#Ricard eyes

[ghassanrassam]

1957 kids, robots, and bad supercomputers, less powerful than your iPhone but already showing AI evil tendencies

[l4ndonorizz]

1 night – charles leclerc x reader / pt one

pairing: charles leclerc x reader

song: Mura Masa and Charli xcx – 1 Night

summary: carting would be boring, right?

wc: 1.3k / part two

The sun was setting over the French Riviera, casting a warm golden glow over the Circuit Paul-Ricard. It felt almost surreal, being here on your first proper vacation in what felt like forever. You and your friends had decided to spend a few days in the south of France, drawn in by the beauty of the coastline and the excitement of the 42-hour charity race honoring Jules Bianchi.

Your friends were participating in the race, a grueling endurance event that brought together professional and amateur drivers, all racing for a cause close to their hearts. The paddock was alive with energy, filled with people from all over, and the atmosphere was electric. You were there to support your friends, but among the throngs of racers and fans, you couldn’t help but feel a little out of place.

It was late in the afternoon, and the event was in full swing. Among the drivers was none other than Charles Leclerc, a familiar face to anyone even slightly interested in Formula 1. You’d seen him countless times on TV, but seeing him here in person—so effortlessly commanding attention—was something else entirely. You stood near the edge of the paddock, watching the cars blur past on the track, their engines roaring in the distance. The atmosphere was thick with excitement, but your mind wandered, appreciating the beauty of the night more than the race itself. The sky had turned into a canvas of orange and pink, reflecting off the sleek race cars as they zoomed by.

The chatter of people surrounded you, but you felt strangely at ease, content to enjoy the race from afar. That’s when you noticed him—Charles Leclerc. He was standing nearby, surrounded by a small group of people. His presence was unmistakable, his white racing suit contrasting with the evening’s golden light.

You couldn’t help but sneak glances at him, taking in the way he laughed and interacted with those around him. He seemed so at ease, despite the high-stakes race ahead. Suddenly, as if sensing your gaze, his eyes met yours. It was just for a moment, but the connection was electric, sending a jolt through you.

You quickly looked away, pretending to be engrossed in the race, but out of the corner of your eye, you saw Charles break away from his group. Heart pounding, you tried to compose yourself as you felt him approach.

“Hey, I haven’t seen you around here before,” Charles said, his voice smooth and easy, laced with curiosity.

You turned, slightly startled to find him standing so close. He was even more striking up close, his brown eyes bright with interest. For a second, you were lost for words.

“I… I’m just here with some friends,” you managed, your voice surprisingly steady despite the nervous flutter in your stomach. “They’re racing in the charity event.”

Charles nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. “That’s cool. It’s a great cause. I haven’t seen you at any of the other races before, though.” His tone was playful, but there was an underlying sincerity to it.

You shrugged, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. “I’m more of a spectator than a racer. This is actually my first time at something like this.”

Charles’ smile widened, a hint of mischief in his eyes. “A first-timer, huh? Well, I promise we don’t bite—most of the time,” he teased, his gaze flickering over your face as if studying your reaction. There was something disarming about his charm, the way he managed to be both confident and approachable at the same time.

You laughed, the sound coming out more natural than you expected. “I think I can handle it.”

“I’m sure you can,” he replied smoothly, his tone suggesting more than just handling the race. For a moment, you wondered if you were imagining the flirtation in his voice, but then his eyes lingered on yours a second too long, confirming what you had suspected.

There was a brief pause as the two of you stood there, the sounds of the race and the crowd blending into the background. You could feel the tension building, the air between you thick with something unspoken.

“So, what brings you to this race specifically?” Charles asked, tilting his head slightly as if genuinely curious.

“My friends are competing, and they convinced me to tag along,” you explained, gesturing toward the track. “It’s a good excuse for a little french getaway.”

Charles chuckled softly, nodding. “France has that effect. And your friends—are they any good, or should I be worried?”

“They’re decent,” you replied with a grin, “but I think they’d be honored to be in the same race as you, let alone competing against you.”

“Flattering,” he said, the corners of his lips quirking up. “But I’ll keep an eye out for them.”

The way he said it, casual yet meaningful, made your heart race. He was clearly interested in more than just small talk. You felt the urge to keep the conversation going, but before you could think of something to say, he glanced at the paddock and then back at you.

“Would you like a tour of the paddock?” he offered, his voice a little quieter now, like it was a secret between just the two of you. “I can show you around, maybe introduce you to a few people.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the invitation. You hadn’t expected this, but the chance to spend more time with Charles—away from the crowd, with his attention fully on you—was tempting.

“That sounds great,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady.

As he led you toward the paddock, you walked side by side, his arm occasionally brushing against yours. The proximity sent a thrill through you, and every time you glanced at him, you caught him already looking at you, his eyes soft and curious.

Once inside the paddock, the noise from the crowd seemed to fade, replaced by the hum of the team’s activity. You watched as Charles greeted his team members with easy familiarity, but his attention never strayed far from you. He explained the ins and outs of the race prep, pointing out different areas of the pit lane, his voice low and smooth, as if this was a personal moment just for you.

“And this is where we’ll make history,” Charles said with a grin, stopping in front of his car. “Hopefully.”

You smiled, feeling at ease now in his presence. “No pressure, then.”

“Always pressure,” he replied, but his tone was light, playful.

There was a pause, and you realized how close the two of you were standing. The energy between you had shifted again, this time even more charged than before. You looked up at him, meeting his gaze fully, and for a second, the world around you seemed to disappear.

Charles leaned in slightly, his voice soft as he said, “You know, I’ve been to a lot of races, but I don’t think I’ve ever had a reason to look forward to one like this before.”

Your breath caught in your throat. His words hung in the air, the implication clear, and your pulse quickened at the thought.

Charles leaned in, closing the distance between us. Your lips met in a passionate kiss, the intensity of his emotions pouring into it. He wrapped his arms around you, the kiss deepening as he expressed everything he felt without words.

His hands gently cupped your face, his fingers tracing the line of your jaw as he kissed you more deeply.

Before you could respond, one of his team members called his name from across the paddock, breaking the moment. Charles straightened, glancing over his shoulder before turning back to you with a regretful smile.

“Duty calls,” he said, his tone apologetic but still warm. “But I’ll see you later, right?”

You nodded, feeling a little breathless. “Definitely.”

As he walked away, you watched him go, your heart still racing. The evening had taken an unexpected turn, and something told you this wouldn’t be the last time you crossed paths with Charles Leclerc. Not by a long shot.

Part two

[anotherhumaninthisworld]

Historians having takes on frev women that make me go 😐 compilation

Sexually frustrated in her marriage to a pompous civil servant much older than herself, [Madame Roland] may have found Danton’s celebrated masculinity rather uncomfortable. Danton (1978) by Norman Hampson, page 77.

The Robespierres sent their sister to Arras because that was their hometown, the family home, where they had relatives, uncles, aunts and friends, like Buissart who they didn’t cease to remain in correspondence with, even in the middle of the Terror. There, among them, Charlotte would not be alone; she would find advice, rest, the peace necessary to heal her nervousness and animosity. Away from Mme Ricard, who she hated, away from Mme Duplay, who she detested, she would enjoy auspicious calmness. It is Le Bon that the Robespierres will charge with escorting their sister to this neccessary and soothing exile. […] If there is a damning piece in Charlotte Robespierre's case, it is this one (her interrogation, held July 31 1794). She seems to be caught in the act of accusing this Maximilien whom she rehabilitates in her Memoirs. She is therefore indeed a hypocrite, unworthy of the great name she bears, and which she dishonors the very day after the holocaust of 10 Thermidor. Charlotte Robespierre et Guffroy (1910) in Annales Révolutionnaires, volume 3 (1910) page 322, and Charlotte Robespierre et ses mémoires (1909) page 93-94, both by Hector Fleishmann.

Elisabeth, as she was popularly called, was barely past her twelfth birthday, younger even by three years than Barere’s own mother when she was given in marriage. On the following day the guests assembled again in the little church of Saint-Martin at midnight to attend the wedding ceremony of the handsome charmer and the bewildered child. Dressed in white, clasping in her arms a yellow, satin-clad  doll that Bertrand had given her — so runs the tradition — she marched timidly to the altar, looking more like a maiden making her first communion than a woman celebrating a binding sacrament. Perhaps the  doll, if doll there was, filled her eye, but certainly she could not fail to note how handsome her husband was. Bertrand Barere; a reluctant terrorist (1962) by Leo Gershoy, page 32.

The young nun who bore the name of Hébert did not hide her fate. She did not wish to prolong a life stifled from her childhood in the cloister, branded in the world by the name she bore, fighting between horror and love for the memory of her husband, unhappy everywhere. Histoire des Girondins (1848) by Alphonse de Lamartine, volume 8, page 60.

Lucile in prison showed more calmness than Camille. Before the tribunal, she seemed to possess neither fear nor hope, she denied having taken an active role in the prison conspiracy. What did it matter to her the answer they were trying to extract from her? They said they wanted her guilty? Very well! She would be condemned and join Camille. This was what she said again when she was told that she would suffer the same fate as her husband: ”Oh, what joy, in a few hours I’m going to see Camille again!” Camille et Lucile Desmoulins: un couple dans la tourmente (1986) by Jean Paul Bertaud, page 293.

What did it matter to Lucile whether she was accused or defended? She had no longer any pretext for living in this world. She was one of those heroines of conjugal love who are more wife than mother. Besides, Horace lived, and Camille was dead. It was of the absent only that she thought. As for the child, would not Madame Duplessis act a mother's part to him? The grandmother would watch over the orphan. If Lucile had lived, she could have done nothing but weep over the cradle, thinking of Camille. Camille Desmoulins and his wife; passages from the history of the Dantonists founded upon new and hitherto unpublished documents (1876) by Jules Claretie.

Having been widowed at the age of 23 [sic] years, Élisabeth Duplay remarried a few years later to the adjutant general Le Bas, brother of her first husband, and kept the name which was her glory. She lived with dignity, and all those who have known her, still beautiful under her crown of white hair, have testified to the greatness of her sentiments and austerity of her character. She died at an old age, always loyal to the memory of the great dead she had loved and whose memory she, all the way to her final day, didn’t cease to honor and cherish. As for the lady of Thermidor, Thérézia Cabarrus, ex-marquise of Fontenay, citoyenne Tallien, then princess of Chimay, one knows the story of her three marriages, without counting the interludes. She had, as one knows, three husbands living at the same time. Now compare these two existances, these two women, and tell me which one merits more the respect and the sympathy of good men. Histoire de Robespierre et du coup d’état du 9 thermidor (1865) by Louis Ernest Hamel, volume 3, page 402.

Fel free to comment which one was your favorite! 😀

[sgiandubh]

Fly-fishing weekend?

Yesterday, on the Avochie Estate, in Aberdeenshire. It does sound more like a business trip, though - of course, that does not preclude combining business and pleasure:

Several auction lots have been given by Sassenach Spirits for the Deveron, Bogie and Isla Rivers Charitable Trust (https://www.deveron.org/)'s dinner auction, next September 6 (https://www.deveron.org/sundown-on-the-deveron-centenary-dinner-auction-in-association-with-bowlts/- the whisky will be graciously provided by Bacardi, though 😎). Hookergate seems to have passed completely unnoticed by that (big and very serious) local NGO board: not exactly the kind of people to read JJ, to be honest, so it's all good.

The news was immediately dissected by another blog (ahem). It may came as no surprise here, however, that the Avochie Estate (https://www.avochie.com/) is a family-friendly destination - 'fun things to do with children':

No fishing on Sundays, though:

All of the three available accommodation options have very specific family-friendly amenities, by the way:

I am not sure if he stayed the night, though. I do not think the houses featured in the two pictures he posted on Instagram are a perfect match, but hey - I could be wrong:

Anyways, back to the Deveron, Bogie and Isla Rivers Charitable Trust. Its partnership links with one of the big global players in the spirits business, the Pernod Ricard Group (https://www.pernod-ricard.com/en), based in Paris, via 'The River Within' sustainable development programme, are more than obvious:

Even more interesting, the charity will release, at the end of July, a limited edition batch of its own gin. Proceeds of the sales will directly go into its coffers and help support its projects:

Clearly extending a growing business network, and perhaps spending a well-deserved weekend away from prying eyes, too. The guys featured in the pics are charity people: I doubt he spent an evening drinking his arse off with them, if you see what I mean 😉.

[argentinagp]

he got in a bike accident in moncaco back in 2021?? can you elaborate more on that? poor guy keeps having bike accidents lmao

hdjsjdjs i will transcript the article below

Something tremendous that happened to me last year, I started training with the bike and in Monaco I ran with Formula Renault, but in the end I couldn't compete because I was disqualified because of a team error. I stayed with my teammate at his house for a week. I liked to keep fit and train. On May 26, one day before my birthday, I had gone out for a bike ride in Monaco. In front of me was an Audi that braked hard because a person set foot on the street and here they respect that a lot and he braked suddenly. I hit the car in full, I hit it with my face on the aileron that is above the window and I broke my nose, I opened everything below my eye and they made me eleven stitches. I was all bleeding, the police who spoke to me in French arrived and I had no idea what they were telling me. I was 17 years old and it was a disaster. They came to pick me up in an ambulance because I was fucked up. I called my teammate on the phone to pick me up. In the hospital they sewed me up because I kept bleeding, but obviously they didn't do anything to my nose. The next day I had a race at Paul Ricard and I went with a broken nose and I could hardly breathe. With a swollen eye that I could hardly see. The people on the team wanted to kill me. When the race ended I went to Mallorca because I have an acquaintance who is a doctor and put my nose in its place. The initial idea was to operate, but they were going to have to put on anesthesia and I was going to be "silly" for a few days and on the weekend I had race again. So they had to do it manually, they put a stick in my nose. I had never broken anything, but the pain I had was the worst thing that happened to me in my life. I ran the race broken, with one eye less because I couldn't see and almost unable to breathe. It was crazy (I was 12th in the two races of the European Regional Formula). It's what it is and luckily I don't get bored.

