#I have a feeling I already know the answer to this but I am curious!
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just-space-055 · 2 days ago
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GUYS DROP EVERYTHING SAMPO EVENT DAY 7 IS HERE!! Cannot wait to talk about this so let's get into it:
SPOILERS FOR DAY 7!!
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Can't tell if this is because of him being so mysterious all the time or me overanalysing but SECRETS OF THE UNIVERSE?? Hmmmmm do you mean the 4th wall maybe?? HMMM???
Of course this could just be simple joke as well. But the way Sampo acts always makes me question his lines... That or i might be crazy-
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Now this is our last item
I've tried to translate the blue words around it hoping it might contain something but it seems to just spell out the name of the item, The Manifest Life of Eternally Homing.
As for the two words on the lower left that are sadly being blocked out by the sold out sign, they spell out: Big data
Which makes sense since the description of the item says to "apply the latest big data algorithms to gain insights into your past and present lives"
But for the binary codes in the back, i have no idea if they mean anything or not. I tried using a site to translate it but couldn't get an answer. If anyone manages to find anything i would love to know!
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For the interaction here i find it very interesting. One who doesn't know anything about their past and one we don't know anything about their past. And they both have an invalid rating... All the rating and emantor theories aside what Sampo says here is also quite intriguing. If you think about it he is very contradictory himself so this might also be his way of saying no matter how he acts the person beneath it is the same? Hmmm...
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NO WAY A POSITIVE RESPONSE TO SAMPO?? IMPOSSIBLE.
Jokes aside you betcha i chose the nice one and here is what he says next if you haven't; in which case why would you to that to dear old Sampo :(
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Have no idea what he says to the other option tho so if you do feel free to write it in the comments!
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Maybe this is the exact reason he does his scams as well, for the funny tales?
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Hey hey hey Sampo what do you mean by hot-blooded past? SAMPO? HEY?? NO IT IS NOT POINTLESS TO TALK ABOUT COME BACK HERE-
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SAMPOOOOOOO
GUYS. HE SANG THE KALEVALA POEM. THE LINES ARE THE EXACT SAME. IT IS CANON. I HOPED FOR THESE DAYS. I AM GOING INSANE.
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That event was SOMETHING. Now i am really curious about how much of that poem is canon to our story. This opens up the path to SO many possibilities and theories. One question that i wonder the most is who is our Ilmarinen?..
I can't wait to read all the crazy theories after this. Heck i might even write my own as well (once my exam week has passed) This event will feed us for the rest of the year. BUT I ALSO ALREADY MISS HIM :(
To finish it off here is a picture i took before he disappered (To those who have not played day 7 yet beware because he VANISHES after this talk so if you wanna take a picture don't forget to take one before he doing day 7!)
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~~~~♡~~~~♡~~~~♡~~~~
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lonelydiary · 2 days ago
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17. Family
It was just an ordinary game night. Except Kara was sure something was...unusual. Yes, there was as always the pitter-patter of her neighbors minding their usual business, the low dull of the city going to sleep, steady heartbeats of her two favorite people in the whole world: Lena and Alex. And yet there was something, something... Ah, yes, there it is - the small flutter of wings. She thought it could be a hummingbird, but they rarely can be seen in National City. When what is it? This sound was making her curious for quite a bit now.
"Guys, have you heard anything strange or unusual lately?" she asked her friends in hope to find an answer.
"No, I haven't. Even my dreams weren't bad lately" said Nia.
"Me neither" said Brainy "Everything is quite the same"
"What do you mean, Kara?" asked her sister anxiously "Have you heard something or is something off for you?"
"No! No, nothing drastic or catastrophic. There is this small noise I keep hearing lately, though, and I'm wondering if..."
"Oh God... Oh my God, I think I know what is it." said Lena, visibly shaken. "I just thought I will make some test first to be a hundred percent sure, but now I don't need them, I guess..."
"Lena, honey, please don't scare me now, what is it?"
"Darling, I am pregnant. I was suspicious for a couple of weeks, but you just confirmed it by hearing our baby's heartbeat." Lena didn't notice, how a couple of traitorous tears were sliding down her cheeks."I'm sorry, I didn't tell you earlier"
"I think it's our clue to leave them alone now" Kelly was as diplomatic as always.
"Yes, but don't even think about hiding after these news, I wanna know everything. Can't believe I'm gonna be an aunt!" Alex couldn't contain her excitement.
When they were finally alone, Kara had put her hand on her wife's cheek and said softly "I cant believe this is real. We were trying for months now, love, and I couldn't even recognize their heartbeat! I feel so silly now..."
"Please don't, darling, the blame is on me, for not realizing sooner"
"Ok, let's not blame anyone. Let's just enjoy this moment together. This is such a precious gift! Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Kara gave her love a sweet kiss.
"I love you" with Lena's smile you could light up a whole world. Kara's world.
"I love you more. And I love them already" was her wife's teary answer.
Yes, sometimes family is something you create with other people, rather than the people you grew up with. And it could be so much better.
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the-bi-space-ace · 2 months ago
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I've written A LOT of fic so far in 2024 and I plan to continue in 2025. I already have some ideas that I can't wait to share with you ;)
That being said!
Feel free to reblog/reply/tag why you picked the fic you did <3
Links to the fics under the cut
Calling Me Home (series)
Blind Trust
The 212th's Sunshine
Your Intel Was Good
For The Republic's Use
Surprise Inspection
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imaginethathaikyuu · 4 days ago
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because im curious
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boxwinebaddie · 6 months ago
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an uncle nina check in <3
hi team! thanks for sticking around! i know my blog isn't always the most exciting and enriching place in the world in terms of content, but i am very /content/ to have you all here. <3333
i promise, oddly enough, i have A TON of inspiration and ideas for all my weird styles ( if you're curious about anything please lmk! i've been trying to flesh out my aus out lately ), i've just been in a major bummer depression era lately, so it's hard for me to get my asks done and i'm having a hard time committing to finishing my writing. :<
i think it's because of stress and my bipolar, but i am trying to get back on the horse! ( are we all laughing at the idea of me trying to get on a horse? i'd start crying help city girl fail moment for me ) yeehaw!
and while, unfortunately due to the instability ( fabulous legendary iconery ) of my pretty girl popstar personality, i do not know whether i will be answering almost no questions or one million, regardless of that, i just wanted to let you know, i'm still here, still kicking my feet, twirling my hair, cooking...i'm just really trying not to force myself to put out anything i don't like...and only do what makes me truly happy.
however, nothing, my dear sweet e-darlings...
makes me happier than coming home to all of you. <333
so thank you for flooding even the darkest corners of my life with bright light, supporting my phantom fics and being wonderful,
uncle nina xx
#nina speaks#hi my loves#idk what the point of this was#i just know my blog is really inconsistent and i know i dont really post anything or anything that useful#but i wanted you to know that i love you very much and i still care a lot about all of you and all my content actually#which i have been fleshing out in notebooks and google docs i've been doing lots of world building and character study#so feel free to ask me something challenging about any part of my nina sp auniverse that interests u itll make my brain work#i've also been taking very silly but dilligent notes abt what ravesey style looks like for ter so if u want to laff at those u can#i just love taking notes on detail and understanding exactly what characters look like or what settings appear like idk#might be some experimental writing on here i like doing different mediums like i was being silly#and started writing a netflix trailer for rm haha i also have been doing weird personality tests and questionnaires#i've been trying to think very deeply about tkak and my tfbw styles if u have any questions there and am deep plotting rm#trying to be impactful while also keeping things fun and learning to enjoy myself again i suppose#so again thakn u for being here sorry its weird on here but thank u for supporting me as i learn and grow my sunshines#also ik i have a ton of asks and uve already asked me so many things so never feel inclined to message me#but i love hearing what ur curious about hopefully i can answer some stuff eventually but again im on a break#i'm here but i'm not this is a safe place we try and fail we have fun and promote style world domination thru my weird styles#ilysm i'm shutting up now i promise i'm still here i'm just trying to be healthy and happy esp rn when i am not emotionally well#gotta protect my peace and my vibe palace but im still here!#MWAH MWAH MWAAAAAH#really trying to heal my inner child or like the girl in me that liked to write silly stories and create crazy things#weird hcs big dramatic plots silly stuff...i want to honor that girl because she was happy and free and had fun#and i want to do that again so lets have fun guys#no judgement no seriousness just good vibes and good reads#welcome to the uncle nina learns to laugh again arc#i hope you enjoy it
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todayisafridaynight · 7 months ago
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any hopes for kiwami 3? like things u wanna see added or changed stuff like that
if they dont keep kiryu's goofy walk stance and the hoof-like walk sounds i dont wanna play it
#snap chats#no one understands how much i love that from y3 and y4 its genuinely one of my favorite things about the game#oh but i guess i have to give an actual answer now. HMPH.#id scream if they revived kanda calling mine limp wristed. homophobia in 4k#OK BUT TO BE SERIOUS uhhhh i dont know. im a real simple guy i think#my only like. If This Isnt There Im Leaving deal is mine's palette and im so serious#rgg's scaring me with all the black-hair/purple-suit mine stuff as of late and i cant stress how hard ill vomit if thats in the final#HYPOTHETICAL final anyways. yk3 isnt coming out for. IDK A WHILE#i wanna say i hope they highlight daigo and mine's relationship more but i dont know how theyd do that#i really like how mine's handled in y3 as is so i dont think i want scenes injected like what they did with yk1 and nishiki#someone said a Mine Saga after the game and... hm ... sounds too unrealistic for me to hope for it#like im REALLY trying to think how they could possibly reference the rggo stories in y3 since those are EXCELLENT but#i think . MAYBE. you could reference the story where richardson calls mine as he's driving to the hospital#the only thing you'd have to exclude though is mine stopping by the bar- like JUST keep the phone conversation maybe#cause in that scene that subordinate does question mine if he can really kill daigo and i think thatd be neat. in my opinion.#yeah i dont know. in regards to rggo its hard to think of what i want without intervening things i already like about y3#its a real head scratcher ...#a really good epilogue addition would be adapting that RGGO bit where daigo ruminates on mine. that's a fair ending for him i think#it also fulfills the need to see how daigo saw mine even if its just a little#and to non-rggo readers it could start to answer 'how does daigo feel about everything that happened'#im still so curious as to if daigo was briefed on EVERYTHING that happened but .... anyways....#sorry all my hopes for y3 are just mine/minedai centric fLVKELKA BUT LIKE. i really am content with everything else with y3 surprisingly#idk. i want kiryu fucking up that curry in high definition tho. thats important to me#THEY HAVE TO KEEP THE QTES DURING THE RICHARDSON FIGHT ILL BE PISSED#i need the fight to be AS CAMPY and unnecessary as it was in the og. INCLUDING richardson's voice acting i need it wack as hell#is it weird i actually appreciate the Diet Building Loredumping being like. in replayable-cutscene form#i thought id prefer just One Long cutscene but im glad theres the option to skip those segments#BUT being able to get a refresher in case you missed something somehow#im running out of tags jesus christ i shouldve put this in the main text but vjALjlagj those are all my thoughts for now bYE
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irisbaggins · 3 months ago
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Guess what, I've worked what probably amounts to half of my total hours, in one fucking month. My store is resting on my shoulders, it seems, and boy do I feel that. I have not had a moment's rest since my vacation, and uh, it's probably not sustainable? Maybe?
Anyway. Guess who's going to be travelling for hours on end and then arrive just a day before a mandatory University lecture? It's me!
#text_loke#i'm also curious what my boss is going to say when he gets back. and looks at my nightmare hours#because uh. i've worked. wayyyy too much these last few months#and i am. halfway. tempted to make a little bit of a racket to the higher ups to argue my way for a higher percentage position#because i have not worked 20% in a WHILE. gimme my 40% because i for damn sure have earned it#i also. somehow. need to squeeze in the time to read the books for my Masters. because uh. i'm also doing that#can you tell i'm living by a thread rn? my sister legit just moved out yesterday and i have NOT had time to process that#i still don't have time! i won't have time!#so i shall grin and bear it as i always do!#ahjshdd legit tho. yesterday i had barely had anything to eat due to my schedule being PACKED#i woke up after five hours of sleep finished the postbox for my sister RAN out the door for Uni at 11. and when done at Uni went work#my coworker thought me insane yesterday for bouncing on my feet with barely any food in my body. or sleep#however. it's just how i am. i can just. grin and go on with my day and function when my body is Barely Responding#i will just. not be quite intelligent because my brain is Slow#also. i was NOT happy being one hour extra at work today. like it WAS worth it and i did it freely#but also i wanted to go home. but. closing shift needed my help and i had to make sure everything was ok before i left#however. i have. so much bullshit i must do tomorrow. fuck#anyway. if y'all are curious as to where i've been these last few months. my answer is dying (work and uni). i am perished#i have barely any time for myself anymore. i'm not mad about it or anything. not even like. burnt out (knock on wood)#however. i do feel the toll. i do wish i could just. do fun things again. hopefully when uni properly starts and i go to my ACTUAL CONTRACT#i can then finally relax. right now however. not so much#hopefully they won't need me next week tho. because i cannot. at all#anyway. if i didn't already know i was a workaholic i sure do now!
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misskamelie · 4 months ago
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Every interaction I have with my peers is always somehow permeated by a halo of "they can tell there's something off about me"
#I am somewhat aware that I can say slight out of pocket things but it's like okay whatever#Asked some other people in the group who wanted to join me tomorrow for mass hour so we could see the church for free (w/o paying a ticket)#and they were like 'uhm...? Not really feel like it...?' Which was probably a reaction to me serving it in a joking tone similar to#'Don't you guys feel suddenly more religious now that you know of this opportunity?'#also I realized in girls conversation that. I do not feel the same pressure/expectations#If I am by myself in a group I don't really see myself with a gender nor do I pay attention to it#The same goes for being in a group of girls. I don't see any of us through the lense of being of the same gender until they mention it#And if they start by saying anything about differences w men/boys (e.g. oh they feel a lot more confident asking questions) I get#I get irritated...? Like. A girl said smt like 'boys seem/look a lot more curious than girls' and I was already almost fuming#My first instinct was to answer smt along the lines of 'but I am. That's a contradiction' but I understand how it might come across#So I opted for the 'I refuse to believe you're not minimally curious esp considering the field you're pursuing and seem interested in' whic#I realize might come across as. Idk jarring perhaps? But really I don't see any reason why I should sugarcoat it#I guess I do have a different relation to my gender than those who can be considered my peers but Idk#my post#hopefully I'll get to see the church it's a shame they didn't think of giving us a town tour of any sort
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dekuneho · 2 months ago
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no one else's ☆ ( ​thirdyear!katsuki x fem!reader ) mdni | suggestive
Kirishima taps Katsuki on the shoulder very gently, looking embarrassed as he chokes out, “Your girlfriend fell asleep on the couch.”
Katsuki would’ve brushed it off with a snap that anyone could use the fucking couch who gives a fuck, but his eyes slide to Kirishima’s other arm holding a disgruntled Mineta up. Immediately, Katsuki’s gut twists in displeasure, the pencil in his grasp snapping in half.
“Did you fucking do something?��� Katsuki hisses out, yanking Mineta’s collar to face the full brunt of his sneer.
“No!” Mineta cries out, having the nerve to sound disappointed. “No, I didn’t, dude. Get off me.”
And before Katsuki could kill Mineta right then and there, Kirishima swerves him out of the way. Don’t get your hero license revoked over him, Kirishima’s eyes seem to say.
“He’s telling the truth, man, don’t worry about it.” Kirishima then glares soundly at Mineta, disappointment evident. “He was acting weird, though. That’s why I got him.”
“Traitor,” Mineta says, wriggling uselessly mid-air.
“I’ll kill you,” Katsuki swears to him, before storming off, each step heavy with pure murder.
