#french cup champions

[chelseajackarmy]

Via PSG on Instagram

[gilliebee]

Lord Stanley's Summer (Episode 3)

[tchaikovskaya]

Anyway allez les bleus I guess 🇫🇷

[oscar-piastri]

CHARLES O. IS INJURED............................................................................................................................................ WHAT HAVE I DONE TO GOD TO BE PUNISHED LIKE THAT

[onsomenewsht]

I just wanna feel something, tell me where to go

About when she wants to win gold and you talk too much but don’t answer her questions

《 read part 2, 'cause everybody knows something I don't wanna know

》 Alexia Putellas x fencer!Reader

》 words count: + 1.7k

》 the mountain’s call [way of saying]: the irresistible pull or urge to pursue a challenging goal or adventure

“You look like someone who needs to see the best place in the entire Village”

Alexia looks up from the pass’ lanyard she’s fidgeting with, finding your open smile even before spotting your outstretched hand. Her eyebrow rises on its own accord, always sceptical around strangers.

The Olympic Village is big enough to welcome the egos of some of the best athletes in the world, but not big enough to avoid their clashing. It’s actually encouraged.

Within a certain limit, obviously.

The footballer sees you in passing almost every day, given that the Spanish Team rooms are basically neighbours with the Italian Team ones. Your outgoing attitude and friendly nature make you pretty popular around the village. The fact you’re easy on the eyes and quite the talk among the players isn’t lost on Alexia either – she likes good gossip like anybody else.

“Come on, Reina, don’t let me stand here like an idiot”, your teasing words take her back from her overthinking one more time.

“Shouldn’t you be somewhere celebrating that?”, she points to the medal hanging around your neck.

A genuine smile rises on both your faces as you mindlessly hold the piece of gold to look at it one more time, feeling like this is some kind of dream.

Your gaze falls on Alexia, still sitting in a corner of a communal break room when her teammates are cheering all around for one more victory in their Olympic journey.

“I’m gonna celebrate for the next four years, I can spare some time for you”

“Congratulations, by the way, I heard it’s not the first one”, she takes your hand as you burst out laughing, helping her on her feet.

You may have hosted the closest thing to a party you can do in the Village when, just earlier this week, you won your first gold medal.

It’s not your first Olympics, it’s not even your first Olympic medal. But finally being a gold medalist? An Olympic Champion? You sure could not let it pass over in silence.

The short walk is filled with small talks and giggles, you do most of the talking but Alexia’s grin stays firmly on her face the entire time. You notice her rosy cheeks and more relaxed stance, holding yourself high with pride to finally see the blonde so carefree around you.

“How did you even find this place?”

The night lights of Paris really turn the city into some sort of fantastic dream, the view is easily able to take the breath away from the little balcony you open for her. You’re on top of the biggest complex in the Village, the usual chaos that fills the French capital is somehow just background noise.

“Fencing is an ancient discipline”, you start, barely avoiding Alexia’s playful hit on your arm at your documentary-like approach.

“Jokes aside, the Italian school basically created fencing, but then the French school redefined the system to what it’s like today and they will not shut up about it. It’s a long lasting rivalry between two countries that, sportwise, hate each other”

“Everyone hates the French, sportwise”, the Spain captain agrees, mimicking your move as you sit on the floor of the balcony.

“Fencing into the Grand Palais in fucking Paris is like playing every single game as a World Cup final against the host country in a stadium filled with their fans and colours”

“Dramatic”

“Of course! You’re putting Italian and French people in the same place, asking them to fight with swords, literally. It’s gonna be dramatic”, you let your gaze wander around as the blonde’s one tries to find something inside you.

Alexia waits for you, understanding just now how your cheerful and playful behaviour hides something more complex.

She has turned on your Team Final on her way back from the stadium, curious about it – about you – after the little party you put on for the entire Village following your Individual Final victory.

She got nothing about what was happening, not understanding how some hits were good and others were given away or not counted. She prides herself on being able to recognise good athleticism and quick leg ability though. The way you move on the piste, quickly but precisely in every single gesture, is mesmerising. The way your mind acts even faster than your body is even more captivating.

What surprised her the most is the way you hold back.

While your opponents celebrate any conceded hits and your teammates celebrate loudly all the successful points, you stay stoic and firm the entire time.

It’s something she doesn’t expected from you, usually so excited about everything.

That’s probably one of the reasons that brings her here with you in the first place.

“You don’t look dramatic when you fence”

“Oh, you watched me?”

“It was the bare minimum after your detailed commentary after our last game”

“I’m Italian, I’m a football fan from birth”, you say, rolling your eyes humorously, not ready to reveal that the Spanish team is the only one you care about keeping up with during this Olympic tournament.

Alexia Putellas just admitted she turned on your Final to see you win a gold medal.

“Wait, let’s just go back to you watching me fence”

She smile at your weak attempt to avoid her question, genuinely amused about you but pretty sure you’re gonna tell her everything she asks – eventually.

A comfortable silence between the two of you fills the air for some minutes, somehow guiding your bodies closer.

“How did you find this place?”, the Catalan winks when you turn to look at her.

“I hate fencing with the French”, you start to explain after a bit with a serious note underneath your voice, “I lost my last Olympic Individual Final against a reckless fencer with the most annoying Parisian accent ever”

Another moment passes, Alexia doesn’t pressure you but can feel you relax when she places her hand on your knee.

“Last time I was in Paris, I injured myself. I was out for nine months and lost two major tournaments. This Olympics being hosted here as I was supposed to redeem myself and prove to be good enough at the same time? Really took a turn on me at first”, you avoid her gaze as you sum up one of your biggest fears to a stranger on a balcony viewing Paris’ landscape.

“I needed a place to escape without running away”

“And here we are, facing Paris from a hiding spot”

How the footballer manages to understand you so well in such a short amount of time, in such an unusual setting, is really something that surprises you. Your eyes meet and you can distinctly feel your heart skip a bit.

“I befriended a handyman, this floor is for staff only as some sort of control room”

“This explains the private balcony”

“I should have started with this and not the unasked story of my life”

You can still feel Alexia’s hand on you, mindlessly caressing your leg as you try not to implode and hide the redness of your face. She smirks.

“We’ll play France in the semifinal”, she says with a hint of disbelief and irony.

“Fuck the French”, you state solemnly, “It’s basically a wanna-be repeat of the Champions League’s final, you’re going to be fine”

“If you just jinxed it–”

“I did not, I know an Olympic Champion when I see one”

The burst of confidence and the firmness in your voice, despite the easy way you’re both talking about Spain’s next game, are enough to subside the noises inside Alexia’s head – your voice is a good distraction and your presence is a welcoming discovery.

“How is it?”

“What?”

The blonde’s finger points at the piece of gold still hanging on your neck, you’re just glad it’s her other hand as you look back and forth between her and the medal.

“You won enough to know how it is”

“It’s my first Olympics”

“In Italian there’s a word, I don’t know if you have the same difference in Spanish. It’s olimpionico and it’s not like olimpico – olympic”

“You never go for the straight answer, do you?”, she interrupts you with a teasing smile.

“No, never done anything the straight way my entire life, now let me go on with my wise and deep talk”, you graciously – and quite bravely on your part, if you must say so yourself – drop your arm around her shoulder, releasing a breath as she smoothly adjusts her body closer.

“Olimpionico is formed from the Greek ᾿Ολύμπια, which means ‘competitions of Olympia’ so our Olympic Games, and the root of νικάω, that I don’t know to explain how but can be translated with ‘victory’ or ‘winner’ and you have to trust me on this one”, you’ve never been happier with your strict education and the Italian questionable school system.

“I’m still waiting for the point”

“I mean to say we have a specific word for an Olympic athlete who doesn’t just compete in the Olympic Games but actually wins”

“You won enough Olympic medals to know how it is”

“The last time we won bronze as a team and I lost the gold against the obnoxious Frenchwoman, Alexia, keep up”, you’re perfectly aware of her hand on your thigh and her eyes burning on your face – she definitely noticed your red cheeks and the cracks on your walls.

“It’s my first Individual gold and this is my first Team gold, it’s– I don’t know how to explain, but it’s–”

“It’s olimpionico?”, she indulges you, her accent around the Italian word is way more charming than the French one.

“You get it”

“Olympic Champion sounds so uncool now”

As the night turns into a darker shade of black and the Paris lights really do the city’s name justice, you feel like there’s something profound linking you with the athlete curled on your side.

It’s a shared desire to prove yourself to everyone, while wanting to make just a few close people proud. It’s a shared hunger to be the best among some of the greatest, but to make sure the ones around you shine as much.