[gingiesworld]

Family Ties (9/9)

Natasha Romanoff x Werewolf Fem Reader

Warnings: Fluff. Angst

AN: This is the last one guys. I have really enjoyed writing this fic, and thank you guys for the support for it.

Taglist : @natashamaximoff-69 @canvascoloredin @wizardofstories @louxbloom @wandanats-goodgirl @natashasilverfox @the-ox-fan20 @upsidedowndanvers

18+ MINORS DNI

As soon as the babies were cleared to leave the med bay, Nat had set up two cribs in her room. She even went out and bought a lot of clothes and other things the babies will need.

"I think we should move with your family." Nat stated as she watched Y/N rock Ivory to sleep.

"What?" She questioned as Nat gave her a gentle smile.

"They are like you, Y/N, they need to be with your kind." Nat told her.

"You would move with us?" She asked as Nat smiled at her. "Because I don't think I can deal with being away from you again. My heart won't take it."

"Of course I will be coming with you." Nat smiled at her as she placed Aaron Jr down. "This, what we have is forever."

"But what about the team here?" Y/N questioned, she had already become accustomed to everyone here.

"I will still help with missions and work but my home will be with you and our babies." Nat told her as she caressed her cheek. "You are my home Y/N." She whispered before she pecked her lips. She watched as Y/N carefully placed Ivory down.

"I've been training too." Y/N told her. "Vision and Steve have been helping me."

"When do you find the time?" Nat questioned.

"Some nights I can't sleep." Y/N told her. "Since the last fight, and Ricard. He was a well respected Elder when I was growing up. He had a lot of pull when it came to the pack and I guess he was like a second father to me and I killed him." She confided in her. "And I was ready to die at that moment. I was ready because I stopped the one threat that remained to my family and I knew that you and everyone here would be safe, Steve saw to that."

"He also saved you." Nat reminded her.

"He did." She nodded with a smile as she wrapped her arms around her. "He made sure that I came home to you." She kissed Nat's lips tenderly before Nat buried her head in Y/N's neck. Just enjoying the simplicity of the moment.

"Auntie Wanda is here." Wanda let herself in and made her way over to the babies.

"What if we were naked?" Nat questioned with a raised brow.

"Then I would be saving these two, wouldn't I, babies." She spoke in a childish voice making the two smile at her. "Besides, it's not like you two are even making that move on each other again."

"Wanda, darling." Vision phased through the wall, a smile on his face as he saw her holding Ivory.

"I want one." She pouted as she looked at the sleeping baby.

"Well, get all of the baby time in now." Nat told her as she packed a bag for the two. "We will be moving to live with the pack."

"Why?" She whined as Y/N chuckled at her.

"They will need to be free to be themselves Wanda." Nat told her firmly. "They can't do that here. Besides, they will only be just outside of the city."

"And you can come and visit anytime you want to." Y/N added as Wanda looked between the two.

"You're leaving too." She spoke as she looked at Nat, who only nodded.

"After the wedding." Nat informed her.

"But that's so soon." Wanda whispered as she placed the baby down to hug the two of them. "I'm going to miss having you both here."

The wedding soon came by fast, it was only a small ceremony, just family. Both Y/N and Nat wore matching suits as they listened to Bruce speak. The two couldn't tear their eyes from each other, loving smiles on their faces.

"Now for the vows." Bruce gestured to the two.

"Right." Y/N smiled. "I have never really been good with words. Well, I was away from civilization for the most part." She tried to joke. "But the moment we met, it seemed like something had awakened within me, something called to me and my heart listened. I wasn't the brightest when it comes to relationships, this is my first one and well, I found my better half, my soulmate on the first go." She smiled as Nat listened to her every word. "What I am trying to say is that, I love you so much and my love for you only grows deeper with every passing moment."

"And you're not good with words." Nat teased as everyone chuckled. "Wow, well I guess I used to think that love was for children, that was how I was raised, but you came into my life and it seemed like my whole world shifted. Something changed within me and I was drawn to you. Like a moth to a flame. I never understood my feelings at first, I had never been in love before, but you came crashing into my life and turned it the right way up. It was already upside down and I just didn't know it." She squeezed Y/N's hand as she took a deep breath. "I love you so much Y/N and I will spend every day loving you."

"I now pronounce you wife and wife." Bruce smiled, watching as Nat kissed Y/N passionately as everyone applauded the newly wedded couple.

"I'm so happy right now." Y/N whispered as she gazed lovingly into Nat's green eyes. "You are my happiness, my love and my heart."

"Stop." Nat whispered shakily. "You're going to make me a blubbering mess." Y/N kissed her forehead before the two walked down the aisle, arms linked as everyone smiled endearingly at the couple.

The move was challenging, Y/N and Nat had everything packed but Nat wasn't entirely ready to say goodbye to the family she had grown to love.

"This isn't goodbye." Y/N whispered as they sat side by side in the new car that Tony had gifted them, telling them that Nat's car wasn't suitable for the car seats for babies.

"I know." Nat turned to Y/N. "It's just the end of a chapter."

"And the start of the next." Y/N told her with a smile. Nat started the drive away from the compound to their new home, ready for the future that awaits them.

As the years went by, the two would help the Avengers on missions, but never going at the same time. The children had changed for the first time and Y/N and her father were the ones to take them on their first run. Aaron watched Y/N with a proud smile on his face as she taught the children what he had taught her.

"You have grown into an extraordinary mother." He told her as she put them to bed, reading them a story to keep them from worrying about their mama.

"I had the best parents to learn from." Y/N told him as they both sat on the porch, watching as the stars twinkled in the sky and the moon shone brightly above. "I only want what is the best for them."

"And you have given them so much more." He told her. "When is Nat coming home?" He asked her.

"She was supposed to be home today." She told him.

"You're worried about her." He pointed out.

"I can sense something is wrong." She told him. "I just don't know what." She told him.

"Go to her." He told her.

"But the kids?" She questioned as he smiled.

"They have their grandparents, aunts and uncles." He told her. "We will keep them both safe." He told her as she nodded, not wasting any time in phasing and racing to Natasha, following her scent only to run right into a battle, tearing enemies apart before she changed back.

"What are you doing here?" Nat asked as she held her side, leaning against the wall.

"I figured you needed me." She told her as she helped her up.

"But the kids?" She questioned as she limped, Y/N taking her pistol and shooting any enemies in their way.

"Are safe." She told her. "I just needed to make sure you were safe." Nat just watched as Y/N guided her out to the team, soon placing her on the gurney for Bruce to start working.

"How did you know I needed you?" Nat questioned.

"I could feel it." She admitted as she held her hand. "We are tied together Nat. I feel everything you feel, when you're in pain, I can feel it. I just can't really explain it. I just know that our hearts beat together as one."

"Kiss me." She whispered that Y/N wasted no time in pressing a tender loving kiss to her lips. A smile on both of their faces when they pulled away. The two saw forever in the eyes of the other and Nat felt safe knowing that Y/N would run to the ends of the earth to make sure that she was safe.

[katyspersonal]

Also good news: turns out that Oscar and Ricard do NOT actually share face data!

Ricard has more saturated tone of color and deep blueish-green eyes, kinda looking deep blue from afar too!

Oscar is the one with less saturated hair color and yellow-green (olive?) eyes color! Yep, his eyes were never blue! All along it was just screenshot of Ricard passed as Oscar!!

It is also very hard to spot, but their facial features are also not identical! They have different eyes shape (Ricard's is more downturned), and Ricard's nose is a little bigger? Not sure why they'd barely move slider in such a way they are barely different save for colors, but still!

[katyahina]

Dark Souls 1 faces references Part 1: Oscar, Ricard, Solaire,

Heyyyy Dark Souls artists (all five of you who still use this website fdshfhd), I have great news for you! The curse of Dark Souls 1 (being horrendously undocumented in terms of NPC references) is over!!!

Long story short, I've seen a screenshot of Ciaran that made me question whether she actually had face data in versions of the DLC before Remastered. That started a long chain of me asking literally every person online that I could think of, with no one responding except for single Redditor redirecting me to modding community for Soulsborne, and there, out of waaaaay too many people, finally, someone was kind enough to help me out!

Their only contacts I have for reference are rayanwasalsotaken on Discord and RayanTheMad on Twitter! Yet I've only learned Rayan had a Twitter AFTER posting the screenshot dumps there, so.... 🤡 yeah that was frustrating. Twitter allow editting posts already!! They told me to be free to share the screenshots they gathered online instead of them (they said it was jarring for them to go spread images across social media and wikis. fair and valid.)! Posts will be in several parts as there are several angle shots and sometimes some explaining to do!

Oscar

Okay so, apparently, the boy does not have blue eyes! You know who does (kinda) have? RICARD!

Ricard

Well, actually not even blue, but a more dark shade of greyish green!

Nonetheless, it could be assumed blue from afar! ! And, fun fact! Whereas they look very similar, they are NOT identical!

Aside of having different eye color and Ricard's hair being more saturated (more yellow), they do have different eye shape too; Ricard's is more downturned! Ricard also has a slightly bigger nose! I guess even with limitations of NPC data of Dark Souls 1, they did try to point out the differences in vibe!

Solaire

Nothing new to see here, his screenshots are actually viral, unlike others, but here have a look anyway x) Interestingly enough, his face data changes the hairstyle in the bad ending of his questline; whereas Rayan didn't take screenshot of just that change specifically, it actually IS documented and confirmed!

(This screenshot is from different source: ( x )) I just think it is really good to know that even back in Dark Souls 1, developers bothered to add the lore appropriate changes that are not even possible to observe without datamining dhfhdsdf

Anastacia

Interestingly enough, while Anastacia uses unique model rather than player NPC base one, the data for NPC still exists in the game's files, apparently!

It is actually very convenient to have it, because her unique model does NOT have eyes texture:

At the same time, you can see that this 'unique model' appears to reuse assets from NPC data, as the model for hair is identical, and her face even has the same issue of eyebrows always being that brown color when they aren't grey. I wonder if NPC model lacked functionality intended (like NPC models weren't created to have this pose and animation), so they copy+pasted it mostly on unique asset?

Even with that, I suppose her hair is canonically more "yellow", and her player model is the only reference for her eye color.

Color of Estus Flask (the flask itself, not liquid inside of it!), appropriately enough!

Additionally, the hairbun is definitely something they've settled with even in her concept, so I suppose she holds "priority" for this hairstyle! RIP the braid though

____________________________________

Part 1: Oscar, Ricard, Solaire, Anastacia (you are here)

Part 2: Reah, Petrus, Vince, Nico, Leeroy

Part 3: Pharis/Evlana, Americus, Forest Hunter (Cleric), Beatrice, Dusk

Part 4: Shiva, Shiva's Bodyguard, Forest Hunter (Sorcerer), Forest Hunter (Thief), Forest Hunter (Bandit)

Part 5: Quelana, Jeremiah, Grana, Cut Content Character, Domhnall

Part 6: Darkmoon Knightess, Lautrec, Lautrec's Helper (Sealer), Lautrec's Helper (Warrior)

Part 7: Ingward, Kirk, Oswald, Havel, Tarkus

Part 8: Griggs, Logan, Rickert, Crystal Knight, Laurentius

Part 9: Patches, Siegmeyer, Sieglinde, Mildred, Crestfallen Knight, Crestfallen Merchant

* Shots of characters' faces datamined and provided by RayanTheMad on Twitter + rayanwasalsotaken on Discord!