The rest of the class is smarter than Mineta. They avert their gazes and mind their business — or it could be that they can sense the unadulterated rage emanating from every pore of his body.
Yet as he reaches you, every trace of that same rage dissipates into the air. His eyes outline your body, dead to the world, shorts hiked up with one leg curved — laid unaware. No wonder some freak like Mineta wanted to prey on it.
Katsuki sighs. "Always giving me damn trouble," he mutters to your sleeping figure, snorting when there's an answering snore.
He heaves you up and off the couch, arms hooking under your neck and the back of your knees. Katsuki pushes past the living room, ignoring the curious stares of his classmates. They all know where he's headed — straight to his room.
You awake to a pinch on your thigh.
When you come to, Katsuki is staring at you heavily, hovering above you with your head between his hands.
"Kats'ki?" you croak out, words stringing together. "Wha's…"
Katsuki begins to crawl down, and down, until his knees hit the floor; until he's face to face with your legs. You're still swimming through the sluggishness limbo of being half-awake, lagging behind only moments after Katsuki. You feel his grip on your ankle; it tickles, it's warm.
He lowers his head and pins your knee down with a searing kiss. The sensation spreads to your entire body. You shudder, toes curling. Katsuki smiles against you, his hands sliding up to your thighs.
"Too early," you whine. But you don't push him off; you press against him closer.
"'s already 6 AM," Katsuki says, pushing your legs open.
The touch of cold air and the sporadic puffs of Katsuki's breath have you sinking deeper into the bed, pleasure crawling in every part of your body that he's taking by force, in the gentlest way possible.
Katsuki latches his mouth onto the inside of your thigh, inching deeper at your gasp. You suck air through your teeth, taking every control you have left not to snap your legs shut and force Katsuki out. When he pulls off, your thigh is left with a clear bruise. He doesn't stop there — he dives in again on a different point.
"As soon as we get our ass here," Katsuki murmurs against your skin, his breath hot on your evening-chilled skin, "I'm taking you out; we'll go apartment-hunting."
"W-what?"
"And you can wear whatever the fuck you want," he continues, licking at the mark, "or nothin' at all — I don't give a shit. No one else, just us. You hear me?"
You sit up, nearly knocking your knee against Katsuki's face. "You're asking me to move in with you?"
Katsuki scowls, the telltale sign of a blush creeping to his face. "You have other plans?"
"No, no," you cup his cheek, kissing the pout of his lips; "never, if it's not with you."
Katsuki appears satisfied, claiming your lips in a deep kiss. You draw away from each other with a stuttered gasp, heat pooling in your stomach at Katsuki's delighted gaze. "No turning back," he whispers. "Got that? This'll be no one else's."
Dizzy with need, you can only say, "Yes, yes. No one else's but yours, Katsuki. Now, please go back in between my legs."
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sttoru · 1 year ago
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𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐎𝐋𝐃-𝐅𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐎𝐘 !
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⟣ sypnosis. you were curious if your boyfriend would pass a ‘loyalty test’ that you’ve seen on social media and you decide to see for yourself, only to discover something much more . . . heartwarming.
⟣ tags. gojo satoru x female reader. mostly tooth rotting fluff. talks about cheating / a sprinkle of trust issues from reader. the rest is satoru just being lovesick.
⟣ note. uhhhh… idk just a random idea i got at three am on a saturday night after being woken up from a nightmare >_< enjoy .
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you don’t think satoru would actually ever cheat on you. your curiosity just got the best of you when you saw that one girl do a ‘loyalty test’ on her boyfriend. it was quite simple—testing if your partner would hand you their phone without being suspiciously defensive.
therefore you walked into satoru’s room and spotted him laying on his side, his back facing the door. he didn’t have any earphones in so you could hear the sounds of a movie playing on the phone he held in his hands.
he seemed so peaceful and content that you were already feeling bad for disturbing him with your silly test. you moved to sit on the edge of the bed and cleared your throat, making your presence known as if the sorcerer hadn’t sensed it moments ago.
“are you cheating on me?”
blunt and straight to the point.
satoru pauses the show on his phone and looks at you like you had said the most outrageous thing there is (to him, you really did). he drops the device on the bed and turns his body to face yours; “well—hello to you too, baby.”
he runs a hand through his hair before sitting up against the headboard with a raised brow, one hand cautiously reaching out for you. satoru was thinking about all the things he has said or done previously that could’ve possibly make you think he was screwing around behind your back. his mind worked fast, though he couldn’t come up with any logical explanation.
“answer my question please, ‘toru.” you mumble, feeling slightly guilty for doing this to your lover. you could see the confusion plastered on his face.
“no, i am not.” satoru shakes his head whilst holding your hand in his, thumb brushing against the back of it, “what makes you think that?”
you weren’t about to say ‘oh nevermind then! just a dumb thing that i saw on tiktok’—no, there was still one thing left to do. even if you’re so super sure that your boyfriend was hiding nothing from you. maybe there was an one in a million chance that your intuition was wrong. or maybe it’s just your underlying trust issues speaking.
“uhh, just wanted.. to check.. i guess?” you clear your throat and take a deep inhale before putting your hand out to satoru, palm up.
the white-haired sorcerer looks from your hand to you, and back. he doesn’t know what that indicated, so he takes a simple guess; satoru places his chin on your palm, giving you an amused kind of grin. you raise an eyebrow as he rests his head on your hand—which wasn’t what you wanted to gain from your gesture.
but you couldn’t blame him. it was cute that that was the first thing he thought of doing.
“you’re always welcome to check. got nothin’ to hide anyway.” he shrugs, not offended by your accusation in the slightest. you see the way his blue eyes look up at you—in a way that shows his pure, unadulterated adoration for you.
you nod and scratch satoru under his chin, to which he smiles and closes his eyes, enjoying the tingling touch, “then can i .. look through your phone?”
without an ounce of hesitation, he had placed his phone unlocked in your hand. satoru doesn’t care much about privacy anyway—you’re his girlfriend, you’re the only one allowed to know every single thing about him, “of course, baby.”
your eyes land on the screen and your jaw drops as you see his home screen; a picture of you up close, sleeping with your cheek squished against his arm, own hands resting near your head and . . . is that drool trickling down your chin?
“oops, sorry, you were too cute not to take a picture of.” satoru chuckles as he sees your reaction. he lays back on his side, elbow propped on the pillow with his head resting against his hand—watching you go through his phone with a relaxed look.
you roll your eyes playfully before starting your search. your finger swiped across the screen and landed on the messenger app satoru uses. you click on it and scroll through his chats, but don’t find anything out of the ordinary. he recently talked to you, his first year students, nanami and shoko.
you curiously tap on his chat with shoko and don’t read anything interesting at first glance. you scroll up and take note of how satoru was the one who kept most of the conversation going. shoko’s replies were much shorter and curt—straight to the point.
but then your eyes land on a conversation from two weeks ago. satoru had showed shoko a bunch of selfies you had sent him that same day. he was telling her how ‘cute’ and ‘pretty’ you were, practically bragging about you being his girl.
you scroll up some more and see that he’s done the same many times before; sending shoko pictures of you and kind of rambling to her about how beautiful you are.
shoko—being the good friend she is—indulged into his little lovesick ramblings and agreed with every thing satoru said—even complimenting your looks herself. you begun to get embarrassed at this unexpected revelation.
when going through more of his chats with other people, you realise how much satoru loves to talk about you. you couldn’t possibly count the many times satoru had refused invitations from his students or other friends simply because he wanted to hang out with you instead.
you discovered that he even skipped two or three important meetings at the school to go spend the day with you—nanami scolding him via text each time he did so.
“damn..” you murmur and glance up at your lover after closing his messaging app. satoru was staring right back at you with the biggest grin you’ve ever seen on him.
he wasn’t embarrassed about you reading some of those cheesy and sappy texts at all. in fact, he was happy. he wants you to know how much he loves you (as if he doesn’t show you exactly that every day of the week).
“go on, sweets.” satoru nods towards his phone, encouraging you to continue your inspection. your eyes dart back towards the screen and you shyly swipe and scroll some more, eventually ending up in his gallery.
the first things you noticed: two albums dedicated to you. all were filled with hundreds of pictures of you (and him). one was named ‘my love,’ the other ‘me&my love’ — both with a heart at the end. scrolling through them, you noticed many images you hadn’t even realised were ever taken.
many of those pictures were also favourited in his gallery.
you nibble on your bottom lip and leave the gallery app even more flustered than before. you aimlessly click around some more on his phone. what really surprised you most was that you were named in his reminder app.
there were tons—all added in one long list. some were so pure that you couldn’t contain the slight tears in your eyes;
‘bring gf gifts’, ‘remind gf that she’s amazing’, ‘bring gf lunch’, ‘send gf daily selfie’, ‘daily cuddles w gf (if she wants)’, ‘give gf big smooch (important!)’, ‘check up on gf when away on business’, — satoru doesn’t actually need to have those reminders on his phone. his mind is so full of you that he’ll automatically remember to do everything, almost on autopilot. he just has those there for… well, just in case he somehow ends up forgetting.
you lock his phone after seeing enough and give it back to your lover. you wordlessly crawl over to him on the bed and snuggle up to his body, head resting on his chest.
“sorry.” you quietly apologise. you knew he wasn’t hiding anything, but the fact that you still went ahead and tried out that ‘loyalty test’ on someone as loyal and loving as satoru makes your heart ache a bit. especially after discovering just how smitten he’s with you.
“dunno why you’re apologising—but please don’t.” satoru whispers and rubs your back in a soothing manner, kissing the top of your head and smiling against your scalp afterwards, “it’s fiiine.”
he’s entertained by the reactions to your discoveries, even if those are but mere indications to the actual unending and undying love he holds for you in his heart.
you lift your head up and look at satoru. your bottom lip stuck out, corners of your mouth twitching slightly whilst your eyes started to get a bit glassy. you really felt bad—yet you also felt appreciated on the other hand. if you didn’t go through with your curious idea, you wouldn’t have gotten to know about any of this.
“aww, my sweet, sweet girl.” satoru coos and places two kisses right below each eye, tapping your nose with a grin. he adores the way you look and if it wasn’t for his self control, he’d have nibbled on those cheeks of yours out of playful aggression.
it’s then that satoru remembers one of his daily tasks; one he hadn’t properly done today.
you were caught off guard once more as satoru’s lips crashed down onto yours—no warning given whatsoever. his big hands held onto your cheeks, thumb rubbing the skin there whilst his glossy lips moved against yours in a gentle yet much sloppy way.
“there,” the white-haired man hums in content as he pulls away, giggling once he sees a bit of his saliva coat your mouth. he wipes it away with his thumb, “your smooch of the day.”
you couldn’t help but laugh at the exaggerated cringy way satoru said the latter—your boyfriend laughing right alongside you afterwards.
satoru wasn’t done with you, however. he had many other daily tasks that were yet to be fulfilled.
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pucksandpower · 3 months ago
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Stitched Together
mafia boss!Charles Leclerc x surgeon!Reader
Summary: helping a man in dire need of medical attention leads you down a road you never could have imagined
Warnings: this is a mafia romance so … yeah (gunshot wounds, drugging, kidnapping, and Mattia Binotto)
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The quiet streets of Monaco glisten under the soft glow of streetlights as you make your way home from a work dinner. The night air carries a slight chill, and you pull your jacket tighter around yourself, your heels clicking rhythmically against the pavement.
Suddenly, a pained groan echoes from a nearby alley, stopping you in your tracks. Your instincts as a surgeon kick in, and you cautiously approach the shadowed passage.
“Hello?” You call out, peering into the darkness. “Is someone there?”
Another groan answers you, and as your eyes adjust, you spot a figure slumped against the wall. Rushing forward, you kneel beside the man, immediately noticing the dark stain spreading across his midsection.
“Oh my god,” you breathe, your training kicking in. “Sir, can you hear me? I’m a doctor. I’m going to call an ambulance.”
As you reach for your phone, a hand weakly grasps your wrist. “No ... no hospitals,” the man rasps, his voice strained.
You frown, conflicted. “Sir, you’re seriously injured. You need medical attention.”
“Can’t ... risk it,” he manages, his breathing labored.
Biting your lip, you consider your options. “Okay, what’s your name?”
“Charles,” he replies, grimacing as he shifts slightly.
“Alright, Charles,” you say, your voice calm and steady. “If you won’t go to a hospital, will you at least let me take you back to my apartment? I’m a surgeon and I can patch you up there.”
Charles hesitates, his piercing green eyes searching your face. After a moment, he nods. “Okay.”
With some effort, you manage to help Charles to his feet, supporting his weight as you slowly make your way out of the alley. “My place isn’t far,” you assure him. “Just hang on.”
The short walk feels like an eternity, but finally, you reach your apartment building. As you fumble with your keys, Charles leans heavily against the wall.
“Almost there,” you encourage, guiding him inside and into the elevator.
Once in your apartment, you lead Charles to your couch. “Lie down,” you instruct, already moving to gather supplies. “I need to assess the damage.”
Returning with your medical kit, you carefully cut away Charles’ blood-soaked shirt. The bullet wound is clearly visible, and you breathe a sigh of relief when you realize it’s not as severe as you initially feared.
“Good news,” you tell him, meeting his gaze. “The bullet seems to have missed any vital organs. I can clean and stitch this up, but you’ve lost a lot of blood. Are you sure I can’t convince you to go to a hospital?”
Charles shakes his head firmly. “No hospitals. Please.”
You nod, respecting his decision despite your reservations. “Alright. This is going to hurt, but I’ll do my best to be quick.”
As you work, Charles grits his teeth, his hands clenching into fists. “So,” he says, clearly trying to distract himself, “what’s a surgeon doing patching up strange men in her living room?”
You can’t help but chuckle. “Honestly? I have no idea. I guess I just couldn’t leave you bleeding in that alley.”
“Most people would have just called the police,” Charles points out, hissing as you clean the wound.
“Well, I’m not most people,” you reply with a small smile. “And you seemed pretty adamant about avoiding official channels.”
Charles studies you for a moment. “You’re not going to ask why?”
You shrug, focusing on your work. “It’s not my place to pry. Though I have to admit, I am curious about what kind of trouble you’ve gotten yourself into.”
A wry smile tugs at Charles’ lips. “Trust me, it’s better if you don’t know.”
“Fair enough,” you concede. “Hold still, I’m about to start stitching.”
As you work, a comfortable silence falls between you. Charles watches you intently, his eyes never leaving your face.
“You’re good at this,” he comments after a while.
You smile, not looking up from your task. “I should hope so. I didn’t go through years of medical school for nothing.”
“How long have you been in Monaco?” Charles asks, seemingly genuinely interested.
“About three years now,” you reply. “I came here for a fellowship at the hospital and ended up staying.”
Charles nods. “Do you like it here?”
You consider the question as you finish the last stitch. “I do. It’s beautiful, and the work is challenging. But ...”
“But?” Charles prompts when you trail off.
Sighing, you begin applying a bandage. “I don’t know. Sometimes it feels a bit ... lonely, I guess. It’s not always easy to connect with people here.”
Charles’ expression softens. “I can understand that. Monaco can be a difficult place to truly belong.”
You meet his gaze, surprised by the understanding in his eyes. “Exactly. Don’t get me wrong, I love my job and I’ve made some friends, but sometimes I miss the sense of community I had back home.”
“Where is home for you?” Charles asks.
“Originally? A small town that feels like a lifetime away from here,” you answer. “Nothing like Monaco, that’s for sure.”
Charles chuckles, then winces slightly. “I can imagine. It must have been quite the culture shock.”
You nod, smiling. “You have no idea. But enough about me. How are you feeling?”
“Better, thanks to you,” Charles replies, attempting to sit up.
You gently push him back down. “Not so fast. You need to rest and let that wound start healing.”
Charles raises an eyebrow. “Are you planning on keeping me hostage, doctor?”
