he started the stove to make himself some scrambled eggs.

He couldn’t recall the first time he made eggs alone. In fact, he wasn’t quite sure where he learned how to make them since he had no recollection of anyone giving him a rundown on how it’s done, so how did he know how to scramble eggs?

What if he didn’t know and he just never messed up badly enough before? That is what he convinced himself of.

He never thought of the amount of oil he should use while making this. He never noticed how much time he let the oil heat up, nor how much it took for the eggs to cook. He never measured how much salt and pepper he seasoned them with.

Charles frowned as he watched the oil pour into the pan. How did that come naturally to him? Why did it come naturally if he was never taught how to do this?

The fall must’ve had some effect on him, he thought. There was no other explanation for these thoughts in his opinion.

With a quick shake of his head to come back to reality, he pushed those thoughts aside and figured he’d better focus on the task on hand.

He followed the stream of oil pouring out of the bottle in his hand and looked down to find the pan half full of oil.

Now, he wasn’t precise about the amount but he know for sure that this was way too much.

“Merde.” Shit. He sighed, his hands already working the stopper off the bottle of oil so he can pour the excess back in. He wasn’t thinking of the fact that this was probably gonna end up in a slippery mess. It did.

The stopper slipped out if his grip and flew across the kitchen. Half the unwanted oil ended up on the counter, dripping down onto the cabinets and onto the floor as he stood and watched, dumbfounded and annoyed.

“Tu me blague ou quoi?” Are you kidding me? He groaned in frustration, stomping over to the table in the corner to grab tissues to attempt cleaning this mess.

Charles distributed paper towels over the oil and left them to soak up the liquid while he went back to preparing breakfast, figuring he’ll just clean afterwards when he washes whatever dishes he ends up using. They’re not gonna run away, now are they?

He clicked the stove to life and watched the blue flames hide beneath the seriously well oiled pan.

Soon enough, the oil was making sizzling sounds and he started contemplating whether he should add the eggs now, not understanding why this felt so complicated today. Nonetheless, he grabbed the eggs and starting shifting his attention between them and the bubbling oil.

He scratched his head in contemplation as his eyes remained fixed on the stove, his arm supporting his slouching posture against the counter right by him, right where his mess resided. It seemed like he was waiting for some cue to tell him when he should do what, and so he went back to contemplating if he even knew how to do this.

It seemed like he took to much time to consider this and before he knew it, right before his widening, panicking eyes, a catastrophe ensued.

He didn’t know what to do and for a second all the years of reaction time training were all down the drain.

Charles stood still with wide frightened eyes that served as an artist’s palette on which the blue-green and the alarming orange started mixing. Alarms bells were ringing in his mind but he still stood motionless.

Charles watched as a huge flame erupted from the oil in the pan, casting a vibrant orange glow all over the kitchen, its warmth so close to his face making him quickly step back. He was repeatedly cursing under his breath as he tried figuring out what he was supposed to do. Every curse word in every language he knew took a turn and got used again and again and again until he started fumbling around the kitchen for a solution, just hoping and praying he wasn���t gonna burn the apartment down on a lovely Tuesday morning.

Luckily, Charles was just far enough to be unharmed but as the fire erupted, crackles escaped it and landed all over the kitchen, marking random objects with its signature.

In his panicked state, Charles didn’t have any recollection of oil-soaked paper towels that would be a huge fire hazard, especially when an open flame was raging mere inches away from them. He was too busy trying to get to the small emergency fire extinguisher he knew he had somewhere in the kitchen.

His hand was still trailing along the counter as he searched with fear through the lower cabinets and drawers for the red bottle. He kept searching as the fire spread on and as the tissues started burning as well and before he knew it, his hand on the edge of the countertop was feeling exceptionally warm.

He looked up quickly, but he wasn’t quick enough. The flames were spreading all over the marbly surface, dangerous close to him, right by his arms.

Quickly, he pulled back his hand but it was a second too late. He had burnt his hand and forearm and without him knowing it, a scream of pain left him mouth.

In the bedroom, you were still soundly asleep, not aware of the catastrophe your boyfriend was causing just in the room near where you were, unaware that he was at risk and that the whole apartment was at risk.

Under a thick layer of blankets, you were asleep like a baby, until you heard an alarmed scream and the clatter of metal, but the sound that made your heart drop wasn’t that. It was the distinct sound of a fire, a crackling that was faint but alarming enough that it was all you heard as you stumbled out of bed and out of the room, tripping over your feet, the few seconds it would take you to reach the origin of the sounds feeling like a damn eternity.

“Charles!” You called, a smell of smoke meeting your nose just as your eyes caught glimpse of how golden the light in the kitchen was, an orange light of a fire.

Your eyes widened and you mindlessly ran up to the door, slightly scared of what you might see once the space was in your line of sight.

You were just hoping and praying Charles was okay. Everything else could be managed.