* Twitter thread with the faces here: ( x )

* Data for characters Ciaran, Darkmoon Soldier (Balder) and Darkmoon Soldier (Berenike) doesn't exist and they simply copy the last face loaded, when there wasn't any loaded they use default placeholder data

[agendabymooner]

gotta be you ! lance s. x ofc (socialite! kpop idol!ofc)

“내 사랑은 너로 시작해 너로 끝나”

(my love starts with you and ends with you.)

summary: they all said not to fall in love with the kid that you married back when you were five, and clearly neither of them got the memo. OR everyone thought that bora mckinnon and lance stroll acted as though the tracks were a rich people’s playground for skirting around their breakup too much, but gossip columns got a hold of their situation regardless of how tightlipped they are about it.

content warning: exes to lovers trope, brief backstory included, lalisa manoban plays the role of ofc polly berkshire, social media + news articles included, fans think that they should steal photocards from lance, mentions of nicholas latifi (best friend), logan sargeant + alex albon content, brief mention of ofc x logan sargeant, use of explicit language, reference to 2ne1's song gotta be you

note: i wanted to use sandara park as a face claim but she and lance honestly don't have the same vibes :( so jisoo it is!

masterlist

THE FAST LANE DAILY

BORA MCKINNON MAKES SURPRISE APPEARANCE AT FORMULA ONE FRENCH GP, SPARKS SPECULATION OF REKINDLED ROMANCE WITH LANCE STROLL

in a surprising turn of events, bora mckinnon, the talented member of the globally renowned k-pop group blackpink and future executive of mckinnon enterprises, made a highly anticipated appearance at the formula one french grand prix. the 23-year-old, who had been absent from social media for over a year, attended the prestigious event as a guest of williams racing, raising eyebrows and fueling speculation about her personal life.

bora, the only child of english-korean billionaires kyung-won and yun-seo mckinnon, arrived at the circuit paul ricard in le castellet, france, stunning fans and media alike. her sudden reappearance comes after a prolonged absence from the public eye, leaving many curious about her whereabouts and activities during her social media hiatus.

the reason behind bora's choice to attend the french gp as williams racing's guest, rather than aston martin's, has piqued the interest of fans and formula one enthusiasts. it has been revealed that her former flame, lance stroll, who drives for aston martin, ended their relationship midway through the 2022 season. this breakup, alongside her parents' investment on the junior driving team, seemingly influenced bora's decision to align herself with williams racing, where she immediately struck up a friendship with their new driver, logan sargeant.

the unexpected bond between bora and logan sargeant has caught the attention of fans and media, particularly due to the fact that he replaced bora's best friend, nicholas latifi, on the williams racing team. the duo was seen engaging in friendly conversations and mingling with the same group of people in the paddock, leading to speculation about a potential romantic reconciliation between bora and lance stroll.

as rumors swirl around the former couple, fans are eagerly awaiting any signs of a rekindled romance. observers have noted that bora and lance stroll appeared comfortable in each other's presence, sparking hopes that they may be on the path to reconciliation. however, both parties have remained tight-lipped about their current relationship status, leaving fans to speculate and draw their own conclusions.

bora mckinnon's surprise appearance at the formula one french gp has undoubtedly added an extra layer of excitement to the event. as the blackpink star continues to enjoy her time as williams racing's guest, fans and media will be closely watching for any further developments in her personal life, particularly regarding her relationship with lance stroll.

tagged logansargeant, alex_albon, williamsracing

liked by nicholaslatifi, charles_leclerc, felipedrugovich

user1 LMAO FAVOURITE MURRICAN 😭

nicholaslatifi come back to london first 🙄🤚 liked by boamckinnon

boamckinnon no u :(

nicholaslatifi i've already seen you last canada day when you dragged me to a parade i hadn't even wanted to watch 🤬

boamckinnon don't be a loser you loved getting those free comics

user2 i love that she already made friends with logan even if latifi isn't there anymore

boamckinnon he's my replacement latifi ❤️‍🩹 jk i've known him since he was in f2- a mere child he was.

user2 she's really out here feeding off my delulu 😩

oscarpiastri oh so you hung out with the murrican but not with your favourite australian? smh liked by boamckinnon

boamckinnon don't be silly oscar. of course i went to the alpha tauri to see danielricciardo 🥰

user3 LMFAOJSPODHIP I LOVE HER SO MUCH

user4 oscarpiastri rn: heart❤️ been broke💔🤕 so many times⏰ i don’t know❌🤷‍♀️ what to believe 🍃🙏 yeah👍 mama🤰say it’s my👧😣fault🥺😢 my fault😭😞 i wear my heart💝 on my sleeve👕

pollytaraberk shoot me last photo's @ pls 🤩

alex_albon oh hey 🙂😊

pollytaraberk oh hey :))

alex_albon wyd??? 😁

williamsracing too many rizz of arizzander albono 😍

boamckinnon throwing up rn 🤢

alex_albon "favourite murican and alex" ???? 😭 i took your photos liked by boamckinnon

boamckinnon i can't say favourite thai, polly might kill me 😥

pollytaraberk let that be a warning boamckinnon

alex_albon hi pollytaraberk 👋

pollytaraberk hello alex_albon 💋👋

user5 ALBONO PLS NOT IN BOA'S COMMENT SECTION

logansargeant i'm your only american friend liked by boamckinnon

boamckinnon and there's a reason why sarge 🤩

user6 that's her saying you're from florida

tagged boamckinnon

liked by lance_stroll, pierregasly, logansargeant

boamckinnon i got you some cd in exchange 💔 liked by alex_albon

alex_albon and you didn't need to bc have you seen how expensive that was? 🥲

boamckinnon meh it's a compensation for not being there for A YEAR 💗

logansargeant when she's wearing blue 💙

boamckinnon thx bestie! next time i'll wear the whole flag for you 🤩

logansargeant you have to stop with the usa jokes 😒

williamsracing bora in our area 💙 liked by alex_albon

user1 you probably would've gotten paid more anyway 😭 liked by alex_albon

user2 LMFAO ALEX 😩

nicholaslatifi how's it like replacing me for the job 😇 liked by alex_albon

alex_albon you can have it back. i had to take one too many photos of her

nicholaslatifi she doesn't tell you what your job entails until you're doing it soooo 🙂

user3 what is lance strulovitch doing in this post??? 🤨

user4 lancestroll don't be shy make a comment too

user5 what's he doing 😭

user6 he's somewhere in the paddock rn reminding himself how bad he fumbled as he looks through her photos 😁

user7 lesson learned: don't break up with your girlfriend of six years if you don't wanna see her glow like that w/o you

user8 idk why he'd choose that influencer over her, his literal friend for YEARS like bestie 😭

user9 no fr tho 😥 he and that influencer didn't even last four months

user10 lance and bora were literally magazine cover-level of couple 😭😭 i just want them back together

user11 the way i felt this ^^

THE FAST LANE DAILY

(MCKINNON'S BIRTHDAY THREE DAY BIRTHDAY CELEBRATION FROM TOP TO BOTTOM: BALI, INDONESIA, SEOUL, SOUTH KOREA AND LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA. PHOTOS FROM INSTAGRAM: LANDO.JPG, POLLYTARABERK AND PIERREGASLY)

BORA MCKINNON'S STAR-STUDDED 24TH BIRTHDAY CELEBRATIONS: LANCE STROLL STEALS THE SPOTLIGHT

bora mckinnon, the charismatic blackpink member and social media sensation, recently celebrated her 24th birthday in true style. the week-long extravaganza saw the k-pop star hosting three extravagant parties, each one more glamorous than the last. however, it was the unexpected presence of formula one driver lance stroll that set tongues wagging and stole the spotlight at the star-studded events.

the first party, held at a luxurious beachfront villa in bali, indonesia, set the tone for bora's birthday celebrations. surrounded by her blackpink bandmates and close friends, the star enjoyed a night of laughter, music, and delectable cuisine. however, it was the arrival of lance stroll, the aston martin driver and bora's former flame, that sent fans and media into a frenzy. the unexpected reunion between the two sparked speculation about a potential rekindling of their romance.

as the birthday festivities continued, bora's second party in seoul, south korea, showcased her love for fashion and glamour. the event attracted a star-studded guest list, including fellow formula one drivers who were eager to join in the celebrations. lance stroll, looking dapper in a tailored suit, mingled effortlessly with the crowd, drawing attention from fans and media alike. the chemistry between bora and lance was palpable, leaving many wondering if their relationship was back on track.

the grand finale of bora's birthday week took place at an exclusive rooftop venue in los angeles, california. the party was a sight to behold, with a-list celebrities, renowned musicians, and, of course, the formula one fraternity in attendance. lance stroll's presence at the event caused a stir among fans and media, who closely observed their interactions throughout the night. the duo was seen engaged in deep conversations, sharing laughter, and even stealing a few intimate moments, fueling rumors of a romantic reconciliation.

while bora and lance have remained tight-lipped about the status of their relationship, their appearances together at all three parties have left fans buzzing with excitement. the attention garnered by lance's attendance has only added to the intrigue surrounding their connection. as fans eagerly await further updates, one thing is certain: bora mckinnon's 24th birthday celebrations will be remembered as a star-studded affair, with lance stroll's presence adding an unexpected twist to the festivities.

as the gossip columns continue to speculate about the nature of their relationship, fans and media will be keeping a close eye on bora and lance, eagerly awaiting any hints or confirmations about their romantic reunion. only time will tell if their love story will once again take center stage, captivating the hearts of fans worldwide.

lance_stroll posted a story!!!

boamckinnon posted a story !!!

[pinkandgoldensoul]

CL#16 || Mine First || tape b

Navigation || Masterlist

: ̗̀➛ tape b of the 𝒻𝓇𝑒𝑒𝒽𝒶𝓃𝒹 series If this is your first time here on this blog, please check the Disclaimers here.

pairing: charles leclerc x female!reader x pierre gasly!bestfriend genre: childhood exes (?) to lovers, (fake) love triangle, fluff, a bit of angst tw: swearing, tiny suggestive crumb word count: 10.2k plot: going back to Monaco, you meet him again. Both being Pierre's friends, you're often trapped in the same room: it's inevitable for the past to resurface, through glances, dances, pages filled of ink.

Your walk inside the paddock was followed by gusts of wind throwing strands of hair in every direction, preys of the unpredictable, forcing you to move them out of your face repeatedly. The forecast couldn’t have been clearer: 90% chances of rain. A storm was approaching the track, and so were you.

Looking around, you stared attentively at the frenetic movement pulsating in every corner: mechanics, engineers, journalists and cameras ready to capture any detail, VIPs begging for selfies with bewildered eyes and staring at the screens in awe and confusion. It was all so foreign to you. Despite growing up in Monaco, you had always shied away from the spotlight and tried to live a simple life, therefore moving out in your youth to an unknown town in South France, near the coast, but far enough from the contradiction of luxury. Still, Pierre being a dear old friend of yours, after pleading insistence, you had given up to his invitation to a Grand Prix. You had first agreed to be hosted at his home race, Paul Ricard, then obliged to choose another circuit since the track had disappeared from the 2023 calendar: and so there you were, crossing the streets you had walked countless times, the ones you had run away from.

«Do you think it’s going to rain hard?» «How do you expect me to know?» You snorted, arms crossed. Pierre simply shrugged, zipping up his suit. «I don’t know, you’ve lived here enough to recognize Monaco’s clouds.» he half-joked. «Maybe you’re the Monegasque Mazepin.» «Who’s that?» you asked, frowning. «No one, forget it. I just thought you, standing there doing nothing, had more time than I do to check the forecast.» «Uhm, if you want, I can take a look.» you offered, searching for your phone. Pierre quickly made it over to you, crossing the garage, and put his hands on your shoulders with a smile. «Y/n, I’m just messing around. Why are you taking everything so seriously? You always get my jokes, what’s up with you today?» «Uhm… maybe… It’s Monaco’s clouds.» Pierre couldn’t help but grin bigger and shake his head, leaving you standing on your own while he got near his helmet to clean it. «If you’re worried about tonight’s dinner, there’s no need to.» You sighed. To your annoyance, Pierre had stricken home yet another time. He was too good at reading you like an open book, your expressions and reactions too plain for him to interpret after years of sincere friendship. «I just don’t understand why you want to introduce me to this one friend… It’s a bit intimidating, like, the three of us…» «Oh, but we won’t be completely alone!» Pierre said, amending his partial explanation. «We’ll be hanging out in group, it’s going to be fun! I just wanted to introduce you to my best mate, that’s all.» «Fine, but… why can’t I even know his name? Why are you acting like I’m going to be surprised about who he is?» «Because I think you will.» «You’re such a drama queen.» He laughed at your arms-crossed and roll-eye as he finished cleaning the helmet, placing back on a counter. «Of course I am.»

To Pierre’s amusement, you hadn’t followed free practices with a lot of attention, which is a euphemism to say that you basically didn’t watch the screens installed for the guests inside the garage at all: instead, you had nestled in a small empty spot right next to his engineer and you had silently followed Pierre’s action and data, without really understanding much, more so as the second sessions had been red flagged before being half-way through it.

Pierre was dying of laughter onto the small, leathered couch of the club you had chosen for the beginning of the night, waiting for all his friends to show up, as he listened to your unforgettably miserable experience in the Alpine box. «So you didn’t see any other driver?» he asked, still chuckling. «No, I mean… I was also getting a bit car sick, with all those walls left and right. You drive way too fast, you guys are crazy…» Loud as a freight train crashing the rails with its speed, a group of youngsters entered the club with a thunderous burst of laughter, which made you flinch in your seat. «Oh, here they are!» Pierre immediately flailed around and whistled in order to be heard by les gars, who soon walked towards your table. Without you noticing, he stood up and waited them to hug and give friendly back pats. Composed in your awkward silence, you felt even more uneasy as one of the newcomers stopped and looked down at you sitting, staring with an uncomfortable persistence, a smile fading from his lips. «Who are you?» he asked, curiosity and perplexity mixed in his tone. Reciprocating with the same depth his stare, you realized you had just fallen inside a dangerous and unexpected sand trap, wishing the dark-lit room would suddenly turn the lights on so that you could make out his features clearer, or completely drown them out together with the anxiety in the pit of your stomach. «Finally I can introduce you both!» Pierre clapped his hands, breaking the moment and inviting you to get up. «Y/n, this is my best friend: Charles.» «Charles…» you muttered under your breath, trying to make sense of it. «Yes, Charles Leclerc.» he repeated in confirmation, smiling, shaking and holding your cold and still hand. «And this is y/n, one of my dearest friends.» «Nice to meet you.» The flickering sparkle in his eyes, the dimples making their painful appearance and his sweet, fond smile struck you all at once, the freight train now hitting you as you simply stood by the platform of time, uncapable of anything but playing reruns of distant and long forgotten memories in the back of your mind. He let go of your hand and you slowly slipped down in your seat, heart beating uncontrollably. But everyone was just too absorbed into the conversation to notice, too playful and happy to be in joined company. Drinking from your glass full of insecurities, your gaze was always searching for his, carefully studying his heavenly face, then immediately straying away, consumed by indecision and inner turmoil.