You laugh, shaking your head. “Hardly. But I’d feel better if you stayed put for at least a little while. Can I get you something to drink? Water? Tea?”
“Water would be great, thank you,” Charles says, settling back against the couch cushions.
As you move to the kitchen to fetch a glass of water, you can’t help but glance back at your unexpected guest. There’s something intriguing about Charles, beyond his mysterious injury and resistance to seek official help.
Returning with the water, you hand it to Charles, who takes it gratefully. “Thank you,” he says, his fingers brushing against yours as he accepts the glass.
You sit in the armchair across from him, suddenly feeling a bit awkward. “So, Charles,” you begin, “what do you do when you’re not getting shot in dark alleys?”
Charles nearly chokes on his water, coughing slightly before letting out a surprised laugh. “You certainly don’t pull any punches, do you?”
You shrug, a mischievous glint in your eye. “Well, you did say it was better if I didn’t know. But that doesn’t mean I can’t be curious.”
Charles regards you with amusement. “Fair enough. Let’s just say I’m in ... business management.”
“Business management,” you repeat skeptically. “That must be some high-stakes business.”
“You have no idea,” Charles murmurs, his expression turning serious for a moment before he shakes it off. “But really, I’d much rather hear more about you. It’s not every day I meet a beautiful surgeon with a penchant for rescuing mysterious strangers.”
You feel a blush creeping up your cheeks at his compliment. “There’s not much more to tell, really. I work, I occasionally have dinners with colleagues, and apparently, I moonlight as a back-alley doctor.”
Charles laughs, then winces, pressing a hand to his side. “Careful,” you warn, “You’ll pull your stitches.”
“Worth it,” Charles says with a grin. “You’re quite something, you know that?”
You roll your eyes, but can’t help smiling. “You’re not so bad yourself, for a guy who got shot and refused proper medical care.”
“What can I say? I like to live dangerously,” Charles quips.
You shake your head, amused despite yourself. “Clearly. Though maybe you should consider a slightly less dangerous lifestyle. I can’t imagine getting shot is good for your long-term health.”
Charles’ expression turns thoughtful. “Maybe you’re right. Perhaps I’ve been due for a change.”
An unexpected wave of concern washes over you. “Charles, are you in some kind of trouble? Is there anything I can do to help?”
He looks at you, surprise and something else you can’t quite place flickering in his eyes. “You’ve already done more than enough. Don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself.”
“Clearly,” you say dryly, gesturing to his bandaged midsection.
Charles chuckles. “Point taken. But really, you’ve been incredibly kind. I don’t know how to thank you.”
“Just promise me you’ll be more careful,” you say, surprised by the intensity of your own words.
Charles holds your gaze, his expression serious. “I promise.”
A moment of charged silence passes between you, broken only when Charles slowly pushes himself to his feet. “I should go,” he says, though he sounds reJoristant. “I’ve imposed on you enough.”
You stand as well, moving to steady him. “Are you sure? You’re welcome to stay and rest.”
Charles shakes his head. “Thank you, but I really should be going. I have some ... matters to attend to.”
You bite your lip, concerned. “Alright. But please, take it easy. And if you need anything — if that wound gives you any trouble — don’t hesitate to come back or call me.” You scribble your number on a piece of paper and hand it to him.
Charles takes the paper, his fingers lingering against yours. “Thank you,” he says softly. “For everything.”
As you walk him to the door, you find yourself wishing he would stay. There’s something about Charles that intrigues you, draws you in despite the obvious danger surrounding him.
At the threshold, Charles turns to you one last time. “I meant what I said earlier. You really are something special. I hope our paths cross again under ... better circumstances.”
Before you can respond, he leans in and presses a soft kiss to your cheek. Then, with a final smile, he’s gone, leaving you standing in your doorway, your heart racing and your mind reeling.
As Charles exits the building, he immediately pulls out his phone, his expression hardening into one of intense focus. He dials a number, speaking in a low, authoritative tone the moment the call connects.
“It’s me. I need eyes on someone, 24/7. A surgeon named Y/N Y/L/N. She’s under my protection now. No one touches her, understood?”
He ends the call, casting one last glance at your apartment building before disappearing into the night, already planning when and how he’ll see you again.
***
The glittering lights of the Hotel de Paris’ ballroom cast a warm glow over the assembled guests. You smooth down your elegant evening gown, feeling slightly out of place among Monaco’s elite. The hospital’s annual benefit gala is always a grand affair, but tonight feels different, charged with an energy you can’t quite place.
“Y/N!” A is familiar voice calls out. You turn to see Dr. Sophia Moreau, one of your closest colleagues, approaching with two champagne flutes in hand. “You clean up nicely,” she teases, offering you a glass.
You accept it gratefully, taking a small sip. “Thanks, Sophia. You look amazing too. How’s the night been so far?”
Sophia shrugs, her eyes scanning the room. “Oh, you know, the usual schmoozing and small talk. But there’s a buzz going around. Apparently, the director has some big announcement planned.”
Your interest piques. “Really? Any idea what it’s about?”
“No clue,” Sophia replies. “But whatever it is, it’s got the board members practically giddy. And you know how rare that is.”
You chuckle, nodding in agreement. The hospital’s board is notoriously hard to please, a fact you know all too well from your years of lobbying for transplant certification.
As if summoned by your thoughts, Dr. Henri Beaumont, the hospital’s director, takes the stage. The room falls into a respectful hush as he taps the microphone.
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” Dr. Beaumont begins, his voice carrying across the ballroom. “Thank you all for joining us tonight in support of our wonderful hospital. Your generosity never ceases to amaze me.”
You listen politely, expecting the usual platitudes. But as Dr. Beaumont continues, you feel your heart begin to race.
“Tonight, I have the great pleasure of announcing a new chapter in our hospital’s history,” he says, his eyes twinkling with excitement. “Thanks to an incredibly generous donation from one of Monaco’s own, we will be embarking on a project that will revolutionize healthcare in our principality.”
You grip your champagne flute tighter, hardly daring to hope.
“Within the year, our hospital will become fully transplant certified,” Dr. Beaumont announces, his words met with a wave of gasps and excited murmurs. “And that’s not all. This donation will also fund a dedicated medical helicopter, allowing us to transport organs and critical patients with unprecedented speed.”
The room erupts in applause, but you barely hear it over the pounding of your own heart. After years of fighting, of presenting proposal after proposal, it’s finally happening.
“None of this would be possible without the extraordinary generosity of our donor,” Dr. Beaumont continues once the applause dies down. “Ladies and gentlemen, please join me in thanking Mr. Charles Leclerc!”
As the room once again breaks into enthusiastic applause, a figure rises from one of the front tables. Your breath catches in your throat as you recognize the man turning to face the crowd.
It’s him. The mysterious Charles from the alley, the man whose life you saved. He looks completely different now — impeccably dressed in a tailored tuxedo, his presence commanding the room’s attention. But those piercing green eyes are unmistakable.
“Y/N?” Sophia’s voice breaks through your shock. “Are you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
You blink, tearing your gaze away from Charles to look at your friend. “I ... yes, I’m fine. Just surprised, that’s all.”
Sophia raises an eyebrow. “I’ll say. This is everything you’ve been working towards. You must be thrilled!”
“I am,” you assure her, your mind still reeling. “It’s just ... a lot to take in.”
As the applause dies down and the crowd begins to disperse, you find your eyes drawn back to Charles. He’s engaged in conversation with Dr. Beaumont and several board members, but as if sensing your gaze, he looks up. Your eyes meet across the room, and a slow smile spreads across his face.
“Excuse me,” you murmur to Sophia, setting down your champagne flute. “There’s someone I need to speak with.”
You make your way through the crowd, your heart pounding with each step. As you approach, Charles politely excuses himself from his conversation and turns to face you.
“Dr. Y/L/N,” he greets you, his voice warm. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”
“Mr. Leclerc,” you reply, trying to keep your voice steady. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
Charles’ smile widens. “I’m full of surprises. Though I believe you already knew that.”
You glance around, noticing the curious looks from nearby guests. “Could we speak privately?”
“Of course,” Charles says, gesturing towards a secluded balcony. “Shall we?”
You follow him out onto the balcony, the cool night air a welcome respite from the crowded ballroom. For a moment, you both stand in silence, looking out over the twinkling lights of Monaco.
“So,” you finally say, turning to face him. “Charles Leclerc. I’m guessing that’s not the name you usually give to people who find you bleeding in alleys.”
Charles chuckles, shaking his head. “No, it’s not. But it is my real name.”
“And you’re ... what? A millionaire philanthropist?”
“Among other things,” Charles replies enigmatically.
You cross your arms, studying him. “Why didn’t you tell me who you were that night?”
Charles leans against the balcony railing, his expression turning serious. “Would you have believed me if I had? A man refusing hospital treatment, claiming to be a wealthy businessman?”
You have to admit he has a point. “I suppose not. But this ...” you gesture back towards the ballroom, “This is incredible. The transplant certification, the helicopter ... it’s everything I’ve been fighting for.”
“I know,” Charles says softly.
You blink, surprised. “You know?”
Charles nods. “After that night, I ... may have done some research. I was curious about the remarkable surgeon who saved my life without asking questions or for anything in return.”
“So this donation,” you say slowly, “it’s because of me?”
“In part,” Charles admits. “Your passion for your work, your dedication to improving healthcare here — it’s inspiring. But more than that, I saw an opportunity to do some real good. To maybe balance the scales a bit.”
You raise an eyebrow. “Balance the scales? What exactly is it that you do, Charles?”
He gives you a rueful smile. “Let’s just say my business dealings aren’t always as philanthropic as tonight’s donation might suggest.”
A chill runs down your spine as the pieces start to fall into place. The gunshot wound, the refusal of hospitals, the mysterious “business management” — it all points to one conclusion.
“You’re not just a businessman, are you?” You ask quietly.
Charles holds your gaze, his expression unreadable. “No, I’m not. Are you sure you want to know more?”
You take a deep breath, considering. Part of you wants to walk away, to pretend this conversation never happened. But a larger part — the part that couldn’t leave a bleeding man in an alley, the part that’s drawn to the mystery and danger Charles represents — wants to stay.
“Yes,” you say firmly. “I want to know.”
Charles nods, respect flickering in his eyes. “Very well. But not here. This isn’t a conversation for a crowded gala.”
“Then where?” You ask.
“Have dinner with me,” Charles suggests. “Tomorrow night. I’ll answer all your questions, I promise.”
You hesitate, weighing the risks. But the memory of that night in your apartment, the connection you felt with Charles despite the strange circumstances, makes your decision for you.
“Alright,” you agree. “Dinner tomorrow.”
Charles smiles, relief evident in his features. “Thank you. I’ll send a car for you at eight.”
Just then, the balcony doors open, and Dr. Beaumont steps out. “Ah, there you are, Mr. Leclerc! And Dr. Y/L/N, how wonderful. I was hoping to speak with both of you.”
You plaster on a polite smile, trying to hide your frustration at the interruption. “Dr. Beaumont, good evening.”
“I hope I’m not interrupting anything important,” Dr. Beaumont says, looking between you and Charles.
“Not at all,” Charles replies smoothly. “Dr. Y/L/N was just expressing her excitement about the transplant certification project.”
Dr. Beaumont beams. “Yes, isn’t it marvelous? And it’s all thanks to your generous donation, Mr. Leclerc. We can’t thank you enough.”
“Please,” Charles says, “call me Charles. And the thanks should really go to Dr. Y/L/N here. Her proposals and persistence were what brought this need to my attention.”
You feel a blush creeping up your cheeks as Dr. Beaumont turns to you, his eyebrows raised. “Is that so? Well, Dr. Y/L/N, it seems we owe you a debt of gratitude as well. Your dedication to this cause has clearly paid off.”
“Thank you, Dr. Beaumont,” you manage, still reeling from Charles’ praise. “I’m just glad we’ll finally be able to offer these life-saving services to our patients.”
“Indeed,” Dr. Beaumont agrees. “In fact, I’d like to discuss the possibility of you heading up the new transplant department. Your expertise would be invaluable in getting the program off the ground.”
Your eyes widen in surprise. “I ... I would be honored, sir. Thank you.”
“Excellent!” Dr. Beaumont claps his hands together. “We’ll set up a meeting next week to discuss the details. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to mingle with our other donors. Charles, Dr. Y/L/N, enjoy your evening.”
As Dr. Beaumont retreats back into the ballroom, you turn to Charles, still stunned. “Did you have something to do with that offer?”
Charles holds up his hands innocently. “I merely suggested to Dr. Beaumont that the project would benefit from your leadership. The decision was entirely his.”
You shake your head, a mixture of gratitude and confusion swirling inside you. “I don’t know what to say. Thank you doesn’t seem like enough.”
“Then don’t say it,” Charles replies softly. “Just promise me you’ll use this opportunity to do what you do best — save lives.”
You nod, suddenly feeling overwhelmed by the events of the evening. “I should probably get back inside,” you say reluctantly. “People will be wondering where I’ve gone.”
“Of course,” Charles agrees. “I look forward to our dinner tomorrow. There’s much we need to discuss.”
As you turn to leave, Charles gently catches your hand. “Y/N,” he says, his voice low. “Whatever you learn tomorrow, whatever you decide ... know that my feelings for you are genuine. That night in your apartment, it ... it changed things for me.”
You feel a flutter in your chest at his words. “It changed things for me too,” you admit softly.
Charles brings your hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles. “Until tomorrow, then.”
As you make your way back into the ballroom, your mind is a whirlwind of emotions and questions. You spot Sophia across the room, waving you over with a curious expression.
“Spill,” she demands as soon as you reach her. “What was that all about? How do you know Charles Leclerc?”
You take a deep breath, trying to find the right words to explain the inexplicable situation you’ve found yourself in.
“It’s ... complicated,” you finally say. “And I think I’m about to find out just how complicated it is.”
***
As the sun sets over Monaco, casting a golden glow across the city, you find yourself standing in front of your apartment building, nervously smoothing down your dress. The sleek Rolls Royce that Charles promised pulls up, and a uniformed driver steps out to open the door for you.
“Good evening, Dr. Y/L/N,” he greets you politely. “Mr. Leclerc is expecting you.”
You slide into the plush leather seat, your heart racing with anticipation. The drive through Monaco’s winding streets is brief but gives you time to collect your thoughts. Before you know it, the car is pulling up to Le Louis XV, arguably the most exclusive restaurant in all of Monaco.
As you step out of the car, you spot Charles waiting for you at the entrance. He’s impeccably dressed in a tailored suit, his presence commanding even among the elite clientele entering the restaurant.
“Y/N,” he greets you warmly, taking your hand and pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles. “You look absolutely stunning.”
You feel a blush creeping up your cheeks. “Thank you, Charles. You clean up pretty well yourself.”
He chuckles, offering you his arm. “Shall we?”
As you enter the restaurant, you’re immediately struck by the opulence of the decor. Crystal chandeliers hang from intricately painted ceilings, and the soft strains of a string quartet fill the air.
The maître d’ greets Charles by name, leading you to a secluded table tucked away in a corner. Charles pulls out your chair for you before taking his own seat across from you.
A waiter approaches, offering you menus. As he leans over to pour water into your glasses, you notice his gaze lingering a bit too long on your neckline. Before you can react, Charles clears his throat sharply.
“I think we’ll need a different server,” he says, his voice cold and authoritative. The waiter pales, stammering an apology before hurrying away.
You raise an eyebrow at Charles. “That was ... intense.”
Charles’ expression softens as he looks at you. “I apologize if that made you uncomfortable. I simply don’t tolerate disrespect, especially towards someone I care about.”
His words send a flutter through your chest, but you push it aside, reminding yourself why you’re here. “So,” you say, meeting his gaze, “you promised me answers.”
Charles nods, his expression turning serious. “Indeed I did. But first, let’s order. This conversation may take a while.”