It’s a shared feeling, deep inside, telling you’re right where you’re supposed to be.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Prodigy

Olympique Lyonnais x Teen!Reader

Summary: A slow morning at baggage claim

Two international youngsters are produced out of the Chelsea academy.

One goes to Spain and Barcelona. She plays striker.

The other goes to France and Lyon. You play centreback.

It seemed like fate that everyone would consider you rivals but you don't really care about that. You don't put much effort into looking through media articles.

You have better things to do.

"Hey, y/n! Come back here please!"

You huff, peeling off from Damaris and Ellie to head back to Ada and Wendie. You'd been sitting next to them for the whole flight from France to America.

"I don't want you to get lost. Hand, please."

"Come on!" You complain," I'm not as bad as-" You trail off. You don't say her name.

You think she must be a sore spot for the team after the three goals she scored past them in the Champion's League final. You were meant to be on the pitch that day too but during your last training session, you'd hurt your ankle and had to stay in France.

You give Ada your hand.

You live with her most of the time, although frequent sleepovers at Ellie and Daan's were a must. When Ada is stressed about things, you leave her to decompress by hanging out with Wendie, though you have to prepare yourself every time.

Your Papa is French and you've yet to decide what international team you want to play for. Wendie keeps trying to convince you to pick France.

It's kind of funny to see her try to sneak it into every conversation she can when you sleep over at hers.

Either way, Ada walks you through customs before setting you free in baggage collection.

You're off like a shot, eager to stretch your legs as Damaris and Selma race the luggage carts. Vanessa is on Selma's so you clamber onto Damaris' as she gets a run up and pushes you.

Ellie's acting as the ref and she narrows her eyes as both carts come to a stop.

"She's cheating!" You insist as Vanessa drags the cart forward using her hands. "Cheater!"

Ellie closes her eyes. "I don't see anything."

"Oh, come on!"

It's very early in the morning so there's no one else in the luggage claim, just your team.

You kind of assumed with no one else around that the bags would arrive quicker but clearly not.

You get bored of the game rather quickly and return to your older teammates.

Wendie, Ada and now Lindsey too are sitting on the floor, up against the wall as they wait for the bag carousel to start moving. You don't know who brought out the football but they did.

They're not using it though, just rolling it between them as you approach.

"Ellie's not a very good ref," You tell them," She's helping Vanessa and Selma cheat."

"Do you want to play with the ball?" Lindsey asks and you puff out your cheeks.

"I'm not a baby." You plop down next to her and she ruffles your hair.

"No but you don't do well not doing stuff and I know your phone is dead. Do you want the ball or not?"

You mumble something.

She grins, cupping her ear. "What was that?"

You mumble something again.

Ada and Wendie are grinning now too.

"Sorry. I couldn't hear. You'll have to speak a bit louder."

You glare at her and Wendie snatches the ball. "Go stand over there. Volley is back to me."

Wendie is a centreback. You're a centreback too.

You arrived from Chelsea fresh-faced and worried and Wendie decided you were her little project. She'd told you once, a little tipsy during a team bonding session, that you had the most raw talent she'd seen in a while and that she wanted to see you get better and better.

She trained you every second she could.

"Weaker foot this time," She says to you as you volley the ball back to her.

It's still early. The flight was long but you've suddenly got energy again so you can keep up with her coaching even as she gets up. She changes from throwing the ball at you to kicking it so soon you've both got a good volley going as Ada and Lindsey talk to each other.

"I didn't know Barcelona were doing their preseason here," Ada notes," I thought they'd be in Mexico."

You let the ball drop, turning your head automatically to see the Barcelona girls coming into the baggage claim.

You spot her quickly, just like how you usually do. You could spot her in any crowd.

Wendie spots her too, as does Ada. Both of them lay their hands on your shoulders.

She's across the room with Alexia Putellas though, held back by her backpack when she nearly wanders into a pillar because she's focused on eating her snacks.

You go to move but the hands on your shoulder tighten.

"What?"

Ada purses her lips. "Why don't we sit back down?"

It dawns on you then that Ada and Wendie have seen all the articles, all the articles that insist on the 'bitter rivalry' between you and your daydreamer.

"No-" You say with a little laugh," It's not like that. It's-"

A body barrels into you and lips are on yours in an instant.

You kiss your girlfriend back.

"I missed you!" She says and you peak over her shoulder to see Alexia Putellas and Irene Paredes standing there with their mouths wide open.

You laugh, just knowing Ada and Wendie are the same. "I missed you too!"

"It's so cool we're in the same city again! I've been doing my research and there's this really well-reviewed snack place near her that we should go to!" She tugs on your hand and you dig in your heels.

"Slow down, dreamy," You say," We still need to get our bags!"

"But Ale and Irene said I could go if I took someone with me."

You can hear Alexia Putellas sigh and mutter," I meant someone from our team."

Your girlfriend ignores her.

"Ada? Wendie?" You ask tentatively.

Ada sighs. "Take Daan and Ellie with you. We'll get your bags."

"Thank you!"

Your girlfriend sorts out her own escorts in the form of Ingrid Engen and Mapi León and she pulls you out the door.

You can't resist the teasing words you throw over your shoulder at your girlfriend's captain.

"I'll have her home by midnight!"

[meazalykov]

she was the golden girl

uswnt x (romantic) aitana bonmatí x (platonic) fridolina rolfo x uswnt!reader

summary: what happened in a world where reader plays in the 2023 World Cup after winning the 2019 World Cup?

warnings: tiny bit of angst and sadness, google translated spanish.

part two (part one here)

I remembered when I stood on the french pitch, surrounded by the deafening cheers of the crowd, sometimes I can’t believe that it happened. Tears welled up in my eyes as I hugged my best friend Mallory, threatening to spill over as a whirlwind of emotions flooded my mind. 

My hands trembled as I clutched the World Cup trophy tightly to my chest, feeling the weight of my team's triumph. The third goal in the world cup was scored by me, the youngest goalscorer in a Women’s World Cup final. The journey to this moment had been grueling, filled with sacrifices, sweat, and endless dedication. But looking back, all the pain and hardship were worth it.

Before the World Cup, the Champions League medal hung proudly around my neck, a testament to the skill and hard work I’ve displayed on the field. At the time, Lyon was the club of my life. I believed that I would’ve never left the french institution, extending my contract as much as I possibly could’ve. The memories of each game, each goal, each victory rushed back to me, overwhelming my senses.

And then there was the Ballon d'Or many months after both competitions, the ultimate recognition of my individual excellence. To be acknowledged as the best, only at the age of 19 years old, was a dream I had hardly dared to entertain. Yet there I was, being the second woman holding the prestigious award in my small hands, my name etched into football history forever as I stood beside Lionel Messi who received the men’s d’or. 

Surrounded by my teammates, coaches, and supporters, I felt a surge of gratitude and humility. This moment wasn't just about me; it was about the collective effort of everyone who had believed in my skills along the way. I will never forget it.

Four years later, It's 2023. I am 23 years old and still impressing the fans around the World. However, the scars of my ACL injury were still fresh, a constant reminder of the hurdles I had overcome to be here after the harsh 2022 year.

Playing for Lyon had once been a dream come true. I’ll never forget that experience. When I signed to Lyon from Portland Thorns at the age of 18, I was overwhelmed in joy. I needed that new challenge, and that challenge earned me the best awards, collectively and individually. But, the fallout from my December 2021 injury had left a bitter taste in my mouth. The club I had once called home had felt more like a distant memory as I felt forced to make the difficult decision to part ways and start a new life in the sunny Spanish city.

Now, I wore the red and blue Barcelona jersey onto the pitch. The transfer left me heartbroken, at first, now I felt a renewed sense of purpose. The road to recovery after my ACL injury in France had been long and arduous, filled with doubts and setbacks. Sometimes, I believed that my prime occurred at the age of 19, instead of the predicted 24-30 years old. Yet here I am, defying the odds once again to represent my country on the world stage in two months.

Sometimes the memories of my victories with Lyon and the United States lingered in the back of my mind, serving as both motivation and a reminder of what was at stake. The Champions League trophy I had lifted with Lyon and the World Cup I had claimed with the United States were testaments to my talent and resilience. But now, I lifted the Champions League trophy with Barcelona. 

After scoring the second goal of the final, with Patricia before me and Fridolina afterwards, the gold hung beautifully around my neck. It was my fourth time I've felt such a high amount of glory, but the happy tears still came as if it were the first. 

A month later, I am on a fourteen hour flight from Los Angeles to Wellington, New Zealand. As The plane soared through the clouds and I sat in my business class seat, my hands gripping the armrests tightly and my heart pounded in my chest.