You all got up a couple of hours after to have a nice walk through the harbor; the cool breeze sweeping the dump asphalt made your skin shiver, and you felt forced to bring your hands upon your forearms to soothe the coldness. Pierre had noticed for a while the way you hadn’t engaged in the conversations a lot, had seen you full of thoughts back in the club and, of course, immediately read your body language; in a few strides, he was next to you, placing his jacket onto your shoulders, matching your steps. «Thank you.» you smiled. You both slowly walked alongside, letting silence fill the gaps, until the Frenchman couldn’t bear it anymore, as he gazed at the stars. «I’m sorry you didn’t enjoy yourself that much tonight… I thought you would get along just fine, since you’re all friends of mine.» «They’re nice, in fact!» you tried to reply. Pierre gave you a knowing look. «Y/n, there’s no need to cover it up, I’ve got two eyes to see you have been running away from everyone tonight… Especially from Charles.» «What?» You stood still, watching him stop as you did. Had he noticed? Did he… know? «Are you… are you, like, jealous of him?» Pierre asked, reticent. «What?! N-no, of course not, why would I-» «Sorry, I was just wondering why you gave him strange looks all night, that’s it.» «No, it’s just… I think I’ve seen him somewhere else, before.» you swallowed hard, hoping he’d buy into your lie. Pierre first looked at you, then started laughing contagiously, to the point you had to giggle as well with a frown. «Why are you laughing?» you asked. «Are you kidding me? Of course you’ve seen him before!» «And… where?» you hesitated, now even scarier than earlier. «On track, y/n! He races for Ferrari, putain!» His laugh didn’t complement your heart drop. «You didn’t watch any race for real, uh? I thought you were joking. Now, that hurts!» The attempt at matching his laugh was almost miserable; the clench grinding your poor heart felt unbearable, feelings gushing and bleeding out beneath your skin.

Nothing had prepared you to see him once again face to face, nor you had anticipated talking to him, spending time together. For sure, no one had warned you about the way he would’ve changed so much growing up. A childish mischief still lingered in his expression, but you could clearly see he had matured, his perfectly crafted jawline and his beard giving it away; his athletic body resembled nothing of the young, agile and slim figure you remembered. You recalled witnessing Pierre’s transformation. Looking at them now, they didn’t seem like guys in their mid-twenties and, compared to them, you felt like a child, whereas they had already achieved a lifestyle you would never even dream of. Despite the obvious differences in the physique, something about Charles’ demeanor had unexpectedly softened: you were so accustomed to his impulsive, black-or-white younger self that you almost couldn’t recognize him under the charming and elegant masquerade. It can’t be him, you thought.

An awkward tension made every gesture clumsy, intrinsically wrong: throughout the weekend, anytime you’d cross each other’s way, you both moved cautiously around each other, studying the new person you had in front, as if you were trying to read a book you once knew by heart, word by word, now translated into an unknown language. And even though you struggled recognizing the Charles you used to know, he could clearly tell it was the same old you beneath the embarrassment: he always found you lightheartedly making jokes and having fun, smiling kindly, or thinking deep in silence. When you were with Pierre. Because as soon as Charles entered your vision, he would see you stiffening, stuttering, fighting insecurities in every sentence and gesture. And as much as he felt discomfort in making you all flustered, a thorn of pride stung his heart. He still had an effect on you. He wouldn’t makeyou laugh uncontrollably as Pierre did, but he was still able to stir some deep feelings inside of you, and it fueled him like gasoline on fire, for some reason. # Charles genuinely thought seeing you in Monaco was a karmic debt’s payment, enduring the comfort and the palpable chemistry between you and his best friend: apart from the small talk he had tried to initiate with you, Charles had kept away from you, purposely avoiding your presence. Undeniably, you still had an effect on him too.

When he entered the paddock on Wednesday, welcomed by the Spanish heat, crossing the lane with the hospitalities already brimming of life, he definitely didn’t expect to see you again, let alone to find you sat on a white wicker couch next to Pierre. Right as he witnessed the scene, the Frenchman swiftly placing your bare legs on his lap, his fingers drawing circles upon your skin, both spread out and chilling, enjoying the nice weather, Charles couldn’t help himself from chewing his inner cheek and pacing quickly towards Ferrari’s hospitality. What made him even more furious was knowing that Pierre was well aware of the cameras pointing towards you and taking pictures with no disturb, implicitly giving them permission, being so physical with you in public. Pierre wasn’t stupid. He knew what he was doing. And Charles didn’t like it. Because you seemed so innocent, always caring, smiley, kind and considerate of others, hanging off Pierre’s lips; and Charles hated, oh, he hated it as much as immediately spotting the flash of fear and tension crossing your irises as soon as he tried to approach you. Charles would’ve gladly done without hovering around you, or stop caring about you and Pierre’s affair, but he simply couldn’t: after seeing you amidst the crowd, he was drawn to you, by far the quickest in reaching you swiftly dodging everybody else, ready to find stupid excuses to chat with you and get your attention away from Pierre at least for a couple of minutes. The painful truth was that Charles desperately wanted to catch up with you, spend an entire night just the two of you and be your listener, hearing your enchanting voice narrate the life you had led so far and staring into your mesmerizing eyes full of dreams. He wanted to amend for the past. He felt guilty for what he had said, yet he acknowledged he wouldn’t know any better back at the time.

Instead, he was attending yet another night out with Pierre and mutual friends, throwing deadly glances over your dancing silhouettes, painfully reminded of what it could’ve been. Charles had so many apologetic words stuck in his throat, but an overwhelming wave of unlabeled feelings impeded him to talk the matter out with you. Only a question, the same one, all over again. Why Pierre? He unfortunately knew why you two had broken up, he couldn’t blame you in any way: but Charles couldn’t accept being discarded in place of Pierre. He loved him like a brother, he was one of his best buddies, and exactly because he knew him that well and had met you before, he was sure you two, as a couple, could never work out. Or, at least, that’s what he believed. There was also another annoyance cutting Charles’ skin: the fact that Pierre hadn’t been honest while introducing you. A friend? Sharing jackets and hoodies, letting each other be touchy and clingy, always hanging out together? Yeah, of course. Charles was having none of it. His drink tasted bitter, with you two in his vision; he couldn’t bear it any longer. So he simply decided to get the work done by himself.

Pierre had been talking and cracking jokes non-stop since the beginning of the night, getting his mouth dry quite rapidly; right as he left you dancing by yourself to grab another drink, Charles took the chance and crossed the dance floor fueled by liquid bravery, stopping right behind you, placing his hands on your waist carefully, so that you’d acknowledge his presence too late to run away from him. «Having fun with Pierre? Hasn’t he run out of words yet?» Charles teased you. «When he’s drunk, he gets quite talkative.» you explained. «And so do you.» At your raised brow, Charles took a sip of his drink with a smirk. «Just checking up on someone who seemed to be getting bored.» he leaned in a bit closer upon your shoulder. «Oh, and when did you start being concerned about me?» When I realized I was still in love with you, he thought. Charles wetted his lips. «Y/n, I’d really like to talk about everything that happened between us, if you just gave me the chance to-» «Charles, I suffered enough, trust me.» «And I’m suffering because of it now.» «Not my business. It’s your time to get over it.» «If you got over it, then why do you keep avoiding me like you’re still affected?» Charles knew he had hit home once he saw your eyes dart towards his, defenseless, uncapable of putting up shields of indifference. «Woah, Charles, stop bothering my girl!» Pierre loudly approached the two of you, drunkenly placing his arm around you, which Charles clearly interpreted as a “private property” sign. You were his girl, after all. Of course you wouldn’t give him a chance. Everything was already settled, nothing else left to be discussed. Still, if there was something Charles couldn’t do, it was losing without trying with all his might to grab the win. «Can I borrow her? Just wanted to dance with her.» Pierre chuckled and nodded. «Bien sur, go ahead!» You hated being treated like a parcel without thoughts and feelings, as if you not being willing to dance with Charles wasn’t even an option; indeed, you definitely didn’t refuse his gentle hand guiding you towards a quieter space on the dance floor, and didn’t sway the times Charles would place his face near yours, leaning against your ear, almost about to whisper something but never giving you the satisfaction to drop a single word.

There was no way you could deny the effect he still had on you, after all those years spent apart from each other: any moment your eyes flicked to glance at him, his bright eyes were still glistening with youthful innocence, his dimples still dazed you, his enigmatic smile still made you question his and your own feelings. For a moment, standing that close to him without sharing useless words, you imagined Charles had stayed. In fact, that you had stayed. With a little effort, you could almost imagine you two had never broken up: you were dancing, comfortably enjoying his hands on your waist, placing yours around his neck lightweight, scared of lengthening physical touch. He stared down at you with a pleased and peaceful gaze, so sweet it could almost stich up all the scars he had left over your heart, splitting them apart and filling them with love before sealing them forever. But he had made a choice back then, clear-cut. Formula One was his only lover, no room for others. No room for you. The music died around your ears. But it still pumped quick inside your heart. «Are you good?» Charles’ voice caught your attention, as his hands firmly kept you up and yours had fallen back onto his shoulders for support. You simply tripped, you said to yourself; something normal which would happen while dancing drunk, a usual slip of thoughts diving back into the hurt of the past. «Yeah, all good.» you breathed out, looking behind your back. Pierre’s silhouette had completely disappeared from the radar, leaving your clenching stomach lonely in the search of a ride home. «Where’s Pierre?» you slurred. «I don’t know…» Charles’ green eyes scanned the room and trailed off yours, joining them in the search. «Can you bring me back to the hotel?» Charles opened his eyes wide at those words. «What?» Maybe he hadn’t heard right. Maybe it was the voice of someone dancing next to him. «I’m tired, can you give me a ride?» The tip of his tongue slipping out to wet his lips got you stuck on his mouth, a lost soft look into your eyes that Charles had to avoid watching, before his drunk system would act bypassing rationality. «Of course.»

#

«Where are the keys?» Charles waited for your lazy hands to rummage inside your purse, quickly taking the shining, jingling metal out of your fingers. Right as the door cracked open, you aimed towards the king-sized bed, taking your heels off and slowly picking up the sheets in order to slip underneath them. «Don’t you want to change into something comfier?» he asked, dumbfounded. You whined in response, head already resting onto the pearl white pillow. «Y/n?» «Mmh?» «Do you want to sleep with your jeans on?» he almost chuckled. «Jeez, Cha’, I’m tired…» He walked next to the bed, kneeling down in front of you. «Yeah, I know, you said that quite a few times already.» With your eyes shut, you couldn’t see Charles’ enchanted stare; yet, you could feel the warmth of it even through the closed eyelids. «There’s a pair of shorts inside the wardrobe.» you mumbled. Pretty easy to spot, since it was the only piece of furniture Charles felt comfortable enough to name “wardrobe”, he slid the door of wood and sifted through. «They’re not hung… Are they inside a drawer?» «No, they’re on top of the first drawer. Under the hung clothes.» Following your instructions, Charles found the shorts, but pulling them out something fell down to the floor. «What was that?» you asked at the thud. «N-nothing, there you go with your shorts.» he quickly reached over. «Okay, don’t peek.» «Yep!» Charles turned back towards the wardrobe, gulping both at the guilt of dropping something off and at the shuffling denim behind him. He closed his eyes, covered in shame. Then, tugged by curiosity, he looked down before his shoes. A diary, spread open. Charles picked it up, a picture immediately threatening to escape the pages, but his fingers were fast enough to catch it. It was you and him, awkwardly posing for your mom, both wearing matching bracelets. «Cha’, the bed is cold.» «Uh?» he held his breath, caught by surprise. «Can you like… rub me from above the duvet?» Your drunken request didn’t sound weird to his equally drunken mind. He hopped onto the bed, with the back leaning onto the headrest, his right hand brushing you back and forth to soothe the cold, while he held the diary and the picture with the left. «Thank you, Cha’…» He couldn’t restrain himself from smiling, engraving in his mind the tender and natural rolling off of the nickname you had chosen. It was the same sweet tone you would use with him back then, when you still held hands, when your cheeks were tinted rose in his presence, when the only bracelet he would wear were the ones you made yourself. With love.

The shop windows were brimming with lights and Christmasy decorations: the whole city was lit alive by the thrilled atmosphere, and everyone seemed to be strolling by the pavement, making it difficult to catch up with your mother’s steps. «Come on, y/n, we’ll be late!» Winter holidays had started, and you couldn’t help but staring mesmerized at the streets, couples walking hand in hand, the grey sea roaring in the distance. Christmas was only a few days away and your mom had booked an appointment to the hairdresser to adjust your hair a little bit before the new year; you knew, though, that she had insisted also because she enjoyed Pascale’s company and gossiping quite a lot, especially since his son was only a year older than you and had the same middle school teachers you had.