Once you’ve placed your orders and the new, much more professional waiter has poured your wine, Charles leans back in his chair, studying you intently.
“What do you know about the Monegasque underworld, Y/N?” He asks quietly.
You shake your head. “Not much, honestly. I know it exists, of course, but it’s not exactly something we discuss in the hospital break room.”
A small smile tugs at Charles’ lips. “No, I suppose not. Well, to put it bluntly, I am what you might call the boss of the Monegasque Mafia.”
Despite your suspicions, hearing him say it so plainly sends a shock through you. “The Mafia? Charles, that’s ...”
“Illegal? Dangerous? Morally questionable?” He finishes for you, his tone wry. “Yes, it’s all of those things.”
You take a sip of your wine, trying to process this information. “How did you end up in that position?”
Charles sighs, his eyes distant. “It’s a long story, but the short version is that I inherited the role from my father. He built this empire, and when he died, it fell to me to maintain it.”
“And the gunshot wound?” You ask, remembering the night you first met.
“A disagreement with a rival organization,” Charles explains. “It’s been dealt with.”
You feel a chill at the implication in his words. “Dealt with how?”
Charles meets your gaze steadily. “Do you really want to know?”
After a moment’s hesitation, you shake your head. “No, I don’t think I do.”
“Smart,” Charles says approvingly. “The less you know about certain aspects of my business, the safer you’ll be.”
The waiter returns with your appetizers, providing a brief respite from the heavy conversation. As you start to eat, you find your mind whirling with questions.
“Why are you telling me all this?” You finally ask. “Isn’t it dangerous for you to reveal your identity?”
Charles nods slowly. “It is. But I trust you, Y/N. That night in your apartment, when you helped me without question, without judgment — it showed me what kind of person you are. And I find myself ... unwilling to lie to you.”
His honesty touches you, despite the circumstances. “I appreciate that, Charles. But where does this leave us? What happens now?”
Charles leans forward, his eyes intense. “That depends on you. I won’t lie — being associated with me comes with risks. But it also comes with benefits, as you’ve seen with the hospital donation.”
“Is that what this is about?” You ask, a hint of disappointment creeping into your voice. “You’re trying to buy my loyalty?”
“No,” Charles says firmly. “The donation was genuine. Your passion inspired me to do some good. This ... this is something else entirely.”
You raise an eyebrow, intrigued despite yourself. “What do you mean?”
Charles takes a deep breath. “I have a proposition for you. I’d like you to work for me, as my personal doctor when the need arises.”
You blink in surprise. “Your personal doctor? But I’m a surgeon, not a general practitioner.”
“Exactly,” Charles nods. “In my line of work, emergency surgical skills are more valuable than routine check-ups. You’d be on call for me and my ... associates when medical attention is needed discreetly.”
You sit back, considering his words. “That sounds an awful lot like being a mob doctor, Charles.”
He doesn’t deny it. “It is. But it would also give you the opportunity to save lives that might otherwise be lost. And I can promise you, the compensation would be ... substantial.”
The waiter returns to clear your plates and bring the main course, giving you a moment to gather your thoughts. As you cut into your perfectly cooked steak, you mull over Charles’ offer.
“What about my work at the hospital?” You ask. “I can’t just abandon that, especially not now that we’re getting the transplant certification.”
Charles shakes his head. “I wouldn’t ask you to. This would be in addition to your regular work, called upon only when necessary. Your hospital duties would always come first.”
You take a sip of wine, studying Charles over the rim of your glass. “And what if I refuse? What happens then?”
“Then you walk out of here, go back to your life, and we never speak of this again,” Charles says simply. “I meant what I said, Y/N. I trust you. If you choose not to be involved, I know you’ll keep my secret.”
His sincerity is clear, and you find yourself believing him. “Can I ask you something, Charles?”
“Anything,” he replies.
“Why me? Surely there are other doctors you could approach, ones with more ... flexible ethics, perhaps?”
Charles’ expression softens. “Because you’re extraordinary, Y/N. Your skill, your compassion, your integrity — they’re rare qualities, especially in my world. And selfishly, perhaps, I want to keep you in my life.”
His words send a warmth spreading through your chest, and you find yourself at a crossroads. On one hand, everything you know tells you to walk away, to keep your life simple and safe. But on the other ...
“What would it entail, exactly?” You ask, surprising yourself.
A glimmer of hope appears in Charles’ eyes. “Primarily, it would involve treating injuries that can’t be taken to a hospital — gunshot wounds, knife punctures, that sort of thing. Occasionally, there might be a need for more ... specialized care.”
You raise an eyebrow. “Specialized how?”
“Let’s just say that sometimes, information needs to be obtained through methods that aren’t entirely ... ethical,” Charles says carefully.
You feel a chill run down your spine. “You mean torture.”
Charles doesn’t flinch from the word. “Yes. Your role would be to ensure that lines aren’t crossed, that no permanent damage is done. To save lives, even in the darkest of circumstances.”
You take a deep breath, trying to reconcile the charming man across from you with the brutal world he’s describing. “I don’t know if I can do that, Charles. It goes against everything I believe in as a doctor.”
He nods, understanding in his eyes. “I know. And I wouldn’t ask you to participate directly. Your job would be to mitigate harm, to heal. Nothing more.”
As the waiter clears your plates and offers dessert menus, you find yourself at a loss for words. Charles watches you carefully, giving you space to process.
“You don’t have to decide right now,” he says gently. “Take some time to think about it. Weigh the pros and cons. I know it’s not an easy decision.”
You nod, grateful for the reprieve. “Thank you. I ... I will think about it.”
As you share a decadent chocolate dessert, the conversation shifts to lighter topics. Charles tells you about his childhood in Monaco, and you share stories from your medical school days. Despite the heavy subject matter earlier, you find yourself laughing and enjoying Charles’ company.
All too soon, the evening draws to a close. Charles insists on walking you out, his hand resting lightly on the small of your back as you exit the restaurant.
As you wait for the valet to bring his car around, Charles turns to face you, his expression serious once more.
“Thank you for hearing me out tonight, Y/N,” he says softly. “Whatever you decide, know that I meant every word. You’re an extraordinary woman, and I’m honored to know you.”
Before you can respond, Charles leans in, his lips brushing against the corner of your mouth in a kiss that’s both chaste and charged with potential. You feel your breath catch in your throat, your heart racing at his proximity.
As he pulls back, Charles meets your gaze, his green eyes intense. “Think about my offer. And when you’ve made your decision, good or bad, call me.”
With that, he steps back, leaving you feeling slightly dazed as the valet pulls up with his car. Charles opens the passenger door for you, ever the gentleman.
“Goodnight, Y/N,” he says softly. “I hope to hear from you soon.”
As the car pulls away from the curb, your mind is a whirlwind of emotions and conflicting thoughts. You touch your fingers to the spot where Charles kissed you, still feeling the ghost of his lips.
Part of you knows you should run as far and fast as you can from Charles Leclerc and the dangerous world he inhabits. But a larger part – the part that yearns for excitement, for purpose beyond the hospital walls – is already considering his offer.
As Monaco’s glittering lights pass by outside the car window, you realize that no matter what you decide, your life will never be the same. The question is, are you ready to take the leap into the unknown?
With Charles’ business card burning a hole in your purse and the memory of his kiss lingering on your skin, you know that the decision you make will shape not just your future, but potentially the future of Monaco itself.
***
The shrill ring of your phone pierces the quiet of your bedroom, jolting you awake. Fumbling in the darkness, you grab your phone, squinting at the bright screen. Unknown number.
Your heart races as you answer, “Hello?”
“Y/N,” Charles’ voice comes through, tense and urgent. “I’m sorry to wake you.”
Sitting up, suddenly alert, you reply, “Charles? What’s wrong?”
There’s a brief pause before he continues, “I wish I could give you more time to consider my offer, but I’m afraid circumstances have forced my hand. One of my associates is badly injured and needs immediate medical attention.”
You can hear the strain in his voice as he continues, “If you’re willing to accept my offer, I’ll have someone pick you up right now. If not, I understand, and I’ll look for help elsewhere. But I need to know your decision now.”
Your mind races, weighing the implications. This is it — the moment of truth. Do you step into Charles’ world or walk away?
Taking a deep breath, you make your choice. “I’ll do it. Send the car.”
You can almost hear Charles’ relief through the phone. “Thank you, Y/N. A car will be there in five minutes. Be ready.”
The line goes dead, and you spring into action. Throwing on clothes and grabbing a bag with some basic medical supplies, you’re waiting outside your building when a sleek black car pulls up.
The drive is tense and silent. The driver, a stern-faced man, offers no conversation as he speeds through Monaco’s empty streets. Within minutes, you’re pulling up to an expansive, gated compound.
As soon as the car stops, the front door of the mansion flies open. Charles strides out, his face etched with worry.
“Y/N,” he greets you, guiding you quickly inside. “Thank you for coming. Follow me.”
You hurry after him through opulent hallways, your mind struggling to take in the surroundings. “What happened, Charles? Who’s hurt?”
“My right-hand man, Pierre,” Charles explains as he leads you down a staircase. “He was ambushed leaving a meeting. Took a bullet to the chest.”
You nod, your mind already racing through possibilities. “How long ago?”
“About an hour,” Charles replies, pushing open a door.
You step into what appears to be a fully-equipped operating room. On the table lies a man, his breathing labored and shirt soaked with blood.
Rushing to his side, you begin your examination. “Pierre? I’m Dr. Y/L/N. Can you hear me?”
Pierre’s eyes flutter open, filled with pain. “Y-yes,” he manages to wheeze.
You turn to Charles, who’s hovering nearby. “I need to examine him properly. Can you help me remove his shirt?”
As you and Charles carefully cut away Pierre’s bloodied shirt, you assess the wound. The bullet hole is below his right collarbone, and his breathing is increasingly strained.
“The bullet’s punctured his lung,” you announce, your mind already formulating a plan. “He needs surgery immediately. Charles, I’ll need assistance. Are you up for it?”
Charles nods without hesitation. “Tell me what to do.”
You quickly outline the procedure as you prep Pierre for surgery. “We need to reinflate his lung and remove the bullet. It’s going to be tricky, but we don’t have time to get him to a hospital.”
As you work, you fall into a focused rhythm, your years of training taking over. Charles proves to be a capable assistant, following your instructions precisely.
“Suction here,” you direct, carefully navigating the delicate lung tissue. “Good. Now hold this retractor steady.”
Hours pass in a blur of intense concentration. Finally, you step back, exhaling deeply. “I think we’ve done it. The lung’s reinflated and the bullet’s out. He’s not out of the woods yet, but his chances are good.”
Charles looks at you with a mixture of awe and gratitude. “Y/N, I ... thank you. You’ve saved his life.”
You nod, suddenly feeling the weight of exhaustion. “He’ll need close monitoring for the next 24 hours. Is there somewhere I can clean up?”
Charles leads you to an adjacent bathroom, where you wash the blood from your skin. As you emerge, you find Charles waiting, two glasses of whiskey in hand.
“I thought you might need this,” he says, offering you a glass.
You accept it gratefully, taking a long sip. The alcohol burns pleasantly, helping to calm your frayed nerves.
“So,” you say, meeting Charles’ gaze. “I guess this makes it official. I’m your doctor now.”
Charles nods solemnly. “Indeed. And I can’t express how grateful I am. Not just for tonight, but for taking this risk.”
You lean against the wall, suddenly feeling the weight of your decision. “I still have questions, Charles. About all of this. About what I’m getting myself into.”
“Of course,” Charles agrees. “Ask me anything. You deserve to know what you’re part of now.”
Taking a deep breath, you begin, “How often can I expect nights like this? And what exactly is the nature of your ... business?”
Charles considers his words carefully. “Nights like this are, thankfully, rare. Most of what I’ll need from you will be more routine — treating minor injuries, regular check-ups for my key people. As for my business ...” He pauses, taking a sip of his whiskey. “It’s complex. We have interests in various sectors — some legitimate, some less so. Gambling, real estate, import and export. And yes, sometimes that involves activities that aren’t entirely legal.”
You nod slowly, processing this information. “And the violence? The rivalries that led to Pierre getting shot?”
“An unfortunate reality of our world,” Charles admits. “We try to minimize it, but conflicts do arise. My goal is always to resolve things peacefully, but sometimes ...” He gestures towards the operating room, where Pierre lies recovering.
“I see,” you murmur. “And my role in all this? Beyond providing medical care, I mean.”
Charles’ expression softens. “Your role, Y/N, is to be a light in this sometimes dark world. To save lives, to minimize harm. And perhaps ... to remind people like me that there’s good in the world worth protecting.”
His words touch something deep inside you, and you find yourself nodding. “I think I can do that.”
A comfortable silence falls between you, broken only when a monitor in the operating room beeps. You both rush to check on Pierre, finding his vitals stable.
As you adjust his IV, you ask, “So, what happens now? Do I just ... go home and wait for the next emergency call?”
Charles shakes his head. “Not quite. I’d like you to stay here for the next day or so, to monitor Pierre’s recovery. After that, we’ll set up a more formal arrangement. You’ll have a secure phone for communications and a driver on call for when you’re needed.”
You raise an eyebrow. “And my regular job at the hospital?”
“Remains your priority,” Charles assures you. “This work will always come second to that. I don’t want to jeopardize your career or the good you do there.”
Relieved, you nod. “Alright. And ... us? Where do we stand?”
Charles steps closer, his eyes intense. “That is entirely up to you. My feelings haven’t changed since our dinner. But I understand if this is too much, too complicated.”
You find yourself drawn to him, despite the rational part of your brain screaming caution. “It is complicated. But ... I can’t deny there’s something here. Something worth exploring.”
A smile spreads across Charles’ face, genuine and warm. “I’m glad to hear that. We’ll take it slow, see where this leads us.”
Just then, Pierre stirs on the operating table, groaning softly. You both move to his side, your instincts taking over once again.
“Pierre?” You call softly. “Can you hear me?”
His eyes flutter open, unfocused at first but then settling on you. “Who ... where am I?”
Charles steps into his line of sight. “You’re safe, my friend. This is Dr. Y/L/N. She saved your life tonight.”
Pierre’s eyes widen in recognition. “The surgeon ... from the alley. You recruited her?”
You can’t help but chuckle. “It’s a long story. How are you feeling?”
“Like I’ve been shot,” Pierre croaks, attempting a weak smile.
You check his vitals as you explain, “The bullet punctured your lung. We’ve repaired the damage, but you’re going to need time to recover. No strenuous activity for at least a month.”
Pierre nods, then looks to Charles. “The meeting ... did we get the information?”
Charles places a hand on Pierre’s shoulder. “We did, thanks to you. But don’t worry about that now. Focus on getting better.”
As Pierre drifts back to sleep, you turn to Charles. “He needs rest. And so do we, for that matter.”
Charles nods in agreement. “I’ll show you to a guest room. We should both try to get some sleep before morning.”
As you follow Charles through the mansion, the events of the night start to catch up with you. By the time you reach the luxurious guest suite, you’re practically swaying on your feet.
“Get some rest,” Charles says softly. “I’ll have some fresh clothes brought for you in the morning.”
As he turns to leave, you catch his hand. “Charles ... thank you. For trusting me with this.”
He brings your hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles. “No, Y/N. Thank you for taking this leap of faith. Sleep well.”
As the door closes behind him, you sink onto the plush bed, your mind whirling with the night’s events. You’ve crossed a line tonight, stepped into a world you never imagined being part of. But as you drift off to sleep, you can’t help but feel a thrill of excitement about what the future might hold.
For better or worse, your life will never be the same again.
***
As the weeks pass following that fateful night, you begin to notice subtle yet undeniable changes in your daily life. It starts with a prickling sensation at the back of your neck, a feeling of being watched that you can’t quite shake. At first, you dismiss it as paranoia, a natural reaction to your new connection with Charles’ world. But then you start to catch glimpses — a man in a dark suit lingering across the street from your apartment, a familiar face that seems to pop up wherever you go.