“Y/n?” I took out my airpods when I heard the faint sound of my name coming from outside of them. I turned to my right and saw my teammate and captain, Lindsey, looking at me with a confusing look. 

“Hey.” I joked, pretending like my stress wasn’t visible for everyone to see. 

“Are you okay?” Lindsey asked. In my head, I debated on if I wanted to lie and say yes, just so I didn’t have to burden her with my stress. However, she’s known me for many years, the woman would notice my lie from miles away. 

“Not really. I’m just–a bit nervous.” I swallowed. The blonde girl nodded her head in understanding as she rested her arm beside mine. 

“That's understandable. Is it the competition that's bothering you? I mean– we are defending champions so we have a lot to prove.” Lindsey asked. I took a deep breath as my mind shifted to a particular person from my Barcelona team. 

“No– It's about–um.” I stopped speaking. I didn’t want her to cloud my head during the competition, as we both promised ourselves that we would play as rivals, not lovers. 

“Aitana?” Lindsey questioned, but yet finished what I would’ve said. I noticed my head as my face was plastered with sadness.

“yeah.” I mumbled. The Lyon midfielder looked at me with a questionable look, wondering if there were problems between the Spanish girl and I. 

“I mean– there's no problem between us. However we prioritize football first you know? we both agreed that during the competition, we wouldn’t talk much.. just so we can focus on this.” I ranted. I’m not stressed because of a possible match between Spain and the United States, I know that I’ll miss the shorter woman a lot. Also, what if we stop talking and a third factor might influence our relationship moving forward? 

“That's good that you’re prioritizing us– You shouldn’t feel nervous about your relationship because this will give you time to miss each other– things will go back to normal once the world cup is over.” Lindsey patted my shoulder in sympathy, I smirked as my nervousness started to subside. 

A month later, as I stepped up to the penalty spot, the weight of the world seemed to rest upon my shoulders. We finished the match against Sweden 0-0 and after extra time, we had to go into a penalty shootout. The stadium roared around me, a cacophony of cheers and chants from both sides echoing in my small ears. Nerves danced in my stomach, threatening to consume me with doubt and mistakes.

With a deep breath, My eyes focused on Zećira Mušović standing between me and the goal. She did great throughout the game and has the reflexes to stop my shot. Determination burned in my eyes, she saw it too. 

As I approached the ball with speed, the tension in the air was palpable but I couldn’t care. Every step felt like an eternity as my foot sent the ball soaring towards the goal. Mušović dove in desperation, but my ball went directly to the middle as she dove left. The ball crashed into the back of the net, eliciting a deafening roar from the crowd and from my teammates. 

My dimples on my cheeks showed as I am happy to make the penalty. Being substituted on the pitch after halftime, I tried my best to score but my shot on goal was overturned by VAR. Apparently, my body was offside. 

Now, my arms wrapped the bodies of Sophia Smith and Megan Raphinoe as I looked ahead at Kelley O’hara. My heart raced as I stared at her white colored cleats. She needed to score this, or else Sweden had the opportunity to win the knockout. 

She Missed. My heart dropped to my stomach as I looked at the Swedish players with rising confidence and opportunity. Hurtig took the shot and Alyssa blocked it over the line. This caused a debate among the crowd. Deep down, I knew Sweden made it. They’ve won. However, VAR was the only hope which would have proved me wrong. 

Unfortunately, I was right. Sweden emerged victorious in the penalty shootout, their celebration serving as a bitter reminder of the heartbreak that awaited my teammates and I. 

No, No, NO! I thought to myself as I felt the moisture in my eyes start to take place. Immediately, my mind did a flashback to the 2019 World Cup Final. Being 19 years old and happy as my small, yet muscular, arms held the heavy World Cup trophy. 

With a heavy heart, I broke away from my teammates and looked among the Americans in the stands. My shaky hands clapped to the fans in the stands, my facade of strength crumbling with each step she took. Cameras could capture my weak struggle to stay strong as the Swedish crowd rightfully celebrated. 

Turning around, walking back towards the Americans who were on the team, my knees collapsed on the grassy pitch, tears streamed down my tired face. This was the worst that the United States had completed in a World Cup. What went wrong? 

I wanted to stand up so badly, but I didn’t. Shame and Defeat took over my body which laid in the grass. What is my family in the crowd thinking? What are the USWNT fans thinking? What are my fans thinking?... my tears cried out more when I wondered what Aitana was thinking. 

After ten minutes of darkness in my eyes, covered by my hands. A comforting presence enveloped my body. I recognized the floral smell mixed with a tint of sweat. I looked up from my hands and saw Fridolina, my teammate from Barcelona and now my opponent who won the Round of 16. 

“You did so good, Don’t beat yourself up over this!” Fridolina spoke to me first as her thumbs wiped over my teary eyes. I felt comfort but a small amount of envy was inside of me, I wanted to win so badly. 

“Congratulations Frido.” The Swedish girl took her hands and helped me stand up as she gave me a tight hug. Aitana, Frido, and I are a trio back in Barcelona. In fact, she helped Aitana and I confess our feelings to each other. 

“Thank you! Just know that I am proud of you, she is proud of you too. Even if you aren’t proud of yourself.” The 29 year old said as my eyes stained her yellow covered shoulders. I knew she meant Aitana when she said “she”. However, I didn’t know where the Spanish woman was at the moment and what she was thinking. 

“Just go be-beat Japan. Okay?” I said through a crack in my voice. I found solace in the embrace of my friend. I might’ve lost but I am not a bitter person, now I want to see my club teammates have a good World Cup like I’ve once experienced.

As we exchanged jerseys, the voice in my head kept reassuring myself that I'll come back stronger than ever in 2027. 

Just a week later, most of my American teammates left Australia and went back home. However, my teammate Kristie and I decided to stay back. Kristies had a girlfriend who played on a different international team like I did, so we wanted to support them as they’re advancing to the semi-finals. 

Witnessing my Barcelona teammates play each other in the Spain vs Sweden match was intense. Standing beside Aitana’s parents, I wore a basic dark green t-shirt with 501 mid-thigh levi shorts. This is the first time I've met them as her girlfriend and they’re sweet people. We celebrated Spain’s win against Sweden and my heart would have exploded in happiness. My girlfriend will experience a World Cup final! 

On August 20th, after an intense match and a lovely goal from Olga Carmona, Spain won the World Cup! The feeling was bittersweet for me. I am happy for my girlfriend but subconsciously, I knew I wanted it to be me with the United States. However, I brushed that feeling aside since I needed to be happy for my lover. 

“Aitana ¡Estoy tan feliz por ti!” We both ran towards each other and hugged. I feel her lightly kiss the side of my head as I inhale her scent. Being able to feel her embrace after a month apart filled the small void in my heart.

“¡Esto es tan irreal, ahora sé cómo te sentiste hace tantos años!”  (This is so unreal, now I know how you felt all those years ago!) Aitana smiled. The smile on my face struggled to stay as a small frown, which I tried hard to conceal, plastered on my face for a quick second. I don’t think she noticed. 

“Lo siento por lo que ocurrió. En el fondo esperaba que fuéramos nosotros dos quienes nos enfrentaríamos en la final.” (I'm sorry for what happened. Deep down I hoped that it would be the two of us who would face each other in the final.) Aitana said as she understood my defeat in the Round of 16. 

“Aquí también. Sólo debes saber que todavía estoy muy feliz por ti, a pesar de mi derrota.” (Here too. Just know that I am still very happy for you, despite my defeat.) I said as I admired the goal medal that sat perfectly on Aitana's chest. She gave me a sympathetic smile before hugging me again. 

“¡Te amo!” Aitana whispered into my ear. 

“Te quiero más” I smiled back as I relaxed into her arms. 

