#can you believe this is the first time I've dressed up as her

[wosofutbolfan]

I Am Woman, Hear Me Roar

Alexia Putellas x Explorer!R

8.5k Fluff, Fun, Minor Angst

Hi Guys,

This is pt4. in the 'I Would Climb Every Mountain With You" otherwise known as Explorer!R Universe. TW: description of killing an animal.

Highly recommend you read those 3 first, as this is entrenched in lore. Pt 1 can be found here.

It's developed from an ask I received from @karsonromanoff so thank you so much for the idea! I hope I did it justice and I'm sorry for the delay and the words. ha.

This is the first time I've written since my dad died. I'm not being emo or heavy about it but I am asking to please, be kind. I know there's nice people out there but often they're drowned out by the loud haters.

So throw us a comment, like or reblog if you enjoyed. I'm just trying to get back into something that brought me joy. I know I enjoyed writing it.

Also, may be weird for a fic about a spanish gay footballer, but you probably need a good working knowledge of Bear Grylls to understand 80% of this. ha.

As has become tradition, here's the song running though my head when writing! Yes, my music taste remains to be that of someone born in 1962. God love Helen Reddy.

“Vamos Ale! I don’t like to make Miguel wait…” you shout from the kitchen, bag resting on the countertop as you try to fix your bracelet with your left hand,

“Deja de preocuparte, a él no le importa, I will be one minute…” you head called back from the bedroom where your wife had been getting dressed for 2 hours now.

Yes.

Your wife.

Sometimes you couldn’t believe it.

Sometimes the weight of the band on your finger catches you by surprise and you’d remember.

Sometimes Alexia would place her hand on your bare thigh and you could feel the cool metal on your skin and you’d remember.

Sometimes you’d get called “Mrs Putellas” at a school talk, or at the Doctors, and you’d remember.

It felt so natural that sometimes you’d forget that you weren’t always Alexia's wife.

But now you are. And had been for almost 6 months. And married life couldn’t have suited you more.

Your wedding ring was your new favourite accessory, you never took it off.

In a fire you would save Alexia and your ring.

Maybe even your ring first.

It was embossed with the imprint of grass that Alexia has been collecting from each pitch of each game she had played in since you had met. The intricate design brought tears to your eyes as soon as you saw it. Made even worse by the inscription “’cause you are my goal”. 

You would be embarrassed if Alexia hadn’t cried like a toddler when you presented her with the ring you had made for her, which had rock from each of the 7 peaks you had scaled, as well as a granule of sand from the Dead Sea set within it. Integrated into the metal, visible but smooth to the touch. 

The inscription 'every mountain high, every valley low' on the inside of the band.

You knew you’d done good and you knew your Ale well enough to anticipate the absolute mess she would be when presented with it, ensuring you had a pocket full of tissues for the inevitable waterfall.

You weren’t wrong.

You had to assure a passing couple on the trail you had chosen that she was fine, not having a medical incident and you were definitely not mid break-up but in fact exchanging wedding bands early because you knew your fiance well enough she didn’t need her teammates to witness this much of her soft side.

Though you tried, they still saw enough on your wedding day to tease her for the last 6 months with no sign of slowing down.

Though right now your wife's behaviour was nothing but unexpected. You had agreed to attend one of Alexia's events this evening. Since getting married you had felt more of a duty to attend and make up for the years you’d left her carrying her own handbag whilst you trotted over mountains on the other side of the world. 

She insisted that you didn’t have to. Like she always did. You weren’t one for the fancy dresses and the flashing cameras. But you saw the gleam of hope in her eyes as she insisted she would be fine on her own.

You couldn’t let that sparkle dim.

Also you had to set off for a camp in a few days and you had gotten seriously stuck in the honeymoon phase meaning that an evening without your wife by your side wasn’t something you could stomach.

Not that you would admit to being so clingy.

But it wasn’t like Ale to take so long to get ready, neither of you being particularly fussy, usually she would throw on some light makeup, smack your bum whilst you ate nutella off a knife under the hob light, procrastinating getting ready until she dragged you and dropped you into the ensuite, steal a kiss and a spray of perfume, and wait for you whilst watching old football clips in the living room.

But now, as you still struggled to attach the clasp of your bracelet and you had one eye on the poor Barca driver, Miguel, waiting in your driveway, you started to grow frustrated at your wife's sudden vanity.

You smelt her perfume invading your senses as you felt her arms envelope you from behind, moving your uncoordinated left hand away and easily attaching the clasp of your bracelet for you, pressing a kiss to your neck as she did so.

“Finalmente… Let’s g-...” you spoke as you turned in her embrace, finally taking in her attire which stopped you in your tracks.

“Boobs”

You had suddenly turned into a 14 year old boy and you couldn’t explain it.

You had seen your wife naked hundreds of times.

Hundreds of fantastic times.

But here she stood looking, regal. Her hair falling lightly over her face, her dark sparkly dress with wide shoulders and only what you could describe as a boob portal you had been rendered speechless. Mouth gaping open like a fish.

“...Amor?...” you heard the delight in her voice. “Are you listening to me… my eyes are up here.” she jokingly clicked her fingers in front of your face which took you out of your breast-inspired trance.

“Ale you are so beautiful” you looked deeply into her eyes but you didn’t miss the blush rising from her neck. And you meant it. She was. Wow. 

“Do you like it?” she asked, shyly, “You don’t think it’s too much? It’s just the first event we’ve gone to together since we got married and I wanted to…”

You interrupt her but pressing a kiss to her lips, and, well, if you slipped a little tongue in there then fine. She was your wife after all.

“What? Show the world what they're missing out on? I am so proud to stand by your side, my love.” you whispered into her lips, as you toyed with her wedding band. 

You couldn’t help yourself…”and your boobs are fantastic.” 

She barked out a laugh as you leaned back into where you left off, but she took a step back, her heel clicking against the tile floor, to which you let out an annoyed grumble.

“Oi Oi, Mi Amor. What about poor Miguel, he is waiting, Si?” she teased.

“He doesn’t care… Cálla y bésame.”

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You took a deep breath and leaned back on your chair at the round table you found yourself at. Alexia had been pulled from your side which she had stuck to like glue all evening,  to go and present the final award of the evening which she had just done, very sexily if you do say so yourself. All confident and boob-y.

You smiled, imagining her now making small talk backstage, eyes bored but a smile plastered on her face as she tried to make her way back to your table.

Your other table-mates seemed to take the opportunity of the break in the ceremony to raid the free bar put on by the charity. Which seemed very uncharitable of them. But, as you toyed with the rim of your glass, who were you to judge?

Stomach full from a mediocre-mass produced meal and head happily fuzzy from the bubbles you had consumed you found yourself oddly satisfied as you sat here. In this conference room-turned auditorium in the middle of Barcelona, here, loudly and proudly as Alexia's wife.

Mrs Putellas.

You couldn’t help but smile to yourself, you felt weirdly grown-up. With your wife, your house, and your business. You blinked and missed yourself becoming so settled and for once in your life you weren’t terrified of the idea.

You saw the glint in Alexia's eye. When Irene and her wife would come round for dinner and bring their kid. She’d surrender all hostess duties and sit on the living room floor, crawling around at the beck and call of whatever imaginary game the 5 year old insisted on. You’d seen her perfect her lion roar in that very spot. It probably matched the glint in yours when you were grocery shopping and a child being pushed in a trolley would go past shoving cookies into the trolley without their Mother seeing.

Maybe, you thought, maybe it was time…

“It is you! I am so sorry to interrupt. I had to come over to introduce myself. I am such a fan…”

You glanced around, expecting Alexia to be standing over your shoulder and smiling politely at the person who had approached your table to meet her… but you were met with blank space and then you engaged your silly brain and realised the person was speaking English and looking at you and…

Oh My God.

It’s Bear Grylls.

“Oh My God. You’re Bear Grylls.” 

You let out. 

Stupidly.

Standing and thrusting your hand out like an idiot to your legitimate childhood hero.

You and your brother would watch his series for hours as children. Sat cross-legged 2 inches from the TV on your living room floor, eating up every second of his adventures. Your mum had to stop you from eating a woodlouse once in your garden because you’d seen him eat a cricket in the Amazon the evening before. Your brother smacked upside the head for trying to drink a cup of his own wee for the same reason.

Now you were a well-seasoned adventurer yourself you knew that all of that was for theatricks. 

You had spent more than 7 weeks wandering the Amazon yourself once, and not one drop of urine passed your lips. Not one 8 legged insect had you gulped down in one.

But still.

Hero.

He took your hand graciously, as you both sat back down you prepared to barrage him with questions but before you could he jumped right in…

“I have been wanting to meet you for years. But my team said you had disappeared off to Spain and couldn’t be tracked down. Please, I've been desperate to know. .. Tell me all about summiting Orjas del Salado…”

So you told him, and you asked him about his adventures, and you chatted for what could have been hours, sharing stories and advice with Bear-fucking-Grylls.

He blushed as you pointed out his for-TV tricks and you thanked him for being a portal into the wider world from your living room.

At some point you felt Alexia return, a strong hand on your shoulder. You paused your monologue about Patagonia and giddily took her hand in yours, introducing them to each other. 

Polite pleasantries exchanged you could tell she had legitimately no idea what was going on or who this middle-aged English guy at your table was, but judging from your excited eyes, she didn’t need to interrupt.

It didn’t take too long for someone from his team to pull him away for an interview with the charity. But as you stood to say your goodbyes he made an offer, “You know, me and the production company are making a special about survival in the Alps… I would love for you to be a guest star.”

You stood there like a gaping fish for a moment. “Really?” you asked, in wonder, your 7 year old self spinning around in glee in your chest. Alexia smiling up at you from her chair at the joy in your voice.

“Of course! I would be honored, it’s especially about how to survive in an Avalanche situation. Obviously, with what happened in Nepal…you are an expert in that fie…”

At that point, Alexia stopped her polite silence she had been maintaining whilst you had your moment with your childhood hero. And abruptly stood, clutching your hand hard in both of hers, stern look on her face.

“No.”

From the look on his face you gathered that this successful upper-middle class white English man had not been told no too often, and a beat of silence followed which Alexia was more than happy to fill.

“Sorry Señor Oso. She doesn’t do snow now. Thank you for the offer though.”

She said it with such finality that even you didn’t think to question it. Her mis-translation brought a smile to your face. Her hands still encompassed yours, her eyes didn’t leave his face. As though daring him to rebuff her.

He looked at you as though to confirm she could answer for you. Of course she could. But you knew this refusal wasn’t just about you, but about her also. You knew the anxiety it would cause her for you to put yourself in that situation wasn’t worth anything on this planet.

Nevermind the trauma it would dredge up for you. So obviously, you agreed.

“Sorry Mr Grylls. Not my rodeo anymore. I’ve got some contacts though who you could work with” you politely confirmed your refusal and felt Alexias hands lessen their grip on yours in relief.

“No, no, of course. Sorry. But no. I would really love for you to be involved in the series. We have an episode about promoting women in outdoor pursuits. It's still on the drawing board, but if you are interested I’ll get our people to liaise with each other!”

“That sounds amazing but… I don’t have any people for you to…”

“Don’t be silly Mi Amor” Alexia interrupts again, hand still in yours and the other expertly reaching into her clutch and pushing a card into his outstretched hand… “We have people. Please, Oso, be in touch.”

Smiling vaguely and confusedly at your wife, still clearly mildly terrified of her, he takes the card as he's dragged away by his handler. He's probably still in hearing distance as you squeal in glee and throw yourself into your wife's arms, making her spin with the momentum.

“Ale, Ale, Ale!!! Do you know who that was….” you exclaim.

She can’t help but laugh aloud at your antics, soft look on her face as she lifts you lightly off the ground to stop your spin.

“Si Mi Amor, ese era el hombre oso de la televisión. Tu favorito.” she replies with a smile on her face, speaking softly, somehow, in the middle of this event where she was the guest star, making you feel as though you were the only person in the universe.

“No.” you corrected “..eres mi favorito.” You sealed your words with a light kiss to her lips, chaste but warm.

“Ah, Si. And you have had some wine. You always get soft after wine.” she lightly rolls her eyes with affection at your gushing over her.

It’s your turn to roll your eyes as you pull her into a soft sway, your childhood hero quickly forgotten now you’re in the company of your wife.

Though the giddiness in your bones from your encounter remains.

“Si the wine.” you agree moving your lips close to her ear as you whisper, breath dancing against her cheek, your hand moves to her chest and you feel her breath falter at your closeness,

“but also your boobs.” and you quickly poke her exposed chest between her breasts before she can stop you, and you move away from her pulling her behind you as you rush off to the bar.

“Amor!” she cackles.

“Vamos Ale! A La Barra!”

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Estoy Muerta.”

You grumble in complaint into the chest of the warm and moving pillow that you had clearly settled on in the night.

“Shh Ale.”

“Me estoy muriendo y a mi esposa no le importa.”

“You are not dying Ale. You are hungover and over 30”, you mumble in reply, moving away from resting on her chest, the heat becoming too much for your own fuzzy brain.

“Explain to me how that is different.” she doesn’t take kindly to your light chuckle in reply, as you move your hand to cover your eyes from the sunlight starting to bleed through the curtains.

You peek an eye open and see the remnants of your previous night strewn across the bedroom floor.

You take in the glorious dress of your wifes thrown across your chest of drawers. You recall unzipping it with your mouth after making very good use of the boob portal. Much to Alexia's delight.

You had probably taken it a little bit too far at the bar. Your giddiness let your binge-drinking brit out a little too much.

You had a flash of memory at dancing on a table at a dive bar in the town centre, before being brought down by Alba who you had called and demanded come and dance the night away.

Meanwhile Alexia had been in the corner trying to drunkenly explain to Mapi a set of complicated tactics that they should try out at an additional training session in the morning.

“I thought you had scheduled extra training today Ale” you teased after taking in her pasty complexion as you rolled over and settled back down onto your, cooler, side of the bed.

“I hate you.” she replied, quite seriously, as she moulded herself against your back, taking your hand in hers and burying her face into the back of your neck.

“Of course you do, dear, it feels like it.” you tease again, wiggling yourself and making her grumble again.

You rest there for a few moments, before you’re dragged onto your back again and pulled into Alexia's embrace as she moves you around like her own personal teddy bear.

You go with the flow, quite used to your wife's clingy nature, especially when she didn't feel well.

But your silence doesn’t last two minutes before she rolls you over again, now onto your back, “Oh bloody hell, where are we going now.” you mumble, as she rests her head on your chest this time, nuzzling into your breasts.

“me estoy poniendo cómodo.” she mutters into your bosom, “allá. ahora estoy cómodo”. You run your hands through her hair, smiling down at your wife who is practically purring at the attention.

“Bebé…”, you make a noise of affirmation.

“Will you…” you know what she wants, and you know she must be feeling bad if she’s asking for attention.

“Si, my love. voy a trenzar tu cabello. One big plait or lots of little ones?”. 

“The tingly ones por favor” she mumbles into your chest. Your heart expands at her adorableness, never quite learning the English for ‘french plait’ they became known as the ‘tingly ones’ in your household, because of the feeling she would get as you plaited her wet hair after a game, hands working through her scalp. 

It brings a smile to your face and you can see the lovesick smile on hers where it is squished against your chest.

You start to section out her hair as she lies still, your ministrations slowly putting her to sleep, working methodically in the quiet morning.

Moving strand over strand in intricate braids, lightly tugging her scalp and undoing when it's not perfect and redoing, giving her an extra scratch to the soft skin behind her ear when you get there, knowing it's her most sensitive spot. Receiving a sleepy purr in satisfaction as your reward.

You hear the animals from the national park outside, feel the sun starting to warm the room around you. Her chest rising and falling against yours hypnotising you further into the moment. You’ve got grand plans, brunch and a walk along the beach in your mind, maybe a lazy afternoon swim, hold on no. Maybe a lazy afternoon skinny dip. Yeah.

That sounds good.

You’ve almost finished tying off the last plait when you are startled back into the moment by the buzzing of your wifes phone on the bedslide table.

You fight back a smile at the groan that is emitted from your fully grown-pro-athlete-wife.  It resembled that of a teenager who’d been asked to clean their room or no dessert. When she doesn’t go to make a move you nudge her shoulder.

“Ale. Ale, your phone."

“No.”

“Yes."

“No."

“C'mon Ale.” you reach across and pick the phone up. “It could be important. It could be your secret wife wondering where you are.”

She rolls off you at your tease, throwing you a glare that resembles more of an angry kitten than anything, “It could not be, she knows where I am. I snuck out whilst you were dancing on the tables in that last bar to make plans for dinner.”

“Ah, Si of course. My mistake.”

She surges up and gives you a completely unnecessary chaste kiss, as though even the joke is too much and she has to confirm she’s kidding. The phone has stopped vibrating against the bedside table and the silence that settles over you both is welcome.

“How are you so okay? I feel like I have been run over by a truck.” she states as she rubs her face, finally sitting up to start the day.

“You are old.

“I am 2 months older than you.”

“Two, very long, months my darling.” you tap her cheek lightly as you move to get out of bed, throwing on one of her oversized t-shirts you find on the floor.

“Seria, how?” she asks again, now sprawling across the space you have vacated.

“I am English. I once did a vodka shot through my eyeball in the park. I was 14.” you state, plainley, eyebrow raised in challenge as she just looks at you, open mouthed.

“Ojalá no hubiera preguntado.” she mutters, as her phone starts to ring again.

“Ale, phone.” you say, just to annoy her.

“¡lo sé!” you hear thrown at you, as you head downstairs to set some food out for Billy-the-Goat, and make a coffee for your dying wife.

Soon after, you feel her presence behind you as you stir her coffee, turning as you feel her hands wrap around your waist and presenting her coffee and she takes it from you as though it's a ballon d’or. She takes a sip before she presses a kiss to your head.

“That was my agent.”

Your heart drops, and you can’t help the petulant whine that leaves your lips.

“No, Ale! I wanted to spend the day together. Try that new brunch place Alba told us about. Have a swim, just be together. Whatever brand needs you can wait. Tell them no, please” you finish your little monologue with a pout, and you feel a childish frustration rise as a laugh teases against her lips.  You don’t get very far when a kiss is pressed against your lips.

“Well that sounds like the perfect hangover cure Mi Amor. Do you not want me to tell you what it is before I tell them no though?” there's something in her taunt, a glint in the eye that makes you think twice as your mouth already wraps around the refusal.

You take a moment too long apparently, and she takes things into her own hands as she clutches her coffee happily and spins around, “I’ll tell them no! Don’t worry Mi Amor…” teasing lilt in her tone. Whatever the news is, it has pulled her from her hangover.

You wait a beat

Another.

“Fine, What is it!” you groan out in defeat, hands raised to the sky, Alexias t-shirt riding high on your thighs as you raise your arms.

Your wife turns and is distracted momentarily by the flesh on display. Before you cough and she remembers what she's supposed to be doing. Coy smile on her face returning.

“That was my agent…” you huff out at her drawing out the anticipation. “Or should I say our agent.” your brow furrows in confusion as she continues… “she has been contacted by a muy interesado oso.”

Realisation starts to dawn on you, memories of the previous night flashing in your mind and you can’t help the grin that forms.

“Si, Mi Amor. It turns out he really meant it. She said they were willing to offer anything to get you on. She’s getting the details now and will contact us again after our day together today to see if you are interested”.

“I am interested!” you exclaim with glee, Alexia throwing her head back in laughter.

“I know Amor, but let's let them sell it to you. You need the details. Though… I am sure it is no more dangerous than ojos de vodka.”

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Hola, love!” you shout into your empty hallway, hands full of groceries, you shuck off your trainers, hearing them thump against the wall as you struggle into the kitchen.

Tonight was the premiere of “Man Vs Woman” , the special episode of your and Bear's adventure. After the offer was made you met with the TV production company via Zoom to go through ideas.