One morning, as you’re grabbing coffee before work, you decide to confront the situation. Turning abruptly, you lock eyes with a tall, broad-shouldered man who’s been tailing you for the past few blocks.
“Alright,” you say, crossing your arms. “Who are you and why are you following me?”
The man looks momentarily surprised before his face settles into a neutral expression. “Mr. Leclerc assigned me to ensure your safety, Dr. Y/L/N. I’m not meant to interfere with your daily life.”
You raise an eyebrow. “And does Charles think I need a bodyguard to get my morning coffee?”
The man — you decide to call him Shadow in your head — gives a small shrug. “Mr. Leclerc believes in being thorough. I’m here to protect you from any potential threats.”
Sighing, you shake your head. “Fine. But can you at least try to be a little less ... obvious? I don’t need my colleagues at the hospital getting suspicious.”
Shadow nods. “Of course. I’ll maintain a more discreet distance.”
As you continue your walk to the hospital, you can’t help but feel a mix of irritation and a strange sort of warmth at Charles’ protective instincts.
The surprises don’t stop there. Later that week, you return home from a long shift to find a large, elegantly wrapped package outside your door. Curious, you bring it inside and carefully open it.
Inside, you find a stunning designer handbag — one you vaguely remember admiring in a shop window weeks ago. Attached is a simple note:
A beautiful bag for a beautiful doctor – CL
You can’t help but smile, even as you shake your head at the extravagance. Pulling out your phone, you send a quick text to Charles.
The bag is gorgeous, but you really didn’t have to.
His reply comes moments later.
I wanted to.
Is it not to your liking?
You chuckle, typing back.
It’s perfect. But you don’t need to shower me with gifts.
Perhaps not. But I enjoy it. Allow me this small pleasure?
Rolling your eyes fondly, you respond.
Fine. But nothing too outrageous, okay?
You can almost hear his chuckle in his reply.
I make no promises.
True to his word, the gifts keep coming. A rare first edition of your favorite medical text. A pair of ridiculously comfortable designer shoes that somehow fit perfectly. Each accompanied by a note signed simply “CL”.
But it’s not just the material things that change. One day, as you’re buried in paperwork at the hospital, a delicious aroma wafts into your office. You look up to see your colleague standing in the doorway with a bag from your favorite local restaurant.
“Special delivery,” Sophia says with a grin, setting the bag on your desk.
You blink in surprise. “I didn’t order anything.”
Her grin widens. “No, but apparently you have a very thoughtful admirer. This has been showing up every day for the past week. The nurses have been taking turns bringing it up.”
Your cheeks flush as you open the bag, finding a perfectly prepared lunch and another note from Charles.
Sophia leans in, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “So, who’s the mystery man? Anyone I know?”
You quickly tuck the note away. “It’s ... complicated. We’re still figuring things out.”
“Uh-huh,” Sophia says, clearly not buying it. “Well, whoever he is, he’s got good taste. In food and women.”
As Sophia leaves, you can’t help but smile. Despite the complexity of your situation with Charles, these small gestures warm your heart.
The changes extend beyond gifts and food, though. You start to notice that things at the hospital seem to be running more smoothly. Bureaucratic hurdles that used to take weeks to clear now resolve themselves in days. Equipment requests that were once denied due to budget constraints are suddenly approved.
One afternoon, you’re in a meeting with Dr. Beaumont, discussing the progress of the new transplant center.
“I must say, Dr. Y/L/N,” Beaumont says, beaming, “the speed at which we’re moving forward is remarkable. It’s as if all the red tape has simply ... vanished.”
You shift uncomfortably in your seat, suspecting Charles’ influence but unable to confirm it. “Yes, it’s ... quite fortunate.”
Beaumont leans in, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “Between you and me, I think our generous donor, Mr. Leclerc, might have something to do with it. He seems to have friends in high places.”
You force a neutral expression. “Oh? What makes you say that?”
Beaumont chuckles. “Let’s just say that certain government officials who were dragging their feet on approvals suddenly became very cooperative after a few calls from Mr. Leclerc’s office. But you didn’t hear that from me.”
As you leave the meeting, your mind is whirling. You appreciate the help, but the extent of Charles’ influence is starting to sink in. That evening, you decide it’s time for a face-to-face conversation.
You send Charles a text.
We need to talk. Dinner tonight?
His reply is almost immediate.
Of course. I’ll send a car. 8 PM?
At eight sharp, you find yourself being ushered into an exclusive rooftop restaurant. Charles is waiting, looking as handsome and composed as ever in a perfectly tailored suit.
He stands as you approach, pulling out your chair. “Y/N, you look lovely.”
You sit, fixing him with a serious look. “Charles, we need to discuss a few things.”
His expression turns concerned. “Is everything alright?”
Taking a deep breath, you begin. “The bodyguard, the gifts, the lunch deliveries ... it’s all very sweet, but it’s a bit much. And the thing with the hospital — are you pulling strings to make things happen?”
Charles listens intently, his face unreadable. When you finish, he leans back, considering his words carefully.
“I apologize if I’ve overstepped,” he says finally. “The protection is non-negotiable, I’m afraid. Your safety is paramount to me. But if the gifts make you uncomfortable, I can scale them back.”
You nod, relieved he’s listening. “And the hospital situation?”
Charles sighs. “I may have ... encouraged certain officials to be more cooperative. But I assure you, it was all above board. No bribes, no threats. Just a gentle reminder of how beneficial the new transplant center will be for Monaco.”
You can’t help but chuckle. “Gentle reminder, huh? And I suppose your reputation had nothing to do with it?”
A small smirk plays at the corner of Charles’ mouth. “I may have a certain ... influence. But I used it for a good cause. The transplant center will save lives, Y/N. Isn’t that what matters?”
You shake your head, but you’re smiling. “You’re impossible, you know that?”
Charles reaches across the table, taking your hand. “I know my world is very different from yours, Y/N. I’m trying to bridge that gap, to make things easier for you. But if I’m going about it the wrong way, tell me. I want you to be comfortable with this ... with us.”
The sincerity in his eyes touches you. “I appreciate that, Charles. I do. I just ... I need to feel like I’m still in control of my own life, you know? Like I’m not just being swept along in your wake.”
Charles nods, squeezing your hand gently. “I understand. From now on, I’ll consult you before making any decisions that affect your life. No more surprises. Well, fewer surprises, at least.”
You laugh, feeling the tension dissipate. “I suppose I can live with that. But maybe we can compromise on the bodyguard situation? I don’t need a shadow 24/7.”
“How about this,” Charles proposes, “The security detail maintains a distance unless you’re entering or leaving your apartment or the hospital. They’ll be there if you need them, but not constantly in your space. Would that work?”
You consider for a moment, then nod. “I can live with that. Thank you for listening.”
He brings your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. “Always, Y/N. Your happiness and comfort are important to me.”
As the waiter approaches to take your order, you find yourself relaxing, enjoying the evening with Charles. The conversation flows easily, touching on your work at the hospital, Charles’ legitimate business ventures, and your shared love of classical music.
By the time dessert arrives, you’re feeling more at ease with the situation than you have in weeks.
“Charles,” you say, savoring a spoonful of soufflé, “I have to ask. How did you know about the handbag? The one I admired weeks ago?”
A mischievous glint appears in Charles’ eyes. “I have my ways. Let’s just say I pay attention to the things that catch your eye.”
You shake your head, amused. “You’re incorrigible.”
“Perhaps,” he agrees with a smile. “But admit it, you’re starting to enjoy it.”
As you leave the restaurant, Charles’ hand resting lightly on the small of your back, you realize that he’s right. Despite the complexity, despite the lingering concerns about his world, you are enjoying this. Enjoying him.
Charles walks you to the waiting car, opening the door for you. Before you get in, he catches your hand, his expression turning serious.
“Y/N,” he says softly, “I want you to know that I treasure what’s growing between us. I know my world is complicated, often dangerous. But with you ... I see a possibility for something real, something good. I hope you can be patient with me as we navigate this.”
Touched by his honesty, you lean in, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “I’m here, aren’t I? We’ll figure it out together.”
As the car pulls away, Charles watching from the curb, you lean back in your seat, a small smile playing on your lips. Your life has certainly become more complicated since that night in the alley. But as you reflect on the past few weeks — the challenges, the surprises, the growing connection with Charles — you can’t help but feel a thrill of excitement about what the future might hold.
***
The cool evening air greets you as you exit the hospital, your shift finally over. You roll your shoulders, easing the tension from a long day of surgeries. As you walk towards your car, your mind drifts to Charles, wondering if he’ll be free for a late dinner.
Suddenly, a sharp prick in your neck startles you. Before you can react, a wave of dizziness washes over you. The world tilts, your vision blurring. You try to call out, but your voice fails you. As darkness encroaches, your last conscious thought is of Charles.
When you come to, it’s to a pounding headache and disorientation. You blink, trying to focus. The room is dimly lit, cold, with bare concrete walls. As awareness creeps back, you realize you’re strapped to a chair, your wrists and ankles bound tightly.
Panic rises in your throat, but you force it down, trying to assess the situation. You’re still in your scrubs, which means you haven’t been unconscious for too long. There are no windows, no indication of where you might be.
The creak of a door opening snaps your attention forward. A man enters — relatively tall, curly-haired, with a scar running down the left side of his face. His eyes, when they meet yours, are cold and calculating.
“Ah, Dr. Y/L/N,” he says, his voice carrying a slight Italian accent. “So good of you to join us. I hope you’re comfortable.”
You glare at him, finding your voice. “Who are you? What do you want?”
The man chuckles, pulling up a chair to sit across from you. “Where are my manners? Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Mattia Binotto. And as for what I want ...” He leans in, his gaze intense. “I want Charles Leclerc.”
Your heart races, but you keep your expression neutral. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Mattia’s laugh is harsh. “Come now, Doctor. Let’s not play games. I know all about your ... relationship with Charles. I’ve been watching you both for quite some time.”
“Why?” You demand, tugging futilely at your restraints. “What does Charles have to do with this?”
Mattia leans back, a cruel smile playing on his lips. “Everything, my dear. You see, I used to work for Charles’ father. I was his right-hand man, his most trusted advisor. And how did the old man repay my loyalty? By kicking me out, exiling me from Monaco.”
You listen, your mind racing. Charles had mentioned conflicts within the organization, but this ... this was something else entirely.
“So this is about revenge?” You ask, trying to keep him talking.
Mattia’s eyes flash dangerously. “Revenge, yes. But also reclamation. What was taken from me, I intend to take back. And you, my dear doctor, are the perfect bait.”
Fear claws at your insides, but you push it down, channeling it into anger instead. “Charles won’t fall for this. He’s smarter than that.”
“Oh, I’m counting on his intelligence,” Mattia says, standing up and beginning to pace. “You see, Charles knows exactly who I am and what I’m capable of. He’ll come for you, make no mistake. And when he does ...” Mattia’s smile is chilling. “Well, let’s just say I have quite the reunion planned.”
You struggle against your bonds, your mind whirling. “You’re insane if you think you can take on Charles and his entire organization.”
Mattia stops pacing, turning to face you. “Insane? No, Doctor. Prepared. I’ve spent years planning this, gathering allies, waiting for the perfect moment. And you ...” He reaches out, brushing a strand of hair from your face. You jerk away from his touch. “You are the key to it all.”
“Don’t touch me,” you snarl, glaring up at him.
Mattia chuckles. “Feisty. I can see why Charles is so taken with you. It will make breaking you all the more satisfying.”
A chill runs down your spine at his words. “If you hurt me, Charles will-”
“Charles will what?” Mattia interrupts, his voice mocking. “Come charging in to save you? That’s exactly what I’m counting on, my dear.”
You fall silent, realizing that every word you say is potentially giving Mattia more ammunition. Instead, you focus on studying your surroundings, looking for any potential way out.
Mattia seems to sense your shift in focus. He leans in close, his breath hot on your ear. “Don’t bother looking for escape routes. This room was designed to hold people far more dangerous than you. You’re not going anywhere until Charles arrives.”
Pulling back, he checks his watch. “Speaking of which, I imagine he’s discovered your absence by now. Shall we give him a call?”
Your eyes widen as Mattia pulls out a phone — your phone. He scrolls through your contacts, finding Charles’ number.
“No, don’t-” you start, but Mattia silences you with a sharp look.
He puts the phone on speaker as it rings. After two rings, Charles’ voice comes through, tense and worried. “Y/N? Where are you? Your security detail lost track of you hours ago.”
Mattia’s grin is triumphant as he speaks. “Hello, Charles. It’s been a long time.”
There’s a moment of stunned silence before Charles responds, his voice low and dangerous. “Mattia. If you’ve hurt her, I swear-”
“Now, now,” Mattia interrupts. “Your precious doctor is fine. For now. Whether she stays that way depends entirely on you.”
You can’t stay silent any longer. “Charles, don’t listen to him! It’s a trap!”
Mattia backhands you, the slap echoing in the small room. “Quiet!”
“Y/N!” Charles’ voice is anguished. “Mattia, I’m warning you-”
“You’re warning me?” Mattia laughs. “I don’t think you’re in any position to be making threats. Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to come alone to the address I’m about to send you. If I see any of your men, if I even suspect you’ve involved your friends in the police, the good doctor here will suffer the consequences. Understood?”
There’s a tense pause before Charles responds. “I understand. Let me speak to her.”
Mattia considers for a moment, then holds the phone closer to you. “Make it quick.”
“Charles,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady. “Don’t do this. It’s not worth-”
“Y/N, listen to me,” Charles interrupts, his voice intense. “I’m coming for you. Just hold on. I promise, I’ll make this right.”
Before you can respond, Mattia pulls the phone away. “How touching. You have one hour, Charles. Come alone or she dies.”
He ends the call, turning to you with a satisfied smirk. “And now, we wait.”
The next hour is agonizing. Mattia leaves you alone in the room, your mind racing with possibilities, each worse than the last. You test your restraints, but they hold firm. The chair is bolted to the floor, leaving you no way to move.
Just when you think you can’t take the suspense any longer, the door opens. Your heart leaps, thinking it might be Charles, but it’s Mattia who enters, followed by two burly men.
“It seems your knight in shining armor has arrived,” Mattia announces, his eyes glinting with malice. “Let’s make sure we give him a proper welcome, shall we?”
He nods to one of the men, who moves behind you. You feel the cold press of a gun barrel against your temple.
“Is this really necessary?” You ask, trying to keep the fear out of your voice.
Mattia shrugs. “Insurance, my dear. Can’t have you trying anything heroic when Charles arrives.”
As if on cue, there’s a commotion outside the room. The door bursts open and Charles strides in, his eyes immediately finding yours.
“Y/N,” he breathes, relief and worry warring in his expression.
“Charles, no,” you plead. “You shouldn’t have come. It’s a trap!”
Mattia steps forward, clapping slowly. “Bravo, Charles. Right on time, and alone, as instructed. I must say, I’m impressed by your obedience.”
Charles tears his gaze from you to glare at Mattia. “Let her go, Mattia. This is between us.”
“Oh, I don’t think so,” Mattia replies, circling around to stand behind you. He places his hands on your shoulders, and you struggle not to flinch. “You see, your lovely doctor here is my insurance policy. Insurance that you’ll listen very carefully to what I have to say.”
Charles’ jaw clenches, but he remains still. “Say your piece, then.”
Mattia’s grip on your shoulders tightens. “It’s quite simple, really. I want what’s rightfully mine. The position your father stole from me, the respect I deserve. You’re going to step down, hand over control of the organization to me, and leave Monaco. Forever.”
You can’t stay silent any longer. “Charles, don’t do it! You can’t trust him!”
The gun presses harder against your temple, silencing you.
Charles’ eyes flick between you and Mattia, his expression unreadable. “And if I refuse?”