<3

[giuseppe-yuki]

il predestinato

charles leclerc x black arabian mare!reader

w.c.: 1.7k

warnings: angst with happy ending + one curse word

summary: charles' life throughout the years

picture credits from pinterest :)

a/n: major shoutout to the anon who came up with the prompt that inspired this! also, i would also like to point out that interactions with the reader is more of a super minor plot point, and while reader does appear in this fic, it mostly focuses on charles. one more thing, this will be different than my usual more light-hearted fics. i've decided to try a different writing still for this one :)

it started when charles was 3, when his papa drove him to a quaint town in the southeast of france. brignoles, he remembers.

charles recalls watching with wonder as his papa unloaded the machinery from the back of the car. this is the chassis, hervé had said, and these are the axles, and the wheel bearings, and the engine, and the cooling system, and the tyres and the steering wheel. the terms were all a jumble in his brain, but he understood it all boiled down to one thing: it was a red go kart, with a big number 35 etched on the front.

his papa had shoved him into a race suit and pushed him onto the track, and that was it. that's when he fell in love with the sport. the turns, the straights, the speed, the thrill. charles remembers wailing to stay on the kart when the sun had set, while his papa's friend, phillipe, and his son watched amusedly. all of the other children had gone home, and only charles was left, little gloved hands clutching tightly onto the steering wheel. when hervé couldn't calm him down, jules had knelt on the dusty ground and looked into charles' watery eyes. smiling, he had said to him, charlie, i can see your passion in racing. i love it too. but, you'll have tomorrow and forever to race. we'll come back another day, okay?

and that's what he did. he came back the next day, and gave himself to the sport of racing. one day, he decided, he would bring pride to his country and to his name through racing. entering into every karting competition there was in france, charles accelerated through the french paca championships in 2005, 2006, and 2008 while hervé watched on. he became the french cadet champion in 2009 and won the junior monaco kart cup in 2010.

charles was 14 when he raced in the cik-fia kf3 world cup, where he also met another little boy whose heart also beat for racing. he had short dark blonde hair, pouty lips, and and a lisp that was ever-so-prominent in the rare occasion that he talked. when the boy's strict father wasn't looking, he had flashed a smile and wave, but was only met the by the boy’s sullen silence. fine, he had thought, and that race, he purposefully pushed that boy, max, off the track. when a reporter came up and asked him about the accident, he had brushed it off as an 'inchident' and sprinted to his proud father who congratulated him on the win.

he remembers his father going to buy him a chocolate ice cream cone while he sat in his race suit on the kerb facing the track. curiously, a black pony had galloped by, hair whipping in the wind. it always seemed to appear at his kart races. nevertheless, it reminded him of the horse on the red and yellow ferarri logo, which he hoped would adorn his racing car in the future. thinking about it, he corrected himself. will adorn his racing car.

at 20 years old, charles had shot up the ranks to f2, under prema. another race, another win, another step closer to his end goal- to make jules and his papa proud. in his home race, monaco 2017, he felt unstoppable. lap after lap, he had set up purple sectors. charles remembers that black horse, galloping in the fields next to his simple karting races. this must be what it felt like, the adrenaline pushing to go harder, faster. however, before the finish line, a safety car and tyre problem slashed his dreams of winning at his home in f2.

bad news followed soon after, with the passing of hervé. it was a devastating blow, considering jules’ passing in suzuka a few years before. upon hearing the news, charles had shut himself off from the world and went to the track his papa had first taken him to, and where he had met jules. it wasn't until he took off from the start had reality hit him. neither of them would not be there when he stepped out of his car. they would not be there to congratulate him on setting a new record, nor would they be there to console him after a particularly bad crash. the people that helped kickstart his love for racing would never come to one of his races ever again. charles sped up, legs crammed in the small kart, lap after lap, track blurry in his vision because of his tears. the sky, as if magnifying his emotions, had thundered and clouded over the usually sunny skies. when his arms ached and feet hurt, he had sat there at the finish line, like he did 17 years ago and gripped onto the steering wheel like a lifeline.

on the way back to his car, he had saw the black mare from his karting days, dark coat rippling. she had blinked at him with onyx eyes, whinnying. charles had reached out his hand, and suddenly, in its place was a girl, around his age. he felt a sense of familiarity with her- she had basically grew up with him from a distance, urging him on at every race. he hadn't turned away when she had dried his tears and comforted him, whispering into his ears how he would carry on the legacy.

legacy? he had asked her, watercolor eyes filled with tears. enzo’s, she had responded with a bitter-sweet smile. enzo ferrari’s. i just know you will continue my grandfather’s legacy through your blood- i've been watching you for all these years. he used to always speak of a boy like you with a passion for racing. il predestinato, he called him.

but in 2018, at the age of 21, he not signed to ferrari. no, kimi räikkönen and sebastian vettel took those spots. instead, he was signed to sauber. a formula one team nonetheless, he tried his best in every race. he tried to remember the feeling back when he was 3, driving down the track straight in his little red go-kart. he had felt so fast, so powerful- like a horse running in an open field. if he went fast enough, maybe he would run right through everyone in front of him and reach the finish line. on the morning of his home grand prix, he remembered climbing into the cockpit and telling himself that this was it. this was the race that would make papa and jules proud. this was the race that would make ferrari realize their mistake of not signing him. this was the race that would prove to monaco that he loved them, and maybe then they would love him back.

but it wasn't enough. with a few laps to go in the monaco grand prix, charles suffered a brake failure, which spun out into another driver and caused both to go into early retirement. he could only watch in tears as he saw daniel ricciardo clench first place and take his iconic dive into the red bull pool. that should be me, he had thought, angry tears stinging his eyes.

that night, he cried himself to sleep, muttering his apologies to jules, his papa, and monaco for failing them.

the race in his home country followed several other unsuccessful ones; a loose wheel in silverstone, suspension damage at the hungaroring, and a multi-car pileup in spa. it seemed things never went his way. one step forward, two steps back, like they say. he would often fall into the arms of the girl that had followed him all this way, and she would let him sob into her shoulder while she whispered about the good things that would come soon. just you wait charles, she had said. you will get your chance.

2022 was the year that he felt like he could win it. like the girl (now his girlfriend) had said, his time would come soon enough. ferrari had signed him three years ago, at 22, and now at 24, he shared the team with the spanish driver carlos sainz. this time would be it, he had excitedly promised his girlfriend. she had just smiled and kissed him on the cheek.

at his team's home race in imola, at the autodromo enzo e dino ferrari, he had heard the crowd chant his name. charlie, lord perceval, prince of monaco- those nicknames never stuck out as much as il predestinato, the predestined. he would win this, he had pledged, to prove to enzo and his granddaughter that he was the predestined. alas, the little boy that he pushed off the track when he was 14 won the race, and he came 6th behind valterri bottas.

he repeated to himself the same promises before the 2022 monaco grand prix, but the result was the same as before, except his own teammate was the one on the podium, albeit third place. once again, he watched as checo perez did a backflip into the redbull pool, mexican flag wrapped around his sweaty body. good for him, he had thought bitterly. bringing pride to his country. how about me?

as the only driver in ferrari history to have a five-year contract, charles had made history at the start of the season in 2024 at age 26. the year previous had been a disaster, with redbull winning nearly all the races on the calendar. maybe this year will be different, charles had said to himself, hugging his girlfriend goodbye in the garage. she had tapped the ferrari logo on his race suit, and told him to remember who he was racing for.

before he climbed into his car, charles had recalled what his papa had told him the first time he had climbed into a vehicle. it was made up of the axles, the wheel bearings, the engine, the cooling system, the tyres, and the steering wheel. it all boiled down to a big, high tech kart, marked with the number 16. all he had to do was race it the way he did back in birgnoles, under the watchful eyes of his papa and jules. they were probably watching now, from above him.

he felt strangely optimistic as he pulled into the first spot on the grid. maybe this time, this year, he wouldn't fuck it up. charles watched as the the overhead set of starting lights lit up two by two. when they went out, he slammed his foot on the throttle.

now, on the podium overlooking monaco, charles shed tears of joy. he had done it. if only jules and papa were there to see me now, he thought, clutching the 1st place trophy. the crowd below roared with praise for monaco's il predestinato, and the giant flags bearing the prancing horse of enzo ferrari waved in the confetti-filled air. he thought he could see a familiar black mare in the distance, near the water, pawing at the ground, mane fluttering. monaco finally loved him, he had proved that enzo was right, and won the trophy for jules and his papa. as he brought his lips to the champagne-drenched trophy, he only had one thought in his head. merci beaucoup, jules, papa, monaco, enzo, ferrari, and my beloved girlfriend. i will love you all, tomorrow and forever.

[nytb]

Not That Blaugrana

Click Here first <3

Blaugrana, catalan for blue and red and in Y/N's case; her next colors, but not those of Fc Barcelona. Last minute, rumors shifted. Lyon's interest in Frankfurt's star was made public and Y/N loved it.

Staying in Germany wasn't in her plans. Once upon a time, Frankfurt had given Y/N everything she wanted, served it up on a silver platter - but what she truly desired - beating Fc Barcelona on the big stage? They couldn't provide it.

Back in Barcelona, everybody was convinced that Y/N would sign for them, the board, the dressing room, the fans - everybody was getting ready for her return, at the end of the day, Y/N was a La Masia graduate and as she showed, she was more culé than Cruyff himself.

Or that's what they thought.