You pretended you didn’t know Alexia was standing just outside the door to your study, listening and clearly deciding if she thought it was too dangerous or not. At least that's what you deduced from her interrupting with a cup of tea every time a particularly hairy idea was mentioned.  

When you brought this up with her you pretended you didn't see her blush creeping up from her neck. Because you’re her wife and it was the wifely thing to do.

The concept was a really cool one. You were excited from the start. The idea was that you and Bear would both be dropped in an inhospitable environment with a map and a knife and nothing else. Neither of you would be told what type of environment but you had assurances in your contract that it wouldn’t involve snow. You had 28 days to get to the muster point. Whoever got there first won.

Simple.

Convincing Alexia it was really cool. Less simple.

“Amor what if there are animals!”

“I know how to avoid dangerous animals. And there will be a medical team on standby,”

“What if you fall and cut yourself on your knife."

“What if you get tackled and break your leg?”

“That's different. What if you lose your map and can’t find your way out and you have to live out there forever”

“I will always find my way back to you.”

“What If-”

“Ale.”

You stopped her rambling with a kiss and when you pulled away you looked deeply in her eyes.

“Que pasa I miss you too much?” eyes wide and vulnerable.

There we go. Her real source of anxiety.

You had spent more time apart than most couples but since you scaled down your travels you had fallen into a sweet domesticity you could admit was a struggle to pull yourself from. 28 days plus the week before to get to the location is longer than you’d like. But it was an adventure of a lifetime. Maybe… maybe your last adventure? The thoughts had been creeping in more and more recently.

Of early mornings chasing more than sunrises, maybe rising due to a baby's babble instead?

You’d made sure that Alexia really knew how much you’d miss her the night before you flew out. On reflection maybe you should have rested your muscles a little more before such a physically demanding month but. Be serious. Look who your wife was. 

You are not God's strongest soldier.

So, off you had gone. Competing against your childhood hero for all of womanhood. And you couldn’t lie. You loved it.

Being blindfolded and dropped in an unknown location was exhilarating. Learning the land as you went, with only a map and a knife in hand it was one of the biggest challenges of your life.

The team had made good on their promise and the tropical rainforest you were in couldn’t be further from a snowy mountain range.

You’d refused to let anything slip to Alexia in the 3 months you’d been back. Lips tightly sealed no matter what she tried. You wanted her to be surprised and watch it in real time with you. In all the games you'd attended since you had to deal with an injured Mapi yapping your ear off whilst you tried to concentrate on the game, probing for hints about if you won, what you won, where you were, if you wrestled a snake, how big was the snake you’d wrestled.

“Maria stop with the snake!” you’d finally snapped during the tense quarter final of the Queen's cup.

Which had worked.

For all of two seconds.

“What did the snake taste like?”

You’d originally planned to go home to England with Alexia to watch the premier with your family. But then a schedule mess-up in the league had meant that Ale had to play in a rescheduled game the day after the premier. It just didn’t work for her to come to England.

She insisted you still go, but you refused. You wanted to watch her game. And you knew she’d need you when the show was on. Even if she didn’t know that yet.

You started to unpack your groceries mindlessly, you’d picked some great snacks for the evenings viewing, you suddenly were hit with how suspiciously peaceful your house was, though, you were sure you’d seen Alexia's car in the drive.

“Ale! Love!, ¡Estoy en casa! Come help me unpack!” You shouted into your empty kitchen, back turned to your living room, you had a few hours before the show was on air, “I got that ice-cream you like! I know it gives you a tummy ache sometimes but don’t worry, I'll rub your tummy how you like afte…”

“Amor!”

You turned around at the panic in her voice, “Wha–”

“SURPRISE!”

Ale stood in your living area, face reddening, surrounded by her closest Barca teammates as well as Mario, his ever pregnant wife and his kids, your mum and brother as well as Eli and Alba. Everyone comically in paper party hats and some lop-sided bunting was up above your couch,

“HOPE YOU BEAT THE BEAR SNAKE!” it read, and you immediately knew who was on the decoration committee.

You jumped in surprise, dropping the ice cream and immediately ran into your mum's open arms, “Mum! You’re here!” you squealed into her neck, hiding the tears that had appeared in her presence.

“I am, love. Alexia literally wouldn’t let us refuse the flight. She pretended she didn’t understand English when we tried to at least pay for it. And you know I have a 265 day streak on duolingo but my accent must need work because she didn’t understand my Spanish.”

You pulled yourself from her neck with a wet laugh and transferred yourself into your wifes open and familiar strong arms. “Aleeee” you whined. She knew you meant thank you. And I love you. And you mean the world to me. But you were too British to do that infront of people.

“You need to stop pretending you don’t speak English when you don’t like what you hear.” you muttered without malice after placing a kiss below her ear.

“I know amor. I love you too. And your family needed to be here for your big moment! You couldn’t miss this with them because of me. And then also. Mapi happened and now we’re having a viewing party! There's a cake!”

“And Ice Cream Ale! Don’t worry, I’ve saved it! Though we don’t want your barriga to hu-” Mapi stands the space you'd just vacated holding up the abandoned and slightly battered carton of ice cream. She's stopped from her gleeful teasing by Ingrid covering her entire face with one big palm.

“We wanted to be here to support you.” Ingrid interrupted her girlfriend, addressing you kindly.

“We all did!” you hear from Alba in the back, already tucking into the buffet set up on the coffee table, paper hat skew-whiff on her head. You have never felt so loved. It was perfect.

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“So, when are you going to tell her you’re ready for them?”

You are brought out of your daydream by Ingrid sidling up to you and addressing you with her familiar soft lilt.

“Huh?”

She doesn’t reply vocally, just nods her head towards your wife, who is currently having a very intense game of 2v2 in your garden with 2 of Marios youngest and Mapi.

The kids little legs making them toddle around after the small ball adorably, Mapi and Ale giving soft touches they would easily catch up with.

You can’t help but laugh out loud as Ale takes Mapi by surprise and takes a shot against her hard, the ball catching her bare thigh in a manner which must have left a sting much to the small Spaniard's disdain.

Her and the two kids start to chase Alexia around the garden, dramatically tackling her as she suddenly becomes some sort of football monster, rolling around and blowing raspberries on their stomachs as Mapi cheers her toddler army on from the sidelines.

You feel another knock against your arm, dislodging your hand which is supporting your head as you lean over the breakfast bar facing the garden. Lovesick looks clearly on your face, going off Ingrid's coy smile.

“You know, barn. Kids. Munchkins…”

“Yeah, Yeah I get it Ingrid…” you steal another look outside at your more-often-than-not-stern wife getting grass stains on her comfy shorts for the entertainment of your best friends' kids, suddenly you feel like being really really honest. You turn to Ingrid with a shy smile of your own, “soon.”

Her face lights up, teeth on display unable to disguise her smile. “Yeah?” she asks, before turning to look towards the garden, “Me too.”

You smile to yourself and drop your head onto the dark haired girl's shoulder, you both taking a moment to watch your partners play with the kids. The moment is ruined by your mum mussing up your hair on her way past,

“Come on Love, we need to wrangle these last-minute spaniards, it starts in 10 minutes!”

She had a point to be fair. A very chaotic 8 minutes later you practically push Eli into her seat on the couch after she tries to get another plate full of food for Mario’s wife, “¡Está llena de Eli! ella esta embarazada no tiene hambre!” you cheekily remind her, your wife looking up at you from her place on the floor with tender eyes.

“And you…” you turn your attention towards her as you make your way to your seat, “get up here.” you demand, patting the empty space next to you.

“I’m bueno down here Mi Amor, me and Bruno can watch from down here.” she insists. the 4 year old of Marios nestled on her stomach, her arms wrapped around his sleeping form where he attached himself to her after being forced back inside.

You hesitate for a moment, not watching to make a scene or be too needy in front of all your closest family and friends, but you knew that Ale would need to be within touching distance of you in the next hour. 

You’re about to make your peace with it when Mario glaces your way. You and Mario have worked together for years. Years before you met Ale and the girls.

You’ve battled more than just bears together. Weeks spent isolated in the mountains. And a bond like that means that you can communicate with just a look.

With just that glance he’s up and pulling his toddler into his own burley arms. Bruno remaining in his deep sleep through the change.

“I’ve got el monstruo Ale. Go sit with your wife."

She doesn’t need any more direction, the small interaction is subtle and missed by everyone, except your brother who sends you an exaggerated puppy dog look.

“Fuck off” you throw at him, finger in the air, quickly grabbed by Alexia, “Hey, I thought you wanted me to sit here!” she teases, sending your brother a wink.

“Stop ganging up on me…!” you’re about to protest further before you’re shushed by Mapi, of all people, sitting on the floor between Ingrid's legs who sits on the couch above her. “It's about to start!”

She has a point, a familiar British accent fills the living room, Spanish subtitles appearing on the bottom of the screen for the Spanish contingent. Bear’s voice is as dramatic as ever, long sweeping scenes fill the screen of intense jungle, a crocodile and an action shot of a snake thrown in for good measure.

“Serpiente!” Mapi shouts, pointing at the screen, before Ingrid hushes her and pulls her back against her legs. 

           “We all know by now that humans are masters of the jungle. But the unanswered question remains. Is it the King, or Queen of the Jungle? Find out tonight in Man V Woman.”

The title fills the screen with a dramatic crescendo of music. Your friends and family whooping as though it's the champions league final. Alexia barely contains her excitement next to you. You had been steadfast in your refusal to tell anyone the outcome.

The next shot is a recognisable one, the sound of trees being hacked with a machete accompanies a close up of a muddy puddle set deep in the jungle, until the water is disturbed by a ever-familiar battered boot stomping in the puddle, blaugrana laces pulled tight, as proudly as ever.

This prompts another wild round of jeering from the crowd around you as the camera pans out and reveals your full profile as Alexia places a loving kiss onto your shoulder, “That's my wife!” she shouts, proudly, making you laugh. 

Bear's voice over continues as you pull Alexia's hand into yours, half pulling her on top of you, she gives you a peculiar look, this being more PDA than you would usually allow in front of your English family, but she goes with it, too full of pride to be worried otherwise.

As the voiceover continues, highlights of your career flash across the screen to introduce you to the audience.

Mountains in Peru, Arctic Explorations, Treks across Siberia, all flash across the screen, mixed in with childhood pictures your mum must have supplied painting a picture of your career so far and your expertise in your career.

The music turns more dramatic as you shift uncomfortably, being the only one to realise in the room what's about to happen.

A picture of you smiling with Arjan at the peak of Everest, ice picks raised proudly in the air. You feel Alexia stiffen on your lap, ever so subtly. Stock footage of snow hurling down a mountain as Bear describes the avalanche you got trapped in.

He gives out stats and figures to heighten the drama… “your chance of survival drops 3% every minute you are trapped after the first 15 minutes… being trapped for 2 days… our guest star did the unthinkable…”

The room is bathed in a white light as the screen changes. Camera shaky and audio changing to the shouts and heavy breaths of whoever the body worn camera is strapped too. “Yahām̐, Yahām̐, she is here!”

The camera catches Arjan digging desperately, it's clear now the camera is strapped to a rescuer on the slopes of Everest, the TV production company having access to the footage through a sister company who were filming a documentary about altitude rescue at the time.

It shakes as the man helps dig, grunts of exertion as the spade digs desperately. A flash of colour and your snow suit is revealed, face pressed up against the rock you had found shelter near.

Arjan clears snow from your face desperately and puts his head close to yours, “She’s breathing!” he pulls you up and your hand, satellite phone frozen in place, falls from the side of your ghostly white face as the camera fades out.

The whole segment couldn’t have lasted more than 32 seconds. But it had felt like time had slowed. You could feel from her placement on you that Alexia hadn’t taken a breath. Her eyes remained wide as she stared at the screen.

There was a heaviness in the room around you. 

The voiceover continued, explaining the challenge to the audience but the silence continued. Eli glances at her daughter worriedly, every few seconds.

Just as you thought the tension couldn’t get any more intense… “That's what Alexia looks like when she visits England for Christmas and mum won’t let us put the heating on.” your brother jokes, awkwardly, a crooked smile on his boyish face. 

The room is silent, your mum hiding a smile behind a hand only you notice. He goes to speak again, probably to apologise when-

Alexias' laugh shocks even you, bubbling up from deep within her chest. She closes her eyes, a stray tear escaping at the pressure. Laugh still rumbling deep in her chest, slowly the room joins in, as though they’ve been given permission, and soon your in a choir of laughing spectators, your brother blushing deep red at the attention.

“Thank you” you mouth to him across the room, as you wrap your hands around your wife, whos body still shakes with the odd giggle.

He tips an imaginary hat at you in return.

Because he is an idiot.

The challenge begins, unhelpfully, with you throwing yourself out of a helicopter into the rainforest, “Oh Dios Mio” she mumbles, heard subtly under Mapis, “Cool!”.

You press your lips against her shoulder again and mutter into her skin; “I am here, I am warm, I am Safe.” Like a mantra, you feel her nod and grip your hand tighter.

The thing about being in the environment completely opposite to an avalanche inducing mountain range, was that it was hot. Hot and wet. The camera follows both you and Bear as you struggle through the elements seperatly, deciding when to camp down and preserve energy and when to try to gain more miles.

Bear goes hard, and Mapi looks up at you aghast as you decide to build a shelter and bunker down for seven days straight. The heat zapping any energy you had.

“What are you doing! It's a race!” she exclaims, to which you laugh and zip your mouth closed with your fingers, cocking an eyebrow at her as she eagerly looks back towards the TV like a small child.

You spend two days collecting water and, seemingly, according to Mapi, wasting time cutting palm leaves and collecting bark to make twine. Meanwhile Bear is hacking down trees, making spears out of sticks and rock and throwing himself at seemingly anything that would give him a bit of protein on the move.

You’ve ridden yourself of most of your clothing due to the heat. Smothering yourself in mud from the riverbank you were camped next to, you explain to the camera its sun-cream qualities and how it’s safer than clothing as it also protects you from dehydration. 

All the while you weave and weave and weave your leaves together, quietly, assuredly.

You explain to the camera; “I am a master weaver. My wife likes it when I plait her hair. Alot. She’s cute. Sorry Ale.” you wink at the camera as your wife groans on your lap and  her teammates start to tease her, “Amor! Why!”

“Now. Let's see how this works!”  you grin and pull up a large basket to the camera.

The screen shows you scantily dressed, boots safely on a rock in the background, in the river, moving twigs into position to make a run for the fish to swim directly into your basket.

You explain the contraception, set some bait and say your goodnights to the camera, crossing your fingers for a full basket in the morning.

Cheerful music begins as the camera fades back into your campfire, fish on a stick roasting and cooking heavenly, your muddied but smiling face coming into view.

“Bear can eat his roaches and drink his wee. I’ll be here with my fish buffet!” You joke, under your shelter, camera panning to tens of fish in your basket waiting to be smoked.

The next scene shows Bear explaining the protein benefits and the unusual flavours of a witchetty grub as he struggles against the rainstorm. 

The music begins to ramp up. Graphics on the screen showing both of your progress. Bear has made much more progress than you. But struggling physically. He’s developed a terrible case of trench foot but was still making steady progress with his machete.

You chose to travel up the river. Walking along its bed you are able to make more direct progress, but it’s more energy draining wading through water. You have, however, had a relatively strong diet over the last 3 weeks.

You’re sitting on the river bed, tending to your basket of smoked fish you’re carrying with you for energy when you suddenly remain completely stock still. Dramatic music begins. Your head raises subtly and then out of nowhere.

“Serpentine!”

A snake strikes at you from the shallows, clearly after your basket, or you, or whatever it can get its fangs in. You react quickly, crouching down to your knees, keeping a low centre of gravity to keep your balance as your right hand reaches into the shallows.

You and the snake strike at the same time, and you throw yourself to the side as you bash a jagged rock against its head.

The next scene shows you taking a mouthful of grilled snake; “Tastes like chicken!” you joke at the camera. Before popping a piece of charred snake skin into your mouth.

You feel Alexia shudder in your arms.

"I'm never kissing you again" she lies.

Mapi slowly turns around, mouth agape, gobsmacked look on her face. “Snake!” she whispers, in disbelief. “You beat a snake!” You can’t help but laugh and lean over to turn her head back to the TV.

“Told you you’d find everything out tonta.”

The map on screen shows the last day of the challenge, Bear's voice over explaining distances to the muster points, as well as geographical challenges. The screen swaps quickly between the two of you, running, climbing and swimming to where you both believed the finish line to be.

You were making good progress, as was Bear.

A close up of a Brazilian flag on the edge of a waterfall.

A close up of you throwing yourself into the river.

Bear gripping a cliff edge and heaving himself up. The camera shows the bottom of the flag pole as he pulls himself up. The camera pans up. And the flagpole is bare.

The screen changes to you.

Standing, still relatively scantily clad in your battered boots, your hiking shorts cut down to short-shorts and thin vest muddied and holey, fish blood staining your arms,holding the flag proudly up in one arm.

The room around you erupts. “She did it!” “¡Jefe de la Jungla!!!!” “I always knew!”, “She killed a snake!”. You find yourself at the bottom of a pile of bodies as Alexia's teammates celebrate in the way they know how. Which is apparently to throw themselves at you in a pile up.

“That's my wife!” Alexia chants proudly from within the pile, laughing gleefully, all earlier angst forgotten.

The screen goes blank, and the image shows you and Bear embracing, laughing as the voiceover continues; “... at least this time. It's a Queen of the jungle… or should I say. La Reina de la Jungla.” Bear quips, as Alexia groans, forever hating her nickname, and the screen cuts to black.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It’s hours later, many more plates of food, celebration toasts and questions from Mapi about the snake later. That you're finally in the quiet of your bedroom in your wife's arms.

Your mum and brother are set up in the spare rooms and you have all got plans to meet up with the Alexias family at the game tomorrow before going out for a meal.

Your head is settled on her chest as she plays on her phone above you, struggling to calm down from the evening's events, and as usual, struggling to sleep before a game.  You play with her wedding ring on her spare hand. Feeling the cool metal beneath against her warm skin.

You feel her swipe furiously through her phone, getting more agitated as time passes, grumbles that are not-quite words emitting from her chest.

“Hey. Love.” you sit up and pull her phone away. “What's the matter?”

“Nothing.” she replies, bottom lip out in a pout, pulling her phone back into her hand.

“It’s not nothing. Tell me.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Alexia.” you sigh, “We aren't doing this.. What's got you so…” you look down onto her phone and see. Yourself? It's her tiktok open and you see an edit of the show being played over… “Hot Stuff? Ale. What's this?” you glance at the comments section and see a selection from seemingly anon accounts;  

‘I have never understood Alexia more’, ‘I wonder who calls who capi.’ ,‘Capi, your wife's thighs are bigger than yours’.

“Nothing!” she grabs her phone back from your grip… you arch an eyebrow at her which crumbles her resolve in 3…2…

“Fine! It's all over my TikTok.  The comments about you. The fans have made these edits. Of you! All, wet and… muscley and… nearly undressed.”

“And you…don’t… like me wet, and muscled and… naked? Cause, love, I have evidenced otherwis…”

“Shut up! Of course I do but you're mine!”

Oh. Realisation dawns on you and you can’t help but smile.

“Don’t laugh!” she grumbles. “You’re jealous….” you tease in a sing-song voice. “I am not jealous!” she insists, “It's just… tu eres mio! And these people are all looking at you”.

“I am,” you agree, with a smile. “But, love. Try being married to Alexia Putellas. Maybe you’ll keep your shirt on at games now.” you tease, making her smile and roll her eyes.

Eyes softening as you pull her phone from her grip and plug it in for her. Settling back into her chest, nuzzling against the warm skin you find there.