«Ah, y/n, I wish I had a daughter like you. My sons are three devils.» Your mother chuckled at Pascale’s defeated comment, sitting on a couch behind you, holding a magazine. «But they’re talented, at least.» You pouted at your mom’s words, frowning. «Especially Charles. By the way, how is he doing?» your mother added. Pascale sighed, blow-drying your hair. «Very good… But I’m worried he’ll never finish school.» «But he’s in third grade now, how can’t he not?» you asked, with lively eyes. «Middle school isn’t the problem, y/n. I’m afraid he’ll never graduate from high school. I mean, he’s clearly on a league of his own, but… there are no certainties he’ll make it to Formula One, and in case things might not go as planned I don’t want him to struggle finding a job due to a lack of diploma.» «I don’t think you need to worry, Pascale. If Charles can’t succeed, then nobody else will!» Pascale sadly smiled at your mother’s answer, brushing your hair. Still staring at yourself inside the mirror, you caught eye of something quickly storming into the saloon from the backdoor. «Mom, can I go out now?» You had never met him, but it was immediately clear to you that the boy tugging at his mother’s apron was Charles. A lock of hair partly covered his eyes and you were amazed at how large and luminous they were, full of hopes and dreams. «Did you finish your homework?» she asked, still patiently brushing your hair. Hesitating, you saw his eyes trailing off towards Pascale’s movements, pointing towards your hair and ultimately fixed his green pearls onto you. Charles’ lips parted to let out an inaudible gasp, caught by surprise by your gracious and lightful beauty: your hair, perfectly combed, seemed like a crown of silk upon your face, and your blushing cheeks hit an unknow spot of his young, tender, unexperienced heart. «So?» Pascale prompted. «No, I haven’t finished yet.» Charles felt stupid, but he couldn’t stop staring at you, nor could you. He was so scared you would never see each other again he was trying to extend the moment as long as he possibly could. «But I’ll finish them.» he added. Pascale, surprised at the answer, never heard beforehand, watched him pacing fast out the backdoor and reemerging with the notebook in his hand, sitting on the couch nearest to you. Unbeknownst to both of you, your moms had exchanged a knowing look through the mirror; but how could you notice, when all your attention was undividedly offered to each other? He took furtive peeks, as you darted him side-eyed glances, enchanted with his haphazard pose. Needless to say, Charles didn’t get much homework done… But he studied, oh boy, he did: he studied all your features, your behavior, your shy answers to your mother, your graceful red dress as you stood up in order to leave the saloon.

«M-merry Christmas!» he hastily blurted out, before you exited the door. Melting like a candle under a flame, Charles’ chest tightened at your small smile. «Merry Christmas.»

First it was doing homework together, then it was hanging out to eat some ice-cream as a treat, then it was strolling by the sea, and then riding the bike chuckling and giggling, until it was walking to the school gate hand in hand and wearing the matching bracelets you’d gifted him – not making it on purpose – for Valentine’s Day. It had happened so fast you couldn’t give a name to it: you spent all the free time you had in his company – whenever he wasn’t down karting tracks training – and you let yourself be swamped by Charles’ explosiveness, dragging you alongside him down all Monaco, willing to show you anything beautiful he had seen in his life, making memories together.

You had seen other classmates of yours having boyfriends, but they all seemed too morbidly physical to you. Charles would only grab your hand occasionally or give shy and awkward hugs, and that was more than enough for you, more than you would ask him to do: you didn’t feel the need for more; everything was as perfect as he could be. Some of your classmates also mocked you for being his girlfriend, since everybody noticed he often skipped lessons and wasn’t known as an easy character. In fact, Charles, at times, especially at school, treated you a bit coldly, annoyed by all the guys watching him and judging the both of you spending the breaks together. It had never been a problem to you, though, because you had soon realized his heart was full of love and care for you.

«Did they do anything to you?» he asked you, accompanying you back home after school, referring to your classmates. «No, they just talked crap as always.» you shrugged. «Did they touch you?» he asked once again, grabbing your hand a little tighter. «Uh?» «I saw they patted your shoulder, in front of the gate, when you were coming out. Did they do anything before that?» «No, they didn’t.» Charles’ frown was still on display, and you could tell he had been upset by the scene. It was normal, after all: he had witnessed his girlfriend being bullied, liked none of it and wished he would’ve got the chance to intervene. But somehow, seeing him deep in thought and keeping you closer to him made you realize for the first time he genuinely cared about you, more than two good friends, and as your chest filled with an unexplainable excitement, you slowly leaned your head against his shoulder. You waited for him to sway and withdraw from the touch, but he didn’t. You walked back home, fingers intertwined, moving slow steps, both wishing the path was endless.

#

«Are you done?» «Almost.» Charles huffed in impatience, as your fingers knotted the thread tighter. «Done! Give me your wrist.» you said. After attentively securing the bracelet, Charles took the other one you had already completed. «Give me yours.» You pressed your lips together to suppress a smile as he tied the matching bracelet to your wrist. «I like it a lot. Thank you, y/n.» His few words of appreciation warmed your heart, which fluttered and flipped in joy. You had thought it through for weeks, months; you had shyly confided with your mother, who tried to push you in being a little braver; still, you couldn’t bring yourself to admit your love to Charles. Because it was love. As you stared at each other in silence, your heart was about to explode, but he seemed to be unfazed by your flushed cheeks and nervous giggles. “Charles really likes you, y/n. You don’t have to doubt it.”, Pascale had told you. So, without thinking, prompted by the reassurances you had gathered from external feedback, you quickly leaned towards him and gave him the fastest peck on the lips. Pulling back, you kept your eyes shut, too scared to face his reaction; completely still, terrified, heart flinging out of your chest, you were caught by surprise feeling Charles’ lips back onto yours. It wasn’t as rushed as yours; he probably wasn’t as scared as you were. Under the careful touch of his hand upon your arm, you felt all your tension melt like snow under the sun, giving in to the moment, happy you had broken the ice so that you could both enjoy this second kiss without hesitation. As his face moved away, you saw him opening his mouth in order to say something. «I… I love you, y/n.» he gulped. «And thanks for the gift, they’re so well-made.» The way he had immediately changed topic didn’t help making his first words going unnoticed; Charles couldn’t put his heart on the line that openly, after all. But it seemed like you had only heard those three words, getting stuck at them, flinging yourself towards to hug him. «I love you too, Cha’!»

Charles looked over at you, peacefully drifted away, sleeping your hangover off. He had never told you, but you had been his first love too. Charles didn’t stop tenderly rubbing you from above the sheet, shamelessly enamored with that delicate, indirect touch. Caught once again by the diary, he frowned at a wrinkled page.

As soon as he closed the door behind him, you knew bad news were coming. You had never seen him as silent, as closed off and distant before: instead of immediately reaching out to your hand, walking alongside, he had fastened his steps, marching ahead of you, without sparing you a glance. He stopped on the promenade quite abruptly, forcing you to halt to avoid tripping over him. He stared at the raging sea, tinted of green and grey waves, foaming onto the harbor. «Where do you want to go?» you asked, trying to be as quiet as possible. «It doesn’t matter.» His voice was categorical. «We can’t be together.» He didn’t glance over to you nor blinked, as he threw you on the abyss of the sea, in the freezing coldness of his heart. «What?» you said, above a whisper. «I need to win the karting championship, so I must exclusively focus on training. Spending time with you will make me waste time.» A waste of time. That’s what you were to him. «But… We can still see each other, once you’re done with training! There’s no need to-» «I want to be a Formula One driver, y/n. I can’t have distractions.» «I’m not a distraction, Cha’! We… We love each other!» you pleaded. He finally turned around and threw a pity and almost annoyed look at you. «My only love is racing.» Too young and vulnerable to know how to hide the hurt of rejection, weeping like a baby you bumped past him, running back home, completely distraught. Charles’ words had cut you open like a knife, and what made it worse was that he had given no warning sign: those months together had flown by like a fever dream, sweet and carefree, even when he was telling you about his races and training. It made no sense, to you. He had given you up without thinking twice, whenever the choice was presented to him: racing had been and would always be his answer. Your feelings, whatever you two had shared meant nothing to him. Slamming the door of your bedroom, you looked down at your wrist: with a violent grab, you tore your matching bracelet apart, sobbing loudly, desperate at the thought he would soon throw the one you had made for him too.

Charles’ chest clenched. He had forgotten about the words he had used with you back at the time, but he hadn’t been able to rub off his memory the tears you shed before him. He was sure to be making the right choice, despite not knowing the cost of blindly pursuing his dream without taking others into consideration. He heard you heaving peaceful under his hand, still placed upon the duvet, and he felt a deep regret assaulting him: how could he ask you to stay near him, to bear his presence after what he had done to you? But most importantly: why did he have to lose you only to discover, years later, that if he had kept you by his side, you would’ve been the most supporting and understanding person, given the honey-laced words Pierre always had rolling off his tongue whenever he talked about your presence during race weekends?

Charles sighed and flipped the pages over and got stuck onto another entry, enchanted by a matured handwriting.

Pierre has always been a friend. Every time he would invite you down karting tracks, he would do anything to make you laugh with his stupid jokes, telling you about all the places he had been able to see throughout his first racing weekends around France, dreaming together of his future and reassuring you he would bring you along with him once he would reach F1. No matter how convincing he could sound, his talks always managed to trigger a deep fear in you: you thought you would soon lose him as well, the only real friend you had made since moving out. But Pierre didn’t reject you as Charles had done. Instead of excluding you, he tried to involve you in his world made of races and revving engines, sharing every bit of energy and passion with you. So you grew up together, as close as time and space allowed. The ease and comfort you felt around him and that developed over time was a novelty, more so as you got to know each other since you were fourteen; if you really had to carefully think your relationship through, being there for each other during teenage ha certainly cemented your connection. Because Pierre has always been a good friend; but there had been times, occasions, small moments in which raveled feelings coursed beneath the seemingly smooth surface.

#

It was no mystery Pierre enjoyed partying, more so if he could drag you with him down the hell of heat, sweat, shots and loud blasting music pumping his blood stronger than ever. That night, though, he had overdone it a bit. Embarrassingly enough, for the first time in his nineteen-years-old existence, he was locked in a bathroom, hands on his stomach, nausea all over his head. And, most importantly, you all over his thoughts. He had downed drinks all night with the intent of celebrating his F1 debut, but completely forgetting about your intoxicating presence, your breathtaking smiles, the little temptations that had begun tormenting him subtly after you had both abandoned innocence and had inevitably grown older. Pierre had completely underestimated the power you had on him, and losing control with drinking loosened his nerves: throughout the night, his hands had unexpectedly lingered on your waist longer, betraying the intentions of removing them in a painstaking delay; his glance had flickered down to your lips too many times, despite him checking in with himself and correct it; the crowded club being accomplice, he had danced way closer to you than he should’ve had, closer than friends would do, and he had mischievously invited you to throw your arms behind his neck. Pierre had never felt so next to completely letting go of any restraint and kissing you then and there, freeing years of pent-up desires. And at that exact moment, nausea had hit him, throwing water upon his fire: he had excused himself to you with incoherent mumbles and ran, scattered, in search of the first restroom he could see. Of course, he should’ve imagined you would follow him and enter the bathroom with him, locking the door behind you.

«Do you… do you need help?» you asked, moving an unsure step towards him. Pierre’s thoughts were running wild: he closed his eyes, fighting the sickness and avoiding engraving in his memory your sweet, worried eyes. «No, I just need to calm down, I think.» You got closer to him after seeing him frustratedly passing a hand through his hair, and affectionately cupped his cheek, pained to see his skin pale under the yellowish light of the bathroom. «Do you want me to bring you some water? I’ll come back in a second.» But Pierre, who was melting into your palm pressed against his face, enjoying the touch with eyes still shut, opened them wide with a frown the second the contact was lost: he grabbed your wrist, which was willing to flee from him, and brought it close so that your fingers would linger back upon his cheek, not ready at all to let you go now that he had you so tantalizingly near. «Please, stay here.» he breathed out. The swift hand pulling your waist closer to him almost went unnoticed, since dizziness was beginning to get you as well; however, not a single hint thrown at you that night, and not even the ones he had left in the last three years or so, had ever led you to believe Pierre yearned for something more. After all, he was a highly popular guy, always hanging out with different girls every night, never trying to hide it from you, in fact. Chicks came and went, but you always stayed. And you also stayed as Pierre spitted a strained and husky putain before rapidly closing the gap between you and trapping your parted lips in a kiss. He didn’t leave much room for you to think nor react: Pierre’s tongue had already met yours in a sloppy and fast-paced dance, and your hand, previously brushing the lightest veil of his beard, had already made his way up to his hair, tugging at it, before you could realize what was happening. Pierre’s stare was completely drowned in dark lust and he couldn’t think straight anymore, taken over by the fog of alcohol and your addictive presence. He kept your lips glued to yours, too scared your words would break what Pierre reckoned to be a fantasy, too good to be true; still, even when he was quickly interrupting the kiss to catch breaths or change side and tilt his head the other way round, no protests were raised. Thirsty and urged by drought, he drank his fill from your lips with such an avidity he would take away any resistance hovering in your mind: Pierre’s desire to see your face under the poorly lit restroom won against the feral need of tasting you, failing to take into consideration how the trail of glistening saliva connecting your swollen lips would turn him on even more, combined with your drunk, dazed eyes and your flushed cheeks. His hands couldn’t stop roaming all over your back, gripping your neck to keep you close, then finally finding rest onto your hips. It didn’t take long before they became daring: still placed upon your waist, they slowly slid up, meeting the cotton of your top and slightly rolling it up-

Charles closed the diary with an abrupt thud. Breathing heavily, eyes filled with rage and fear, he stared straight into the void. He had no intention to keep reading that entry. He wouldn’t read other two pages of you and Pierre’s first hookup. First of how many? He had introduced you as one of his dearest friends… But Charles knew Pierre better than anybody else, and it was a fact he had never befriend that deeply any girl. Unless she was his girlfriend. The idea Charles had had you before and lost you, then found you again and now lost you once more, and to his best friend, stirred unknown feelings inside of him he’d rather bury deep.