'Y/N, Frankfurt's star leaves the Germans for the French giants', 'Y/N on the move: Lyon pay a record signing fee for the Spaniard'

The media was going crazy, the biggest transfer upset just happened - the ultimate backstabbing - Y/N kept Fc Barcelona on their toes until the final second, signing for the French club instead.

Fans were heartbroken, Barca shirts with her name and number were thrown out, some even burned. Y/N had made culé's hearts tear to shreds.

The Barcelona group chat? In shambles - shade being thrown, blaming teammates, crying, feelings of betrayal. Y/N had managed to break the dressing room with a simple signature.

Y/N's phone blew up, on the other side Mapi was close to tears, angry at her decision. What did this mean for them?

"Why why why" the defender muttered as soon as her lover picked up the phone. Mapi relentlessly called Y/N, not taking silence for an answer "I thought you were happy here" Leon was slowly giving up on their 'love story'.

"Cutie, I told you - this was never serious for me" Y/N knew of the pain she was inflicting, but she didn't stop "We are only fuck buddies" she laughed "Great ones"

The defender was heartbroken, all her fantasies, her future - a future with Y/N playing in their backyard with their German Shepherd, their firstborn hanging from Y/N's neck, their house: a three bedroom bungalow filled with plants, filled with love, a house on a field in the Catalan countryside - its was all broken, lying on the floor like shattered glass after a hurricane.

Y/N had turned into Mapi's Alexia. The person who now betrayed the defender in a way that tore the defender apart. Was she not good enough for Y/N?

It was a tough pill to swallow, but the defender pushed through. Having the Catalonian by her side - in any capacity - was enough for her; at least for now.

Ignoring her team's feelings on the matter, Mapi helped Y/N set up her apartment in France. A lovely two bedroom penthouse, uncluttered, minimalist, the whole of Lyon on display from her balcony. That view at night, the shining stars, the warm breeze, the constant noise.

It was everything Y/N loved, something that contrasted with Leon's pursuit of calmness, quiet, peace.

Shirts being ripped, uncontrollable hands traveling across their bodies, nails dug into the defender's back releasing all the pleasure she caused, hickeys decorating each other's bodies.

Y/N's first days in France were a dream, with the blonde defender by her side, amazing food, breathtaking sex. She had everything she desired.

Things changed, the role Mapi played in Y/N's life became significant. Unwavering trust, undeniable chemistry, Y/N could no longer remain unreachable. Something had to give in.

Both stars were having the season of their lives. Who knew that being on top of your game required trips across Europe.

Mapi's Barcelona were, like always, ruling the league and national cups. Scoring goals for fun, automatisms returned: no pass failed to get to its destination.

For Y/N's Lyon, it looked promising. Unbeaten in the league, perfect cup run thus far, injuries kept to a minimum. It looked like the French giants were returning to their roots.

Champions league ahead, chaos struck - Y/N had had enough - the pressure finally gave in, everything crumbled to the ground.

"We have to talk" their date couldn't have started in a worse way "I can't just be on your speed dial every time you want to get back at somebody" the defender's declaration ignited rage inside Y/N.

Sure, Y/N had called Mapi for instant pleasure anytime something went wrong and contrary to what the public saw; a lot of things were going south for Y/N.

Her incorporation to the team hadn't gelled; sidelined by teammates, everybody knew of her culé past, her fling with the Spanish defender, they all doubted Y/N's reasons for choosing Lyon over her beloved club. Was she Barcelona's secret weapon?

"You know what" Y/N exploded, standing explosively from her chair, their romantic dinner date came to an end "I'm tired of this shit, you think that you ever were anything more than a way for me to get revenge?" That was it, no going back now "Get over yourself Leon, we're done"

Y/N left Barcelona that night, promising herself that her return would bring pain to whoever had wronged her.

Weeks of hurt, loneliness, crying. Both stars were now aching. Y/N's words had left her mouth without giving herself a chance to think. Was she regretting her choices? Her words?

An ego too big to beg for forgiveness, Y/N stuck with her decision; maybe a clean break with anything that came with a Barcelona tag attached was necessary.

Diving head first into football, Y/N slowly gained Lyon's trust. Her goals were celebrated by the whole team, individual celebratory handshakes with her new soulmates - Ada Hegerberg; their hatred for the Blaugrana club brought them together - and Van De Donk; their recent party antics made them the perfect duo.

Parties paid by Y/N's checks, the wage she was getting from Lyon was more than enough to rent out mansions just for fun. The dressing room was now united, they had unwavering trust in Y/N. They now knew that she was on their side.

Y/N was now their star.

[umseb]

Sebastian Vettel Reveals His Emotional Last Conversation With Michael Schumacher

Sebastian Vettel said "I miss my friend" Michael Schumacher, revealing the last conversation they had before the accident was Vettel breaking the news he was to become a father.

December 29, 2023 sadly marks ten years since Schumacher suffered life-changing head injuries while skiing in the French Alps. The seven-time World Champion has not been seen in public since, with his family understandably keeping information on his health private.

Sebastian Vettel to become a dad last thing he told Michael Schumacher

Speaking to RTL, Vettel discussed how his relationship with Schumacher grew "stronger and stronger" in the lead-up to his accident, the pair sharing the Formula 1 grid between 2010 and 2012, also forming the German line-up which won six consecutive Race of Champions Nations' Cup crowns between 2007 and 2012. However, Vettel said the friendship between he and Schumacher grew to the point where racing "was no longer the biggest thing we had in common" and described him as an "extremely important" figure for advice and "inspiration" that has been missing in his life. "It's still very, very difficult," said Vettel. "I don't want to say to accept it, but to accept that he continues to fight. Yes, of course I only wish him the best, but it's still very often a topic I think about privately and I think about a lot, and that is definitely a recurring theme. Of course, the first thoughts immediately went to the last conversation we had together and that couldn't be more positive. I told him that I was going to be a father and what was coming for us, and I think I really appreciated it towards the end in that sense, where our relationship became stronger and stronger before the accident, because I think we both got to know each other more and more and racing was no longer the biggest thing we had in common, but life in general and life with and around racing. And I just miss my friend." He continued: "I believe in recent years he would have been extremely important. When I would have so many questions, he would definitely have so many answers, or he could provide inspiration. That's missing, but of course it is from a friend's point of view with me. But for the family, it is of course much more difficult. At the time, Mick was a little boy or a boy, maybe not so small anymore but a teenager. Yes, I think that's a completely different dimension, if the father has an accident and in that respect breaks away."

[bloodyymaryyy]

The fortunate one

Charles Leclerc x goddess reader

Side note : this took not as long as I expected but yeah it took a little under a week so I am proud of it for the time it took and the whole thing ,I like it and I hope you like it too . Please don't be a ghost reader if you like my work because it motivates me to write more and more with each like , comment or even a repost 💞

Also this is inspired by the one and only @strwbrryfire. Thanks for letting me do that , also hello

Warnings : gore and blood : in a scene I have it marked so if you want you can skip .

It was 16 October 1997 in Monte Carlo, Monaco where a baby was born , born to be a star for sure , they just didn't know it yet , it was way to early to tell either way. That boy had a great potential and a talent few got to have , he was destined for greatness, no matter what .

He didn't wait for long to discover his passion and talent , January 1st 2005 he started racing for a team and from that year he won his first title until 2008 . Moving on the year after January 1st 2009 won another title: the youngest ever french cadet champion.

Charles Leclerc wins Monaco Kart Cup in October 17th 2010 in 2010, Charles Leclerc moved up to the KF3 class and won the Junior Monaco Kart Cup.

Lorenzo's best friend Jules Bianchi was already mentoring him and helping him in his racing career while establishing his own which was cut short in 2015 when he sadly passed away without being able to carry on with his dream to drive for the elite team Scuderia Ferrari in formula one .

Sadnesses veiled all of the families in Monaco and especially the Bianchi's and the Leclerc's , being so close and with a bond like no other , grief took over them Charles significantly more in his family .

Grief t made him seek out for anything that could help him , he tried therapy which didn't work , tried so many things up until one is ay he happened to be in a library browsing through books that peaked his interest even a little because anyone that knew him could say he is not a person to read books especially non school related.

A book with a pretty cover grabbed his attention and took it off the shelf, upon further inspection he understood what it was , a book about a goddess ? They weren't really religious, also not learning it at school got him thinking that maybe it's fictional.

He did decide to buy it though just so he could see what it was about he had a proclivity towards it , a weird attraction like a magnet of sorts.

He delivered a powerful soliloquy reflecting his choice of buying that book which most likely will be left to collect dust in a shelf where all of his books were stored.

After he was done with the errands that holded him up from reading the heavy book that weighted his bag down and returned home , it was lunch time , helping his mum with the food they all it as a family and everyone separated to do their own thing and he did too .