Mattia’s laugh is cold. “Then you get to watch your beloved doctor die, slowly and painfully, before I kill you too. Your choice, Charles.”
The tension in the room is palpable as Charles considers his options. You try to catch his eye, to silently communicate that your life isn’t worth the price Mattia is demanding. But Charles’ gaze is fixed on Mattia, his mind clearly racing.
Finally, Charles speaks, his voice eerily calm. “You’ve made one critical mistake, Mattia.”
Mattia’s eyebrows raise. “Oh? And what’s that?”
A small, dangerous smile plays at the corner of Charles’ lips. “You assumed I came alone.”
In that instant, several things happen at once. The lights in the room suddenly cut out, plunging everything into darkness. You hear the sound of breaking glass, followed by several muffled thuds. Someone grabs you, and for a moment you panic, thinking it’s Mattia. But then a familiar voice whispers in your ear.
“It’s me, Y/N. Hold still.”
It’s Pierre. You feel him cutting through your restraints. As your eyes adjust to the darkness, you make out shapes moving in the room — Charles’ men, you realize, taking down Mattia’s guards.
When the lights flicker back on, the scene has completely changed. Mattia and his men are on the ground, subdued by Charles’ team. Charles himself is standing over Mattia, a gun pointed at his head.
“You’re right, Mattia,” Charles says, his voice cold. “This was between us. You should have left Y/N out of it.”
As Pierre helps you to your feet, you stumble, your legs weak from being bound for so long. Charles is at your side in an instant, supporting you.
“Are you alright?” He asks, his eyes scanning you for injuries.
You nod, still trying to process what just happened. “I’m okay. How did you ...”
Charles manages a small smile. “Did you really think I’d come unprepared? My men were in position before I ever entered the building.”
You lean into him, relief washing over you. “I thought ... I was so scared you’d give in to his demands.”
Charles’ arm tightens around you. “Never. I would never let him hurt you, Y/N.”
As Charles’ men secure Mattia and begin to lead him away, you turn to Charles. “What happens now?”
Charles’ expression turns grim. “Now, we make sure Mattia can never threaten us again. And then ...” He looks down at you, his eyes softening. “Then we talk about upgrading your security. Because I’m never letting something like this happen again.”
***
The morning after your harrowing ordeal, you find yourself seated in the hospital’s main conference room, feeling as though you’ve stepped into some sort of surreal dream. To your left sits Charles, his posture rigid and his expression unreadable. Across the table, the hospital’s board of directors fidget nervously, their eyes darting between you, Charles, and Dr. Beaumont, who sits at the head of the table.
The tension in the room is palpable as Dr. Beaumont clears his throat. “Well, Mr. Leclerc, Dr. Y/L/N, thank you for meeting with us on such short notice. I understand there’s been some ... concerns about security?”
Charles leans forward, his voice calm but carrying an undercurrent of steel. “Concerns would be putting it mildly, Dr. Beaumont. Dr. Y/L/N was kidnapped from your parking lot last night. I think that warrants more than just concern.”
You can see the color drain from Dr. Beaumont’s face. “Kidnapped? I ... we had no idea. Dr. Y/L/N, are you alright?”
All eyes turn to you, and you shift uncomfortably in your seat. “I’m fine, thank you. It was a ... misunderstanding that’s been resolved.”
Charles’ hand finds yours under the table, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “A misunderstanding that could have ended very differently. Which is why we’re here to discuss new security measures.”
Dr. Beaumont nods, still looking shaken. “Of course, of course. What did you have in mind?”
“Two of my personal security team will accompany Dr. Y/L/N at all times while she’s on hospital grounds,” Charles states, his tone brooking no argument.
There’s a moment of stunned silence before one of the board members, Dr. Rossi, speaks up. “Mr. Leclerc, while we certainly understand your concern, having armed guards in a hospital environment is highly unorthodox. It could make patients uncomfortable, not to mention the potential liability issues ...”
Charles’ eyes narrow. “I’m not particularly concerned with what’s orthodox, Dr. Rossi. I’m concerned with Y/N’s safety.”
You decide to intervene, hoping to smooth things over. “Perhaps we could find a compromise? The security team could maintain a discreet distance, only stepping in if necessary?”
Dr. Beaumont latches onto this suggestion eagerly. “Yes, that sounds more reasonable. We could provide them with visitor badges, allow them access to staff areas ...”
“No,” Charles cuts in firmly. “They stay with Y/N at all times. This isn’t up for negotiation.”
Another board member, Dr. Chen, leans forward. “Mr. Leclerc, please understand our position. We have protocols, regulations to follow. Having armed personnel constantly present could jeopardize our accreditation.”
Charles’ smile is cold. “I’m sure exceptions can be made, Dr. Chen. After all, I’d hate to think that the hospital values bureaucratic red tape over the safety of its star surgeon.”
The implied threat hangs heavy in the air. You can see the administrators exchanging nervous glances.
Dr. Beaumont attempts to regain control of the situation. “Now, let’s not be hasty. I’m sure we can come to an agreement that satisfies everyone. Mr. Leclerc, what if we were to increase our own security measures? Install more cameras, hire additional guards ...”
Charles shakes his head. “Not good enough. My men are highly trained professionals. They stay with Y/N.”
You can see the frustration building on the faces of the board members. Dr. Rossi tries again. “Mr. Leclerc, please be reasonable. We can’t just allow civilians to roam freely through sensitive areas of the hospital. There are privacy concerns, not to mention-”
“I think you misunderstand me,” Charles interrupts, his voice dangerously soft. “This isn’t a request. It’s happening. The only question is whether you choose to cooperate or not.”
The threat in his words is unmistakable. You watch as the color drains from Dr. Rossi’s face.
Feeling the need to defuse the tension, you speak up. “Perhaps we could implement this on a trial basis? See how it works for a month and then reassess?”
Dr. Beaumont seizes on this suggestion like a lifeline. “Yes, excellent idea, Dr. Y/L/N. A trial period would allow us to address any issues that arise and make adjustments as necessary.”
Charles considers this for a moment before nodding slowly. “A trial period is acceptable, provided there’s no interference with my security team’s duties.”
Relief is palpable around the table, but it’s short-lived as Charles continues.
“Of course, I understand this arrangement may cause some ... inconvenience for the hospital. To that end, I’m prepared to make an additional donation to help smooth things over.”
The board members perk up at this, their expressions shifting from worry to interest.
Dr. Beaumont leans forward eagerly. “That’s very generous of you, Mr. Leclerc. What sort of donation did you have in mind?”
Charles’ smile is predatory. “Let’s say ... sixteen million euros, to be used at the hospital’s discretion. Provided, of course, that my security requirements are met without further argument.”
The room falls silent as the enormity of the offer sinks in. You can practically see the dollar signs in the administrators’ eyes.
Dr. Chen is the first to recover. “Mr. Leclerc, that’s an incredibly generous offer. I’m sure we can work out the details of the security arrangement to everyone’s satisfaction.”
Charles nods, satisfied. “I’m glad we understand each other. Now, shall we discuss the specifics?”
What follows is a detailed negotiation of the security protocols. You watch, somewhat bemused, as the very same administrators who were stammering objections moments ago now fall over themselves to accommodate Charles’ every demand.
By the end of the meeting, it’s agreed that Charles’ security team will have full access to all areas of the hospital, will be allowed to carry concealed weapons, and will have final say on any security matters relating to you.
As the meeting wraps up, Dr. Beaumont turns to you, his expression a mix of concern and curiosity. “Dr. Y/L/N, I hope you know that your safety is our utmost concern. If there’s anything else we can do ...”
You manage a small smile. “Thank you, Dr. Beaumont. I appreciate the hospital’s flexibility in this matter.”
As you and Charles stand to leave, Dr. Beaumont calls out, “Mr. Leclerc, a word in private, if you don’t mind?”
Charles nods, turning to you. “I’ll be right out, Y/N.”
You exit the conference room, your mind whirling. As you wait in the hallway, you overhear snippets of the conversation inside.
Dr. Beaumont’s voice, low and eager, “... sure there isn’t anything else we should know?”
Charles’ reply, cool and dismissive, “... all you need to concern yourself with ...”
A moment later, Charles emerges, his expression softening as he sees you. “Ready to go?”
You nod, falling into step beside him as you walk towards the elevator. “Don’t you think this is all a bit ... excessive?”
He stops, turning to face you. “After what happened last night, I’m not taking any chances with your safety. I can’t lose you.”
The raw emotion in his voice catches you off guard. You reach out, touching his arm gently. “You won’t lose me. But Charles, this is my workplace. I need to be able to do my job without feeling like I’m under constant surveillance.”
Charles sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I know. And I’m sorry if this complicates things for you. But please, just give it a chance. For my peace of mind, if nothing else.”
You study his face, seeing the worry lines etched around his eyes, the tension in his jaw. Despite your reservations, you find yourself nodding. “Alright. We’ll try it your way. But if it becomes too disruptive ...”
“Then we’ll reassess,” Charles finishes, relief evident in his voice. “Thank you, Y/N.”
As you step into the elevator, you can’t help but wonder what you’ve gotten yourself into. The world of medicine, with its clear rules and ethical guidelines, seems far removed from Charles’ realm of shadowy deals and armed guards.
“Charles,” you say as the elevator descends, “what exactly did Dr. Beaumont want to discuss in private?”
Charles’ expression turns guarded. “Nothing you need to worry about. Just some details about the donation.”
You’re not entirely convinced, but you decide not to push it. As the elevator doors open, you’re greeted by the sight of two men in suits — clearly Charles’ security team.
Charles nods to them. “This is Andrea and Joris. They’ll be your primary security detail.”
You force a smile, extending your hand. “Nice to meet you both.”
Andrea and Joris nod respectfully, but their expressions remain impassive. You can already tell that this is going to take some getting used to.
As you walk through the hospital lobby, you’re acutely aware of the stares and whispers from staff and patients alike. Charles seems oblivious to the attention, but you feel your cheeks heating up.
“Charles,” you murmur, “people are staring.”
He glances around, then shrugs. “Let them stare. Your safety is more important than gossip.”
You’re about to argue further when you spot Sophia rushing towards you, her eyes wide with concern.
“Y/N!” She exclaims, pulling you into a hug. “I heard you were in some kind of trouble last night. Are you okay? And who are these guys?”
You extract yourself from Sophia’s embrace, acutely aware of Charles and the security team watching. “I’m fine, Sophia. Really. It was just a misunderstanding. As for these gentlemen ...” You gesture vaguely. “They’re, um ...”
“Private security,” Charles interjects smoothly. “In light of recent events, we felt it prudent to take extra precautions.”
Sophia’s eyes dart between you and Charles, clearly bursting with questions. “Private security? Y/N, what’s going on?”
You can feel a headache building behind your eyes. “It’s complicated. I’ll explain later, okay?”
She nods, though her expression says this conversation is far from over. “Okay, but you owe me details. Lots of details.”
As Sophia walks away, you turn to Charles with a sigh. “This is going to be a nightmare to explain to everyone.”
Charles’ expression softens. He reaches out, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I know this isn’t easy for you. But I need you safe. Everything else ... we’ll figure it out together.”
Looking into his eyes, seeing the mix of concern and affection there, you feel your resistance crumbling. Despite the complications, despite the danger, you know that what you and Charles have is worth fighting for.
“Together,” you agree softly.
As you head towards your office, flanked by Andrea and Joris, with Charles by your side, you can’t help but feel like you’re stepping into a new chapter of your life. One filled with more danger and complexity than you ever imagined, but also with a depth of love and protection you never thought possible.
The hospital corridors stretch out before you, familiar yet somehow changed. You take a deep breath, squaring your shoulders. Whatever challenges lie ahead, you’ll face them head-on — with Charles (and now apparently with an armed escort) by your side.
***
A year later, life has settled into a new normal. You’ve grown accustomed to the peculiarities of being the personal physician to Monaco’s most powerful man, including the late-night calls and the sometimes bizarre injuries.
Tonight is one of those nights. You’re in Charles’ private medical suite, nestled within his sprawling mansion, tending to yet another gunshot wound. The room is state-of-the-art, rivaling any hospital, but with a touch of luxury that screams Charles.
“Ow! Easy there, mon cœur,” Charles winces as you clean the wound on his upper arm.
You roll your eyes, but there’s affection in your voice as you reply, “Maybe if you’d stop zigging when you should be zagging, we wouldn’t be here so often.”
Charles attempts a charming smile, but it turns into a grimace as you start preparing the sutures. “You know I can’t help it. Danger follows me everywhere.”
“Mhmm,” you hum skeptically. “And I’m sure you do nothing to encourage it.”
As you begin stitching, Charles lets out an exaggerated groan. “Y/N, you’re torturing me. Is this revenge for forgetting our dinner reservation last week?”
You can’t help but chuckle. “If I wanted revenge, I’d let Pierre patch you up instead. Now hold still, unless you want a scar to ruin your perfect skin.”
Charles pouts, looking more like a petulant child than the feared boss of the Monegasque Mafia. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
“Only a little,” you admit with a smirk. “Someone has to keep that ego of yours in check.”
As you finish the last stitch, Charles flexes his arm experimentally. “You know, for someone who claims to care about me, you’re awfully indifferent about my pain.”
You start cleaning up, shaking your head in amusement. “Stop getting shot if you don’t want stitches.”
Charles’ hand snakes around your waist, pulling you closer. “But it hurts,” he whines playfully. “You should kiss me, treat me with care. I’m your patient, you should be good to me.”
You laugh, gently extracting yourself from his grip. “Nice try. But doctor’s orders are rest and recovery. No strenuous activity for at least a week.”
Charles’ eyes widen in horror. “A week? You can’t be serious. What am I supposed to do for a whole week?”
“I don’t know,” you tease, “maybe try not getting into gunfights? I hear it’s good for your health.”
Charles stands, testing his arm’s mobility. “You know that’s not what I meant. Come on, mon amour, surely there are some ... activities we could engage in that won’t strain my arm?”
You raise an eyebrow, trying to keep a straight face. “No sex, Charles. You’ll pull your stitches.”
“You’re so mean to me,” Charles groans dramatically, flopping back onto the examination table. Then, a mischievous glint appears in his eye. “What about just a little ... oral attention? That won’t affect my arm at all.”
You can’t help but laugh at his persistence. “You’re impossible, you know that?”
Charles grins, clearly thinking he’s won. “But you love me anyway.”
“God help me, I do,” you admit, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his forehead. “But the answer is still no. Doctor’s orders, remember?”
Charles sighs in defeat. “Fine, fine. But you owe me when I’m healed.”
“I’ll make it worth the wait,” you promise with a wink. “Now, let’s get you to bed. And I mean for sleeping, mister.”
As you help Charles to his feet, he leans in, his breath hot against your ear. “You know, this whole stern doctor act is incredibly sexy. Maybe we could role-play once I’m better?”
You playfully swat his uninjured arm. “Behave or I’ll have Pierre stand guard outside our door to make sure you rest.”
Charles chuckles as you guide him out of the medical suite and towards the bedroom. “You wouldn’t dare. Pierre’s terrified of walking in on us after last time.”
The memory makes you blush. “Don’t remind me. I still can’t look him in the eye.”
As you reach the opulent bedroom, you help him settle into bed. He catches your hand as you turn to leave. “Stay with me?” He asks, his voice soft and vulnerable in a way few people ever get to hear.
Your resolve melts. “Just to sleep. I mean it, Charles.”
You kick off your shoes and climb into bed beside him, careful not to jostle his injured arm. Charles immediately pulls you close with his good arm, nuzzling into your neck.
“Thank you,” he murmurs. “Not just for this, but for everything. For patching me up, for putting up with my dangerous life, for ... for loving me despite it all.”
The sincerity in his voice touches you deeply. You turn in his embrace to face him, cupping his cheek gently. “Charles, I don’t love you despite your life. I love all of you, dangerous parts included. Though I could do with fewer midnight patch-up sessions.”