A buzz broke his trail of thoughts. Caught by surprise, Charles realized you had dropped your phone onto the bed before slipping under the covers and it had sat near his thigh all along without him noticing. Until it started buzzing, of course. Unconsciously, he took the phone in his hand and saw the notifications pop-ups coming from Pierre. “where aare youuu? I can’t find you And Charles is gone as well ? Please text me back” Charles rested his head again the wall, just above the headrest, and sighed. He should answer Pierre’s texts in order for him not to panic about you two disappearing without warning… or ignore him and pretend he had never read anything? In that moment, Charles realized he had overstepped plenty of the boundaries of your privacy, reading through both your diary and your phone. So… why not going all the way in and earn full damnation? Once he was asked to put a passcode, he stared at the number pad waiting for his drunk brain gears to move; digiting his attempt, he hoped you still kept the same passcode you had back in middle school. It’ll never work, he thought. But to Charles’ amazement, it did. Pressing his lips together mentally mocking your laziness and lack of clever choices (overlooking the fact that he was the only one to possibly know your code from middle school times), he quickly tapped the notification and got ready to type an answer. “I brought her back to the hotel and we’ve just fucked, so that’s why she didn’t answer back :) " No, Charles, for freak’s sake. No resentment. No jealousy. No throwing it back in his face. He’s your best mate, after all. “Charles brought me back to the hotel cause I didn’t feel good We wanted to warn you but couldn’t find you” Quite satisfied, Charles reckoned that would be something you’d say. He didn’t even bother checking for Pierre’s replay, definitely willing to miss out on him being love-sickly worried about you, eye rolling at the mere thought. You were still there sleeping quietly, unaware of the emotional mess you had stirred in Charles’ poor heart. He glanced over at you for the last time, then slowly got up, put the diary back in the wardrobe and sneaked out, closing the door as delicate and silent as he could, not to wake the love he had put to sleep.

Charles sat to the small table, his lower calf resting on his other knee, the pointer finger brushing against his lower lip, in wait. He had been asked by the waiter to order a couple of times already, but Charles, as politely as his upset heart could allow him to, had dismissed him and sent him away. Pierre’s lean silhouette casually strolled towards him with that usual, smug smirk adorning his face with an aura that Charles, for the first time after years of hanging out together, behind his Ray Bans, found terribly unsufferable. He tried to study his best friend in search of whatever detail could’ve ever caught you trapped into his arms, and how the man now taking a seat right in front of him could’ve lied to him straight to the face keeping his new relationship away from him.

«So… I’m all ears.» Pierre stated, smiling. «Alright.» Charles didn’t move, watching his every movement. «Can I ask you something first?» the Frenchman interrupted him as he was about to speak up. «Sure.» Charles sighed, tilting his head in a slow, controlled back and forth motion. «You didn’t tell me anything about y/n since you met her. What do you think of her?» The Monegasque couldn’t restrain a snort, looking away and removing his glasses only to fidget them close, before enigmatically staring at Pierre. It wouldn’t take as long as Charles had predicted to get to the main point of the conversation. «Why does my opinion on her matter so much to you?» «Because you’re my best bro?» Pierre nervously chuckled, scratching his nape. He can’t be lying straight to my face so openly, Charles thought. «You know, you could’ve told me right away you wanted me to meet your new girlfriend. You didn’t have to put all this shit up and call her “one of my dearest friends”.»

Charles, still glancing at him, expected to savor Pierre’s astonished reaction, ready to catch him red-handed: so it was only natural for him to be left confused as the Frenchman frankly laughed, hand on his belly. «Mate, I don’t know how you made it up, but this is the most stupid crap I’ve heard in a while.» «Well, the way you two look at each other and are so comfortable with touching and being close gives it off. You aren’t subtle at all.» Pierre frowned, squinting his eyes to read into Charles’ expression. «Well, that’s a pity, because there’s nothing between me and her. And if you really want to know, she also rejected me long time ago.» «If she rejected you, something must’ve happened.» he stated, raising a brow. «We just made out once. I was celebrating for my F1 debut, I drank way too much and I kissed her. But she refused me quite badly.» he smiled at the thought. «What?» Charles stared at him conflicted, not knowing whether to trust Pierre’s version of the story. «She almost pushed me against the wall. I don’t even think she remembers, we were both completely hangover next day and we never talked about it anymore… Because there was no need to.» Charles would’ve liked to say that, in fact, you clearly remembered it, since he had found it in your diary; but knowing that he had skipped the pages which probably contained the rejection made him feel somewhat relieved. Yet, the undeniable closeness he had witnessed with his own eyes still put him in guard. «Still, you’re always PDA… and you also called her your girl.» «Did I? When?» «Literally last time we went out.» «Oh, I don’t remember. Too drunk to know.» Pierre smiled again. «But at this point, I guess there’s something you really would like to tell me about her.» Charles frowned, waiting for him to speak up again. «You act sus the entire night I introduced you both and dodge every conversation I try to have about her, but you still search for her any hour of the day just to give me second-hand embarrassment with you two’s awkward tension…» Pierre smirked to himself, shaking his head in the smallest movements and scrolling through his phone. «Then you use y/n’s phone to send me a drunk text she questions me about, stating it certainly isn’t hers, which kind of hints at the fact you stayed over to her room until…» he paused, then snorted loudly, «3 a.m. Wow.» Pierre put his phone on the table, screen facing downward. «Lastly, you invite me here, act all classy and cold with your Ray Bans, ready to confront me and make me confess my undying love for y/n with this pissed off face,» he pointed at his friend’s expression, «‘cause you’re jealous as fuck and you’re the one in love with her, uh? Good move, Charles. You’re the one who’s not being subtle at all, here.»

The waiter jumped right in at the worst possible moment, but this time Charles thanked his presence and let him interrupt the conversation: he felt spent, let down, somehow sorry for acting childishly. But, most of all, for being put in front of the harsh true: he still loved you. «Do you know all the story already?» Charles asked him, looking down, dejected. «Which story?» Pierre stared at him bamboozled, as Charles did in return. «But- you said I’m in love with her, so you know, right?» «Know what? What are you talking about?» Charles gulped. «That me and y/n have been together.» Charles saw Pierre’s eyes flick wide open, then him covering his mouth, in disbelief; once again staring back at him, completely sucked in by the news, willing to get at the bottom of it. «When she lived in Monaco…» «Yep.»

A short pause was offered by the drinks opportunely served, just in time for processing the information. «Now I understand why she acts weird when you’re around.» the Frenchman hummed, taking a sip. «Why did you breakup though?» «Guess I was too young to be in a serious relationship while also competing in karting.» Pierre glanced at his best friend, almost uncapable of recognizing him: he’d rarely seen him heartbroken and let down as he was, brushing his fingertip against the edge of his glass. «You should’ve invited y/n here instead of me.» Charles sadly smiled. «To say what?» «Exactly what you told me. You should’ve shown her you’re jealous of me and her, so that she knew you still love her. She should’ve seen you care for her as you probably did back then.» «So that she could rip my heart in two saying she doesn’t feel the same anymore?» «So that she could realize she never dated anybody else after you because she still feels something for you.» Charles bore his helpless eyes into Pierre’s, hope and surprise dancing in his irises. «C’mon, Charles, she even rejected me. Nobody has ever turned me down!» «Oh, please, I know that already.» Charles waited a couple of seconds to let the playful comment set before speaking up again. «Anyway, I tried to talk to her. But of course, she doesn’t want to listen, rightfully, and I can’t force her to.» Pierre loudly put down on the table his glass, spitting out a “tsk” of disapproval and disgust. «Where’s the Charles I know? The one who fights his battles until the end without giving up?»

In love, Charles had never had many problems. After you, that is. Loving came easy to him, as much as being loved: Pierre was popular due to his damned-cool boy reputation, but Charles wasn’t less of a dream for girls. He’d see the astonished stares, cheeks burning bright for him only, the small gasps and whispers shared between friends, the trembling voices and shaking fingers handing him the phone, a picture, a felted tip. A power he never used, let alone overused, to his own advantage. Still, he wished he would work with you. He always searched for any positive sign or reaction to his presence, but he never had the chance to spot them clearly. Every time some fans would hand him a bracelet, an instant stab of sorrow and regret seeped through his heart, overlaying memories of your delicate, small hands offering your handmade sign of love. Pierre was right. He couldn’t let you slip away, once again. «You must hurry up, though.» Pierre stood up, one hand stuffed in his jeans’ pocket. «Why?» «She leaves tomorrow. She… she goes back home.» he trailed off his stare. «What?! Why didn’t you tell me?» Charles abruptly stood up to face him, screeching his chair on the floor. «’Cause I didn’t know you cared?» Charles ran a hand through his hair, sighing in frustration. «Oh, fuck me…» Pierre took his phone out of the pocket and sent a text, under the desperate stare of his best friend. «Okay, she’s in her room now. Go to her.» «W-where?» «She’s staying at my same hotel, room 214. But you know that already from last night.» Charles gaped, uncapable of letting words out. Pierre smiled, patting his shoulder. «You’re welcome. But get to work, okay?»

You knew since the beginning that Pierre’s newly gifted sweatshirts wouldn’t fit your suitcase, so you had warned him not to shower you with merch as he always did: in vain, of course. Hence, you were completely bent over the suitcase, desperately trying to squeeze it with your body weight, in order to close the zip. Huffing and grumbling, about to break the zip due to the excessive might, you halted every movement as a confident knocking on your door startled you. You weren’t expecting anyone; so typical of Pierre to forget stuff in your room and casually pass by… But his knocks would be usually followed by a string of embarrassing pet names, forcing you to open the door immediately. It was unusual for silence to drop right after the knocks.

You got closer to the door, only to jump back hearing insistent thuds against it. Okay, this is more like Pierre. You didn’t wonder further and simply got ready to welcome the sight of your best friend. Apart from the fact that the guy swiftly sneaking inside your room wasn’t him. «W-what are you doing?!» First rage, then fluster hit you: but Charles’ stormy eyes made you weak and helplessly condescending to anything he’d come by to say, as they had always done. «Why are you here?» you asked, your tone softened. Wetted his lips, irises scattered around, purposely avoiding yours, then a firm, determined yet resigned stare. «I read your diary.» «W-wha-» «When I brought you back here from the party, you were drunk. I made it drop by mistake and… and it was right open. I read it. And I also used your phone to answer Pierre’s texts, but you already know this.»

You couldn’t even get mad. As much as you tried to gather fury within you, something about him being vulnerable and fragile before you, frankly confessing the wrongdoings, seemingly heartbroken, couldn’t stir up blame on him. The only thing which made your ears ring and blurred your eyes was black fear. «What… what did you read?» Charles swallowed hard; you followed the movement with your eyes, you almost heard it loud and clear. «Everything.» With a single word, your pride tore apart. You could feel the void it left right beneath your sternum, and you could perceive the prickling tears stinging your eyes. Charles’ brows trembled in sorrow as he watched shame flash through your body, enhancing the shaking of your fingers, the twitching of your lips. «Why did you come here to embarrass me?» Not bearing being that far away from you while simultaneously being the reason you were crying, Charles closed the gap with a step, cupping your cheek with unknown tenderness. «Can you forgive me?» he whispered. You deeply wished he didn’t sound that fragile and loving; you couldn’t bear the pity look he was giving you, not after the brutal ways he had used with you in the past. He was being unnecessarily unfair. Because he probably knew, as you did deep down, that there was no way on earth you could avoid forgiving him.

Charles waited for your answer with his heart on the line, ready to crash in the abyss of despair or hopefully swim in relief, his fingers brushing the dust of time off your precious self, like a rediscovered chest of memories. He shouldn’t have never let you go. «You’re so stupid…» you shook your head and drop it low. «Charles, reading a diary isn’t as bad as-» «No, y/n, that’s not what I meant.» You raised your head up at his words. «Can you forgive me for… leaving you?» Beyond your inner walls, water fell and crashed the dam with its violent flow. He let you hide your face in the crook of his neck, hugging you closer, placing a kiss on your hair, tightening the embrace as your sobs tightened his chest. «Would you trust my love?» he spoke again. A loud sigh erupted from your lips. «I hate you so much…» Charles affectionately leaned his cheek upon your head, rubbing your back in hope to soothe your cries. «I was so naïve and stupid, y/n. I’m so sorry.» he whispered. «You don’t even know how much pain you put me through… I fucking left my hometown, Charles! I moved out…» «I know.» Charles acknowledged, resigned. «No, you don’t! You don’t…» «I never forgave myself for this. You know that?» His honesty showed through the hoarse tone of his voice, which obliged you to look at him, fast enough to see the veils of tears adorning his mesmerizing green, now saddened, eyes. «When my mom told me you had moved out, I thought it couldn’t be real. I waited for you out of school, to bring you back home as we always did, but you were never there.»

You cried harder against his skin, devastated by his shaking voice, and you encircled his neck with your arms to nestle closer. «I kept wearing your bracelet, I couldn’t take it off. It was the only thing I still had of you.» Charles trailed off his gaze and strayed away from the fixed spot he had been staring at, willing to interrupt the unraveling of his raw, way too powerful feelings; then he gently pushed you away the bit he needed to look inside your eyes. «Even if you don’t believe me, I won’t be able to forgive myself until you do. And I might not be able to forgive myself anyway,» he wiped off one of your tears with his thumb, «but I couldn’t add another regret, letting you go without telling you that I still love you.»