“I am so proud of you.” she whispers into the now dark room, placing a kiss on your head. The moment became more serious and tender.

“I love you” you reply, softly, the moment feels weighted, and you’re not sure what makes you do it. Maybe it's the adrenaline of the evening, having completed your life's ambition, or maybe it's the wine you drank.

Though, really, you know it's because of the images of your lanky wife curling herself onto the rug in the living room because Bruno had decided she was the world's best pillow again. But you can’t stop yourself.

“Ale. I want to have kids with you.”

Her hand stops its movement in your hair and she rushes over to turn the bedside lamp back on.

“Que?” she breathes out. Hands finding their place softly on your cheeks, a look of urgency in her eyes.

“I want us to have kids. Me and you. I want that with you. Is that something you’re ready for?” you whisper, eyes looking deeply into hers.

“En serio?” she asks, as though she's afraid of the answer.

You nod in response. Moving your hand to wipe away the tears that have appeared on her cheeks.

“Sí, Mi Amor. Quiero eso contigo. Mucho.”

You're both smiling too much to kiss, but you make a good go of it anyway. And as you bury yourself into your wife's arms. Hands roaming and adrenaline of a decision made rushing through your body you can't help but think.

This is the beginning of the biggest adventure of your life. 

[daddysfangirls-marvel]

Helping Hand

Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader/ Steve Rogers x fem! reader

Warning: Smut, fluff

"I can't believe this."

"What was that?" Bucky asked as he approached behind her, wrapping his arms around her. We can stop right now. You don't have to do this. I can just tell him to turn around."

"No, Don't do that to him." (Y/n) said as she leaned back into his chest, rubbing his arms. " Just... promise you won't be upset. Promise you'll still have me after this."

Bucky chuckled, spinning her around. " Doll, I'm the one who suggested this. All this was my idea."

"Still, if you change your mind, you'll tell me, right?" He pulls her close, kissing her.

Against her lips, he whispered," I am yours forever and always. Nothing will ever change that. Especially not this."

A knock at the door brought them back to reality.

"It's time. How do I look?" she said, pulling away from him and opening her robe, revealing a simple, short pink silk dress.

He whistled, " Is this new?"

"Yeah, I figured...I just thought he'd like it," she said shyly, closing her robe.

"He'll love it, " he said, giving her another kiss before he went to open the door. She stayed in the bedroom, sitting on the bed and taking a deep breath.

(Y/n) listened as Bucky let him in. She heard them talking in the living room and heard Bucky reassuring him. She stood up as she heard them open the bedroom door.

"Hi," Steve said as he stepped into the room. "Um...I-"

"Bucky told me everything. He explained everything. It's okay."

"You can say no."

"I don't want to." (Y/n) watched as a deep blush erupted on his skin.

"I guess I'll leave you to it," Bucky said as he closed the door. " I'll be in the front room. Hollar if you need me."

They both waited until they heard him walk away before turning to each other, a bit more relaxed without the audience (although he was no doubt still listening from the front room) but still tense.

"Thank you for doing this."

"You don't need to thank me. I am honored that you want to experience your first time with me." She sat on the bed and motioned for him to join her, which he did. " How about you tell me what you'd like."

"I don't know," Steve confessed, looking down at his shoes as he nervously rubbed his hands on his pants. " I've never done any of this. I mean, I've kissed people before, and I've had someone touch me with their hands before-"

"A handjob"

"Yes, that, I've had that. But nothing else." Steve said, still not making eye contact.

"Bucky was my first," (Y/n) confessed. Steve snapped up to look at her. " He was my first everything. My first kiss, the first time having sex... I've never been with anybody else."

"We can stop."

"I told you I don't want to stop. I just want you to know that I'm not some expert."

"That's not what Bucky says. Sorry," Steve quickly apologized when he realized what he had said.

"You guys ... talk about me?"

"Not in a bad way. He loves you. He loves you very much." Bucky did talk about (Y/n) a lot, and sometimes, if they were alone, the conversations got explicit.

"And he loves you too," (Y/n) said as she leaned forward. " I think that's why he trusts us." She gently kissed Steve. As she pulled away, he gave chase, finding her lips again, his movement both eager and hesitant, as if scared to take it any further.

(Y/n) gently pushed Steve away and stood up, carefully sliding her robe off.

"Woah," Steve whispered. She smiled and moved to sit in his lap. "Woah," he whispered, already panting. Steve was hesitant, wrapping his arms around her waist.

She pulled him close, wrapping her arms around his neck as she connected their lips again. He might be inexperienced, but he sure as hell knew how to kiss. (Y/n) moaned as she felt his tongue slip into her own mouth, tasting her.

As she started to move her hips, grinding against him, he whimpered against her lips. He held on to her as she moved her hips, riding his cloth cock. Rocking against him in a slow rhythm. She loved the whimpers and whines he let out; Bucky never made such sounds. She was eager to hear more, desperate even as she pressed down hard.

Until Steve started pushing her away. "Wait, wait."

"what's wrong?" she asked.

"I just... I'm about to... and I don't want to." He looked down slightly. She looked down as well. Seeing the wet spot forming in his pants. " Sorry"

"No, It's okay," (Y/N) said as she stood up, pulling Steve to stand with her. He was confused for a moment until she pulled off his shirt and started unbuckling his belt.

"Wait, wait," she stopped, pulling away.

"I can- I can do it." He stuttered. The truth was, he feared that he was going to cum at that moment and wanted to slow down, catch his breath and get a grip before he embarrassed himself. He unbuckled his pants with shaky hands and let his pants fall to his ankles. He fingered the waistband on his pants, took a deep breath, and pulled down his boxers.

And, of course, (Y/n) eyes went to the saluting soldier.

"I... I know I'm not as big as Bucky-"

"But you are," (Y/n) said." You are." She stepped forward, giving him a gentle kiss before pulling back. She slowly lifted her dress, revealing her lace panties and nothing else.

The pre-cum leaking from his cock told her she did well.

"Do you want to be on top?"

"Top?" Steve asked, confused. That answered her question.

(Y/n) pushed him onto the bed, making sure he got comfortable, and put the condom on. Grabbing the condom off the side table, she then pulled off her panties and got on the bed, straddling him.

"Ready?" she whispered. He nodded and let out a breathless 'yes.'

Sitting up, she lined him up and slowly lowered herself onto him. Steve gasped as he watched his cock slowly disappear into her, gripping and pulling at the sheets as she went.

"Oh shit, oh fuck, fuck, fuck" he cursed, tossing his head back.

(Y/n) moaned out as she finally bottomed out. She had to take a moment. This was very different from Bucky. She hadn't been lying earlier when she said Steve was as big as Bucky; while Steve didn't have the same length as Bucky, he sure as hell had girth. She had to take a few moments to get used to the stretch.

"Are you okay?" Steve asked when he noticed her eyes closed and how still she was.

"I'm fine." she leaned forward, kissing as she started to move her hips. He moaned, placing his hands on her hips as she put her hands on either side of his head. Rolling and lifting her hips, just as Bucky had taught her. Slow and steady, sweet and gentle.

She could tell by the way he was gripping her hips and could no longer keep up with kissing her that he was close. She began kissing down his neck and chest. His chest had risen and fallen in its pink hue.

She had no clue what compelled her, but she wrapped her lips around his right nipple. Something Bucky had done to her numerous times. Gently biting and -

In an Instant, Steve quickly filled the condom with a shout.

Something Bucky no doubt heard.

(Y/n) gently ran her fingers through his hair, and Steve caught his breath. For a moment, she feared that he would fall into an asthma attack, but he waved her off.

"You okay?" she asked.

"yeah, " he smiled, " I'm good...um ...Did you..."

"It's okay. This is about you," she said, moving to sit up, but Steve wrapped his arms around her.

"I want you to feel good, too."

"Don't worry about it. I'm fine, Stevie."

"No, tell me what to do. Tell me how to make you feel good, please."

"Okay," she sits up, " Just... don't move. Stay inside."

Steve watches her in confusion, hands on her hips. She bounced a little as she reached down between them. If Stevie remembers correctly, the place she was touching Bucky was called the clit.

Steve couldn't stop the whine that slipped out of his mouth or the ones that followed as (Y/n) walls clenched down onto him. The tighten he was not prepared for, he was overwhelmed and overstimulated. He started bucking and shaking underneath her. She tightens her legs around him and pushes him down.

"Oh fuck, please, please, please," she begged as she arched her back into him, rubbing herself closer to her release while watching Steve whether underneath her.

Steve couldn't even form complete sentences. He was just babbling nonsense, too overstimulated to do anything else but hold on to her.

Soon enough, He was cumming again.

"Yes, yes, yes." And (y/n) followed him quickly after.

(Y/n) rolled off to the side so as not to squish him and pulled him into her chest, running her hand through his hair. Waiting for him to catch his breath.

"Are you alright?"

"G-Good," he stuttered, wrapping his arms around her waist. "That... woah."

(Y/n) giggled and kissed his forehead. "Come on. We got to clean up now." He was exhausted, though. She didn't bother him to move. Getting up, she grabbed a towel, carefully pulled off his condom, tied it up, threw it away, and used the towel to clean themselves up. By the time she was done, Steve was knocked out.

Grabbing her robe, she wraps herself up. Covering Steve up, she leaves, closing the door behind her. Just as she shuts the door, Bucky steps out of the bathroom.

"Hey," he smirked and leaned against the door frame. "How was it?"

"He's happy. Fell asleep afterward."

"Yeah, after his big finish or second big finish." Bucky teased. They both made their way to the kitchen, where he poured her a glass of water.

"I just wanted to make sure you were still okay." she sipped her glass slowly.

"Still haven't changed my mind." He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her forehead. " I still love you." He tilted her head, giving her a gentle kiss on the lips. " I will always love you."

"Thank you"

"You never have to thank me for loving you. " He gave her another kiss.

[subjectivemortality]

That girl is strange, no question

[nikibogwater]

Actually while I'm thinking about it, I just wanna say that the more live-action remakes Disney shlups out like shoveled manure, the more amazed I am that Cinderella (2015) exists. It breaks literally every standard of Disney's LA remakes.

It's not a shot-for-shot remake of the original 1950 animated film, though it does include small references and homages to it, but only when such things can be incorporated organically into the story.

The creators understood and respected the cross-cultural significance of the Cinderella story. They didn't want to "fix" it, or add some wacky twist to it, they just wanted to make the best possible version of the Quintessential Cinderella that they could.

Everything that could be done practically was done practically. The carriage was a real, the horses pulling it were real, and all of the other animals (with the exception of the mice and lizards, since their performance was a lot more involved than the others') were real living animals, the lizard footman and goose carriage driver were wearing prosthetics instead of just having their animal features added in post, the Fairy Godmother's dress had little LED lights sewn into it so that it would actually glow for real, the ballroom set was built by hand and included real chandeliers with more than 2000 total candles that were all actually lit for the scene, and I could go on but you get the point.

There's a ton of attention paid to little details that make the world feel real and lived in. Ella's shoes are always a little scuffed and dirty. Her farm dress is faded and wrinkled. When she breaks down and runs away to the woods, she rides her horse bareback (which, once again, was a thing Lily James actually did, no stunt-double or editing in post), because not only is that something a country girl like her would know how to do, but it also makes sense that with as upset as she is, she wouldn't want to waste time with saddling the horse. When she's dancing with the prince, it's visually obvious that he is leading her and giving her cues because of course Ella wouldn't know the latest ballroom dances, and would need him to guide her through it.

Hey speaking of dancing, y'know what else this movie does that no other LA remake has been allowed to do (at least not to this extent)? ROMANCE. Land sakes alive, this is one of the most unabashedly and yet still tastefully romantic movies I've ever seen. Ella and Kit are just oozing romantic chemistry from the moment they lock eyes for the first time. It all comes down to the fact that these two characters both have the same core values of courage and kindness, which makes their admiration for each other feel grounded and believable. Richard Madden also really sells Kit's feelings for Ella with the way his eyes go all big and soft whenever he looks at her. And don't even get me started on Lily's performance as Ella. Her quiet awe that someone as powerful as the prince loves her. The timidity and fear that she's not really worthy of that. The selfless determination to protect him from her family's cruelty, even if it means she'll never see him again, I'm just-- *banging my fist against the table and screaming into a pillow*

Absolutely god-tier costume design. No notes, I think Sandy Powell's work speaks for itself. Btw, in case you were somehow still wondering, yes, Ella's ballgown is fully practical--those layers upon layers of dreamy silk skirts are real. CG was only used to brighten up the blue color to make her stand out from the crowd more.

Wicked stepmother was allowed to actually be wicked. The movie never tries to make you sympathize with Lady Tremaine, or shift the blame off to someone else. And her villainy is given an extra layer of depth with the reveal that she is a dark reflection of Ella. They've both lost people they loved, but where Ella refused to let her grief get in the way of kindness, Lady Tremaine became utterly consumed by it. She views the death of her first husband as a sort of twisted justification for pursuing all her worst impulses. She despises Ella for her ability to flourish even while enduring terrible suffering, for being everything Lady Tremaine was either unable or flat-out refused to be.

Also Cate Blanchet absolutely SLAYS in this role. Hands-down my favorite portrayal of the wicked stepmother character.

Anyways, TLDR: Cinderella (2015) is the only Disney live-action remake that can justify its own existence and that's because it actively defies everything the LA remakes are today.

[entitled-fangirl]

Stubborn man.

Cregan Stark x wife!reader

Summary: Cregan returns from a hunt, eager to see his wife. But he's hiding something from her.

Warnings: blood, making out, pain, talks about sex, I think that's it?

A/n: Based on an ask!!! Also... I need more Tom Taylor gifs RIGHT NOW or I'll cry. So fancast Cregan might make a comeback in the gifs

Masterlist

...............................................

She felt herself flinch when strong hands gripped her waist from behind and a kiss was placed on the back of her neck. 

"Did you miss me, my heart?" A deep voice whispered in her ear.

She relaxed at the sound, her body instinctively giving in to the hands that held her, "Quite terribly."

He grinned and playfully nipped at her ear, "Good, because I have as well."

She spun in his hold, now facing him. She ran her hands over his clothed chest and fiddled with his cloak, "The hunt was successful, I assume?"

"Three elks and a boar," he said with a hint of pride, "Should last Winterfell a while enough."

"You're very brave, my lord," she smiled with a teasing tone. "Facing a boar is quite a formidable task."

"Aye," he agrees. "But so is facing the Warden of the North, wouldn't you agree?"

"You're right," She said as he tugged on his cloak to pull his face closer to hers. "The boar didn't stand a chance."

A confident aura overcame the lord and he leaned further down and connected their lips.

She let out a soft groan, savoring the feeling of him after such a long absence.

His arms moved up and around her back to pull her to him.

Her chest collided with his and only then did Cregan falter.

She pulled away, disconnecting their lips as she gave him a small frown. "Cregan?"

His breath had quickened and his face paled, but he was eagerly changing the subject, "I've only missed you is all." He leaned in again.

As his lips brushed hers, she pulled away again as her worry doubled, "Stop. Stop doing that."

"Doing what?"

"Something is clearly bothering you," she pointed out. "Tell me."

His hands wandered up to her biceps, gripping her earnestly, as if trying to convince her, "I am just fine. I only wish to spend time with my wife. Is that a crime?"

"You and I both know it's not, but there's something you're not telling me."

They stared at one another, seeing who would break first. Finally, he did with a sigh. "It is nothing, I assure you."

"You're sure?" She asked in worry.

"I am." 

She stared at him for a while before nodding, deciding to believe him. "Very well. I dare say I would enjoy some time with my lord husband as well."

He grinned, "I can arrange that." 

She leaned forward and met his lips, hands beginning to wander. 

He led her backwards to the bed, careful to not lead her astray. She blindly let him, too caught him in his touch to care where he took her.

She fell onto the bed and Cregan leaned down and began to kiss down her clothed stomach.

"Will you let me indulge in what I've missed?" He asked softly.

She let out a breath at his admission. 

Watching her reaction closely, he pulled the skirt of her dress up.

As his fingers grazed her bare thigh, she moaned out, "I don't think I can wait. I need you."

He chuckled, "So eager for me."

She sat up to entice him to loom over her, but she noticed that the color still hadn't returned to his cheeks. "Are you cold?"

He frowned, clearly confused at the question, "What? No."

"You're pale. Cregan, please." She reached under his cloak to his chest. 

He reached out to grip her wrists, but it was too late.

Her hands pulled back with red staining her palms. Her eyes widened in horror. "W…What-"

"-Look at me." He grabbed her face with both hands. "I am fine."

"You're hardly-"

His eyes showed the purely determined tone to his voice, "I am fine."

Her breath began to become shorter and her voice softened, "You… you've seen the maester?"

"I don't need the maester. I just need you," he said as he leaned in again.

She turned her head as she denied his wishes. "You're injured."

He sighed and pulled away from her. "It… it is just a scratch."

She stared down at her hands that now had his blood on them. Her fingers were shaky, and her voice was soft, "…you're injured."

He panicked when she began to only repeat her worry. "Dear wife-"

She stood and smoothed her dress out in a rush, "I'll get the maester."

He reached out and grabbed her wrist. His face twisted in a wince when the movement caused pain to shoot through his body.

She paused. "Cregan."

He forced himself to overcome the pain. Determination ran through his eyes as he looked up at her. "I. Am Fine."

She looked at his hand on her wrist, then back to him. "Even wolves show weakness on occasion."

It was clear that he took her words to heart because his eyes softened and his grip on her loosened. 

She slowly pulled her hand away and moved to the cabinet, pulling out bandages and cloths

Cregan watched in silence.

She set them onto the bed softly before leaving the room. She returned with a small basin of water. "Undress."

His head tilted. "Alright."

He pulled his cloak off, and only then did she notice how badly he was injured. 

His tunic was soaked in blood across his chest. 

It felt as if she had been dunked in cold water. Panic settled into her gut.

Cregan reached down to the bottom of the tunic, beginning to slowly peel it away from the injury. It clearly hurt him. His jaw was clenched to the point she worried for his teeth.

"Let me," she offered, pulling it the rest of the way off of him and throwing it to the side. 

A long cut ran down his chest, blood staining his skin. Cregan didn't bother to look at it. He kept his eyes on her and her alone.

She forced him to sit on the bed and sat down as well, reaching down to the cut. Her fingers grazed it lightly, earning a hiss from him. "Sorry," she whispered.

He shook his head as he studied her face, "'s fine."

"Get comfortable, my love," she finally forced.

He grunted in acknowledgement and pushed himself against the headboard.

She stood and grabbed the basin, setting it on the nightstand. The woman got up on the bed, throwing her leg over him to straddle him. 

If he wasn't in such pain, the night would've went much differently.

She leaned over and wet a cloth, beginning to gently run it over the cut to clean it. 

Cregan rested his head back against the headboard. His gaze stayed on her face.

"I don't understand why you didn't say something sooner," she whispered as she focused on healing her husband.

His eyes moved down to her lips, "I've had worse."

"How did it happen?" She pressed down unintentionally, and he hissed again. She muttered an apology.

"The boar," was all he said. He tried to read her expression, but it was hard when she wasn't looking at him. One of his hands moved to her waist.

"Did you face it yourself?" She asked incredulously.

"It caught us off guard is all."

She hummed as she grabbed a new cloth and continued to clean him with gentle hands.

His thumb rubbed across her waist comfortingly. "You're angry."

"Not angry," she sighed. "Only worried." Once the cut was clean, she began to slowly rub the cloth across his shoulders and up his neck, cleaning the dirt from the rest of him. 

The feeling made him close his eyes, "I do hope you'll forgive me then."

She shook her head, "You haven't asked for it yet."

He reached up with his free hand and stopped her motions. "Forgive me." His eyes studied her intensely, his voice serious.

She finally let out a sigh and a hint of a smile came to her. "You're a foolish man."