Opening his new book he found that the pages were old , wrinkly , brown and a little torn up just enough so you will be able to read the contents of those pages , just because he had the day free of everything he sat down and read the book starting to believe in the goddess that the book was talking about , there was directions on how to find her , it was rumored that he brought luck , success and granted logical wishes at a cost .

He studied the steps of where to find her and how so he prepared himself and the stuff he had to take with him and a deep slumber took him after his head touched his soft pillow , with excitement for the next day's adventure on seeing if this goddess is actually in existence ,and dreaming of what he could ask her for .

When he awoke in the morning, he felt inexplicably rejuvenated and vivified, as if a whole decade had elapsed since he had experienced such a nourishing night's slumber.

Getting up and ready for a day full of adventure, he was excited to see it the book is real and had solid information on the divine being, it could be nice to see if it really is of existence or just a waste of time which won't really be a waste of time because he could connect with nature.

When he got downstairs to eat breakfast with his family he told them about him going to hang out with Pierre Gasly his best friend which was a lie , he was not about to let him know of the cosmic enchantress , if she didn't exist he would call him crazy or if she did exist he wanted to have her all to himself even tho it wasn't fair and he was being selfish for gatekeeping it , but what the world doesn't know can't hurt them .

After getting ready, preparing his backpack with a few last time things like tree bottles of water and some snacks , the book , his phone and his headphones because it would be a very long walk from his house to the forest where the little abandoned temple where the statue of the majestic empress is .

Normal people would just brush it off but not Charles young and stupid doesn't always work in your favor but the sixteen years old boy with nothing to do and what seems nothing to loose he went for it anyway because he was in line to get a Ferrari seat now , a few weeks ago winning the f2 championship and talking with haas in f1 for a seat which was his dream and legacy as Jules got quiescent and wanting Jules to live through him and live his dream also , because they were supposed to drive along side with each other but god and the universe had got another plans for him .

Drawing a map to where he needs to go in his head , he put on his headphones blasting his music , the walk was painful even for an athlete, the sun shown brightly and every second that past the sun got hotter , he was sweating by the time he got to the forest and now the actual problem began . Having to climb small mountains , jump over fallen trees , go down on the way and having to grab into trees to keep him for tumbling down but he somehow made it , worry overtook him for a while for how he is gonna get back up but the moment he felt something else more powerful in him the worry just left his body and something new came about .

Taking two turns and a few minutes in a straight.

There is was

Or so he thought, getting his book out just to be sure it was the correct building and it was ! He actually found it ! He jumped in place a few times in his excitement and headed to the door , knocking just to be sure nothing happened and so he just opened it putting on his whole body because it wouldn't budge and got in the first thing he saw was small pillars Greek like with the details and all there were a few skulls and different bones which freaked him out but didn't back down because that would mean he just did a three hour walk to just leave immediately so no either way he was not that much of a wuss to leave just because there was a few bones most likely humans.... Right?... No he had too much of adrenaline to leave .

Continuing further into the temple the door which he left open slammed shut with so much force that it woke the dead for sure , getting a glimpse of the statue of the beautiful woman that somehow radiated gold , her body glowing gold with a red cloth hiding the lower part of her body , her waist , her privet area and the back of her legs and pooling down at her feet.

She stood proudly with her hands open the left one pointing down and the other upwards , her eyes closed as if she was having a peaceful sleep , her hair fall beautifully around her , there was candles everywhere other lit with a soft glow and others half way done .

Opening up his book to the page where a few spells for summoning her were he thought of what he would ask her for .

In the book it said to kneel Infront of her and place your hands in her stomach and start chanting her name with pauses every three times and she started to move , her fingers started twitching , her eyelids Open and closing finally she opened her eyes and looked down at him , expecting an old creepy guy that had only greed in his heart and eyes but what you saw shocked you , it was a young man , a teenager, kneeling before you with brown hair , green eyes and a beautiful face in general, he finally looked up at her and saw that she was looking at him he jumped up and created space between them and he spoke up .

"You are actually real" he said in awe

" I am indeed" she said monotonously and continued " what is it that you need for me to call me up here ?" She questioned raising an eyebrow at him .

There was a long pause , " I actually don't know , I mean I could ask you for my friend back , but I won't be logical, can I ask you a question first ?"

" go ahead" and with the freedom of speech that she gave him he picked carefully his next words .

"what do you do actually?"

" I can do pretty much everything other than give you back your friend as you said "

"so if I asked you for a little help with my career would you do it ? "

"yes"

"okay that was easy, I will take that , I need it right now "

" Okay it will cost you mortal "

" Charles my name is Charles" there was again a pause and an awkward silence until he spoke again " what do you want ?"

" I want you to bring me a human alive here and sacrifice them so I can roam the earth again " as she said that her eyes glowed red and her voice got deeper " but for now I will take half of your soul so I can make sure you do that and then I will help you "

Fuck he thought it was gonna be something more simple that kidnapping a human so he could sacrifice it to her but he mentally agreed the moment she uttered the words but so he could make himself feel better he pretended to think about it .

" Okay I will do it , who do you want I will bring them"

" I want (whoever you want) and everything so desire will be yours "

" when ?"

"in a week , this exact hour and day "

" okay I will " as he said that and was about to take a step back to turn on his heel and leave a pain burst throughout his body and a shadow flow out of his body to hers .

" you will take your soul back when you bring her here "

He didn't say anything and left as fast as possible to make a research on the woman the radiant majesty wanted . A voice inside his head spoke that he knew it wasn't his .

" no need I will guide you to her and lend you invisibility for you to get it done without a trace back to you "

After getting home , nobody was at home because of different reasons and it was great so they couldn't see him like this , dirty clothes, mud everywhere and his hair wild but covered by a Ferrari cap .

He ate whatever was made for dinner because they always ate early dinner , he didn't like that but he had to eat it anyway his headphones on again trying to avoid the fact that he had to do all that and his soul was stolen, a piece of him was missing, it bothered him he didn't know what to do with himself so he sat and played video games until his family come home or until he feels like going to sleep which will be soon so he send a message to the family group chat that he is home for a while now and that he will go to sleep so he won't worry his family.

Tomorrow he had to train anyway so it was perfect, him going to sleep early, he could be well rested for the training. Falling asleep an hour after he thought of how is he going to get the woman because the guilt will eat him alive he knew it , he had this feeling for almost every, either he was in the wrong or not for things that didn't matter much it was like a big monster loitering around, weighting him down and with the urge to vomit out everything, secrets , sins , mistakes and regrets . But with the divine sovereign taking over his soul that monster has gone away and he almost didn't want her to leave at all.

He actually wanted to talk to her , ask her questions about her , everything but he was afraid.

His thoughts now are not his own anymore, there was someone listening to everything he thought, did , talked , it was gonna be hard to even talk to his family, but it wasn't like she is gonna talk to anyone about everything she heard but to have a person hear , see and feel the same thing as you it was one of the oodest experience of his life ever .

The week went by too fast for him so he was anxious about everything, the moment his family left in an early morning and he was at home he left too , seeking the woman that would be his victim.

He actually was a puppet, nothing he did was of his own move the spirit inside of him just guided him where to go and how to do something so in his conscience it wasn't like he did anything so he was not guilty.

(gore scene)

Getting again to the temple it went by a second or so he thought but it got done after lying her in the bed like piler the sovereign one did the rest , cut up her hands and gathering her blood for the ritual, drawing shapes in her body and crushing her skull with her hands, there was pieces everywhere of meat and blood scattered around the room and on her face , hands and body .

(end gore )

Her soul flew out of her and the timeless paragon left her place off the step and walked towards Charles the red soul left her body and flew right in into him , he felt something fantastic, he felt complete and something new , he couldn't describe what but it was amazing.

" I think we are good here mortal , it was a pleasure making business with you , you know where to find me if you want anything more "

" did you do what I asked ?"

"yes and a little more actually because you deserve it "

" like what ?" He said confused

" you will know when it's time , now leave "

Without uttering anything but a mind full of questions he left hoping it was actually what he wanted but time only will tell from now on .

2024

After years he thought of going to her again , he couldn't get rid of the thought of her standing in front of him all mighty and powerful, he thought of going to get some help again as he was about to race again for his home country and after years of misfortune either his own fault and many others of wrong calls and strategies from his team he actually found himself days before the race to the very place he stood ten years ago .

The door opened up without having to knock a random stranger that he found on the way there in his arms unconscious his white fireproof and his race suit pooling down in his hips , sweaty, hair messy he went in and laid the body the way he did that day a decade ago kneeling down again in front of her , placing his hands in her stomach as he did before this time with more confidence and determined he repeated her name three times then pausing , then again , then again , then again at this rate his heart beat picked up with the sight of her moving again back to life .