Charles felt a weight lifting off his shoulder, relaxing his tensed muscles all at once: he had said the words he had kept stuck in his heart for way too long. He let the hug loosen and moved backwards, now ready to see you leave. «But… if you’re in love with Pierre… I mean, I won’t interfere with you guys. You’re free to love whoever and I honestly can’t blame you, after all I’ve done.» You sadly smiled at his antics, diverging gaze as soon as he had broken the embrace and distancing from you. He had just told you he loved you, but had thrown another topic onto the table so that it would go unnoticed, so that he wouldn’t be hurt in case you didn’t reciprocate. He hadn’t changed, not even a bit. Under the cool and elegant demeanor, you could still see the shy, impulsive and passionate boy you had fallen in love with. «Cha’… You know I can’t choose who to love, right?» Charles’ eyes widened as soon as he saw you stepping towards him, closing the gap once again, lacing your hands around his neck while he held your waist in disbelief, scared you would fade away leaving him with splinters of a dream. «And the proof is that… I can’t help loving you.» «I’d like to say that I’m sorry for you, but…» You both inched over each other’s head, hearts twisting with the renewed novelty of what love felt like. «But there’s no need to be.» you breathed on his lips. The tension pent up through your muscles released all at once, right as you both fell caught inside a kiss: the lock which had sealed you heart for years cracked open at Charles’ key, unleashing the old, affectionate and immature feelings so that you could dress them with the newer and shinier clothes of reconciliation.

Charles couldn’t help a soft moan of frustration while deepening the kiss, his hands failing to keep you as close as he needed, touch-starved. You let him take control, overwhelmed by bliss to the point you simply gave in and relied completely on him; as he worshipped every corner of your beauty, your heart overflowed of unexperienced joy and love. You weren’t in a rush for taking the flight anymore: time was a senseless number uncapable of measuring the moment. Charles delicately laid you on the newly made bed, leaving a trail of feather-like kisses on your collarbones and down to your stomach, lips brushing against your summer dress and eyes desperately sticking onto yours all along. «Tell me you want this as much as I do.» His eyelids shut and his hopeful, breathless voice invited your fingers to pass through his hair, pulling his lips back above yours. «I promise I do.» Scared of opening his eyes and discovering he was having a feverish, heart-rending yet delightful dream, Charles helplessly smiled after resting his forehead upon yours. «Let me love you, then.»

I'm dead sure it's full of mistakes but I'm too tired and happy to be posting that I don't care! Thanks for bearing through everything! And thanks a ton to who leaves notes of feedback, they're so precious and dear to me! ♥ ✧ ˚ · .  Wish you a wonderful day . · ˚✧

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[memento-morri-writes]

Silent Saturday Tag

Rules: Share a snippet that does not include any dialogue.

So I was tagged a whole three weeks ago by @space-writes but I never got around to sharing anything. A lot of my best or favorite writing involves dialogue, and given that what I've been writing lately is mostly dnd campaign interactions, there's lots of dialogue involved. But today I went back and revisited a snippet that I'd initially written a few months ago, after our first session of the Drakkenheim campaign, and I realize it would be a perfect candidate for this! (Especially since I already told Space about the events of this scene in the campaign...) So here, have a bit of what ended up becoming Session 1 PVP. (I'm sorry in advance if this sucks. I'm not very good at fight scenes. I make my sentences too long, and I never know how to describe motion.)

tw for body horror, death, and violence

Carrion stared out into the forest. The long-dead trees loomed menacingly overhead, but nothing moved between their trunks or in their branches. Satisfied that the woods were silent for the time being, he cast his gaze out over the sleeping travelers who lay spread out around the dying fire. None of them stirred or even snored. Ricard’s unsettling rasping breaths had stopped a few hours ago, and Carrion wasn’t even sure the corrupted man was still alive.  He peered closer, trying to see if he could see his chest rising and falling. Before he could really take in any details, Ricard threw off his bedroll. Moving fast, faster than he had any right to be, he got to his feet and moved over to where his companion, Ludwig, lay sleeping. Carrion leapt to his feet as Ricard grabbed Ludwig’s rapier.  Carrion opened his mouth to call out to him, but before he could get a word out, there was a blur of movement. Something lashed out from under Ricard's cloak, wrapping around Ludwig’s head and neck. There was a sickening squelch and snapping of bone as his skull and spine were crushed by what looked like a massive tentacle.  Ricard dropped Ludwig’s body and moved towards where Endra lay, still asleep. As he approached the remains of the fire, Carrion was able to get a better look at him. His mouth, nose, and ears had been replaced with gaping inky purple holes. The tentacle that had killed Ludwig, crushed him with so little effort, emerged from under his cloak, writhing in the air like an enraged snake. He raised higher, preparing to strike at Endra.  Carrion threw himself forwards, leaping over the embers of the fire as he barreled toward the monster. As he lept, his body began to grow. His bones lengthened and his flesh swelled. Strange bony ridges bulged under his skin, and short, thick spines erupted from his arms. Long, clawed nails extended from his fingers until each was at least the size of his pocket knife. His horns grew and split, fanning into a spiked crown-like growth. The world blurred and took on a dusky haze as his eyes were engulfed in purple. By the time he landed beside Ricard, he towered over the man by several feet. Ricard spun to face him, tentacle raised in defense. Carrion batted it aside and tore a clawed hand into Ricard’s side. Hot, sticky blood coated his skin, caking under his nails, and he remembered Valeska’s warning. Don’t touch him. It might be contagious.  It was too late for that, though. He attempted to dodge, throwing his body to the side as Ricard lashed out at him. He wasn't fast enough. The tentacle was surprisingly strong, lifting him off the ground as it wrapped itself around his ribcage. He thrashed against it, roaring in protest as the rest of the camp began to wake around them.

I'm going to tag @transmasc-wizard @zmwrites and @akindofmagictoo and anyone else who's reading this and wants to share!!

[misseffect]

7 snippets, 7 mutuals

Thanks for the tag @otemporanerys!

Tagging a lot of people who have already been tagged: @diaphanouso @helila @dispatchwithlove @kalliesa @angry-jager @dwarrowdams @serendipitys-teapot

All of these are from my Mass Effect F1 AU: Flashpoints

+++

Singapore Shower

One moment Garrus is holding her by the arms, water rolling over his shoulders – there's a knotted look on his face; his mouth is moving but no sound is coming out, which is weird – and the next she's lying on her back on the shower room floor.

"Shepard? Hey – c'mon."

Garrus is kneeling beside her, pinching her arm gently, holding her legs in the air with his shoulder. She feels heavy, like her bones are full of syrup, and the thumping behind her eyes is keeping time with the fuzz crowding her vision.

"Shit."

"It's alright." He sounds further away than he should, and so does the water still beating down on his back. "You passed out for a second, that's all."

+++

Shepard Does An AMA

probinguranus6969 - Would you rather fight 20 duck-sized Jokers or 1 Joker-sized duck?

janeshepard54 - I know your reddit handle joker

probinguranus6969 - damn it

+++

FaceTime Antics

She fishes another biscuit out of the packet while Garrus props his phone up on the side and heaves his suitcase onto the bed. It’s a nice enough room from what little she can see: old-fashioned, like the rest of the place, but in a plush, cared-for sort of way.

“Oh, by the way–” Crunch. “–you don’t happen to know how the dark web works, do you?”

He unzips the case and flips the lid. “Not really. Why?”

“I got called up for drug testing at Paul Ricard and my sample went missing,” she says, chewing glumly. “Joker’s winding me up about it; thinks someone’s selling vials of my piss on the black market.”

+++

Normal Thoughts To Have About Your Bestie's Car

The second he starts to ask the car for more, everything changes. 

It feels familiar – in fundamentals, sure, in throttle and steering output – but there’s something else, too. It’s more pliable than the Hierarchy car, more predictable than anything Omega or Archangel could give him; it's unlike anything he’s even driven, but somehow he knows it. Like catching a familiar smell in a place you've never visited.

And then it hits him.

It's not the car. It's her.

He knows Shepard's driving style almost as well as his own – reactive and twitchy, nose-heavy, late-braking, all faith and guts – and this thing lives and breathes it. It takes everything he's got to give, the good and the bad, and amplifies it tenfold. It grins and says c’mon, I dare you.

It’s not just a car designed with her in mind. It’s like wearing her clothes.

+++

Not To Be Dramatic But I Would Die For Mr Blobby

Shepard rounds the corner into the kitchen to find Mr Blobby loitering by the back door like a pair of cow-coloured slippers.

“He’s in a time-out," Hannah calls through the open window, paintbrush in hand.

“Aww, Blob.”

Mr Blobby makes a mournful rrrr sound. There’s a dab of brown paint on the end of his tail.

+++

Shepard Has PTSD Probably

It's not a nightmare really. Sure, it wakes her up every few hours, sweaty and unrested, and when she closes her eyes again, it drops her right back where she left off, but it's not scary. She's not being hunted or chased. She's not standing at the front of class with no clothes on. Nobody's dying.

Shepard's driving a road car on suburban streets - shifting, nebulous streets; faintly European but also faintly not - and somewhere in the distance, there's a fire.

There's a fire and she has to reach it.

She can see a column of black smoke in the distance, catch the odd lick of orange between buildings, but every turn she takes feels wrong and by the time she doubles back, the smoke isn't where she thought it was. It's in her rearview mirror, or out to her left when it was on her right. Sometimes a fire engine blasts past her in the opposite direction, the wailing siren fading before she can follow.

+++

Everybody Hates Conrad

Mathematically Shepard could win the Championship as early as Japan, five races before the end of the season, and it shows. Media seems to come naturally to her in a way it never has to him, but still; he’s never seen her so relaxed this early in the year. Al’Jilani can’t draw her in with pointed questions about Anderson giving her an easy ride and she doesn’t even bother taking a bite out of Conrad Verner.

“Any comment on rekindling your relationship with Thane Krios?” he asks, his big square face expectant.

Shepard scratches under her chin. “Why am I always the last person to find out who I’m dating?”

There’s a ripple of laughter. Emily is checking her watch and people are starting to shuffle their belongings around.

“Are you going to answer the question?” Conrad calls, but by then there’s enough ambient noise for everyone to plausibly ignore him.

[noctis-horrow]

Can we get some random facts ab the bros?

Of course, lil fun facts about each of the brothers!

- Ricard is weak to cute creatures with small bodies, round sparkling eyes and makes squeaky noises. He can never hurt those lil guys, they can never do wrong. That's why all of his employees wear cute dog masks!

- Lev has a terrible breath, like rotten meat smell in there. Also he has the smallest teeth out of the three, so his bite doesn't do "instant fatality" like Aster's.

- Aster's hair is the brothers' original hairstyle when they were young, but then Ricard wanted a cleaner look, while Lev just let his grow. So now only Aster has the original hairstyle.

- All three of them like to lick faces. Mostly MC's face. Definitely won't bite 😉

Here's a WIP of that one scene in the game where you can meet Ricard's employees!

[sgiandubh]

Keepers of the Quaich

This time, we're going to look at things a bit differently and this could very well be my most speculative post ever. So be it: it is a risk I am taking and warning you about from the get go.

The only thing Mordor understood about the next October 4 event organized by the US Chapter of The Keepers of the Quaich is something that probably gave them collective relief: S is not going to be with C on her birthday. Not together. Not on the same continent. Shut up, shippers, you are stupid.

As usually, Mordor takes things at a very primitive face value, without bothering for context. But they always focused on the lewd side of the story, not on its deep ramifications, of which there are many. Anything that denies S's halfwit manwhore image upsets them greatly.

The Scottish society of The Keepers of the Quaich is not one of those old, steeped in tradition clubs, but it is damn selective. It only dates back to 1988, which is almost five minutes ago, for Europe (and especially the UK) and is deeply rooted in Highlands' lore, celebrating excellence in whisky trade and promotion worldwide. General facts about it have already been discussed elsewhere, but with a bias and little to no context. Also, really LOL at Mordor's idiocy to think that was a fan promotion event and go ballistic for the members-only and by invitation access to it.

Membership is by co-opting and with a five-year proven performance history only (ten years, if you step up to Master level). You need not one, but two recommendations, which makes it harder to join than a Masonic lodge or the Rotary Club (and I know what I am saying, heh). That S could actively seek to be inducted, rather sooner than later, is pretty much clear, as he could use the network it readily provides, along with the prestige:

(Sourced at: https://www.diffordsguide.com/encyclopedia/341/people/keepers-of-the-quaich)

I first had a look at the list of its International Chapters and it is interesting to notice Muslim countries as Turkey or the Emirates each having their own chapter, which clearly tells me it's all about luxury and more specifically, luxury hospitality business, in that case. If inducted after the customary five years' wait, S could also make good use of the German chapter's (a market that proved to be very problematic for him) network, along with the Nordics and Netherlands, if he would think about cleverly expanding his trade in the EU. Last but not least, I would keep an eye on Brazil and India (along with the more predictable South Africa and Australia), because he already has a solid fanbase in the first one and well, Asia is always interesting, when it comes to alcohol business.

I did not really bother with the list of the Patrons, which spells a good and prestigious sliver of Debrett's Peerage's Scottish section. But I also looked at the list of the Management Committee, who does all the hands-on dealings and is directly responsible for the induction ceremony of new members. Aside from representatives of Diageo and Pernod Ricard (giants of the alcohol business world), a familiar name popped right at the bottom of the page:

Annabel Meikle, Director of The Keepers of the Quaich and as such, directly involved in the management of its activities (and probably also in all the underground shenanigans leading to the induction of new members, too). A great contact to have in your rolodex, judging by her public CV on LinkedIn:

Glenmorangie (also a member of the Keepers) - keep that reference under your sleeve, we are going to need it soon :).

Could she be related to...