"I am," he admitted.

She took the cloth with one hand and held his chin with the other, cleaning the dirt off of his face. Their proximity brought a soft blush to her cheeks. "I don't know what I would do without you."

His eyes moved to her lips again and he began to slowly lean in. "You don't have to."

"Promise me something," she whispered.

He nodded, "Anything."

"You'll not put your health aside to appear strong to me."

"I am the Warden of the North-"

She leaned away and held his chin in a tight grip. "Not here. You're my husband, Cregan."

A little grin came across his lips. "I promise."

She leaned forward and connected their lips. 

His hands found her waist, holding her in a vice grip as he pulled her as close as possible. She was careful to avoid the cut on his chest as her hands wandered over him. 

He pulled away and began to trail kisses down her neck, "I'm a blessed man."

She let out a content hum. "Are you? You have a gash in your chest. I hardly see-"

"-I have you." His teeth nipped at a sensitive spot, soothing it with his tongue. 

Her eyes began to close in bliss as she gave in to his touch. She caught herself, and forced her eyes open. "I haven't finished bandaging you."

He continued his movements, "You'll have time later."

"If you want anything from me, you must let me finish, you stubborn man."

He pulled away at that to look up and her. "Fierce girl."

She grinned and reached over to the bandages she had gathered. She wrapped them around him, "I forgive you."

His large hand came up to grab her jaw gently and force her to look him in the eye. "I will not take it for granted. Thank you."

"Do this again and I'll gut you myself."

A chuckle came from his throat. "I have no doubts of that." He pulled her face to his and his voice lowered, "I'll have to be extra cautious, won't I?"

"Or perhaps… don't leave at all," her soft voice suggested.

"Oh, my girl," he grinned. "When you finish this bandage, we are not leaving this room for a long while."

A bright red hue came to her cheeks.

............................................

Taglist: @twinkletwinklenotastar, @kidd3ath,@yujyujj, @misswynters, @cosmosnkaz, @sithapprentice, @kaniromi, @lovemesomevesey, @its-jackie-bb, @8812-342, @thorins-queen-of-erebor, @kingdomzeldaquest @nyxbranwenn, @callsignwidow, @a1lexh-blog, @alyssa-dayne, @ethereal-athalia, @ashovertheriver,

@cookielovesbook-akie

[thinkinonsense]

VELVET ELVIS ❤︎

lumberjack!logan howlett x fem!reader

cw: fluff! domesticity! soft!logan pregnancy

author's note: this was inspired by the kacey musgraves song! just wanted to write some fluff :)

masterlist

divider credit: @/roseraris

within these cabin walls, time stood still. logan liked his life and the time machine he's built himself. you and him live in a 60's dream home.

during the weekdays, logan went to work at the lumberyard while you stayed at home and worked on your paintings. when the two of you moved in together years ago, logan got you to agree to quit your job and prioritize your talents since he could do triple the amount of work for a normal man, money would never be an issue.

on saturday's, the two of you would go into town and you would bring your art pieces to a shop downtown for them to sell. whatever money you made, you put back towards the supplies you needed because logan covered everything else.

"well, don't 'cha look like a dream" logan compliments as he watches you get ready in the mirror.

"thank you, sugar." you smile as he leans down to kiss your temple then down to your cheek.

"prettiest fuckin' thing i've ever seen." he mutters against your skin. "is this new?"

both your eyes fall to the satin powder blue slip dress that adorned your frame. he loved how it looked with your pretty white mary jane boots and the small bump blooming underneath the soft material of your dress.

"yeah, picked it up earlier this week." you reply, removing the curlers in your hair and teasing the hair pieces up high.

"love it." logan says, nibbling at your earlobe.

"logan..." you giggle, lightly shoving him away. "go get dressed so we can leave."

"yes, ma'am."

reluctantly, logan gets up and grabs the nice outfit you put together for him earlier. a fresh pair of denim jeans, a white shirt, and his brown leather jacket. as an anniversary present one year, you got logan a silver star-shaped belt buckle that matched the necklace he got for your birthday when you two first met. in the mirror, you watched him put it on.

"whatcha thinkin' about over there, sweetheart?" he smirks, looking up to find your eyes.

"dippin' you in honey."

"dirty. i like it."

"not like that, perv." you giggle. "just wanna be stuck to you forever."

"that's sweet," he says, walking over, bending down, and gently grabbing your chin to kiss you.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

once the two of you make it inside the tiny shop, logan brings in your painting while you greet the older ladies who own the building. all of them fawn over logan and your round tummy; telling you how lucky you are. something you never let yourself forget.

"you'll never believe what we picked up at the gala last weekend." one of the grey-haired women tells you.

"what did you two find?" you asked, always curious to their treasures.

"the hell kinda painting is this?" logan asks, looking sideways at one of the paintings on the wall.

the sight makes you laugh. no matter how long you two have been together, logan still struggles to see some of the beauty that you do in certain art pieces.

"i think the handsome lumberjack found it." the other lady winked as they guide you over to where logan stood. hanging upon the wall sat a velvet elvis painting.

"oh my!" you gasp.

ever since you were a little girl, you adored the painting that some would call 'tacky'.

"you like that, sweets?" he questions but you ignore it, stepping closer, running a finger along the golden frame.

"my grandma used to have one in her living room, it was her most prized possession –well, next to my grandpa."

behind you, logan could see the couple smiling to each other. too busy amazed by the painting to notice anything else around you.

“what a lucky find!” you marvel, turning around to face them.

“which is why we want you to have it.” one of them says while the other takes it down from the wall.

in shock, you shake your head insisting that you couldn’t allow them to give it away. they insist on you two taking it home, telling you to hang it somewhere nice. logan wasn’t exactly thrilled to have the painting in the home but he knew you adored it so he would never say a word out loud.

on the way home that night, you raved about the piece. logan loved hearing you talk about the things you were passionate about. he could listen to you explain color theory for hours. his own personal, prettier version of bob ross. when he brought in the painting, you told him exactly where you wanted to hang it in the living room.

“right there, baby.” you instruct him. “be careful.”

the man couldn’t be hurt if he tried but he found your warning cute. once it was hung up, you both step back to admire it. the art work did at least match the aesthetic of the house, logan could admit.

“i mean, its no mona lisa but i don’t mind it.” logan says, pulling you in to kiss your forehead.

“you know, i don’t really care for the mona lisa.” you admit with a shrug.

“really?”

“mhm, don’t like that everyone fawns over it. i want character, creativity, and something unique."

"hm.." he hums, swaying you gently.

"this painting reminds me of you." your voice meek and muffled against his shirt.

"is that so?" he asks, looking down at you.

you nod. "i want something no one else has and something no one else will ever understand the way that i do. you're my favorite work of art, lo."

"i'm only a work of art because you carved and molded me with your beautiful mind." he says, trying to allow a tear to fall down his face.

logan couldn't believe the life he'd been gifted after all the shit he's dealt with in his lifetime. he didn't deserve this; he didn't deserve you. your kindness, your warmth, your talent, your body that carries the only other human he will ever love as much as you. he would never be able to repay you for this little life and slice of peace that you've gifted him.

[mischieveousmayhem]

Hi! I've been following your writing for a bit now, and I really like your style of writing. There's a sort of flow to it. Anyways, I was wondering if you could write a Bruce Wayne x Batmom! Reader. Where Damian clings to Batmom a lot and it's so obvious he loves her more than he loves Bruce. So Batmom overhears Bruce paying Damian like a large amount of money to not interrupt their date? I think this would be really cute, and it's okay if you can't write it. And thank you so much in advance! <3

Bribes

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x Reader, Damian Wayne x Batmom! Reader

Genre: Fluff (?)

Warnings: Characters may be out of character, reader is shorter than Bruce Wayne, jealousy

Synopsis: Will Bruce ever get a moment with you?

It happens a lot, almost too often. Every moment Bruce thinks he has alone with you , he doesn't.

The first time was when Damian started getting comfortable with you.

You and Bruce were in your bedroom, limbs entangled, just enjoying each other's presence in the dark, cold room. The only warmth was your bodies and the blankets.

Bruce was enjoying this, he was enjoying you. You guys had all boys, and oh lord were they mama's boys who needed you for all simple. Thank god he didn't have to worry about Damian turning into one like his brothers. At least Bruce thought.

There was a knock on the door.

"Go away." Bruce's voice booms.

You move from the position you and Bruce were in and you sit up.

"You can come in, Damian." You say.

It was quite obvious it was Damian, your boys all knocked on the door differently. Damians seemed more hesitant.

Damian walked in coming to your side of the bed. Bruce stares blankly , and confused on how the hell you knew it was Damian.

"Y/N , I had a nightmare can I sleep here?"

"N—" Bruce started.

"I was asking Y/N. Not you." Damian cuts him off. He sure was Bruces child.

"Of course, love." You smiled as the boy climbed in between you and a grumpy Bruce.

—

Another time it happened was when you and Bruce had a Gala to go to but the boys were gonna stay home.

However, he couldn't find you anywhere in sight to be found. Until he walked into the living room to find you and Damian cuddled under a blanket.

Damian leaned back on you with you rubbing his hair until he spots his father and he immediately jumps up acting like his mother wasn't just giving him affection he craved.

"Y/N, why aren't you dressed. We have that Gala tonight." Bruce raised a brow at you as he stood in front of you in his tuxedo that he looked EXTREMELY handsome in.

You give him a nervous smile, "Well about that," You raised up a thermometer, "Damian is feeling a bit under the weather so I will stay here with him while you attend."

Damian did a fake cough while smirking at his father. His face out of your vision you couldn't see the smirk.

Bruce squinted at Damian. He wasn't going to rat out his son to you because at least Damian warmed up to you and even then you wouldn't believe Bruce.

—

The last straw was when Bruce found Damian taking his favorite thing to do with you.

Every evening you would sit in the garden. It was labeled your bench because the boys always saw you out there on it no matter the weather.

One of your quiet places, you just sit out and read, crochet or some other peaceful activity until Bruce comes out. You two watch the sunsets every evening together and it was just a romantic, wholesome moment.

That is why when Bruce came outside to the garden to see Damian in his mother's arms he almost lost it.

Bruce wanted to be in your arms and Damian should not be there at all.

"Room for one more?" Bruce speaks.

This time Damian doesn't move out of your arms for his father has seen him like this multiple times and he just doesn't want his brothers to spot him being babied in his mother's arms.

"Sorry dear, there is only enough room for two people on this bench. You can come tomorrow." You look back and smile almost guilty.

Unfortunately tomorrow never came, because everyday Damian would beat Bruce to your arms on the bench.

—

All those events lead up to now. Bruce sitting Damian down to have a talk before you and Bruce went out for a date that Bruce has been looking forward to.

"I've noticed you spend a lot of time with Y/N." Bruce spoke to Damian.

"Ummi and I are just having normal mother-son time." Damian speaks.

Bruce furrows his eyebrows, "Yeah..whatever."

"Great! Conversation ended." Damian was about to get up till Bruce stopped him.

"You are not to sabotage this date." Bruce says.

"I'm not going to sabotage it but I am starting to feel a little sick." Damian smirked.

"Do not fake sick, I will pay you a million dolla—" Bruce was about to give Damian a bribe until he heard your laughter from the doorway and his face dropped.

"You two are really something." You place your hands on your hips after you stop laughing.

The two just stare at you waiting for you go finish what you are going to say.

"Damian, if your sick Dick will be here to take care of you in a little but until then you have Alfred." She walks towards him and brings her hand to his cheek, cupping it, "I spend a lot of time with you Dami, it is time I give your father some attention."

Damian melts into your touch, nodding. You were right, he had been spending a lot of time with you.

You then turn to Bruce, "As for you, you shouldn't have to bribe your son to not "sabotage" , our dates." You roll your eyes.

"I know, but we haven't had much time together lately." Bruce comes towards you.

When he's in-front of you, you look up while grabbing his forearms.

"I know, that's why tonight it will only just be us. I promise." Your eyes glimmer as you speak those words to him.

He was about to lean down to kiss you till Damian gets up and runs out the room yelling, "GET A ROOM!!"

[ckret2]

Chapter 75 of human Bill Cipher gradually becoming less and less the Mystery Shack's prisoner:

Mabel's Guide to Secret Sleepovers!

They definitely won't get their lives endangered during the sleepover at all!! And if you believe that's not a lie, I've got a skyscraper in the second dimension to sell you.

####

A camera set up beneath the attic bedroom window recorded the dark room. In her pajamas, Mabel stood in the middle of the attic, boogying nervously to silent music.

A light shining from beneath the bedroom door turned off. Mabel stopped boogying, crept to the door, and leaned her ear against the crack.

She ran back to the camera and picked it up. "Okay," she whispered, "Dipper and Grunkle Ford are out on their mission, Stan and Abuelita are asleep, Soos finally knocked off building for the night, and Bill's in his new room. Welcome to... Mabel's Guide to Secret Sleepovers!"

She held up a flattened cereal box she'd written the title on. The title was almost invisible in the dark, but it was framed by stars painted on with glow-in-the-dark nail polish.

"Step one: getting your friends in the house." She turned the camera around. She swerved over to Waddles's bed as she crossed the room, whispering, "Hey, wanna come to the sleepover?"

Waddles snorted gently in his sleep.

"Aww, that's okay. Next time." She rubbed his belly, then crept toward the attic door.

She tiptoed in her socks down the newly-built hallway and past the curtain hiding Bill's new room, padded down the stairs, opened the back door, and hissed, "Pssst! Coast is clear!"

Out from the tree line ran Candy, wearing a camo-print blanket like a cloak, and Grenda, dressed in black and with her arms and face painted in brown and green. Grenda waved ecstatically at the camera as she passed.

With Mabel in the back, they quietly crept upstairs, quietly snuck past Bill's room, quietly closed the bedroom door, and quietly squealed with excitement. "First summer sleepover at the shack," Candy said, flopping on her back on Mabel's bed and spreading out her blanket cloak. She sat up, noticed a cardboard cradle next to Mabel's bed, and picked up the porcelain doll inside. "Oooh! Who's this handsome gentleman?"

"That's Bartholomew! I told you about him. Barty, these are my friends Candy and Grenda."

The doll did nothing.

"You can say hi, Barty! I trust them!"

The doll continued to do nothing.

"He's shy," Mabel said. "He's totally haunted by a little Victorian boy, though, really."

Candy nodded. "I believe you."

"This is cool!" Grenda said. She was trying to scrub the camo paint off her arms and face with her hands. "I've never gone to a secret sleepover before. Next time we should sneak into my place!"

"Okay, so," Mabel said. "I promised you I'd introduce you to the secret guy that's been staying here as soon as it was okay to. And it's okay to! As long as nobody else finds out I introduced you."

Grenda nodded. Candy said, "This sounds reasonable."

"Anyway his name's Goldie, he's been staying at the shack this summer, he's really fun, he's kiiind of a bad guy but in a cool way"—(Candy appreciatively said, "Oooh.")—"aaand he's asleep right now." A dramatic pause. "But not for long."

Candy and Grenda grinned evilly.

####

"Secret sleepover step two," Mabel whispered. "Introducing your friends to your other friend!" The camera's dark screen was illuminated by a slit of light as Grenda pulled open the curtain to Bill's room. The dim starlight pouring into the room was barely enough to illuminate the white lightning and yellow circle of symbols on the hanging zodiac blanket as the girls pushed past it to creep into the room.

Bill lay sleeping on the chaise extension of the orange sofa, catty-corner to the doorway, curled up on his side with his back to the door. Beneath his curls, the eye stitched on the back of his hood peered out at the room, shifting up and down with his steady sleeping breaths. The girls crept up behind him, biting their lips to keep from giggling. Candy and Grenda flanked Mabel, arms raised in preparation to attack, as Mabel held up her fingers... 3... 2... 1...

Bill rolled over with a devilish grin and lunged at them. "HEY, KIDS!"

The girls screamed. They bolted for the hall with Bill's laughter following them.

####

"You should've seen the looks on your faces," Bill gloated. He was sitting on the floor, legs crossed lotus style, in a semicircle with the three girls around the camera Mabel had set on the sofa. They'd set one flashlight next to the camera pointing out and another on the floor pointing at the ceiling.

"You got us good," Candy admitted.

Grenda leaned across the semicircle. "Hi! I'm Grenda. This is Candy."

"I've heard a lot about you two." Bill sat back, giving Grenda a somewhat less than warm smile. "Call me Goldie."

Grenda gasped. "Hey! Candy, look at his eyes!"

"What?" Bill's gaze darted between the girls' faces. His eyes caught the faint light and flashed like a cat's.

"They did it again!"

"Whoa!" Candy got up on her knees and leaned toward Bill. He leaned away.

Panic crossed Mabel's face. "Uhh, I can explain—"

"We knew it," Candy said. "We were sure you couldn't let us meet Goldie because he was a werewolf catboy!"

"I dunno," Grenda said. "They look more like frog eyes. They're kinda bulgy, too."

Bill stared at Grenda. A broad smile broke out across his face. "That's the nicest thing anyone's ever said about them!"

Grenda asked, "Do your eyes suck into your face when you swallow like a frog's do?"

"I dunno, swallowing makes me blink. You tell me." Bill deliberately swallowed.

"Ugh, they do! Gross," Grenda said approvingly.

"Why do you have frog eyes? Are you a werefrog?" Candy asked. "Or did a mad scientist mutate you?"

Bill said, "You know the story about the frog prince? My great-grandfather."

"He is not."

"He could be!"

"Anyway," Mabel said, "Goldie's not any kind of not-human person or anything, that'd be crazy. He's just a big secret because he's committed war crimes, that's all!"

Grenda and Candy considered that.

"That's cool." Candy slowly pulled out a makeup bag. "Do you like makeovers?"

Bill eyed her appraisingly. "How good are you?"

####

The camera sat tilted off to the side, catching Grenda, Bill, and a bit of Mabel's hair. Bill and Grenda sat just out of the flashlights' range while Mabel and Candy off-screen debated how best to shape Mabel's lips. Grenda held a purple tube of foundation in one of the flashlights' beams; the tube had a logo that looked like a lilac triangle with a single eye and thick purple lips. She uncapped a black eyeliner pen, drew a big X over the triangle's eye and gave it a curly mustache, and added a cramped word bubble over it that said "UGLY LOSR." Grenda chuckled.

Past her, Bill's eyes flashed in the dark as they narrowed.

"Finished!" Mabel announced. She turned the camera to face the whole quartet again. "Secret sleepover step three: normal sleepover activities! Starting with... makeovers! Remember, you're beautiful just the way you are; but a real artist can look at a human body and see a canvas. And canvases are for paint!"

She pointed the flashlight at her own face. "I call this look... the Showstopper." She had eyeshadow, blush, and lipstick—in three different shades of pink—liberally caked on with a crunchy layer of multicolored glitter and with plastic gems bedazzling her brow and temples. It looked bad.

Mabel pointed the flashlight at Grenda. "This one's... Beach Babe."

Grenda said, "Like a mermaid!" She had blush painted to look like scales, clumpy blue mascara and blue eyeshadow shaped like waves, and lipstick that looked like a fish. It looked bad.

Mabel pointed at Candy. "And this is the Glam Rock Revival!" Candy had a shimmery blue star painted over one eye and half her face, and a smaller matching star on her opposite cheek. It looked unexpectedly good.

"And Goldie..." Mabel pointed the flashlight at his face. "He kinda just... let us experiment with some designs Candy found in a makeup book."

One of his eyes had a neon rainbow eyebrow and eyelashes and tiny glittery butterfly stickers. The other eye had golden eyelashes and bright blue and black flames that would look at home spray painted on an old school hot rod. It looked bad.

"I look awesome," Bill said.