She woke up again , knowing exactly what he needed without having him say it by himself . After getting it done he sat on a bench and she actually sat down with him and talked about everything

After winning the race he sat in his car , thinking about everything while crying in his helmet, he got out of the car with a newfound strength. His family cheering and crying waiting to congratulate their son and brother, his newest girlfriend shedding a tear , his brothers crying and clapping .

It all was surreal

He done it !

He won

Getting out of his car he stood on his knees and looking up as if praying for her praying for y/n the one that helped him throughout his career, hitting his chest and opening his arms as if welcoming a hug which welcomed one but the world didn't have to know that it was his y/n .

Getting up he jumped into the arms of his family and team everyone celebrated his win even his rival max hugged him where the world didn't know that he had a close friendship with .

The end

[keepcalmandcarriefischer]

This 4th of July, if you are not feeling very patriotic, that's okay. If you want to enjoy fireworks but feel guilty about participating in the celebration of a nation that has let you down, well, it's ok. Times are rough. There is a lot going on out there. However, I do want to provide a way for folks like this to enjoy the days festivities.

Don't celebrate USA. Celebrate TEAM USA!

Which one? Who cares?! Jumble the bag around and pull one out. Go for your favorite sport! Go for your favorite athlete! Go for some person whose picture you recognize from an inspirational post you saw one time and liked but didn't reblog.

This 4th of July I will be celebrating my favorite World Cup soccer team, Team USA

I will also be celebrating the multi time world champions Women's Team USA!

And how can you not cheer for these gals? How can you not celebrate Rapinoe? How she taunted the homophobic French crowd?

Or what about the Olympic Team USA?

Shoot, you can even celebrate the nation that gave the world comic books, professional wrestling, and jazz!

However you have your 4th and whatever you celebrate,

I hope you have a great day!

[nataliawrites]

Hello, I am very excited about the end of the cup and Argentina being champion

I could imagine with Pierre Gasly and the Argentinian reader (she being the sister of a player) getting to know each other in the box and discussing/fighting over the game

Love & Football // Pierre Gasly

Whoever decided on the seating arrangements must have had a cruel sense of humor.

It was the final match of the World Cup — Argentina vs France with one chance to win it all — and the Argentine family suite was situated right next to a suite of French celebrities.

You tried to remain calm. Your youngest nephew was sitting on your lap and your two other nephews sat to your side next to your sister-in-law. You didn’t want to set a bad example for them. But when the French fans in the suite bordering yours started heckling your brother, all rational thoughts went out the window. Goal for goal, save for save, penalty for penalty — you traded barbs and insults with a man your age who was enthusiastically supporting France. Your heart was racing wildly in your chest as Argentina gained the lead and then gave it up and then regained it and then gave it up and then finally, gloriously won. By the time your tears and cheers subsided, the French man you had enjoyed going toe-to-toe with was nowhere to be found and it was time for family members to join the Argentine players on the field for a celebration.

Later that night, an impromptu party was thrown for players, family, and celebrities who hadn’t flown home yet. National divides were forgotten as everyone let loose and enjoyed getting to witness history together. You joined the crowd of sweaty bodies dancing to the music when you felt two large hands grip your hips and turned around, ready to slap the stranger for getting too handsy.

You dropped your hand when you noticed that it was the French man from the game, “hey, Frenchie!”

“My name’s Pierre,” he has to raise his voice to be heard over the music.

“I’m Y/N,” you yell back.

Trying to keep the conversation going but getting sick of competing with the booming music, you both retreat to a quieter corner. You decide to extend some sportsmanship, “good game today.”

“France fought hard but Argentina fought harder in the end,” Pierre shrugged.

“It was intense to be sure but I am so happy for the boys.”

He scratches at his neck, “your boyfriend must be very proud.”

“My boyfriend?”

“You and your son seem very supportive of him. He’s a lucky man.”

A boyfriend? A son? What …

“Oh no! You must be talking about my nephew, Ciro. His father is on the team.”

His eyes widened, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-“

“Don’t worry about it,” you laugh it off. “Let’s have proper introductions. Hi, my name is Y/N Messi.”

“Messi?”

“Leo is my brother.”

“Well, I definitely had that messed up.” He returned your greeting, “I’m Pierre Gasly.”

“Your name sounds familiar. Where do I know you from?”

“Ah, I drive for Formula 1.”

“Yes! I remember now. I have to admit that I am not much of a fan but I did get to see the French Grand Prix this year.”

“Really? Do you spend much time in France or was this just a vacation?”

“Leo’s not the only footballer in the family. I play for Paris Saint-Germain Féminine.”

You spent the rest of the night getting to know each other better, both of you relating to struggles as professional athletes and public figures — and it was a good opportunity to show off your rapidly improving French.

When it was well into the early hours of the morning, and the partygoers were breaking up to go back to their hotels, neither of you wanted to leave.

You start making your way out slowly, “I’ve had a really great time talking to you.”

“Me too,” Pierre agrees with earnest eyes.

“How about you come out to a PSG game soon and I’ll return the favor when the F1 season starts back up.”

“Yeah, I’d really like that. Let’s trade numbers so we can make some plans.”

You leave him with a light kiss on the cheek, which you see him touching when you sneakily turn back to take another look at him before getting in your car.

When you’re in bed later, the sun set to rise in just a short few hours, you send Pierre a text before you can think twice of it:

Next time you’re at a football match you have to cheer for my team

[chibrary]

Source: the esteban ocon column on f1.com Series: 2020, f1

"I think it was by 2004 things in karting started to become more serious. In 2004 and 2005, I became mini kart champion in the north of France and there was a kid called Charles Leclerc who was champion in the south.

I had heard of Charles but knew very little about him. There was a big race called the French Cup in Magny Cours where all the regions of France were meeting. Charles and I were fighting in the heats. I won, then he won and so on - we had some big battles.

In the final, it was Charles and I fighting for the lead. I had the inside line at the last corner on the last lap and we touched. Charles didn’t finish as he was in the tyre barrier and I managed to finish fifth or sixth.

Anthoine Hubert actually went on to win that race. I remember Charles and I were both crying, and our parents were together to try and make us happy again, but it was impossible as we were bad losers!

The relationship with him developed pretty strongly the year after. My parents and I actually went on holiday to his place near Monaco where we also went karting with Jules and the Bianchi family in Brignoles at their karting track. Charles and I raced again together for many years in karting but not so much in single-seaters."

[boobo13cambridge]

🌹 Masterlist 🌹

Kylian Mbappé 🇫🇷

Fics

Cliché? Most definitely. | Kylian Mbappé

Genre:  Strangers to Lovers AU | Romance | Angst | Fluff | Smut

Summary: Once upon a time, there lived a girl who couldn't figure out her life and a boy who had the world at his feet. Neither had time for love, and both were absolutely miserable with their current predicaments. As the saying goes, expect the unexpected. Cliché? Most definitely. Does Lady Faith care? Not one bit. These types of stories have always been her cup of tea. At this point, all there is left to do is send a quick prayer that these two don’t get dragged to hell and back to satisfy an ancient deity’s hunger for drama. Alas, the odds don’t look promising. It’s been a while since Lady Faith personally took an interest in two young mortals' lives. The last time she was so meddlesome was with a certain singer and an athlete. What a disaster that was. Now, Faith looked at her two protagonists, and with a quick smirk, let history write itself. 

Chapitre Un. Rien autour n'a de sens

The Summer We Were Young | Kylian Mbappé

Genre:  Strangers to Lovers AU| Romance | Comedy | Fluff | Of course, it has to be angsty | Smut

Summary: Once upon a time, there lived a young woman named Naaz who couldn’t wait to get the hell out of her parent’s house and jet set to the French Riviera to live out her hot girl summer dreams. Tired, burnout, and angry against the world, she decides to be selfish for once and books a ticket to the beautiful city of Nice.

Unfortunately for her, things never seem to work in her favour. Along the way, she meets the most infuriating man in the world who seems to make it his life goal to make her blood boil and her generationally acquired anger issues to resurface landing her in the most precarious situations. On his behalf, Kylian was just trying to have a good time and forget about the disastrous season he just had. Dealing with loss after loss, the world-famous footballer just wanted to catch a break as he faced great uncertainty regarding his future. Get ready to follow Naaz and Kylian as they prepare to face a summer that will change their lives forever. 