I am leaving this without an answer, because I don't know and I will always refuse to go data mining for anything, but that sure as hell is not a common surname, as Smith or Martin!

At any rate, Mrs. Meikle is also (along with the Duke of Argyll, the current Keepers Grand Master) a member of The Scottish Committee of something very, very prestigious: The Worshipful Company of Distillers (https://www.distillers.org.uk/), based in London and founded in 1638, by Royal Charter (for “Body Politique and corporate” to govern the “Trade Arte and Mystery of Distillers of London” - how I love history, people!) granted by Charles I, a Stuart (of course). I am speculating and having visions of Livery status and Freedom of the City, followed by Knighthood for S (no bong needed, this particular narrative writes itself and believe it or not, it's not entirely without logic). And it is my strict constitutional right to be a poetic coo about it - that guy is smarter than we thought and I would curate that contact to death if I were him (but I am not, I am just a benevolent and intrigued observer, as you all know). Back to Earth from these optimistic conjectures, I will keep a tab on it, as I dutifully took note that one of their current interests is tequila:

Onwards to the US. We can have a fair idea of October 4th event just by looking at one of their few press releases on the occasion of the Chapter's launch gala, on September 25 2019, in New York (https://www.distilledspirits.org/wp-content/uploads/2019/10/KOTQUSA-Release-10.04.19.pdf - with quotes selected by me):

Moët Hennessy. Another reference to keep under our sleeve, for it will be soon very relevant. So yes, what has been speculated by Miss Marple is partially true: more business than aristocratic. But this is only if we do not consider as American aristocratic the venue of the next event. The Metropolitan Club is a very East Coast, WASP old money and (well, technically yes) Republican (but not MAGA Republican and this, to me, is very important for some reason) organization:

That was the state of play on Friday, folks, and I was already excited to share my optimistic findings with you. And then, C went to Paris and more dots started to speculatively connect. Bare with me for this long passegiata, I think it's worth it.

It was particularly important that C would be seen in a very friendly-casual pose with Delphine Arnault, out of all the other people attending that event. Not because Arnault is currently the big boss of Dior and Loewe (as I already explained here: https://www.tumblr.com/sgiandubh/729801825900953600/city-of-lights?source=share). And not only because C suddenly seems very interested to renew and expand her fashion days' old network. But also, because, as I already said, Delphine Arnault is also the daughter of her father and in France, business and family are always closely entwined. Always.

The French luxury market is roughly split between two behemoth players: Bernard Arnault (LVMH Moët Hennessy • Louis Vuitton S.A) and Antoine Pinault (Kering, ex- Pinault-Printemps- Redoute). These people and their businesses are number 1 and 2, respectively, on the global market. And out of these two, the only one very interested in the alcohol business is Arnault (Pinault does not deal in this sector).

So I took a look at his very diverse alcohol and spirits brand portfolio (25 references - https://www.lvmh.com/houses/wines-spirits/): rhum, brandy, champagne, tequila, wines (Argentina and even China). Two Scottish whisky brands: first Ardberg (the graceful peat from Islay). And - oh, hello, Mrs. Meikle - Glenmorangie, acquired by Arnault in 2004, after a bitter battle with Pernod Ricard (https://www.nytimes.com/2004/10/21/business/world-business-briefing-europe-france-scotch-maker-acquired.html):

Back at Mrs. Meikle's CV - hers was a pivotal role in the post-acquisition reshuffle, as part of LVMH:

Coincidence? I think not.

And then also a bourbon reference. Woodinville (based in the state of Washington, USA) with a pitch that made me grin again like the Cheshire Cat:

Sounds familiar? Rings a bell? See a pattern? You should: no, it's not S in disguise, but it could be SS in a couple of years, if S decided to sell it for a hefty profit.

But I was also interested in what is missing from this catalogue.

NO GIN.

Who knows? Maybe these French people could be enticed? In that case (and remember: I am SPECULATING), it would have to be a brand with a proven track record. You see, Arnault is famous for always buying only brands with a proven history and proven recognition (Tasting Alliance, anyone? LOL). Up until now and as is, FMN is just a pet project and a virtual endeavor. Nothing more and we shall see. But that little wild Scottish gin which could win hearts and already an award in Frisco is something completely different.

Now, then. You connect the dots. You draw your own conclusions. I see something very intriguing here and, as I already told you, the business underground situation is completely different from the bland façade.

You see, this is not about papers or checking a pulse or awkwardly grabbing a fist on some stairs. This is show me the money time. This is all about finding unexpected connections, at a very high level and on a very narrow niche.

So you think S and C can't stand each other anymore?

Humbug. They have each other's back from Day 1. And more. Ship on, ladies. Whatever clownery these days might bring, I know what I know. And by now, you should start asking yourselves the real questions, not if Waldo is with Carmen Sandiego (we KNOW), nor if they were online at the same time or not. I mean, that's cute: but to be honest, I think we're past that... uh... waypoint?

Next on my list is that Lallybroch trademark thing. This is the most complex one and I will take my time. I may speculate, but never without a logical base. And I always take these things very seriously.

Keepers of the Quaich, indeed. :)

[promethea-silk]

à la folie

Cordelia had wasted little time in seeing to preparations for the journey she was now set to embark on with her sister.

Sister.

The term still felt foreign to her and yet when she spent any time in the presence of Vahalia, the two felt close as kin would, mirroring many facets about themselves in one another. The circumstances leading up to their meeting seemed to be fated, each piece falling in place one at a time leading to where they were now turning to; together.

Her belongings were gathered and efficiently packed, not that she had much plans of taking very much in the first place seeing as the weather was anticipated to be much different than that of Ishgard. There was very little of her wardrobe that would be befitting of the climate in Tural, though with her skills, Cordelia was able to alter some of her attire she already owned. What wouldn't be a fit, she was prepared to purchase upon arrival of their destination. Delicate yet able fingers carefully clipped through fabrics only to sew edges together in a different fashion, hemming skirts much higher than what she typically would prefer to done in public, and adjusting trousers to be adequate.

Once she was pleased with her changes, she offered the piles of clothes to Tilly to have them packed away in her luggage along with other necessities she anticipated needing. Cordelia sat back the chair that had its home settled within her crafting room, a thoughtful hum vibrating from beneath a finger as it rested gently just at her lips. Every detail had been seen to and the anticipation to see this through was rising, yet she found herself allowing her thoughts to wander to one more matter before considering herself well and fully prepared.

Adjusting the silver rimmed glass nestled over her eye, Cordelia leaned forward and took up a piece of parchment as well as inky and her black feather quill. Her thumb toyed with the newly adorned family ring in place of where her mother's once was before she set the pen to paper.

Ricard, This is likely the last thing you would wish to receive currently, but I wished to tell you I am leaving Ishgard for a time, my sights set to the west, in Tural. I hope you are well and my thoughts are with you. -C

Mentions: @vahalia-cress @ricard-blythe-ffxiv

[gingiesworld]

Family Ties (6/?)

Natasha Romanoff x Werewolf Fem Reader

Warnings: Angst. Fluff. Smut

Taglist : @natashamaximoff-69 @canvascoloredin @wizardofstories @louxbloom @wandanats-goodgirl @natashasilverfox @the-ox-fan20 @upsidedowndanvers

18+ MINORS DNI

Since the kiss, the two had stolen moments in between meetings and team briefings. Y/N also looked over the map that Nat had given her, looking over the last known location of the clan. That was until she noticed a familiar name in the file that Nat had been looking over.

"Ricard Selene." She muttered as she remembered the man she knew as her Uncle before he betrayed them all.

"You know him?" Natasha asked as Y/N nodded.

"He is my uncle, the one who gave me to Hydra, the reason why many of my family had died." Y/N told her.

"We have been searching for him." Nat told her as she showed her the locations they had.

"Here." Y/N pointed as Nat looked at her confused. "My family will be here because they will be looking for him."

"They were looking for you." Nat stated as Y/N shook her head.

"They would have believed that I was dead after over a decade." She told her. "So the bases, the killings would have been vengeance for the lives lost because of him."

"So you think your family is looking for him too?" She questioned as Y/N nodded. "We need to go to Fury about this."

"No." Y/N told her. "We need to do this ourselves. Tony has already shown his dislike for my kind and well, I can't trust him around my family Nat."

"Maybe we can ask Steve?" She questioned.

"No. I can do it." Y/N told her. "I have to do it."

"What about us?" Nat questioned as Y/N gave her a small smile.

"When this is all over, you and I are going away for a while. Just us." Y/N cupped her face.

"When do you plan on leaving?" She questioned as Y/N smiled softly.

"Tonight." She told her. "I need to help my family." She told her as Nat nodded in understanding before pressing her lips on Y/N's in an urgent kiss. Her arms wrapped around Y/N's neck as Y/N pushed her on the bed. Hovering over her as she gazed into Nat's eyes before kissing once more, her tongue pushing past her lips as Nat moaned as her leg pressed against her aching core.

As Y/N's kisses moved down her neck, Nat grinded against Y/N's thigh trying to find relief. Y/N's hand went to remove her clothes, leaving the assassin bare for her to see. Her finger brushing over her ivory skin as Nat looked through hooded eyelashes.

"You are so beautiful." Y/N whispered before kissing her once more. Her hand moved to knead one of Nat's breasts as her kisses moved down her body. Growling as she could smell Nat's arousal, bringing out Y/N's primal needs to mark her. Her teeth bared down into Nat's skin, causing her to whimper at the sensation as Y/N's fingers plunged inside of her. Thrusting at a fast and steady pace as Nat's moans filled the room. Her hands gripping the sheets as she came, Y/N removed her fingers and started to suck on her clit, not giving her a chance to let up. Moaning as Y/N made her cum once more before she pushed Y/N over, ready to spend the day between the sheets.

"Promise me you will call me if you need." Nat asked her as Y/N packed a small bag.

"I don't exactly have a phone." She told her with a smirk.

"Here." She handed her an older phone and charger. "It has my number already in the contacts, and Wanda and Steve just in case."

"Thank you Nat." Y/N whispered as she put the phone in the bag. "For everything."

"Don't make this sound like a goodbye." Nat told her.

"I'm not." Y/N told her. "See you later." She kissed her before she joined Clint in his truck as Nat watched her disappear out of the compound.

"So, she's gone?" Wanda asked as Nat nodded.

"For now." She whispered as Steve patted her shoulder.

"Let's concentrate on taking down Hydra." He told them as they nodded.

"So, you think you can find Ricard?" Clint asked Y/N as he drove.

"Yeah." Y/N told him. "We are known as the world's best hunters, predators even."

"And you think that will help." He questioned as she nodded.

"It will. Besides, my family has already been searching for him and we will be getting closer." She told him.

"You believe that?" He asked her.

"I have to." She told him. "If I don't, who knows what will happen to the rest of us."

The rest of the drive went by in silence, especially since the two needed to listen out for any signs of the clan. "We're nearby." She told him as she sniffed.

"How can you tell?" He asked her, amazed by her.

"I can smell them." She answered as he nodded. "We have a great sense of smell, it can be a curse at times though."

"I can imagine." He chuckled as the two exited the truck, making their way into the woods.

"You don't have to come with me?" She told him as he shook his head.

"Nat is my best friend and I know that if anything happened to you, it would break her heart." He told her as the two made their way through the trees, soon finding a clearing with some children running.

"You're here?" A woman asked as she approached Clint.

"We are." He smiled at her. "This is Y/N."

"My baby." She whispered as she cupped Y/N's face. "I can't believe it." She turned to one of the kids. "Go and get Aaron."

"I'm home." She whispered as Trinity kissed the girl's head, pulling her in for a hug, tears falling down her cheeks.

"Y/N?" Aaron whispered as he approached them, the other elders stood behind him as he walked to the two. "I can't believe it. You're finally home." He turned to Clint. "Thank you."

"We may have a location on Ricard." He told Aaron who stiffened. "Y/N thinks that you were really looking for him all this time."

"No." Aaron shook his head. "I knew in my heart that my baby girl was still alive. I could feel it."

"But we can still find him." Y/N told him.

"You will not be coming along." He told her as she stepped forward. "I already lost you once, I will not lose you again."

"This is my fight as much as it is yours, Father." She told him. "I can do this, we can take him down."

"No!" He yelled. "You will remain here, with your mother and the other women."

"Father, with all due respect. I know what Hydra are capable of." She told him. "I have been on the receiving end of their torture techniques, experiments."

"Your destiny is to be a mother." He told her as she shook her head.

"I can't carry a child if I wanted to." She told him honestly. "They made sure of that when they removed my eggs. Taking them away and freezing them so they can try and make their own wolves."

"You still won't be coming." He told her. "You will remain here, with the women and younglings."

The Avengers had narrowed it down to a location as Clint had notified Nat of the plan.

"Ok, we need to be sure that we do not harm the wolves." Nat stated as everyone listened to the plan.

"Seriously?" Tony asked her. "Why are we working with them?"

"We have a common goal." Steve told him. "We all want to take down Hydra and Ricard Selene."

"Why not let them take the base instead." He tried as Steve scoffed.

"We will work with them, as a team." He told him firmly. "If I find out that there is a single casualty caused by you Stark, I will make your life a living hell."

"Ok." He raised his hands in defeat. "When do we leave?" He asked as Steve sighed.

"Be on the jet in 15 minutes. We will take the base tonight." He told them.

Y/N watched as the wolves and Clint had left, a hand on her shoulder as her mother stood beside her.

"I know you won't obey him." She stated. "You have always been a stubborn child." She kissed the side of her head. "Just be careful and come home to us."