"And check out our mani-pedis!" Grenda grabbed the camera and pointed it down at their hands and feet. Mabel had messy watermelon nails, Grenda had decent French tips, Candy's actually matched her makeup, and Bill—who, unlike the girls, wasn't so much showing off his nails as he was just sitting there while Grenda waved the camera around—had a different set on each hand and foot.

Mabel said, "Goldie let us each experiment on one set of nails."

Grenda pointed at Bill's right hand, "I did that one!" He had five extremely long glue-on nails, which in turn each had two more glue-on nails on top, each trimmed to a sharp point. All fifteen nails had garish pre-printed designs—stripes, polka dots, and three types of animal print. None matched.

Bill cheerily said, "I could stab clean through a grown man's throat with these."

Mabel leaned closer. "Goldie, why's your other hand so boring!" His left hand had all black nails.

Bill said, "Turn off the flashlights."

Mabel turned them off. Five glow-in-the-dark eyes peered up from Bill's nails. The girls ooohed appreciatively.

"Now what?" Candy asked. "We can't do our other usual sleepover activities. Rom-coms, karaoke, and saucy book readings are too loud for a secret sleepover."

"Aww," Bill groaned, "I was looking forward to karaoke."

"Candy's right." Mabel turned a flashlight back on. "We'll have to get creative. What's a good traditional sleepover activity that isn't too loud?"

They sat around for a moment in silent thought.

Bill turned the other flashlight on under his grinning face. "You girls ever summon a demon before?"

The girls smiled excitedly.

####

The camera trained on Grenda and Candy as they leaned over the lizard tank in the Mystery Shack's museum, staring at the "baby dragon" display. "Awww," Grenda cooed. "Look at them! They're so cute." She stood on her toes and crossed her arms on the edge of the tank. "How do their fake wings stay on?"

"Alien superglue. It'll last until their next shed," Bill said from behind the camera.

"They're very brown," Candy said, disappointed. "I guess it's good camouflage." She held up part of her camo blanket cloak to compare.

Grenda said, "I think they're either western fence lizards or sagebrush lizards. Do you know where Mr. Ramirez caught them?"

"In the forests around town," Bill said.

"Western fence lizards," Grenda said. "If they're boys, they'll have blue bellies!"

"Oooh." Candy crouched down eye-level with the lizards trying to see their bellies.

Grenda tentatively reached a hand into the tank to pick up one of the baby dragons; it skittered under a rock for safety.

Bill said, "You know your lizards, Grendo."

"Heh. Grend-O."

Candy said, "Grenda is the reptile and amphibian expert."

"I have a book on them! And a pet iguana!" Grenda announced. "Hey, Gold-O! What's your favorite lizard?"

Bill was silent a few seconds. "Leeet's go with chameleons. They've got cute eyes."

"Chameleons are my favorite too," Candy said. "I like how they change color. Their eyes are freaky, though."

Grenda said, "I like chameleon eyes! They're crazy! I think it'd be cool to look two different directions at the same time."

Bill lowered the camera slightly. "What, you mean like this?"

Grenda and Candy gaped at him in shock. Candy squealed in discomfort and shielded her eyes. "That looks painful."

Grenda laughed. "Cool," she said. "Hey, you like frogs too, right? What's your favorite frog!"

"Golden poison dart frogs." Bill answered without hesitation. "The brighter, the better."

"I love poison dart frogs," Grenda said. "On my death bed, I wanna lick one to find out what it tastes like!"

"Bitter sushi, until your mouth goes numb," Bill said. "But if you're gonna get drugged by a frog, make it a psychedelic toad. They're more fun."

"Ohhh. Thanks. Now I wanna taste sushi!" One of the baby dragons crept up a rock; Grenda tried, unsuccessfully, to catch it again.

Bill walked closer to the tank to film the lizards. After a moment, he asked, "What're your favorite frogs?"

"Oooh, that's hard." Grenda put her hand to her chin, thinking.

Candy said, "I think... the little green ones with the guts you can see through."

"Glass frogs," Bill provided.

"Either red-eyed tree frogs or strawberry poison dart frogs," Grenda said. "Maybe the tree frogs. Dart frogs have boring eyes."

"One of their only flaws." Bill paused. "What do you think about axolotls?"

"Mr. Pines lets me feed his sometimes," Grenda said. "They're kind of overrated, though. Frogs are better!"

"Hm." The hm sounded approving. Bill reached into the tank, effortlessly scooped his fingers beneath the wings and around the belly of a lizard, and lifted him up. Candy and Grenda gasped. "One male in the tank." He turned the lizard's blue belly toward the camera too. It wiggled in distress.

"Got it!"

Bill swung the camera around to look at Mabel, who'd just triumphantly come through the curtain from the gift shop. She was holding a box of rainbow chalk over her head. "The chalk Soos uses for sales and stuff!"

"Perfect," Bill said. "Manage to find a religious text?"

"No, buuut I found a copy of a DMV manual at the cash register." Mabel held up her find. "Will that work?"

"Hm." Bill considered it. "I've never seen someone try it before, but traffic law is just as imaginary as any other divine commands! Just try really hard to have faith in the rules of road safety and maybe it'll work. Never know unless we try it out!"

"Good enough for me!" Mabel said. "What did we need a religious text for, again?"

"Oh, once the demon's here, it's the only thing that'll be capable of banishing it, that's all," Bill said. "So! Where are we drawing this summoning circle?"

They found a clear space in the museum on the floor near the treasure chest display. Bill handed the camera momentarily to Mabel while he drew a four-inch version of the summoning circle for the girls to copy. "It needs to be white and blood red. Do we have any blood red chalk?" He rummaged through the box of chalk. "Hmm. Okay, either one of us can let a lot of blood, or we can try it out with pink chalk. What'll it be?"

Grenda and Candy looked to Mabel, considering the question seriously. Finally, Mabel said, "Pink chalk sounds like it'll be faster."

"I guess," Bill said, disappointed. He finished his example circle and stood. "Okay, there you go! Usually you're not even supposed to draw the circle unless you've fasted for twelve hours, but there's three of you and you haven't eaten in at least four hours, sooo it's probably fine."

Grenda raised a hand. "I had a soda. Is that bad?"

"Naaah, a soda's more bubbles than liquid, I bet it barely even counts."

Bill took over camera duties again as Mabel and Candy each took a stick of white chalk to draw half the circle. They started at different sizes. They had to do a weird wiggly slope in order to make the two halves meet. Candy asked, "Is that good?"

"Hmmm..." Bill considered the lopsided blob. "It's good enough!"

While Mabel and Candy puzzled over Bill's tiny pink protective sigils and tried to figure out how to draw them bigger, Grenda leaned over to Bill and whispered, "Hey! Are you really related to the frog prince?"

"No," Bill said. (Grenda's face fell.) "I was cursed by a witch. I can see through walls and in the dark, but in exchange I have frog eyes."

Grenda's face lit up again. "Stupid! Frog eyes just make you look even cooler!"

"That dumb witch had no idea what a real curse is. I got nothing but benefits," Bill said. "All right, you asked me one, let me ask you one."

Grenda looked at Bill with trepidation. "O-okay?"

"What's with the face you were drawing on that triangle?"

Grenda seemed relieved by the question. "Oh! We're not really supposed to talk about it much? But there was this triangle jerk that tried to take over the world last year. So we're supposed to cover up pictures that look like him. I dunno, it's a whole thing."

"Okay," Bill said irritably, "fine. How come you make him look stupid, though?"

"Because he was a big monster that hurt my friends and wrecked the town," Grenda said hotly. "He almost killed Mabel!"

Bill was silent a moment. "Sure," he said tersely. "If that's what it looked like, I can see how that would leave a bad impression."

"Hey, Goldie," Mabel said loudly. "I think we're done! Does this look right?"

"Let's see..." Bill inspected the circle, circling the perimeter with the camera. It looked bad. "Looks good enough," Bill said.  "All right! Everyone in position around the circle—Grenda, you're on the circle."

"Oops." She slid her foot back, smearing the chalk line and one of the protective sigils. "Uhh... I think I broke the ring?"

"It's fine, it's small! And you can still tell what the symbol is. Mostly," Bill said. "Okay, everyone remember the chant I taught you? Three, two..."

The camera's audio only recorded a long squeal of distortion instead of words as the girls started chanting. Bill backed up to get a better shot of the whole circle. The girls' eyes began glowing white; the flashlights flickered; and a fiery cloud of smoke filled the ring, billowing from floor to ceiling. The girls stumbled back, shielding their faces from the smoke.

"Hey, hey," Bill said. "Get back in there! If you stop the chant before it's complete, you'll—!"

With a boom, the smoke exploded outward, filling the room and completely obscuring the camera's view.

When it cleared up, the ring appeared to be empty.

Bill aimed the camera down and zoomed in. In the center of the ring was a tiny imp. It looked like a skinny coral-red hairless mouse with a spade-tipped tail and little bat wings.

"—you'll only get a small one," Bill finished.

They crouched down and stared at it. "It's cute," Candy said. Mabel said, "I'm naming her Cinnamon."

It blinked big wet black eyes at them. And then it scampered out of the gap in the chalk line.

The girls shrieked. The imp chased Candy around the treasure chest. Grenda tried to climb onto a display pedestal with a taxidermy jackalope, screaming, "Get it! Get it!"

"Candy! Run this way!" Mabel got on her knees, Oregon state driving manual held high over her head. As Candy ran past, Mabel shouted, "I do believe in the speed limit!" and swung the manual down like she was swatting a bug.

The manual smacked the imp. With a puff of smoke, it poofed out of the mortal plane and back to where it came from.

"Nice banishment, star girl," Bill said. "Hey, not bad for your first summoning, kids. You'll be bargaining with demon royalty in no time."

The girls heaved a sigh of relief. "That went pretty smoothly, I think," Candy said.

"Yeah!" Grenda climbed down from the pedestal. "There weren't any weird life-threatening twists or anything!"

"That doesn't happen a lot," Mabel said.

The camera suddenly lowered, pointing at the floor at an angle. "Hey, Mabel. Where'd you get this camera, anyway?" The camera's view turned back and forth. "It doesn't look like the one you usually record your guides with."

"Oh, yeah," Mabel said. "Dipper's using our normal camera, so I'm borrowing one I found in a box in the attic loft."

Bill said, "The cardboard box covered in fifteen strips of duct tape?"

"Uh-huh."

"So, the cursed camera?"

A pause. "The what?"

The camera's view became a blur as it whizzed across the room, only focusing again when the camera was ten feet in the air and staring down at the group of four. The camera's neck strap had wrapped tight around one of Bill's wrists, wrenching his arm into the air. Candy and Grenda automatically clung to his sides, the one adult in the room; he had his free arm raised up to avoid touching Candy.

"Well! This isn't ideal." The camera had a clipped, artificial-sounding voice—but a familiar one. "I'd been hoping you'd split up so I could steal your souls one by one!"

Mabel said, "Why do you sound like Grunkle Ford! Did you steal his soul?!"

"Stanford's voice is just the only one it's ever recorded before tonight," Bill said. "If it had stolen his soul, you'd know."

"How?"

"Because he'd be dead."

"Oh."

"So much for the element of surprise." The camera's sigh was laced with the crackle of VHS static. "But as long as my secret is out... time to hunt!"

"Huh! How about that," Bill said. "Kids? Run."

Grenda and Candy turned and bolted deeper into the museum.

Bill turned to stare at them in bewilderment. "Not that way—!"

Mabel threw herself on Bill's arm, trying to jerk down the camera and pull off the strap. "Let go of my friend, you—!"

The screen blurred as the camera butted the side of Mabel's head, knocking her to the ground. Panic flashed across Bill's face. "Mabel!"

The camera took advantage of his distraction to snap its strap around both his wrists, bind them together, and yank Bill closer. "At least I get to take out the biggest threat first," the camera hissed. "Smile for the camera, sweetheart."

Bill shot the camera a glare—and then seemingly got caught there, unable to tear his eyes away from the lens, as the camera slowly zoomed in...

And nothing happened.

"It's not working," the camera said. "Your soul should be sucked out by now. Why isn't it working?"

Bill shook himself out of the trance and laughed darkly. "Because a force too powerful for your little electronic mind to comprehend glued my soul in this body so tightly, even I can't pull it out!" He leaned closer until one wide bloodshot eye filled the screen. "Go ahead, give it your best shot! Maybe you'll help tug it loose!"

The camera paused. "Are... are you alright?"

Bill jerked back, scowling. "Oh, just shut— Mabel! Flashlight!"

"Flashlight!"

Bill tilted his head aside just in time for a flashlight to sail over his shoulder and crash into the camera. It shrieked inhumanly. It crash-landed at a tilt, a crack in its lens, the shot unfocused. Bill's blurry form looked down at the camera, holding the flashlight—and then he turned and ran for the curtain into the gift shop. The camera slowly rose back up.

Mabel shouted, "Bi—Goldie! Come back!"

"Keep it distracted!"

"You don't even need a flashlight, you coward!"

The camera's blurry view focused. The crack in its lens repaired itself. It stared at the curtain where Bill had disappeared, snarled, "Not worth it," and rounded on the museum.

And then it began stalking its prey.

The camera followed heavy thudding to find Grenda trying to knock down the main entrance's locked door. "Come on!" Grenda grunted. "This! Doesn't! Meet! Fire codes!" As she glimpsed the camera's approach, she gasped, flipped a rug over it, and bolted. 

It zoomed past Sascrotch, peered behind it, and caught Mabel and Candy clinging onto its back fur. They screamed, dropped down, and ran two different directions. The camera glanced between them indecisively and snarled in frustration when they both turned corners before it could choose a target.

It passed a six pack-o'-lope, a mummy, and a triclops skull; heard a papery rustle; and did a double-take at the displays. Grenda, wrapped in a bunch of receipt paper from the gift shop, ran away from the former "mummy" display.

It swooped under a taxidermy turtle with wings to find Candy hiding beneath the turtle's shell; Candy flipped the shell over the camera before she ran the other way.

It chased Mabel around a barrel of monkey heads, ending in a stalemate on opposite sides of the barrel with each of them twitching left and right trying to figure out which way to run; until it remembered it could just float over the top of the barrel. Mabel backed up and blew a handful of chalk dust in the camera's lens. By the time it wiped its lens clean on a dried monkey pelt, Mabel was gone.

It circled around the invisible man to see whether its cloak hid any children behind its back, made a noise of disgust when it didn't find any, and turned to leave. "Wait a minute. That man isn't invisible!"

Candy—her face beneath the "invisible man's" suspended glasses and bowler hat—sighed harshly and threw down her camo blanket, revealing she was sitting on Grenda's shoulders. "This camouflage doesn't do anything!" They tumbled to the ground and ran different directions.

This time, the camera didn't make the mistake of hesitating before choosing a target. It flew after Grenda.

Grenda stopped in a dead end with a gasp. "Uh-oh." She turned to see how close the camera was behind her, flinched, and tried to dodge around it. It jerked to the side, backing Grenda into a corner.

"Back off, you big, ugly—!" She punched the camera square in the lens, her fist filling the shot. The crunched lens had repaired itself before Grenda stopped shaking her smarting hand. She gasped and covered her eyes. "Please don't take my soul! I'm using it!"

"Not for long!" The camera's strap whipped around Grenda's wrists, yanking her hands down. "It's time for your close up!"

Grenda tried to turn her face away—but the camera caught her gaze, and she turned toward it, eyes wide, hypnotized. The shot zoomed in. A swirling green mist began spiraling out of Grenda's eyes.

Until another set of eyes cut in between, yellow and slitted and furious and framed by mismatched eyeshadow. "Miss me?"

"You," the camera snarled.

Grenda cheered, "Gold-O! You came back!"

"Hey, Grend-O." Bill glanced back over his shoulder. "Sorry for the wait—takes a while for glow-in-the-dark nail polish to charge and dry."

"Get out of my way!" The camera tried to butt the side of Bill's head.

He caught it in his left hand without looking, his arm extending off the edge of the screen like he was taking a selfie. "I don't think so." He raised his right hand—several of the ludicrous nail extensions had already broken off—with palm facing out. There was a symbol painted on his palm, glowing whitish green; but whatever symbol he'd painted on his palm couldn't be fully seen because the moment it was in full view of the camera's lens, it became so bright it almost completely washed out the rest of the frame.

The image skipped and the audio recorded a shriek of static before the camera managed to wrench itself free of Bill's grip and rush back.

Bill caught it by its strap, twisting it about his left wrist to keep it secure. "Now let's get this straight," he snarled, teeth bared at the camera. "Everything beneath this shack's roof is my domain and under my protection! If you want to hurt anyone here—" his voice dropped demonically low, "—you'll have to get through me." He dragged the camera closer. 

He clamped his right hand over the camera's lens, trapping it with the glowing symbol on his palm; the static screamed, stuttered; and then the film overheated and melted.

####

The camera switched back on. "Welcome back to Mabel's Guide to Secret Sleepovers!" Mabel's left eyeshadow and blush was smeared across her face. "Weee're back! Goldie taped a symbol to the camera that keeps it stunned, so we're safe! Woo-woo! Now, back to sleepover step, uh... seven or something: greeting the sunrise with your friends who didn't get any sleep!"

She turned the camera toward Candy and Grenda, who were sitting with her on the saggy sofa on the back porch. They were blinking dazedly toward the glowing horizon.

"And now you've completed a successful sleepover! Great job, everybody!"

"You kids can stay up if you want," Bill said. (Mabel aimed the camera down; Bill was lying on his stomach on the porch, cheek resting on his crossed arms, eyes shut.) "I'm already asleep."

"Boo," Candy said. "Sleepover quitters are lame."

"Yeah," Mabel agreed. "But he saved our lives, I think he earned it if he wants."

"Do you wanna sleep on the couch?" Grenda asked. "There's still some room! We could squish together!"

"Nah, s'more comfortable down here," Bill mumbled. "My back's killing me."

Grenda laughed. "Old."

"I got assaulted by a camera!"

"Hold on, I have an idea!" She got off the couch and knelt next to Bill. "I saw this at the mall once." She dug an elbow into his back. "Is this helping?"

Bill grunted. "More to the left," he said. "It might be helping a little bit..."

Grenda pressed her other elbow into his back, putting her upper body weight on it. "How 'bout now?"

"Not quite..."

Candy climbed on the arm of the sofa and crouched there. "Let me try!" Grenda leaned back. Like a wrestler, Candy jumped in the air and dropped, sharp elbow first, onto Bill's back.

Bill's eyes flew open and he let out a strangled shriek of pain. It petered out. "Oh, hey—that actually got it. Thanks, kids." He sighed in relief and immediately fell back asleep.

Grenda pumped a fist. "Yes!"

"He really was tired," Candy said.

"So, what'd I say, girls?" Mabel asked. "I told you Goldie was cool, right?"

"Okay, you were right," Candy said. "He is a very patient makeup mannequin."

"And he taught us how to summon demons and saved our lives," Grenda said. "And the first thing didn't even cause the second thing! Which is weird!"

Eyes still shut, Bill mumbled, "You flatter me."

"Hey!" Grenda picked up a sofa cushion. "You're supposed to be a-SLEEP!" She swung it down on his head. He only laughed.

"Yes!" Mabel cheered. "And the moral of the story is the friend of my friend is my friend's friend! Or—wait—no. The friend of my friend is my friend too?"

From under the cushion, Bill said, "The friend of my friend is my rival for her attention."

"No!" Mabel turned the camera to herself. "Anyway, that's Mabel's Guide to Secret Sleepovers! Tune in next time for... I dunno, maybe alpacas or something. We'll see!"

She set the camera in her lap, episode completed.

####

(Would you look at that, positive character growth. Hope you enjoyed, and looking forward to hearing y'all's thoughts!)