Charles chuckles softly. “I’ll try to schedule my injuries for more convenient times in the future.”
You roll your eyes fondly. “How about trying to avoid injuries altogether?”
“Where’s the fun in that?” Charles teases, but then his expression turns serious. “I know my life isn’t easy, Y/N. I know I ask a lot of you. If it ever becomes too much ...”
You silence him with a gentle kiss. “Stop right there. I’m not going anywhere. I knew what I was getting into, and I choose this — I choose you — every day.”
Charles’ arms tighten around you, mindful of his injury. “I don’t deserve you.”
“Probably not,” you agree with a smirk. “But you’re stuck with me anyway.”
As you lay there in comfortable silence, your mind drifts to the events of the past year. The increased security measures, the close calls, the exhilarating highs and terrifying lows of being part of Charles’ world. It hasn’t been easy, but you wouldn’t trade it for anything.
“What are you thinking about?” Charles asks softly, noticing your contemplative mood.
You trace lazy patterns on his chest as you answer. “Just ... everything. How much has changed in a year. How different my life is now.”
Charles tenses slightly. “Do you ever regret it? Getting involved with me, I mean.”
You prop yourself up on an elbow to look at him properly. “Never. It’s crazy and dangerous and sometimes I think I must be out of my mind, but I’ve never been happier.”
The relief on Charles’ face is palpable. “Even when I wake you up at ungodly hours to stitch me up?”
“Even then,” you assure him with a smile. “Though I reserve the right to be grumpy about it.”
Charles laughs, then winces as the movement jostles his arm. “Fair enough. I suppose I should be grateful you haven’t accidentally stitched anything embarrassing into me yet.”
You grin mischievously. “Don’t give me ideas. I’m sure ‘Drama Queen’ would look lovely across your bicep.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” Charles gasps in mock horror.
“Try me,” you challenge playfully. “Keep whining about your injuries and find out.”
Charles pulls you closer, nuzzling into your hair. “Alright, alright. I’ll be a model patient from now on.”
You snort in disbelief. “I’ll believe that when I see it. Now get some rest. Doctor’s orders.”
As Charles’ breathing evens out, you find yourself marveling at the turn your life has taken. From a chance encounter in a dark alley to this — sharing a bed with one of the most powerful men in Monaco, patching up bullet wounds in the middle of the night.
It’s not the life you ever imagined for yourself, but as you feel the steady beat of Charles’ heart beneath your hand, you know it’s exactly where you’re meant to be. Dangerous, complicated, and wonderfully yours.
You press a soft kiss to Charles’ chest, careful not to wake him. “I love you,” you whisper, knowing that no matter what challenges tomorrow brings, you’ll face them together.
As sleep begins to claim you, your last coherent thought is a mix of amusement and affection. You make a mental note to stock up on lollipops – it seems your most frequent patient has a penchant for post-treatment rewards, and you have a feeling you’ll be seeing a lot more of his pouty face in the future.
But that’s okay. Because for every whine, every pout, every dramatic sigh, there’s also the fierce protectiveness, the tender moments, and the love that radiates from Charles in everything he does. It’s a package deal, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.
With a contented sigh, you snuggle closer to Charles and let sleep take you, ready to face whatever adventures — or misadventures — tomorrow might bring.
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mapis-putellas · 1 month ago
Text
𝑫𝒓𝒖𝒏𝒌𝒆𝒏 𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒔
Pairing: Alexia putellas x reader
Words: 2264
Warnings: alcohol
Summary: You’re drunk, and therefore very curious as to whether or not Alexia would still love you if you were a worm.
[prompt list]
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"Amor? I have ordered dinner. Is there-" Alexia cuts herself off mid sentence as she pauses in the threshold of the living room, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. You were standing just by the front door tucking your keys into the small purse you had hooked over your shoulder, dressed in a way that suggests it was evident you were heading out and not ready for the movie night Alexia had been planning.
"Where are you going?" She asks, lips slipping into a small frown.
You look up at the sound of her voice, your lips quirking up into a small smile as you walk over to her. "Out with Mapi, remember? I told you when you got home." You reach to take the hands she'd folded against her chest.
Alexia frowns, momentarily thinking back to when she'd gotten home a little over an hour ago before adamantly shaking her head. "No, you didn't." She insists.
"Baby, I did. I promise," you laugh softly, knowing just how scatterbrained she sometimes got after a long day of training and media duties. "Mapi and I have had this planned for a few weeks. Drinks and dinner. You were invited too but you said no." You attempt to jog her memory.
Alexia desperately wracks her mind in hopes to remember said conversation she can't remember taking place, but inevitably she comes up empty.
"You don't remember, do you?" You tease softy, letting go of one of her hands and playfully poking her nose, Alexia batting away your hand away with a quiet huff.
"No." She grumbles, her lips forming a pout that you were quick to kiss away. Her arms circle your shoulders, your own looping around her waist and squeezing softly in return.
"How long will you be?" She murmurs, the tips of her fingers trailing through the ends of your hair.
You purse your lips for a second in thought. "I'm not sure babe," you shrug. "A few hours? Maybe more?"
With Mapi in charge of drinks, it was highly likely you'll be out till at least midnight. When you say that girl could drink, you mean it with everything in you.
Alexia nods with a soft exhale. "Vale. I will save you dinner. Just in case." She murmurs, both looking and sounding a little disappointed over the fact you wouldn't be staying in with her.
Truth be told, you were too, though probably not as much.
Of course you absolutely adored Alexia, and given the chance you would spend every single night and day with her for the rest of your life. But Mapi was your best friend. Your best friend who you hadn't hung out with in months and had already rejected numerous invitations from before agreeing to this one a few weeks ago, so it would be extremely unfair to cancel on her now, and plus, you had been looking forward to it.
"You can come with us, you know." You say as you play idly with the waistband of her sweats, not wanting her to feel left out.
Alexia scrunches up her nose before shaking her head, the very answer you'd expected. She never liked to drink during the season, and when forced out with her team for celebrations, she would always stick to water. No matter how much Mapi tries and convinces her otherwise.
"No, amor. It is okay. I will stay here. Watch a game, maybe." She murmurs as she cups your cheeks, trailing her thumbs over the soft skin just briefly before leaning in to press a gentle kiss to your forehead.
"Are you sure?" You ask as she pulls away, tilting your head to the side.
Alexia smiles. "Sí. I am sure. I will see you later, vale? Be safe."
You lean up on your tiptoes and peck her lips before pulling away and making your way over to the front door. "I will. Promise. I love you." You smile.
"Te amo, bebé."
Alexia watches you go before collapsing onto the couch with a quiet sigh. She felt pathetic for missing you already, having every intention prior to spending the night with you curled up on this very couch.
It was just one night, she reminds herself. Get over it.
*
It was way past midnight when Alexia finally hears the front door open and close, the muffled voices of you and Mapi filling her ears as she pulls out her headphones and sets both them and her phone onto her nightstand.
"Amor?" Alexia calls as she slides out of bed, crossing her bare arms against her chest as she makes her way out of the room. She finds you both still in the entryway of your shared apartment, talking loudly between yourselves as you lean on one another to futilely attempt to kick off your shoes. Neither one of you were particularly successful.
"Amor?" She tries again.
Your head whips round at the sound of her voice, eyes lighting up as you stumble over to her and all but throw your arms around her shoulders. Alexia catches you with no more than a soft grunt as your chest collides none too gently with her own, her arms instinctively looping around your waist.
"Hi baby, I missed you!" You slur, lips upturned into a crooked grin as you stare up at her. Alexia can't help but smile back as she loosely tucks a damp strand of hair out of your face.
"I missed you too bebé. Did you have fun?" She questions, already knowing the answer but wanting to hear it from you. Her eyes seem to instinctively flicker over to Mapi as you ramble animatedly about your night, the Spaniard still struggling to kick off her shoes as she stumbles and lets out quiet curses beneath her breath.
"-so much fun!" You finish off your drunk ramble as your head flops dramatically against her chest, Alexia humming response as she leans forward and brushes her lips against your forehead in a gentle kiss.
"Oh!" You cry suddenly as you whip your head up from her chest, Alexia's eyes widening in surprise as she stares down at you. You let out a quiet hiccup as you pat her face softly, Alexia grimacing subtly at the clamminess of your fingers.
"Mapi is sleeping here." You tell her 'sternly'.
Alexia's eyebrows furrow in confusion. “Mapi has her own house, no?"
"Yes but-" you hiccup. "But we want a sleepover, and Ingrid isn't home."
Alexia goes to speak again, but was promptly cut off by Mapi who now successfully had her shoes off and was stumbling to her feet.
"Sleepover!" She suddenly yells, Alexia visibly startling at the sound is she glances between the two of you unsurely.
"Sleepover!" You mimic, yanking yourself out of Alexia's hold. The blonde tries not to pout at the loss as she instinctively crosses her arms against her chest.
"Sleepover?" She repeats unsurely.
"Mhhh," you nod, sounding determined. "I am sleeping in bed with Mapi." 
"Qué?" Alexia frowns. You were choosing to sleep in bed with Mapi as opposed to her?
"Me and-" another hiccup. "Me and Mapi are going to have a sleepover, together."
Alexia's eyebrows furrow. "Why?"
"Because she'll be lonely by herself." You say, sounding genuinely annoyed that she didn't already know the answer to your question. It makes Alexia pause unsurely before she dares to speak again.
"But then I will be lonely." She futilely attempts to convince.
"It is-" you hiccup. "okay." You attempt to reassure though Alexia didn't find much comfort in your words.
She knows it wasn't rational to argue with you when you were the drunk. You were stubborn. So much so it was sometimes concerning. But Alexia had been by herself all night. She'd missed you, more so than she was willing to admit out loud and she couldn't quite find it in her to admit defeat just yet. 
"Please?" She finds herself pleading, sounding so unlike herself it makes her feel sick.
You hesitate, looking visibly unsure on what your next move should be. It was like deep down you knew something was wrong, but you were way too intoxicated to really figure it out.
Eventually, it appears as though your drunkenness wins out anyway, Alexia letting out a quiet exhale as she watches you tighten your grasp around Mapi's hand. "It's just for one night." You slur, sounding more convinced than Alexia feels.
She nods anyway, no longer willing to try and convince you otherwise when it was clear you had already made up your mind. Both you and Mapi soon disappear down the hall and into the guest room, the door slamming behind you a little harder than Alexia deems necessary. Swallowing yet another wince, she heads towards the front door and makes quick work of locking up for the night.
A night alone it was.
*
Alexia has no idea what time it is when the bedroom door of your shared room slowly creaks open, the hallway light shining in and illuminating the left side of the large bed she'd been left to sleep in alone. She sits up on her elbow, lips quirking up into a hopeful smile when she see's you tentatively peek your head through the gap the partially open door had created.
"Ale?" You murmur, not quite sounding fully sober but definitely not as intoxicated as you once had been.
"I'm here." Alexia assures quietly.
You step properly into the room before quietly closing the door behind you. "Mapi snores," you grumble as you stumble over to her and climb into bed, Alexia immediately bombarded by your body collapsing down onto her own forcing her head back onto its pillow. She loosely secures her arms around your waist as you continue talking.
"And she kicks." You nestle your head into her chest, your exhale of content seeping through the material of her shirt and hitting her skin. "You're much more comfortable."
Alexia raises an eyebrow. "I am?" She murmurs into the top of your head, her hand slipping beneath your shirt and resting on the bare skin of your back.
"Mhhh," You murmur, heavy lids fluttering closed. "It's sleepy time now."
"Okay." Alexia accepts with ease. You were still in the shirt you'd gone out in, and it was clear you hadn't brushed your teeth either, but she figures convincing you to get properly ready for bed now would only be pointless considering it appears as though you were only moments away from falling asleep. With the knowledge she had no choice other than to deal with it, she presses one last kiss to the top of your head before allowing her own eyes to close.
"Alexia?" Your quiet voice fills the room just as Alexia was on the brink of sleep.
"Mhh?"
"I love you."
Alexia smiles as she absentmindedly begins trailing the palm of her hand over the length of your back. "I love you too, bebé." She murmurs.
A few moments pass.
“Alexia?"
The blonde just about manages to refrain from groaning. "Sí, mi amor?"
"Would you still love me if I was a worm?" You ask with genuine curiosity.
Alexia's eyes whip open as she lifts her head off of her pillow. "Qué?"
You lift your head up off of her chest. It was too dark to see your face fully, but she could just about make out the outline of your features.
"Would you still love me if I was a worm?" You ask again, your voice becoming more insistent.
Alexia groans quietly as she drops her head back onto her pillow. "What does that even mean?" She grumbles, lifting one of her hands to rub at her eye.
"It means," you scoot up her body slightly as you clumsily cup her cheeks. Her lips pucker at the action, and she can't help but smile when you lean in and press a somewhat uncoordinated kiss to them. "If I was a worm, would you still love me?" You repeat yourself for the third time as you pull away.
"Amor, I-"
"Would you?"
"I don't-"
You sit up suddenly, legs straddling her hips as you cross your arms over your chest. "You wouldn't, would you?"
Alexia is baffled at the sudden anger in your voice. She forces herself to sit up too, arms winding around your waist effectively holding your chest flush against her own. "I never said that." She defends herself as she presses her lips against your cheek.
"But you didn't not say that either." You grumble, the pout audible in your words.
Alexia sighs heavily as she glances at the clock. Three thirty in the morning was not the time to be having this conversation.
"Amor, I would love you no matter what." She explains, hoping to end this conversation here so she could finally get some sleep.
Your arms uncross as you lean properly against her and rest your head on her shoulder. "Even if I was  worm?" You ask quietly.
Alexia nods as she cups the back of your head and grazes the pad of her thumb over your scalp, smiling at the deep sigh of content that falls from your lips. "Sí. Even if you were a worm." She placates, and you hum in satisfaction as you clutch tightly to the back of her grey tank top.
"I would love you if you were a worm too." You murmur sleepily, and Alexia huffs out a breath of amusement as she settles back against her pillow. 
"I am glad, amor."
"Alexia?"
Alexia groans. "Bebé, it's late. Go to sleep."
"But I'm hungry!" You complain loudly.
Alexia sighs. Of course you were.
**
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@girlgenius1111 @codiemarin @marysfics @helen-with-an-a @xxnaiaxx @liloandstitchstan @goldenempyrean
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nativegirltapes · 3 months ago
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outer banks — drew starkey
pairing , drew starkey x angel!reader (younger!reader)
summary , basically just drew trying to be mean during sex but he’s too nice for that and you’re just too pretty for that. supposed to just kinda be a cute little funny moment between the two :)
warnings/notes , fingering. why am i nervous to post this. i literally just hate how i write smut cuz i literally don’t know how to write it 🍰 feedback is appreciated. <33
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after much persuasion, drew agreed to watch outer banks with you. not only did he hate seeing himself on his own living room tv, but he hated how much commentary you always had to add while watching it together. although your little jokes and remarks always made him laugh, he always got embarrassed watching you watch him do his job. but you thought he looked so good, how could he be embarrassed when he looked that hot?
you were cuddled up next to drew, now on season 3 of outer banks, and to be honest you were only really paying attention when rafe came on the screen. you'd be lying if you said you didn't have a little crush on drew's character.
"how do you think rafe fucks?" you broke the silence, looking up at drew, still nuzzled in his chest.
"what?" he looked at you super confused. mentally asking himself if he just asked what he thought you did.
"how do you think rafe fucks?" you asked again, this time with an even more serious expression on your face. you were determined to get an answer.
realizing you were actually curious, drew spat out a boring and not well thought out response. "i dont know. mean probably."
"you should fuck me the way you think rafe would fuck me."
drew's eyes went super wide, you were never this bold. ever. for the first six months of dating drew you'd literally get so nervous everytime you guys were about to have sex he'd have to calm you down. but he wasn't complaining about this bolder side of you. he thought it was hot.