“Charles”, you called for him again before you took a deep breath and ran into the kitchen. It felt like you blood was draining when you eyes caught sight of your boyfriend hunched down in front of the lower cabinets, the fire maybe a meter away from his hair as he nervously dug through the shelves, waving his left arm furiously through the air.

“Charles, what happened?” You ran up to him, pulling him farther from the flames.

His eyes, panicked as you’ve ever seen them, were still searching throughout the kitchen for a glimpse of red.

“Where’s the fire thing?” He practically shouted, asking about the extinguisher as he went on with his search.

With no further words spoken and both your hearts beating a million times per minute, you immediately went back to resolving things. Luckily, you knew the fire extinguisher was in the cabinet by the kitchen balcony door so you grabbed it and got to work, ending the fire just as the the oil-streaked cupboard door was starting to catch sparks.

Charles was panting and feeling lightheaded, the pain from the burn starting to make itself known, so as soon as he saw you had it covered, he allowed himself to fall onto the floor, dropping his back against the wall as he attempted to catch his breath.

Once you were sure the flame was put out for good, you dropped everything and allowed yourself to take a deep breath before the worry replaced the adrenaline high. You rushed to Charles’ side, hoping he hadn’t hurt himself.

He looked up at you as you crouched down in front of his, worried sick, the look in his face being one of pure fear.

“You’re okay?” You asked, exhilarated.

“I’m sorry, i’m so sorry. I don’t know how-“ he gasped for air, “-it happened.”

“Mon coeur, arrête. Show me your hand, I think you burnt it.”

Shakily, he lifted his arm into your line of sight and you had to wince at the sight.

“Oh, baby.” You started getting up, “I doesn’t look to good, Charles. I think you should get it checked out. Does it hurts?”

“Starting to…” he sounded out of breath.

“C’mon. Je t’amène à l’hôpital. You can get it treated in the ER.” I’ll take you to the hospital.

You knew he was in pain because he didn’t object like usual. He just nodded.

Fifteen minutes later, Charles was sat waiting for his turn, which they assured would be soon, and you were sat next to him, trying to distract him from whatever pain he might be feeling.

“Tu peux appeler maman? Dis lui de venir ici?” Can you call mon? Tell here to come here? He said after going silent for a few seconds, wincing as he did so.

You looked at him, wishing you could ease his pain immediately, “Oui, ne t’inquiètes pas.” Yes, don’t worry. You gave him a small smile that he tried weakly to return, “Et Andrea? Tu peux lui dire ce qui s’est passé? He’s probably waiting for me still.” And Andrea? Can you tell him what happened?

“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of everything.”

You got up and made the calls, struggling to find a way to tell Pascale and Andrea what happened without scaring them to death, and you managed, all while keeping an eye on your boyfriend, watching him take deep breaths. Just as you put your phone away, he got called into the ER and before he went in, he gestured for you to come along, using his good hand to do do, waiting until you joined his side and intertwined your fingers with his to follow the nurse.

Around noon, after Charles had been given painkillers and had gotten his arm and hand wrapped in gauze, you sat with him in your bedroom, the door to the kitchen closed to hide the mess neither of you wanted to acknowledge just yet.

A movie was playing on the screen of your laptop sat on top of your legs while Charles rested his head on your shoulder.

Neither of you were speaking or saying anything, the chaos from earlier being enough noise for a good while.

“Sorry I woke you up so early.” Charles whispered to you.

“Charles, shut up. Imagine me caring about sleep in this situation.” You softly kissed his forehead, “You could’ve gotten yourself killed.” You practically whispered, genuinely overwhelmed by the thought.

He sighed heavily and snuggled his face into your neck, “Je sais vraiment pas qu’est-ce qui s’est passé.” I really don’t know what happened.

“We all have bad days, this one was just extra bad. I’m just glad you’re safe.” You tried reassuring, moving around so you were hugging him, keeping his injured limb in mind.

Charles, feeling down and upset, stayed silent and snuggled up to you, “My superwoman…” He softly and innocently kissed your jaw, “Tu nous a sauvé, toi. Je n’avais aucune idée c’était où l’extincteur.” You saved us. I had no idea where the extinguisher was.

You smiled softly and trailed your hand through his hair, “I was so scared for you, mon coeur. You gave me a heart attack today- twice.” You chuckled, threading your fingers gently through his hair, pushing it back from his forehead and giving him a small kiss there, “You’ll most definitely be the death of me, Leclerc.”

Charles giggled just a bit before mumbling a small “Désolé” sorry against your skin and falling into comfortable silence.

“Two weeks without racing though…” You thought out loud a minute later and felt him let out a whine of annoyance against your neck, the sound slowly turning into the softest of laughs ever, his chest shaking against yours.

Obviously, this situation wasn’t pleasant and this morning would for sure be a bad memory, but he was okay and that was all you could ask for after such a scare.

a/n: manifesting and praying that last situation never happens to him