[gguk-n]

Rewritten Headlines (Charles Leclerc X Model!Reader)

Fake dating mixed SMAU and imagine. All the pictures are from pinterest. Random girls from Pinterest no specific person

{Reader's POV}

My manager mailed me the tickets to Monaco. I was flying in on the Sunday morning and then I was to meet some guy who was gonna be my fake boyfriend apparently. I reached Monaco around afternoon and rested in the hotel until the meeting time. She sent the guys's profile and number so that I could contact him, if I needed to. When I opened the profile, the name read Charles Leclerc. I'd heard about him; he was a driver for Ferrari and if you base your work out of Italy it's kinda hard to miss Charles or Ferrari. I got dressed and headed to the restaurant we decided to meet at. He was already waiting for me when I got there. He waved at me as soon as we saw each other. I walked towards him and raised my hand to greet him "Hi, I'm Y/N Y/L/N, your fake girlfriend." I said. He laughed then replied, "Hi, I'm Charles Leclerc, your fake boyfriend."

We sat together and talked for a while, going through the profile our teams had sent and made a few changes that we would be letting them know off. Charles was easy to be around and fun to talk to. We had dinner together and he dropped me back to my hotel. He even offered to drive me to the airport tomorrow but I denied his request since I didn't want to ruin the plan our teams had come up with.

We were supposed to date for a year till it would clear up our names. Our meeting was supposed to happen at a race, I was flying out in 2 weeks for. I would be Ferrari's guest and then Charles and I would hit it off, immediately. We would do a few public appearances and be 'caught by paps' make it believable, a few interviews and Instagram posts and then break up with a post or story. Simple as that.

y/n.y/l/n

Liked by scuderiaferrari, charles_leclerc, 1,256,976 others

y/n.y/l/n Thank you to Ferrari for having me as a guest at todays race. I had so much fun. I would love to be back for more races.

user1 You look so pretty!!😘😘 user2 guys, everyone at the gp said that Y/N and Charles were inseparable, new couple?!🥹🥹 user3 After the whole scandal and the first post back is her at a race, who ever said she was irrelevant is actually irrelevant😭😭 user4 How are you so pretty???😍😍 user5 we love you, don't listen to the haters❤️❤️ scuderiaferrari please come back soonn. You look great in red. ti amo❤️❤️

f1gossip

Liked by 1,789 others tagged y/n.y/l/n and charles_leclerc

f1gossip Rumor has it Model Y/N Y/L/N and Scuderia Ferrari's driver Charles Leclerc are romantically involved. They were spotted in various cities across Europe in between race weeks. People say Y/N was at Charles home race too. But there were no pictures so we cannot confirm.

user6 damn you tagged them🤣🤣 user7 I can confirm she was at Charles's home race. I saw her. Both of them looked so cute tbh🥹🥹 user8 I'm happy if they are happy😭😭 user2 Idk why Charles is dating that problematic abusive woman🙅‍♀️🙅‍♀️

y/n.y/l/n

Liked by charles_leclerc, arthur_leclerc and 1,279,356 others tagged charles_leclerc

y/n.y/l/n I don't think I've been this happy in a really long time. Thank you baby for loving me. Can't wait to spend all my time with you and support you in all your races!! Je t'aime, mon ange

charles_leclerc I love you too mon cherie. Can't wait to support you in all your runways either user1 my goodness, I can't breathe😭 user3 they are so cute!! the hand in his hair❤️❤️ user4 the way Charles holds her, fuck I want a man like him🥹🥹 user5 love is real it seems😪😪 bestie/user Congratulations you two!!😘😘 scuderiaferrari pretty people make prettiest couple😌😌

charles_leclerc

Liked by y/n.y/l/n, scuderiaferrari and 1,267,202 others tagged y/n.y/l/n

charles_leclerc Can't believe I get to call the prettiest girl my own!! Thank you for having me. Je t'aime cherie

y/n.y/l/n You're making me blush. I love you more Charlie. 😘😘 user6 when will it be??😭 user7 he takes the best pictures😏😏 user8 if a man don't love me like this, I don't want it😤😤 user1 I think it's time to switch social media off, couples are annoying😩 carlossainz55 Congratulations mate! So happy for you👍 scuderaferrari so pretty!! Congratulations❤️

{Reader's POV}

Going to all these places to be spotted by paparazzi or to his races meant we spent a lot of time together. It felt so nice to have someone going through a similar situation. He was so nice to me, I had so much fun just hanging out with him. He made me laugh at his stupid jokes. He got me flowers even though the dates were fake. He bought us matching watches to make it believable. Even my actual boyfriend never put this much effort.

After a race, both of us got to the hotel together. He walked me to my room; "do you wanna chill and get room service?" I asked while I unlocked my door. "sure" Charles replied with a big smile. I let him in. We sat and ordered room service and watched a movie together. I got tired mid way through the movie and ended up laying my head on his shoulder. We ended up cuddling eventually. I don't remember when I slept but I slept like a baby in Charles's arms.

After a 'date' in Milan, we were walking back to my place. I had offered him a spare room since it would be weird if he stayed at a hotel when his girlfriend had a house. We walked back holding each others hands in silence. The comfort was warm and inviting. I may have been cuddling myself to sleep in Charles's arms the whole weekend he was there but no one has to know. I didn't sleep as well alone as I did with him. So whenever we were together, he offered to be my cuddle buddy. I think I'm starting to like him; this could be bad.

When Charles won the race, he walked towards me cupping my cheeks; "can I kiss you?" he asked softly barely above a whisper. I nodded my head and then he kissed me. It wasn't in the contract, we weren't supposed to kiss but we did. It was magical and warm and sweaty. The kiss ended to quickly for my liking but the cheers were deafening. I think I'm in trouble, I think I love him.

{Reader's POV}

Our contract was up in a couple days. We haven't be seen together for a few weeks now. It's breaking me not being with him. But this was a contracted relationship to help us both. I just never felt like this with any other guy.

{Charles's POV}

Mine and Y/N's relationship was a contractual obligation. But I never realised how close we got. That kiss we shared after my race win was everything. I felt electric shock through out my body as her lips moved against mine. It was then I knew that I loved her but it probably wouldn't work out since she didn't feel the same.

f1gossip

Liked by 1,702,827 others

f1gossip Paddock's favourite couple has broken up after only 1 year. It was year ago around this time that rumours were floating that they were dating and yesterday both of them posted a story saying that they decided to break up because of work and their schedule. They said that they will continue to remain good friends.

user2 tell me this is lie😭 user3 I'm crying😭😭 user4 please get back together😤😤 user5 both of them made each other such better people🥺🥺 user6 she really deserved everything Charles gave her after her shitty ex🤧 user7 I hate life!!😓

A couple nights after the sleep over at Y/N's place with her friend; Charles showed up at her door with a big bouquet of tulips and roses. He had a huge chocolate in hand too. He was scared; his palms were sweaty and he really contemplated ringing her door bell. As if the universe was trying to get these two oblivious love birds together, Y/N opened the door with a packet of trash in her hand. "Charles" she whispered scared that he'll disappear if she said it out loud. "Hi" he greeted. "come in" she said while opening the door for him to enter. "I'll be right back" she said while walking out of the door. She disposed of the trash and came back to sit where Charles was sat in her living room. The chocolates and flowers still in hand. He stood up as soon as she entered. "For you" he said while thrusting them in her hands. She took the flowers and sniffed them, a small smile on her lips. "What are you doing here, so late?" she asked. "Ilikeyoulikealotandican'tlivewithoutyou" he blurted out. "Charlie, you're gonna have to say it slowly for me to understand" she said while placing the flowers and chocolate down to stand in front of him. He huffed out before speaking, "I think I like you. After we stopped seeing each other I couldn't imagine my life without you. I don't know when you became so important to me but I need you in my life" he said. She had tears in her eyes, she leapt forward and wrapped her arms around him; "I think I like you too Charlie, I couldn't sleep without, i couldn't eat. I knew I loved you when I was able to fall asleep in your arms. I'm so happy you feel the same" she whispered into his neck. Charles wrapped his arms around her in a tight hug. "I love you too mon cherie." he said while pulling away to look at her, "Will you be my girlfriend for real this time?" he asked looking into her eyes. "Yes" she nodded while pressing her lips against his.

f1gossip

Liked by 258,972 others

f1gossip Charles's ex Y/N was spotted at the launch of his new ice cream Lec with his brother Arthur. They were seen holding hands and kissing each other. I think it's safe to say that the paddock couple is back together.

user8 my prayers have been answered🙏 user1 I can sleep peacefully knowing that they are together again🤧 user2 Mom and Dad are back!!!😌 user3 I love that for them!! They deserve each other🥹 user4 they deserve all the happiness❤️❤️ user5 I hope they never break up😭

[damienkarras73]

An essay on Furiosa, the politics of the Wasteland, Arthurian literature and realistic vs. formalistic CGI

Mad Max: Fury Road absolutely enraptured me when it came out nearly a decade ago, and I will cop to seeing it four times at the theatre. For me (and many others who saw the light of George Miller) it set new standards for action filmmaking, storytelling and worldbuilding, and I could pop in its Blu Ray at any time and never get tired of it. Perhaps not surprisingly, I was deeply apprehensive about the announced prequel for Fury Road's actual main character, Furiosa, even if Miller was still writing and directing. We didn't need backstory for Furiosa—hell, Fury Road is told in such a way that NOTHING in it requires explicit backstory. And since it focuses on the Yung Furiosa, it meant Charlize Theron couldn't return with another career-defining performance. Plus, look at all that CGI in the trailer, it can't be as good as Fury Road.

Turns out I was silly to doubt George Miller, M.D., A.O., writer and director of Babe: Pig in the City and Happy Feet One & Two.

Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga is excellent, and I needn't have worried about it not being as good as Fury Road because it is not remotely trying to be Fury Road. Fury Road is a lean, mean machine with no fat on it, nothing extraneous, operating with constant forward momentum and only occasionally letting up to let you breathe a little; Furiosa is a classical epic, sprawling in scope, scale and structure, and more than happy to let the audience simmer in a quiet, almost painfully still moment. If its opening spoken word sequence by that Gandalf of the Wastes himself, the First History Man, didn't already clue you in, it unfolds like something out of myth, a tale told over and over again and whose possible embellishments are called attention to in the dialogue itself. Where Fury Road scratched the action nerd itch in my head like you wouldn't believe, Furiosa was the equivalent of Miller giving the undulating folds of my English major brain a deep tissue massage. That's great! I, for one, love when sequels/prequels endeavour to be fundamentally different movies from what they're succeeding/preceding, operating in different modes, formats and even genres, and more filmmakers should aim for it when building on an existing series.

This movie has been on my mind so much in the past week that I've ended up dedicating several cognitive processes to keeping track of all of the different ponderings it's spawned. Thankfully, Furiosa is divided into chapters (fun fact: putting chapter cards in your movie is a quick way to my heart), so it only seems fitting that I break up all of these cascading thoughts accordingly.

1. The Pole of Inaccessibility

Furiosa herself actually isn't the protagonist for the first chapter of her own movie, instead occupying the role of a (very crafty and resourceful) damsel in distress for those initial 30-40 minutes. The real hero of the opening act, which plays out like a game of cat and mouse, is Furiosa's mother Mary Jabassa, who rides out into the wasteland first on horseback and then astride a motorcycle to track down the band of raiders that has stolen away her daughter. Mary's brought to life by Miller and Nico Lathouris' economical writing and a magnetic performance by newcomer Charlee Fraser, who radiates so much screen presence in such relatively little time and with one of those instant "who is SHE??" faces. She doesn't have many lines, but who needs them when Fraser can convey volumes about Mary with just a flash of her eyes or the effortless way she swaps out one of her motorcycle's wheels for another. To be quite candid, I'm not sure of the last time I fell in love with a character so quickly.

You notice a neat aesthetic contrast between mother and daughter in retrospect: Mary Jabassa darts into the desert barefoot, clad in a simple yet elegant dress, her wolf cut immaculate, only briefly disguising herself with the ugly armour of a raider she just sniped, and when she attacks it's almost with grace, like some Greek goddess set loose in the post-apocalyptic Aussie outback with just her wits and a bolt-action rifle; we track Furiosa's growth over the years by how much of her initially conventional beauty she has shed, quite literally in one case (hair buzzed, severed arm augmented with a chunky mechanical prosthesis, smeared in grease and dirt from head to toe, growling her lines at a lower octave), and by how she loses her mother's graceful approach to movement and violence, eventually carrying herself like a blunt instrument. Yet I have zero doubt the former raised the latter, both angels of different feathers but with the same steel and resolve. Of fucking course this woman is Furiosa's mother, and in the short time we know her we quickly understand exactly why Furiosa has the drive and morals she does without needing to resort to didactic exposition.

Anyway, I was tearing up by the end of the first chapter. Great start!

2. Lessons from the Wasteland

Most movies—most stories, really—don't actually tell the entire narrative from A to Z. Perhaps the real meat of the thing is found from H to T, and A-G or U-Z are unnecessary for conveying the key narrative and themes. So many prequels fail by insisting on telling the A-G part of the story, explaining how the hero earned a certain nickname or met their memorable sidekick—but if that stuff was actually interesting, they likely would have included it in the original work. The greatest thing a prequel can actually do is recontextualize, putting iconic characters or moments in a new light, allowing you to appreciate them from a different angle. All of season 2 of Fargo serves to explain why Molly Solverson's dad is appropriately wary when Lorne Malvo enters his diner for a SINGLE SCENE in the show's first season. David's arc from the Alien prequels Prometheus and Covenant—polarizing as those entries are—adds another layer to why Ash is so protective of the creature in the first movie. Andor gives you a sense of what it's like for a normal, non-Jedi person to live under the boot of the Empire and why so many of them would join up with the Rebel Alliance—or why they would desire to wear that boot, or even just crave the chance to lick it.

Furiosa is one of those rare great prequels because it makes us take a step back and consider the established world with a little more nuance, even if it's still all so absurd. In Fury Road, Immortan Joe is an awesome, endlessly quotable villain, completely irredeemable, and basically a cartoon. He works perfectly as the antagonist of that breakneck, Road Runner and Wile E. Coyote-ass movie, but if you step outside of its adrenaline-pumping narrative for even a moment you risk questioning why nobody in the Citadel or its surrounding settlements has risen up against him before. Hell, why would Furiosa even work for him to begin with? But then you see Dementus and company tear-assing around the wasteland, seizing settlements and running them into the ground, and you realize Joe and his consortium offer something that Dementus reasonably can't: stability—granted, an unwavering, unchangeable stability weighted in favour of Joe's own brutal caste system, but stability nonetheless. It really makes you wonder, how badly does a guy have to suck to make IMMORTAN JOE of all people look like a sane, competent and reasonable ruler by comparison?!?

…and then they open the door to the vault where he keeps his wives, and in a flash you're reminded just how awful Joe is and why Furiosa will risk her life to help some of these women flee from him years later. This new context enriches Joe and makes it more believable that he could maintain power for so long, but it doesn't make him any less of a monster, and it says a lot about Furiosa's hate for Dementus that she could grit her teeth and work for this sick old tyrant.

3. The Stowaway

Here's another wild bit of trivia about this movie: you don't actually see top-billed actress Anya Taylor-Joy pop up on screen until roughly halfway through, once Furiosa is in her late teens/early twenties. Up until this point she's been played by Alyla Browne, who through the use of some seamless and honestly really impressive CGI has been given Anya's distinctive bug eyes [complimentary]. It's one of those bold choices that really works because Miller commits to it so hard, though it does make me wish Browne's name was up on the poster next to Taylor-Joy's.

Speaking of CGI, I should talk about what seems to be a sticking point for quite a few people: if there's been one consistent criticism of Furiosa so far, it's that it doesn't look nearly as practical or grounded as Fury Road, with more obvious greenscreen and compositing, and what previously would've been physical stunt performers and pyrotechnics have been replaced with their digital equivalents for many shots. Simply put, it doesn't look as real! For a lot of people, that practicality was one of Fury Road's primary draws, so I won't try to quibble if they're let down by Furiosa's overt artificiality, but to be honest I'm actually quite fine with it. It helps that this visual discrepancy doesn't sneak up on you but is incredibly apparent right from the aerial zoom-down into Australia in the very first scene, so I didn't feel misled or duped.

Fury Road never asks you to suspend your disbelief because it all looks so believable; Furiosa jovially prods you to suspend that disbelief from the get-go and tune into it on a different wavelength. It's a classical epic, and like the classical epics of the 1950s and 60s it has a lot of actors standing in front of what clearly are matte paintings. It feels right! We're not watching fact, we're watching myth. I'm willing to concede there might be a little bit of post-hoc rationalization on my part because I simply love this movie so much, but I'm not holding the effects in Furiosa to the same standard as those in Fury Road because I simply don't believe Miller and his crew are attempting to replicate that approach. Without the extensive CGI, we don't get that impressive long, panning take where a stranded Furiosa scans the empty, dust-and-sun-scoured wasteland (75% Sergio Leone, 25% Andrei Tarkovsky), or the Octoboss and his parasailing goons. For the sake of intellectual exercise I did try imagining them filming the Octoboss/war rig sequence with the same immersive practical approach they used for Fury Road's stunts, however I just kept picturing dead stunt performers, so perhaps the tradeoff was worth it!

4. Homeward

Around the same time we meet the Taylor-Joy-pilled Furiosa in Chapter 3, we're introduced to Praetorian Jack, the chief driver for the convoys running between the Citadel and its allied settlements. Jack's played by Tom Burke, who pulled off a very good Orson Welles in Mank! and who I should really check out in The Souvenir one of these days. He's also a cool dude! Here are some facts about Praetorian Jack:

He's decked out in road leathers with a pauldron stitched to one shoulder

He's stoic and wary, but still more or less personable and can carry on a conversation

Professes to a certain cynicism, to quote Special Agent Albert Rosenfield, but ultimately has a capacity for kindness and will do the right thing

Shoots a gun real good

Can drive like nobody's business

So in other words, Jack is Mad Max. But also, no, he clearly isn't! He looks and dresses like Mad Max (particularly Mel Gibson's) and does a lot of the same things "Mad" Max Rockatansky does, but he's also very explicitly a distinct character. It's a choice that seems inexplicable and perhaps even lazy on its face, except this is a George Miller movie, so of course this parallel is extremely purposeful. Miller has gone on record saying he avoids any kind of strict chronology or continuity for his Mad Max movies, compared to the rigid canons for Star Trek and Star Wars, and bless him for doing so. It's more fun viewing each Mad Max entry as a new revision or elaboration on a story being told again and again generations after the fall, mutating in style, structure and focus with every iteration, becoming less grounded as its core narrative is passed from elder to youth, community to community, genre to genre, until it becomes myth. (At least, my English major brain thinks it's more fun.) In fact there's actually something Arthurian to it, where at first King Arthur was mentioned in several Welsh legends before Geoffrey of Monmouth crafted an actual narrative around him, then Chrétien de Troyes added elements like Lancelot and infused the stories with more romance, and then with Le Morte d'Arthur Thomas Malory whipped the whole cycle together into one volume, which T.H. White would chop and screw and deconstruct with The Once and Future King centuries later.

All this to say: maybe Praetorian Jack looks and sounds and acts like Max because he sorta kinda basically is, being just one of many men driving back and forth across the wasteland, lending a hand on occasion, who'll be conflated into a single, legendary "Mad Max" at some point down the line in a different History Man's retelling of Furiosa's odyssey. Sometimes that Max rips across the desert in his V8 Interceptor, other times driving a big rig. Perhaps there's a dog tagging along and/or a scraggly and at first aggravating ally played by Bruce Spence or Nicholas Hoult. Usually he has a shotgun. But so long as you aren't trying to kill him, he'll help you out.