"you want me," drew collected his thoughts one last time, making sure he heard what you actually said. "you want me to fuck you how i think rafe would fuck you?"
"yes."
ᡣ𐭩˙⋆.˚ 🐻
it was a few days after you and drew had your little outer banks rerun binge when you both came home from a fancy dinner, both having drunk too much wine at the restaurant, especially you.
you'd been all over drew the minute you both got back to his place. "you look so yummy." you clung to his arm as he walked you both to his bedroom. you could still feel his huge bicep through the suit he was wearing. "i want you drew." you took a seat on the edge of his bed, looking up at him with your red watery drunken eyes and pouty lips. mentally praying that he'd make the next move so you didn't have to. you felt needy enough already.
"what do you want?" drew stepped closer to you on the bed, his knees meeting yours while standing in front of you on his bed.
"i want you." usually drew got exactly what that meant the first time you'd say it; you wanted some dick. but it felt like tonight he was making you really ask for it.
"lay down." drew's voice was demanding, not in any way he'd ever been before. it was kind of hot.
of course you listened, about willing to do anything for him to just fuck you already.
you watched as drew took off his suit and made his way towards you on the bed. you had a big grin on your face.
before you could even question him he connected his lips to yours. the kiss was rough and full of desperation. usually drew started out with soft slow kisses, which turned into more rough kisses.
in between drew's sloppy kisses, his fingers found their way between your thighs, already sliding in your panties. "damn, that fuckin' wet already?" drew shoved two fingers in without any warning. you squealed at the sudden movement. it was unlike him, but you were too horny too address it.
"drew." you moaned out, but it came out as kind of a whisper.
you wondered where this side of drew was coming from, was he really that horny too? either way you weren't complaining.
"so fuckin' tight." drew watched your face as he added another finger. "letting me finger you right after a fancy dinner? you're so nasty."
you giggled at drew's words. it all clicked in your head, you went back a few nights to when you told drew that he should fuck you the way he thinks rafe would.
your giggling distracted drew, making him let out a little chuckle himself. "what're you laughing for?"
"is this your impression of rafe?" you giggled again, lifting your head up to look at him, laughing again at the realization. you didn't think drew would actually listen. part of you thought it was sweet though, he just wanted you to give you what you wanted.
"maybe," drew got a little flustered, nervous that maybe you didn't like it. "do you like it?"
"i dont know. i kind of miss you just complimenting me."
"okay." drew said with his fingers literally still inside of you.
"that doesn't mean stop."
"sorry baby." drew picked up his pace again, going back to complimenting you rather than trying to degrade you. he liked it better that way too. you were too pretty to be mean to.
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woso-dreamzzz · 3 months ago
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Leaving VII
Alexia Putellas x Teen!Reader
Summary: Olympic chaos with your sister
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Y/NPutellas.S has started a live video. Click to join!
"-Got two backpacks," You're saying as Alexia clicks on your video," I think one of them might become my racket bag because the one I'm using right now is falling apart."
You shove the bags away, glancing around the space as you drag more towards you.
"There's a toiletry bag as well which is full of stuff I probably won't even use."
You pause as you scroll through the comments.
"What sport am I competing in? Oh, I'm doing tennis...Who will be the hardest to play against? Iga, always. I train with her most of the time and I think I've only beaten her a few matches this year. She's scary. Coco always gives me a good competition too. I think she text me a few hours ago but I haven't answered just yet."
You go back to showing off your haul.
You're very complimentary of all of the shoes but you seem confused as to why you've been given so many socks.
Alexia takes a screenshot of a weird face you make while trying on the bucket hat and hastily makes it her profile picture.
"I'm not a fan of the opening skirt," You tell your followers," It's not really my style. I'll wear it because I have to but...What's that? My sister's here?"
You crowd a bit closer to your phone, brows furrowed as you scroll up looking for Alexia's comments.
She feels triumphant at the look of horror on your face when you see her profile picture.
"Alexia!" You shriek," Change it back! My eyes aren't even open! Ale, please!"
Alexia does not change it back and you swear under your breath at her.
"I'm telling Mama!"
Alexia Putellas: Go ahead, you little snitch
"I'm not a snitch!"
Alexia Putellas: Yes, you are
"Don't listen to her guys! She's such a liar!"
You've always been more active on social media than Alexia and fans eat up any content you post on your TikTok. Most of your fans are just people that watch tennis but you've gone viral overnight when you posted a video of you and Iga reuniting at the Olympic Village.
Suddenly, everyone wants content from you and you're posting more than you ever have before.
A lot of it still centres around your tennis, out on the practice courts with the rest of team Spain but there's more domestic things like you retaping your racket grip and showing off everything in the Olympic Village.
Something in Alexia snaps when you make a video complaining about how uncomfortable your cardboard bed is. Suddenly, she's stitching your video.
Her camera pans across her normal hotel bed and ends with her giving a thumbs up to the camera with a smug grin on her face.
Her own fans go crazy over her posting something outside of sponsorships and it's strange to see that some people don't even know who you are.
woso.alexia.engen: Who was the first person in the video???? -> captainklittle: Alexia's little sister! She's representing Spain for tennis!
A second stitch appears hours later, piggybacking off a video of you complaining about your lack of AC. There's no sound apart from the very deliberate flick of Alexia's own AC switch.
It seems every complaint you post, Alexia finds a way to show off how much better she has it in a hotel outside of Paris.
You decide, perhaps a little pettily, to show off what she's missing.
"Hi, guys!" You say," I know a lot of people were wondering about pin trading so I thought I would bring you along for the ride! I've already got a Poland one from Iga and a US one from Coco but I've been wanting a Team GB one and I'm also meeting up with Paolini so she can give me an Italy one."
It's another live video and thank god there's a break in training, so Alexia can jump onto it again.
Jenni and Misa crowd around her at the same time, curious as to what's going on with you.
"I was talking to Carlos at breakfast and he was telling me that the coaches have ordered us all mattress toppers because the beds have started to affect how we're performing."
Alexia Putellas: Sucks to be you, doesn't it?
"Alexia, I swear to god if you keep bullying me then I'm telling Mama and she'll fly out to whoop your ass!"
Alexia Putellas: 🤪
"And Jenni I knew that it's you that just sent that because Alexia doesn't understand emojis."
"Fuck," Jenni mutters.
"Wait, give me the phone. I'll fix it," Misa says.
Alexia Putellas: Who's Jenni?
"Misa, I know that's you as well. Stop trying to cover for each other and I'll tell Mama and she'll whoop all of you."
Alexia doesn't get her phone back for the rest of your live but she does get a strongly worded text from Eli after it's over to grow up and not let her friends bully you.
Alexia calls you a snitch.
You remind her that she should stop bullying you.
"Look who it is!" Jenni cajoles as you come running out of the village to crash into Alexia," Baby Putellas!"
But you're not really listening to her as Alexia presses her forehead against yours, whispering fast Catalan to you as you giggle.
"Aw..." Misa continues where Jenni left off," Look at them! Two sisters! Reunited!"
You and Alexia push each other away, turning your back and pretending that you weren't hugging just a few moments ago.
You turn back to her quickly, hand out. "Can I have your pins?"
"What? No! They're mine!"
"You're not even in the Village! You can't use them!"
"Yes I can!" Alexia splutters out," I've been trading them!"
"Yeah? With who?"
"Jenni!"
"Liar! You've got the same pins! Come on, Ale. Give them over!"
"I will...for a price."
As Alexia lays out her terms, you bring everyone up to your room.
Jenni and Misa split off briefly to check out the dining hall but Alexia comes straight up with you.
"It's actually cardboard," She says, poking at your bed frame.
"Yeah? Do you think we were all lying about that? It's proper cardboard. You can draw on it if you want."
A smile splits your sister's face open.
"Never mind. I don't want you drawing on my bed."
Alexia pokes it. "Do you think it's true? That two people can't get on it at the same time?"
You shrug, rummaging through your bedside table. "I don't know. Why?"
You never get your answer though.
Arms are around your waist suddenly and you're being hauled backwards as Alexia slams herself onto your bed, dragging you back with her.
You may not get an answer but Alexia certainly does because the moment the two of you land, there's an almighty ripping noise and your bed goes to ground very quickly.
"Oops," You sister says.
"Alexia!"
"Sorry?"
"You don't sound very sorry at all."
"Yeah...You're right. I'm not sorry in the slightest. Hey! Stop hitting me!"
"You're lucky I'm not beating you with my rackets!"
"Hey. Hey! It's fine! You can get a new bed."
"Jenni and Misa are going to take the piss out of me! How could you do this, Ale?"
As annoying as your sister is, she at least has the decency to push the blame off onto her friends as you both hastily raise your bed up again and wait for Jenni and Misa to arrive.
They seem to have the same idea as Alexia, jumping onto your bed without so much of a greeting.
But, as planned, the bed collapses under them and the shock of their faces is enough for Alexia breaking your bed to be worth it. Their faces are even funnier as they head downstairs to ask for a new one for you.
Behind your back, Alexia passes you a handful of pins.
JenniHermoso10 has started a live video. Click to join!
"Forward! Forward!"
"I am going forward!"
"More forward! When I say forward, it doesn't mean shuffle! It means walk forward! You're a person not a pigeon!"
"And here we have Olympic football player Alexia Putellas and Olympic tennis player y/n Putellas, attempting to climb onto the rings," Jenni narrates from behind the camera.
"It's not going well," Misa says, as Alexia nearly throws you from your spot on her shoulders," Alexia is clearly struggling."
"I'm not struggling!" Alexia insists, yelping as you twist her hair in your hands.
"Forward!
"This is as forward as I can get!"
"That's such bullshit! Move closer!"
"I can't!"
"You can!"
"I don't think they're ever going to make it," Jenni says," It's like they can't-"
"Stop! Ale, stop! Left a bit. No! Too left. Right again. Left! Right! Left!"
"Left, right, forward, back," Alexia mutters," Make up your mind."
"Left and...got it...Wait! Don't let go!"
You haul yourself from your sister's shoulders onto the centre ring, positioning yourself perched on the sliver of the yellow ring that enters the black one.
"Alright," Alexia says," Give me a hand."
"What? No! You'll pull me off!"
"Give me your hand!"
"No!"
"Yes!"
"No!"
She braces herself on the lower rings and grabs your hand, pulling herself into the centre ring before you can even shove her off.
"Oh," She says," That was pretty easy." Alexia grins at you but the smile drops from her face when she notices the pensive look you're wearing. "What is it?"
"I've just realised," You laugh in disbelief," When Mama said she wanted a picture of us and the rings. I think she meant in front of them. Not in them."
"Oh."
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mrfoox · 2 years ago
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Ok over an hour later and no im still a mess...
#miranda talking shit#I know i wont find an answer today bc i need time to weight pros and cons etc but like... My mind really is all over#Do i have the right to set some kind of rules? He's more experienced than me and this was his idea. Meanwhile im a virgin and basically not#Done much at all... Would it be crazy if i set some rules or boundaries anf what would those be? The obvious is. If i say im uncomfortable#It stops. That goes for him too. But idk if i can demand more and what it would be? I at one hand cant see myself setting the pace#Bc im so anxious and shy... Plus i wonder if theres anything one can do about ... Me feelinh potentially used? I dont know#Thats a worry for me. That he'll just want to f me and then hes gone. He said he wouldn't bc he cares about me#But its a worry? But how would that... Work... He have to give me a hug before he leaves? Would that be stupid idk.#My biggest fears is that I'll feel used or develop more feelings. I think i have the feelings under control. I obviously like him already#But if we do this we would go in with those expectations. Id not expect him to love me like that... I feel like i should for my own saftey#Set up some ttpe of rules to prevent me being hurt but i have no experience so i cant say what a rule would be stupid and what would be#Helpful/reasonable? I also know. We wont go all the way any time soon. He said that to me that he knows that im still a virgin#And he would not want to be the one to take it if i wasnt completely comfortable with it. He knows that if we do iy it'll be very#Well... Mild for a long time unless always. I know anyone who knows me will most likely scream and tell me not to... But also more than 50%#Of me really wants to... I feel like if this is a mistake? He'll be the best person I'd be able to do that mistake with? Does that make#Any sense? Because i trust him and like him and i feel like he does the same for me... I feel he would listen to me and respect me and not#Force me or push himself on me? And im definitely curious... Like yeah... And id kinda want to get some more experience... And gasp#Have fun??? Like when we discussed this even i laughed. He made me laugh during this. So i was obviously comfortable enough to do that#I guess this is an brain vs heart thing... Am i stupid and selfish for wanting this bc it'll potentially feel good and I'll feel wanted?#Maybe. Probably. But also... I can not think of any mistake like this ive ever made in my life. I havent allowed myself to do stupid shit#Ive not gotten stupid wasted or done something like that in my teens... This feels. If it'll hurt I'll learn from it and not be scarred#Forever? But i dont know. I think big part is that its new and exciting and all that and i want something like that... I want to feel#Something like that.... At least for a while as long as its actually fun...#Any advice or thoughts please do share. I know i sound naive and stupid bc i am honestly... But is that only a bad thing?#Idk genuinely so... Any thoughts I'll take anything. Or questions or any own experience i just need some others views
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bamsara · 2 months ago
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I'll ask, if it hasn't been already - regarding the tags on the fanfic poll:
What kinda things make you click out/give you the squick? I'm so curious 👀
rubs my hands together: could be a mix of things anywhere between character dynamics, personalities or even how the fic is formated
Btw for people who don't know what squicks are: 'Squicks' are just personal preferences that someone doesn't like. Nothing wrong with em it's just not your vibe. (Exp: Like how all my friends HATE tomatoes but I am tomato eater forever)
anyway long ramble list:
Can't read big blocks of text without breaks very well, and I dislike when characters (esp main characters that are talking in every chapter/scene) have bolded or italicized dialogue. I think it's fine for special reoccurring characters but it genuinely messes up with reading flow for me when it comes to taking in information if used too much
If I'm reading a fic specifically for a monogamous romantic paring, I don't care for the 'past lover interest reappears' trope or one of them currently has one, or the love triangle that results in one of them being like 'oh but i love them both i can't possibly choose!' *cough twilight cough* it just makes the relationship feel disgenuine and icky. zero stars. Any mention of a character's past relationship usually makes me just click out, just personally not here for that
-^^^ to go with this, big fan of the 'misunderstanding where someone thinks there's a love rivelry but the third person never had a chance.' Like to the main pairing there's only eyes for each other and that's all they care about, there's just some third person who's there and causing problems (either because someone in the pairing is jealous of the third person thinking they're gonna steal the other when it's not, or the third person thinks they're a love rival when in reality they're not even thought about) *cough Tyren cough*. I think there's a lotta comedy to have with this. Bonus points if it brings main pairing closer together
When characters have linear character development and recovery. I prefer my characters to realistically relapse and bit a little bit of a hypocrite as they develop from start of story to end. Failing and falling short and again makes the final result much more satisfying when they're healing
When characters use 'therapy speak' or otherwise react perfectly 'acceptable' to stressful situations. Again, I prefer realistic depictions of characters under stress, and work out becoming better under that stress rather than just One Big Thing Happen and suddenly they're never going to react negatively or lash out again because another character told them It Was Bad and To find Better Coping Mechanisms.
Unhappy endings. (Or open ended ones) Sorry for hurt/no comfort lovers but none of my fics will have unhappy endings. I like my stories to have people that go through absolute hell and still come out on the otherside
The ace in me doesn't care for fics where physical attraction is a large part of the ingredients that gets the pairing together. Not saying they can't admire each other when the sunlight hits them or wearing a nice outfit but just not a fan of reading about how 'sexy' a character is to another. Probably why I usually blast all my characters with the aspec beam
That's all I can think of off the top of my head but if someone had a more specific question I might be able to answer
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