5. Beyond Vengeance

The Mad Max movies have incredibly iconic villains—Immortan Joe! Toecutter! the Lord Humongous!—but they are exactly that, capital V Villains devoid of humanizing qualities who you can't wait to watch bad things happen to. Furiosa appears to continue this trend by giving us a villain who in fact has a mustache long enough that he could reasonably twirl it if he so wanted, but ironically Dementus ends up being the most layered antagonist in the entire series, even moreso than the late Tina Turner's comparatively benevolent Aunty Entity from Beyond Thunderdome. And because he's played by Chris Hemsworth, whose comedic delivery rivals his stupidly handsome looks, you lock in every time he's on screen.

Something so fascinating about Dementus is that, for a main antagonist, he's NOT all-powerful, and in fact quite the opposite: he's more conman than warlord, looking for the next hustle, the next gullible crowd he can preach to and dupe—though never for long. For all his bluster, at every turn he finds himself in way over his head and writing cheques he can't cash, and this self-induced Sisyphean torment makes him riveting to watch. You're tempted to pity Dementus but it's also quite difficult to spare sympathy for someone who's so quick to channel their rage and hurt and ego into thoughtless, burn-it-all-down destruction. When you're not laughing at him, you're hating his guts, and it's indisputably the best work of Chris Hemsworth's career.

It's in this final chapter that everything naturally comes to a head: Furiosa's final evolution into the character we meet at the start of Fury Road, the predictable toppling of Dementus' precariously built house of cards, and the mythmaking that has been teased since the very first scene becoming diagetic text, the last of which allows the movie to thoroughly explore the themes of vengeance it's been building to. A brief war begins, is summarized and is over in the span of roughly a minute, and on its face it's a baffling narrative choice that most other filmmakers would have botched. But our man Miller's smart enough to recognize that the result of this war is the most foregone of conclusions if you've been paying even the slightest bit of attention, so he effectively brushes past it to get to the emotional heart of the climax and an incredible "Oh shit!" payoff that cements Miller as one of mainstream cinema's greatest sickos.

Fury Road remains the greatest Mad Max film, but Furiosa might be the best thing George Miller has ever made. If not his magnum opus, it does at least feel like his dissertation, and it makes me wish Warner Bros. puts enough trust in him despite Furiosa's poor box office performance that he's able to make The Wasteland. Absolutely ridiculous that a man just short of his 80th birthday was able to pull this off, and with it I feel confident calling him one of my favourite directors.

[james-bucky-barnackle]

Froyo

Synopsis: During a premiere red carpet with Drew, an interviewer’s question accidentally reveals that a seemingly ordinary dinner was actually Drew’s attempt at a first date covered by two random tiktoks. Pairing: Drew Starkey x Actress!Reader Word Count: IDK I'm too sleep deprived to count A/N: I know I still owe you guys a Gwayne Hightower fanfic, but the chokehold Drew fucking Starkey has on me is insane. btw, I realized this is the second time I've created a fic based on real people vs the normal Marvel character thingy I do. And to be honest, there's gonna be a lot more... so maybe I should make this a series considering they're all triggered by an interview and Y/N's always an actress lol. ALSO at the end, there's a poll on what you think should happen next, and best believe I'll do my best to write that.

There’s an edit circulating on TikTok of you and your co-star Drew Starkey from your red carpet interview together. You’re both starring in an Amazon limited series about college classmates who become close after witnessing your professor’s murder and are now on a shared mission to solve the crime. You’ve known him closely for a year now, but have been following his career even before that. I mean, who wouldn’t? The man is gorgeous. But of course, you couldn’t let him know that.

As shooting began, the two of you grew closer, and you decided to be professional and put that whole fascination aside. You’ve both even dated other actors and celebrities, which have also been topics for gossip channels and paparazzi photos. Despite all that, you’ve hung out plenty, mostly in groups but also during breaks in filming—often grabbing lunch and coffee together.

Today, you and Drew are laughing as you finally see the edit that’s been at the top of both your PR’s nightmare list.

You’re dressed in an elegant beige gown, skin-tight and slightly sheer, which Carrie Bradshaw would definitely call the naked dress. Your hair is pulled back in a low bun, bangs effortlessly framing your face. You’ve just arrived at the red carpet, taking your time to chat with interviewers. The first few questions are light, mostly about how fun it was working on set and, of course, what you're wearing.

After a few minutes, Drew catches up to you. He’s in a baby blue suit, sepia shades covering his eyes, smelling incredible. His presence is like a tight, warm hug—well, a little tighter on your chest. His voice sends tingles down your spine as he whispers, one hand casually placed on the small of your back.

“What did I miss?” He smiles at you and the interviewer.

“Oh, nothing much, I was just telling Amelia how you’re always late to everything.” You smirk, shooting a playful look at the camera. Amelia, your interviewer, raises her eyebrows dramatically, playing along. Both of you laugh as Drew backs away, feigning offense.

“I’ve been here since like—” He starts to defend himself.

“Like five minutes ago,” you say, rolling your eyes.

“Valid,” he agrees with a shrug, laughing.

Amelia continues her interview, moving on to ask about the possibility of a second season.

“I mean, yeah, I’d love to do a second season, for sure,” you nod, glancing at Drew, who’s nodding along, letting you take the lead. “But I’m not sure if it makes sense, since it was originally written as a one-season story. For that to happen, someone might have to die again so Kelsea and James can investigate something new.”

Kelsea and James are the names of the characters you play—who, of course, end up dating on the show.

“So you’re saying someone has to die for the two of you to get back together on set?” Amelia jokes, her deadpan delivery only making it funnier.

“I mean, I don’t know!” You laugh. “You’re twisting my words, Amelia!”

“I honestly think you just don’t want to hang out with me anymore, Y/N,” Drew chimes in, a playful pout on his face. “I’m hurt.”

“Is that why there wasn’t a second date?” Amelia asks, teasingly. Her tone is light, but the question lands hard. Drew’s eyes widen in surprise, his smile freezing as if even he didn’t see that one coming. He covers his mouth, trying not to laugh while you stand there, looking utterly confused.

“Second date? What?” You laugh, trying to figure out if this is some sort of red carpet joke you weren’t briefed on. You glance at Drew, who’s just shaking his head, still grinning but not offering any explanations.

You lower your voice, leaning towards him, “What is she—what date?” You chuckle awkwardly, trying to maintain your cool, though the confusion is clearly written all over your face. Drew glances at Amelia, then back at you, and you can tell he feels a little bad now.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity of awkward silence, Drew admits, “When we got dinner and froyo.” He says it so nonchalantly that it takes you a second to process.

“That was a date?!” you whisper-yell, smacking his arm, your jaw practically hitting the floor. “You said it was just dinner!”

“I know!” Drew laughs, his cheeks turning a little pink. “I said that because I thought you didn’t like me back! I was sending out signals!”

“What signals?” you ask, still reeling from the shock. “That’s unfair, you said it was just dinner! I feel so bad—I didn’t know!” You place your hand on his arm, squeezing it apologetically. You’re both laughing now, but you’re also genuinely flustered.

“I did tell you!” Drew protests. “I said, ‘Do you want to have dinner with me?’ And you were like, ‘Are we bringing Madz along?’ And when I said no, you were like, ‘Why?’”

“That is not enough, Drew!” You laugh, cheeks burning with embarrassment. Your PR team is probably dying, but at least this little moment might boost some publicity for the show. You actually remember the video Amelia might be referring to; your assistant had sent it to you a few months back. You found it interesting and even funny because you honestly thought it was just a fan shipping the two of you together—cutting together videos and photos of you and Drew when you were out to eat. You try to recall what that day was like and pick apart whatever signals Drew was referring to, but you really can’t remember anything different from the way he’s interacted with you since you two first met.

You realize the gag has gone on long enough and decide to wrap it up before the awkwardness can escalate further.

“Amelia, I’m so sorry about this,” you say with a dramatic sigh, trying to regain your composure. “Even while confessing his undying love for me, he’s still late. Men, what can you do?”

Drew, still chuckling, wraps an arm around you and presses a soft kiss to your forehead, his way of apologizing. You feel a warmth settle over you, even as your mind is still catching up to everything.

The camera flashes pop around you, and suddenly, those TikTok edits of you looking perpetually confused start to make a little more sense.

When the premiere starts, halfway through the screening, you excuse yourself to the bathroom. You check your makeup, but instead of heading straight back to the theater, you decide to take a moment. The whole "date reveal" situation has thrown you off more than you realized, and you need a second to process it. You stare at your reflection in the mirror, replaying the interview in your head. You haven't had the chance to talk to Drew about it since, and the thought lingers in the back of your mind. You don’t want another clueless moment to make it into the tabloids.

You wash your hands, fix your makeup, and prepare to head back out. But as you step through the door, you see Drew standing there, waiting.

“Well, look who it is—the jokester,” you say, crossing your arms with a mock grin. “Here to ask me out on another one-sided date?”

Drew smirks, stepping closer. “Huh? What are you talking about? I’m just here to pee,” he teases, nudging your shoulder.

“Not funny,” you mutter, rolling your eyes but feeling a smile tug at the corner of your mouth.

“Hey, I’m sorry.” His smile softens, and for the first time since the red carpet, you can tell he actually feels a little guilty. “I really am.”

“You should be!” You huff, but your tone is playful now, your annoyance melting away as you meet his eyes. "That was so long ago."

Drew takes a step closer, and you suddenly become very aware of the quietness around you. It’s just the two of you now, the noise of the premiere distant, almost forgotten. His gaze flickers to your lips for just a second, and your heart skips a beat.

“Y/N…” He hesitates, like he’s trying to find the right words. “About that second date…”

“You mean actual first date?” you correct him, raising an eyebrow, trying to keep your cool.

Drew pauses, then chuckles softly. “Yeah,” he admits, rubbing the back of his neck. “Actual first date. What do you think?”

You stare at him, caught off guard. You weren’t expecting him to just put it out there like that. His easygoing nature usually means he hides behind jokes or avoids direct confrontation. But now, with no cameras, no noise—just you and him—he’s being sincere.

“You know,” you say, your voice quieter now, “if you made it clear the first time, I still would’ve said yes.”

Drew’s eyes widen slightly, and a smile slowly spreads across his face. “Really?”

“Yeah,” you nod, feeling a mix of relief and excitement. “Really.”

His grin widens, and there’s something boyishly excited about it, like you’ve just given him the best news of the day. “No froyo this time, I promise.”

“Good,” you laugh. “Because that wasn’t a date.”

“Duly noted.” He steps closer, his hand brushing yours, and this time it doesn’t feel accidental. His fingers curl around yours lightly, the touch sending a spark through you.

“You know, we could leave early,” he suggests, glancing back towards the theater. “Skip the rest of the screening, maybe grab some dinner… somewhere where I make it clear it’s a date.”

You bite your lip, considering it, but your eyes narrow playfully. “And deal with the wrath of our PR teams later? You must love living dangerously.”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “You make a good point. But I promise, after all the photos, after all the interviews... we’ll do this right.”

You nod, smiling at him. “I’ll hold you to that.”

With that, you both walk back into the theater. His hand lingers on yours for a moment longer before he finally lets go, and even as you take your seats for the rest of the screening, the air between you has changed.

You glance at him once more, feeling that familiar warmth return, only this time, it’s not confusing or awkward.

The noise of the film dims around you, though you’re still hyper-aware of the room, the hundreds of eyes on the screen, and the occasional flash from the press in the back. Drew leans back in his seat, arms crossed loosely, but he’s not watching the movie either. Instead, he looks over at you, catching your eye.

You feel the heat rise in your cheeks, and you quickly face forward, pretending to focus on the movie. But then, from the corner of your vision, you feel him move slightly closer. The tension that was always there, that you’d pushed aside so many times, is undeniable now.

After the premiere ends, there’s the usual round of applause and the hum of people slowly rising to leave. Drew stands up first, offering you his hand, and even though you can stand up just fine on your own, you take it. There’s something about that gesture that feels significant—like you’ve crossed a line you didn’t realize you were approaching until now.

You’re both still in work mode, nodding and smiling at the industry people you pass, but the moment you’re outside, the cool night air hitting your face, Drew turns to you, a glint of mischief in his eyes.

“Alright,” he says, running a hand through his hair. “How do you feel about grabbing that dinner tonight?”

You blink, caught off guard by how fast he’s moving. “Tonight? We just got out of the premiere,” you laugh, though there’s excitement bubbling under the surface. “I know, but if I wait any longer, who knows what crazy schedules we’ll get caught up in again.” He steps closer, his smile genuine, warm. “I’ve waited this long to actually do it right. What’s a few more hours?"

“Alright,” you say, a grin breaking through. “Let’s do it. Dinner—our actual first date.”

His eyes light up. “Great. I know a place.”

The restaurant Drew takes you to is tucked away, quiet and intimate, and you laugh at how quaint it is, most of the other diners are old enough to be your grandparents. You feel comfort knowing most of them don't have phones let alone know who the both of you are. For all they care, you could be two kids coming home from a costume party just ending the night with a bite.

“So,” you say as you both sit down, menus in hand but neither of you really looking at them. “This is what a proper date feels like, huh?”

Drew leans back in his chair, grinning. “Better than froyo, right?”

You laugh, rolling your eyes. “Significantly better.”

There’s a moment of comfortable silence, the kind where you both just look at each other and realize this is happening—really happening. You’re on a date with Drew, and it’s not some PR stunt or a casual hangout. It’s real. And for the first time, you’re letting yourself want it. "You think they're wondering why we're over dressed?" You hide behind a menu. "Overdressed? Excuse me? This is what I wear everyday." Drew retorts, making you chortle.

“So,” you say, resting your chin on your hand, “What’s the plan after this? Froyo?”

Drew chuckles, shaking his head. “You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

“Not a chance.”

He grins, eyes glinting with that same playful energy you’ve always liked. “Well, I’ll make sure tonight’s memorable enough that it overshadows that.”

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[yeahihyperfixtate]

Hi your writing is so cute, I saw you're taking reqs rn...

could I possibly have a neurodivergent (maybe specifically ADHD) reader x whatever characters you'd like (preferably all of them but your choice pook) thanks!!

♡ —sylus x adhd!reader

content : fluff, downbad sylus, mc!reader has adhd depicted from a specific perspective, sylus heavily fw adhd havers <3, (heavily written on my own personal perspective of adhd) maybe a pt.2

authors note : my first req <3, this is actually fantastic cause i've got adhd myself! im not too confident with the others yet, literally all my drafts rn are all sylus based (im ashamed to say im not familiar with zayne and xaviers character enough to write them,,, yet.)

please do not characterise adhd based on specifically these events, this is what i've personally experienced and found easy to write, (not everyone has the same experiences/behaviour!)

♡ — adhd!reader who repeats the same story to her current associate at least twice, blissfully unaware of the repetition, a common occurrence—she just can't help herself.. the result is always the same, her enthusiasm bubbling over—the familiar response comes like clockwork: “you told me this story yesterday, remember?” her words halt mid-sentence, her excitement deflating faster than it had filled her chest. “right, sorry, i forgot,” she mumbles, forcing a small, apologetic smile. they nod briefly before their attention flickers back to whatever was so captivating on their phone, leaving her silent, a sigh falling from her mouth instead of the words she wanted to share still lingering on her tongue, unspoken and heavy, even if it was a reoccurrence.

“sylus, you won't believe what happened to me today!” you exclaimed, bursting through the door with wide eyes and a glowing excitement that filled the room. “t-there was this cat—it meowed like a duck or something, it was so sooo adorable!” you squeaked, your voice pitching higher with enthusiasm. “but then i had to leave from break,” you sighed, pouting as you flopped dramatically onto the couch.

sylus glanced up from the news article he was reading, keyword—was. a sly smile crept onto his lips, usual mischief twinkling in his eyes. “oh, is that right, sweetie?" he teased, tilting his head with a mock-serious look. "you'll have to bring me along on your next mission so i can witness these mystical, duck-like cats for myself."

"deal," you grinned, your face lighting up as you giggled, completely unaware of how sylus's gaze softened, his eyes lingering on yours with a quiet admiration.. he'd play along every time, as many times as you needed, his heart melting just a little more with every recount. after all, he wasn't just listening to the story; he was basking in the warmth of your presence, content to play the part of your captivated audience forever.

♡ — adhd!reader who’s grown all too familiar with being ignored by others for most of her life, her excited tangents about a new interest for the day often trailing off into an uncomfortable silence, no response waiting at the end. she used to sit there, the realisation sinking in like a heavy stone—you’ve done it again, idiot—the naturally heard words blaring in her mind as if through a megaphone, shame and self-doubt rushing in like a wave. she’d turn back to her laptop, eyes lowered, the once-comforting cafe ambience now feeling like a weight pressing down on her chest, making it harder to turn back to the task she was supposed to be completing, right, the reports..

sylus, ever the gentleman, makes his way to your side with practised ease, opening the door for you, his hand already outstretched to steady you as you carefully step out, mindful of the hovering dress that threatens to catch under your heels. a soft giggle escapes your lips as you playfully speak, “thank you, kind sir,” your voice light with amusement.

smirking, his eyes sparkling in the dim evening light. “anything for you, my sweet,” he replies with a wink, pulling your hand gently onto his arm. you gladly wrap your arms around his bicep, feeling the warmth of his strength under your fingers as you walk together, leaving the valet behind. the fine dining restaurant ahead glows softly in the night, a place you had casually mentioned to him just two nights ago as a date idea.

“but the duality of this bitch,” you huffed, voice full of frustration. “to talk behind my back like i was in the wrong. like, seriously? you cheat on your boyfriend, and then get mad when i don’t want to be friends with you anymore? oh, and i forgot to tell you—my friend, well ex-friend knew about it, she was hiding it from us the whole time!”

your words spilled out in a rush, the weekly gossip pouring faster than you could control. it wasn’t until you hit a pause in your tangent that it hit you—fuck, i did it again. you looked up at him, bracing yourself, searching his face for any sign of annoyance, for that familiar look people often gave you when you rambled too much. but instead, you found his hand gently stroking your bejewelled one—his gifts, of course—while his crimson eyes stayed locked on yours, soft and full of affection. not a trace of irritation.

just as you were about to apologise for going on too long, he beat you to it, his voice calm and sweet, “you’d think the hunters of linkon would act better. i was sorely mistaken.” his lips curled into a soft chuckle, eyes glinting playfully. “so… what did you say to her and your now ex-friend? you didn't finish.”

relief flooded through you. of course—he wanted to hear more. with his gentle smile urging you on, you dove back into the tale, feeling lighter, knowing you could share whatever you wanted to in this world with him without any thought whatsoever.

♡ — adhd!reader who accidentally interrupts her friends and family—she just can’t help it, really, she can’t. it’s the same scenario every time: friends are mid-conversation, talking about someone or something, and before she can stop herself, she’s chiming in too early, cutting them off without meaning to. they pause, giving that familiar look—half-surprised, half-apologetic or whatever it was. “ah, sorry,” she mutters, biting her lip to stay quiet. but it’s so hard. especially when they start talking about that café she just went to yesterday, mentioning the specific drink that was on sale—the very one you ordered. the words are right there, bubbling up in your chest, why was it so hard to keep quiet?

sylus strolls into the kitchen with a sly grin, “i’ve got a surprise for you tonight, kitten.” his arms wrap around you from behind as you focus on whipping up your favourite brownies—ones in the last batch that went mysteriously missing, thanks to the twins no doubt. you giggle, already used to this affectionate routine, as sylus leans in to inhale the scent of your perfume lingering on his shirt, one of his smaller ones that still manages to engulf you completely. “can I get a clue?” you ask, impressively keeping your attention on measuring the cocoa powder, despite his playful distraction.

“you’ll just have to wait and see sweetie,” sylus chuckles, shifting beside you but keeping an arm snugly around your waist, his warmth never leaving your side. “although i should probably tell you t—” sylus’s words were abruptly cut off by your excitement bursting through. “oooh, wait! is it that new cat café I was talking about a few days ago? the one that opens up at night?”

your excitement quickly deflated as you looked up at him, realizing you’d interrupted him—again. a familiar sinking feeling crept in, but before you could even apologise, you caught sylus’s expression. looking down at you, more love in his eyes than you ever thought possible, his smile soft and full of affection. “that’s actually what i’ve planned for us tomorrow, dear,” he smirked, leaning in closer, his face inches from yours. “but like i said, you’ll find out tonight. just make sure to wear that dress i got you.” your heart fluttered at his words, the warmth of his voice and the way he effortlessly brushed off your little interruption. you giggled softly, leaning into his touch as he gently squeezed your waist. “fine, but I’m holding you to that cat café date,” you teased, already imagining the sweet night ahead.

[glitterquadricorn]

My Tears Ricochet - f1 grid x indycar!reader

+summary: after a devastating end of a six-year relationship, she decided a change was needed. a change that ultimately brings her more opportunities, and she even finds love in an unexpected place. +pairing: f1 grid x indycar!driver +warnings: cheating, curse words, pregnancy, betrayal, mentions sexism, mentions misogyny, etc. If I missed something, let me know. face claim: tony breidinger dedicated to @fangirl-dot-com. They helped me so much whenever I got stuck. I highly recommend them. Their fics are so good. I do not give my permission to have my work reposted. I do not give my permission to have my work translated. If I'm notified that you've stolen my work or claim it as your own, you'll be asked to take it down before I'll report you. End of discussion.

The way Wyatt became possessive over his phone when before he'd always let her use it was concerning, but she brushed it off thinking maybe it was just a one-time thing. Then she noticed whenever she stepped into the room, and he was on the phone, he'd leave or if they were in the room together and his phone rang, he'd get up and answer it in a different room. The thought of him cheating on her crossed her mind at one point, but he wouldn't do that, right?

Right? Wrong.

Stepping into the house after a long flight, all she wanted to do was take a nice hot shower to scrub off the airport griminess and cuddle with Wyatt on the couch, but walking through the house, she noticed articles of clothing strewn about. 'That's weird' she thought to herself. Her ears picked up moaning sounds coming from their shared bedroom. Hearing lewd sounds like that made her blood run cold. Wyatt was cheating on her, but with whom?

Opening the door to their bedroom, she was met with Wyatt having her barely eighteen-year-old sister, Elizabeth, bent over the side of the bed.

"What the hell is going on?!"

Wyatt pushed Elizabeth forward, letting her hit the mattress. "Y/n, babe, this isn't what it looks like."

"Really? Because to me it looks like you were just balls deep in my sister." her eyes darted to said sister who's twirling her hair in-between her fingers and kicking her feet back and forth all with a smug look on her face. "And you! You're my sister. How could you do this to me?"

"I've loved him for years and it wasn't fair that you had him all to yourself."

"So, you thought it was a good idea for you to sleep with him?! Do you hear yourself?"

Elizabeth got up from the bed and walked over to Wyatt, wrapping her arms around his waist. "It's not the first time we've slept together."

"What does she mean, Wyatt?"

"Go ahead, babe. Tell her, or I will," Wyatt looking down at his feet hesitating to tell her was everything she needed to know that whatever's been going on between the two of them has been going on for a while. "Since he won't say anything, we've been together for eight months."

"Eight months?!?! Un-fucking-believable."

"Is now a bad time to say I'm pregnant- wait, what are you doing?" Elizabeth asked, watching as y/n left the bedroom, muttering under her breath about how her own sister was a backstabbing, home wrecking whore.

"I'm picking yours and his clothes up off the floor and throwing them in the trash where they belong."

"You can't do that!"

"Seeing as this is my house, I can do what I want and I'm just cleaning up the mess you left behind as per usual."

"But-"

Y/n walked over to the front door, opening it and gestured for her to leave. "I don't care where you go, or who you go to, because you are no longer welcomed here."

With no other choice, Elizabeth dug hers and Wyatt's clothes out of the trash and got dressed. Once they were gone, she wasted no time in reaching for her rather expensive tequila and drank it straight from the bottle.

"Who needs boyfriends when you have a sister like Elizabeth."

liked by josefnewgarden, scuderiaferrari, charles_leclerc, and 1,239,512 others

yourinstagram italy photo dump.

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josefnewgarden where was my invite?

⤷ yourinstagram it got lost in the mail.

user1 I find it a little weird that she's in Maranello 🤔

⤷user2 everyone takes a vacation to Maranello, so it's not that weird.

⤷user1 maybe but wearing a Ferrari jacket and going to the Ferrari Museum and then taking a picture of the prancing horse? its sus to me.

user3 If you go to formula one, I swear to God I'll scream.

*liked by yourinstagram*

⤷user4 Y/N LIKED?!?

⤷user5 this pretty much confirms she's going to f1.

user6 that jacket is sooooo cute!

ScuderiaFerrari red looks good on you.

*liked by yourinstagram*

⤷user7 ARIANA WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?!

user8 there's a reason why there hasn't been a woman in formula one in thirty-three years.

⤷user9 and its because formula one is for men and not women.

⤷user10 if she does to f1, she'll choke under the pressure and go back to indycar.

She'd be lying if she said listening to the Ferrari higher ups talk about what was expected of her once she signed the contract wasn't lowkey terrifying. Ferrari was the dream team. A team every driver wanted to be a part of because of its past successes and rich history. And who wouldn't want to join the likes of Fangio, Lauda, Prost and Schumacher in the Ferrari Hall of fame?

"You with us, y/n?" her lawyer set his hand on her shoulder, getting her attention.

"I'm sorry, but can you repeat that?"

"As we were saying, Ferrari goes deeper than just a brand of car. Many individuals have joined over the years, but many have also cracked under the pressure. Are you sure you can handle it?"

"Oh! Definitely."

"If you're so sure, then sign away," Fred slid the contract over the sleek oak table and handed her a pen, hurriedly signing her name on the dotted line. As she set the pen down, it hit her. She was, as of that moment, a formula one driver for Scuderia Ferrari.

She stood up, shaking everyone's hand, stopping at Fred. "Thank you for taking a chance on me. I won't let you down."

"I know you won't." The small French man smiled. "Now, would you like a tour?"

Nodding her head, an older Ferrari employee guided them to the door and started going from room to room, talking intensively about anything and everything Ferrari. It was one thing to see pictures of past drivers and read their achievements, but to lay eyes on the multiple rows of championship winning cars was another. It only made the excitement grow.

That same Ferrari employee saw Charles and immediately waved him over. "Charles! Mate, come meet your new teammate!"

When their eyes met, it was like everything slowed down. It felt as if no one else was in the room but them. Just then, a warm, fuzzy feeling washed over her, and a small flutter of butterflies tickled inside her body. Was this love at first sight? But she just met Charles. There's no way she could possibly fall in love with her new teammate Right?

The corners of the Monegasques' mouth curved into a grin. "I'm Charles."

"I'm Y/n."

His trainer and the Ferrari employee exchanged looks and knew something special had happened between the two drivers. No one looks at someone like that and does not end up together.

"As much as I'd love to stay and chat, I got to get going. We should get together sometime and get to know each other since we're going to be teammates."

"I'd love that!"

They swapped phones, putting each other's numbers in. As the tour continued, she looked over her shoulder and watched him walk away, completely ignoring the Ferrari employee. The season couldn't start fast enough.

liked by yourinstagram, charles_leclerc, josefnewgarden and 4,325,124 others.

scuderiaferrari pushing past expectations and shattering glass ceilings, y/n y/ln makes history by being the first woman since Giovanna Amati in 1992 to race in formula one. Everyone here at Ferrari can't wait to see what you achieve!

view all comments

yourinstagram racing for Ferrari has always been a dream of mine since I was a kid and now that's coming to fruition feels amazing. thank you for this opportunity.

⤷scuderiaferrari 🥰❤️

user1 time to stop watching formula one.

⤷user2 if you're going to stop watching formula one all because a woman joined the grid, then that's says a lot about you as a person.

charles_leclerc the season can't start fast enough!

*liked by yourinstagram*

user3 while I'm sad to see her leave IndyCar, I'm excited to see her race in formula one.

lewishamilton this is not only inspirational to me, but many women who want to get into motorsports, or even formula one, but don't because of the rampant sexism and misogyny. I know your career in formula one is going to bright!

⤷yourinstagram you have no idea how much this means to me!

user4 with charles and y/n Ferrari will be unstoppable.

*liked by scuderiaferrari*

user5 Ferrari dominance will bore people.

user6 Ferrari wdc and wcc confirmed!

part two will have ALL the drama.

tagging:

@letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @patzammit @tinycyberhacker @keenmarvellover @mrspeacem1nusone @lendeluxe @alexxavicry @allenajade-ite @catswag22 @eugene-emt-roe @wcnorris @bibissparkles @cherry-piee @khaylin27 @evie-119

[revolutionsingingintherainnn]

Hi could u write max x sunshine desi reader where she is his teammate and everyone (all drivers and team principles)adores her and she is known for wearing saris to events and award ceremonies and max and her having a grumpy x sunshine trope

Also like pr games for insta or smthing where he pronounce hindi words or muhavare and its cutee and fans love them!!!!!

I loved superstitions!!!!

Swear Words ✧˚ · .

Summary: Based on the anon's request!

⟿ mv x desi!reader ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

⟿ fluff ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

masterlist ☾☼

max was not grumpy. he was fun, and he was slightly unhinged, but he was not grumpy. though, in comparison to his teammate, y/n, everyone else seemed grumpy. she was quiet literally sunshine embodiment.

the two had been teammates for two seasons now, and everyone loved her. as they should. secretly, max also loved her. he would never say it out loud, though.

his favourite thing about her was the way she dressed up for any and all non-race event. she was always in a kurta or a sari. max had not known what her attire was called till he heard her talking about it once to charles' girlfriend. he could have done the sensible thing and just asked her himself, but finding out the way that he had done was easier.

max and y/n's relationship had really changed from teammates to more after max had attempted to anonymously gift her a sari for an event. y/n had looked radiant, max was speechless, and the rest was history for them.

it was during one of the PR events where max had gotten unhinged again and cursed a few times. the managers were furious, but she could tell that he didn't really give a fuck. to save him from future scoldings, y/n had come up with a plan that she really thought could save him.

"max," she called out.

"yes, my love,"

"i'm going to save you from future pr nightmares," she said confidently.

max laughed, "right, okay. how are you going to do that?"

"you're always getting in trouble for saying swear words on live tv. what if you say them in a language people don't understand?" there was a glint in her eyes that told max that she was going to be trouble. but, he loved her for it.

"how are we going to do that?"

"baby, i come from a country where we have a wide range of swear words. we've got different categories too."

max laughed. he did that more around her. he would never let anyone from the outside world see or know that.

"i'm serious! we've got swear words for moms, sisters, animals, body organs, animal body organs. you name it, and we probably have it!" y/n insisted.

"okay, okay, i believe you. teach me some of the words, and i'll see if it works for me,"

y/n clapped her hands in excitement, and began going through her list, explaining their meaning.

max had never been more in love.

a few months later, when the desi f1 fans caught what was happening, they made a compilation video. it consisted of every hindi swear word that max had said in interviews and such, with y/n laughing in the corner, and the interviewer being absolutely clueless on what was being said. the video had compiled all of those moments with the least to worst swear words, purposely not adding the meanings to keep the rest of the world confused.

it was a long time before anyone else, especially the red bull pr managers caught on, and only then did y/n get yelled at for the first time by them.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

this is the first max verstappen imagine I've written! idk if this is what you wanted, anon, but honestly, I couldn't see max saying muhavre and stuff, but I could see him saying a lot of curse words in hindi, so I went with that! also, I love the fact that when I went on Pinterest to look for pictures of max, almost every picture was of him smiling or laughing. i've also got a link for my taglist and requests that you can find here!

[multifandoms27-blog]

Hi!! I've been binge watching TFP, as I've recently just stumbled across it. And already wishing I've seen this show eariler!

May I request TFP Ratchet realizing he's fallen in love with a F/human ally? Honestly just love 'grumpy, gruff hero falls for sweet, caring love interest. But denies it at first till something happens' trope. Can be fluff/smutt. Anything you're comfy with 😊

Thanks and feel free to ignore, if your inbox is full.

Oh my God I literally love Ratchet so much, thank you for this. Finish the show and then watch the movie! I was lucky enough to watch it when it was coming out - I loved it as a kid and I love it now as an adult.

Content: TFP Ratchet x Fem! Hum! Reader

Warnings: None!

Notes: I wrote for Ratchet a lot on my old Wattpad account, or at least what I can remember of it. If anybody wants to see my cringy old writing, my username on there is the same here, Multifandoms27. I also have a four-part TFP Megatron series if anybody's interested. Also I apologize if this is shit - this is my first time writing for Ratchet in literal years so uh, hope you enjoy lol

• ───────────────── •

Ratchet usually didn't bother with the whole romance thing. He was too old for that. Even when you came into the picture, he didn't pay much attention to you. He thought humans were weak links - something that didn't belong in his world.

But through your own effort to get to know him, he slowly warmed up to you. He thought you were one of a kind - smart, funny, understood him in almost every capacity...he loved you. But he would never admit it, not even to himself.

You had been nothing but nice to him, even in the beginning when all he did was snap at you. Thats what softened him, made him draw closer to you. How could something so tiny be so kind to something so...large?

And then, when the children came and he had to grow accustomed to them, then to June and Fowler, he had realized that you had made him so accustomed to humans and made him believe he could finally...no. No, he did not love you.

...At least, that's what he told himself. Until you got hurt.

• ───────────────── •

Optimus had walked through the groundbridge, his servo raised and, for once, a solemn face. One of their own had been hurt, and Ratchet feared Miko finally had gotten hurt from chasing after Bulkhead. But, when Optimus showed him his servo, his spark nearly extinguished.

"(Y/n)! Oh, Primus, no!" He carefully took your unconscious form in his servos and called for June.

Optimus felt responsible for your state, and so he went to lock himself in his berthroom. Ratchet however, tried to assist June anyway he could. But June eventually grew too stressed trying to dress your wounds and assure Ratchet, that she finally snapped on him and told him to get out of the room.

Ratchet went to find Optimus, to ask how you had gotten so hurt. He was angry. He was so livid. How could this have happened to you? To his favorite human?

He knocked gently at first on Optimus' berthroom door. When he got no response, he began to pound on the door. "Optimus, I know you are in there!"

Slowly, the door opened. Optimus stood, staring down at his medic and long time friend. His gaze was quizzical, but he said nothing. Ratchet was even more put off by that. He began to speak. "How did she come to be like that?"

"She must have snuck through the groundbridge when none of us were looking, and-"

"Just tell me how she got this way, Optimus." Ratchet pleaded.

"Megatron was not so kind to her...that is all I'll say, for your sake." Optimus spoke, sadness lacing his tone.

Ratchet grew enraged. "And you couldn't protect her?! Primus, Optimus! You have had more than one chance to defeat Megatron, yet you stand here, sad as an Earth puppy who got kicked, while my (Y/n) is getting torn apart by the most tyrannical Cybertronian in our history! How could you?!"

Optimus sighed and looked off to the side. "Goodnight, Ratchet. We will speak in the morning."

Ratchet protested, but the Prime had already shut himself back in his room. Grumbling, he turned to find all three children staring from around the corner, accompanied by Bumblebee. He grumbled more. "What are you looking at?!"

Bumblebee whirred that you were awake. Ratchet blinked and rushed back into the medbay, where sure enough, you laid there awake and groaning in pain. June looked up and saw Ratchet once more.

"I administered some pain meds just now. She should be okay in about twenty minutes. Her wounds are all dressed." June backed away. "Do you want me to uh..."

"Yes, please." Ratchet waited for June to leave before kneeling next to you. "How are you feeling?"

"...Could be worse." You laughed, then cringed in pain.

"I'm not sure how much worse you could be. I hear you survived Megatron. Well done, sweetspark."

"Sweetspark? That's a new one." You chuckle this time, careful not to create a big pain response like before.

Ratchet blinked in surprise. "D-Did I say that? I meant-"

"It's okay, Ratch." You grinned and placed a hand on his large servo. "I know what you mean."

Ratchet stopped, then slowly and softly smiled down at you. Yes, you always understood him in some capacity...but not every one. You could never pick up on how much he loved you.

Yes, he loved you.

• ───────────────── •

Here's my Transformers masterlist in case you wanna request something!

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Character Development

Rick Riordan's Writing Tips

Rick Riordan:

Character development is paramount for me. I firmly believe that plot and character development must occur simultaneously. Plot cannot be left to chance. Neither can characters be automatons who carry out actions envisioned in the author's master plan. Below are some things I try to keep in mind when developing my characters:

RICK RIORDAN'S TOP 5 TIPS ON CHARACTER

Define a character first through action, second through dialog and description, never through explanation.

A character should be primarily defined by the choices he makes, and the actions he takes.

How does he respond to violence?

How does he respond to love?

Secondly, a character must be vividly but deftly describe through his speech, and through the initial view you give the reader.

Never stop to explain who a character is when we can watch him in action and decide for ourselves.

Be impressionist rather than realistic.

Describe characters as Dickens did – with a single deft stroke.

A laundry list of physical traits is realistic, but it is neither memorable nor compelling.

A jarring metaphor for the character, or a focus on one mannerism or physical trait, can be very compelling.

Example: She was a human tornado.

Do not be afraid to use real people as models, but do not be constricted by your models.

It is very natural to use parts of ourselves or the people we know when creating characters.

Do not be afraid to do this because someone might get mad at you.

At the same time, let your character develop.

Do not force them to do what the real-life model would do.

Characters seldom end up exactly like the real people they are based on.

The reader does not have to be told everything you know about the character.

It may be critically important to you that your character has blue eyes, or went to Texas A&M.

But if these details have no part in the story, the reader will not care.

Leave them in your subconscious.

If you are having trouble figuring out a character, fill out a character profile, or do some journaling in that character's voice.

Your character must act, not simply be acted upon.

We care about characters because we are interested in the choices they make.

We want to boo the villain, cheer the hero, and cry with frustration when the tragic figure makes the wrong move.

A character who does not act, but simply receives information and is acted upon by outside forces, is not a character who will compel the reader.

Remember, plot is what the characters do next.

If the characters do not create the plot, the plot is hollow.

Here's a character profile worksheet I sometimes fill out if I'm having trouble understanding a particular character I've created:

Character Profile

Name:

Height:

Age in story:

Birthplace:

Hair color, length, style:

Race/nationality:

Regional influences:

Accent: (include voice, style of speech, slang, signature phrases or words)

Religion:

Marital status:

Scars or other notable physical attributes:

Handicaps: (emotional, physical, mental)

Athletic? Inactive? Overall health?

Style of dress:

Favorite colors:

How does the character feel about his/her appearance?

Brothers/sisters:

Relationship with parents:

Memories about childhood:

Educational background: (street smart? Formal? Does he/she read?)

Work experience:

Occupation:

Where does the character live now? Describe home (emotional atmosphere as well as physical)

Neat or messy?

Sexual preferences/morals/activities:

Women friends/men friends:

Pets?

Enemies? Why?

Basic nature:

Personality traits (shy, outgoing, domineering, doormat, honest, kind, sense of humor):

Strongest trait:

Weakest trait:

What does the character fear?

What is the character proud of?

What is the character ashamed of?

Outlook on life (optimistic, pessimistic, cynic, idealist)

Ambitions:

Politics:

How does the character see himself/herself?

How is the character seen by others?

Do you like this person? Why or why not?

Will readers like or dislike?

Most important thing to know about this character:

Present problem:

How it will get worse:

What is the character's goal in the story?

What traits will help/hurt the character in achieving this goal?

What makes the character different from similar characters?

Why will readers remember this character vividly?

Source ⚜ Writing Notes & References