Chapter One. Ridin' in the drop-top with the top down

Requests

Ay, Ay, Captain | Kylian Mbappé

Summary: Y/N watches as Kylian play and lead his team to victory at Stade Bollaert-Delelis, feeling proud and overwhelmed. Five goals in one game? Surely, he served something special for such a feat, non?

Honeymoon | Kylian Mbappé

Summary: After an eventful journey, you and Kylian finally get to relax on your afternoon.

Meilleur buteur | Kylian Mbappé

Summary: Kylian becomes Paris Saint-Germain's all-time top scorer. You couldn't be any prouder of your other half.

Somebody to Lean On | Kylian Mbappé

Summary: After being eliminated from the Champions League, you join Kylian while he channels his frustrations into working out hours after the training session is over. 

Magic Kingdom | Kylian Mbappé

Summary: After spending the day at Disneyland Paris with his niece and nephew, Kylian wants to start a family with you

Hold On, We’re Going Home | Kylian Mbappé

Summary: After attending a charity event with Kylian, who looked dashing in his black suit, you feel particularly needy. Once you arrive home, you realize he hungered for you just as much. 

Unexpectedly Expecting | Kylian Mbappé

Summary: After feeling unusually exhausted and nauseous during your weekly gym dates, you find out some really happy news

O Re Piya | Kylian Mbappé

Summary: It’s the day of your brother’s wedding, and you're running late. The main culprit: your handsy husband who can’t seem to control himself seeing you in a lehenga. 

A Mother's Remedy | Kylian Mbappé

Summary: You fall asleep on Kylian after spending the whole day taking care of the triplets who had the flu.

I’ll take care of you | Kylian Mbappé

Summary: Kylian is feeling stressed as the news that he will not be extending with PSG comes out. He seeks comfort in you. 

Send That Picture Promise I'm A Keep It | Kylian Mbappé

Summary: What’s it like texting when your husband is a really busy athlete? 

Drifting Apart | Kylian Mbappé

Summary: Y/N and Kylian’s relationship is crumbling as they navigate the most difficult moments of their lives. Will they stay or fall apart due to the pressure?

↳ Part I

Sheila Ki Jawani | Kylian Mbappé

Summary: Y/N is late and Kylian decides to teach her a lesson about tardiness.

Kim Namjoon 🇰🇷

Comfort| Kim Namjoon

Summary: After reading an article about your boyfriend Namjoon's personal information being tracked, you feel quite angry and the only thing you can do is comfort him.

Tom Riddle 🐍

The Heir and His Son | Tom Riddle Sr and Tom Riddle Jr

Summary: Tom Riddle Sr raises his son and it makes all the difference.

↳ Chapter One

↳ Chapter Two

[ilongfor-the-arts]

can i ask for an enzo fernandez smut PLEASE

Revelations

Pairing: Enzo Fernández x fem! Reader

Warnings: smut, language, cheating, mentions of unhappy relationship, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving)

Summary: friends -> lovers. After Argentina’s glorious World Cup victory, you follow your best friend to his hotel room with the intention of getting a good night sleep before your flight the next morning. To your surprise, the conversation topic makes you question things about your life, specifically, your relationship.

Word Count: 5.2k

Disclaimer: please send a plot next time! I was in the process of writing this for fun which is why I’m ignoring my rule :D

~pretend they’re talking in Spanish I don’t know nearly enough Spanish to write this fic in Spanish :)~

They won. They did it. They fucking did it.

My heart was racing as I dashed onto the field. The audience was overjoyed. The atmosphere in the stadium was electric. Everyone (except the French) was giddy with joy. The roar of the audience set my nerves ablaze. I was buzzing.

I only had one task, to find Enzo. My gaze moved over the various faces, searching for a familiar one. Families hugged, and players consoled one another. Enzo had become completely lost in the sea of euphoric bodies.

“Y/N!”

I turned my head, praying my name wasn't a figment of my imagination. He stood tall, the aura of a champion accompanying his figure. I dashed over to him, swiftly closing the gap. My body warmed as he encircled me in a tight hug. With a huge grin on his face, he quickly drew back.

“We won Y/N! How cool is that?”

Enzo lightly shook my shoulders to emphasize his joy. His tone suggested that he was on the verge of happy tears.

“I never had a doubt.”

Enzo chuckled. His eyes were misty, with a few droplets cascading down his flushed cheeks.

¨You have much more faith than I do. When France caught up I thought we were done. I really did.¨

I shrugged my shoulders nonchalantly. He smelled strongly of turf and sweat.

¨I knew you guys would win.¨

I wasn't completely truthful. To be honest, there were times during the game when I worried I'd have to spend the night comforting a distressed rookie. Despite my concerns, the team was able to come out on top.

¨You did great. You really did.¨

Enzo shrugged, placing his hands smugly on his hips.

“I appreciate the praise. It’s not easy carrying the team.”

He remarked sarcastically. I rolled my eyes amusingly. His demeanor had shifted from tears of joy to smug and cocky.

“Well, I’m thrilled to know that, at the very least, you are amazing at being humble.”

We laughed in sync. When the laughter faded away, Enzo glanced around. I cocked an eyebrow, perplexed as to who or what he was searching for.

“Where’s Nick?”

“Oh! Nick couldn’t make it.”

Enzo cocked an eyebrow.

“You said he was coming?”

“Well, I said maybe. He had… an unexpected work thing.”

Enzo scoffed.

“Right, work.”

I didn't want to venture a guess as to what he was implying with his little scoff and suggestive tone. Enzo approached me and slung an arm over my shoulder, a pearly white smile contrasting his tanned face.

“Well, good, that means I got you all to myself tonight.”

I gave him a light smack.

“Wipe that smirk off your face, Fernandez. Remember, I’m someone’s fiancée.”

Would it ever feel normal to describe myself as a fiancée? Enzo pursed his lips.

“Right.”

He said, his voice encompassing a hint of sterness. The smile on his face turned tight. I could tell Enzo didn't like Nicholas. He never explicitly said it, but his body language and tone when speaking of him made his feelings on the subject painfully clear.

“Well, enough of him. You wanna meet a few of my teammates?”

I smiled, relieved that we had moved on from the sensitive subject.

“I’d love to.”

Enzo introduced me to one player after the other. The increasing number of names being crammed into my head confused me. Fortunately, the team had to leave for the trophy ceremony before the amount of letters became unbearable.

A few stray tears fell during the trophy ceremony. It was fantastic to see Enzo named the best young player. Of course, the final lift of the World Cup trophy was flawless. I remembered all the fun times Enzo and I had when he swore he'd be playing for the Argentine national team. Although it seemed like a distant ambition at the time, I had faith in him. It felt good to know that all of my beliefs had paid off.

“Where are you staying? I’ll get you an Uber or something.”

Enzo inquired, once we were on the street.

“Oh, uh, I don’t really know.”

I took out my phone and began scrolling through my email, searching for the reservation.

“Nick did all that for me. He found me someplace.”

I retrieved the reservation and showed it to Enzo. Enzo shook his head in disappointment.

“Hell no, that place sucks.”

I raised my eyebrows.

“Really?”

I was completely taken aback. I assumed Nick had reserved a nice hotel for the night. Enzo confidently nodded.

“Oh yeah.”

I narrowed my eyes, unsure if he was telling the truth.

“Are you just saying that because you hate Nicholas or are you saying that because this place actually sucks?”

Enzo held up his hands in defense.

“I’m being serious! We were looking for places to stay and decided not to stay there because the staff was rude and the reviews were awful! The only reason it comes up first when you search is because it's a paid advertisement.”

I furrowed my brow.

“No way! I don’t believe you!”

When I hunted for reviews, I discovered that the vast majority of them were negative.

“Oh.”

I said meekly, my shoulders sagging as I realized I was going to spend the night in a dirty room with rude staff.

“Well, It’s not like I have another option.”

I stuffed my phone back into my jean pocket, my happy mood dampened. Enzo shook his head vigorously, his arms crossed over his well defined chest.

“Why don’t you stay with me?”

He inquired casually. My eyes widened.

“Oh! No, I couldn’t do that.”

Enzo shrugged nonchalantly.

“Why not?”

“I don’t want to intrude.”

Enzo dismissed my concerns.

“You know you’re always welcome at my place, Y/N.”

He flashed me a bright white smile. I must admit, it was a tempting offer.

“You just won the World Cup, Enzo. You need your sleep and I-”

“Well unless you’re gonna keep me up all night I think I’ll be perfectly fine.”

I gnawed on my lower lip. Enzo could sense my hesitancy to accept his offer.

“Trust me Y/N, you won’t be a bother. I have more room than I need.”

Enzo was listening intently, waiting to hear me accept his offer with sincerity.

“Okay, fine.”

Enzo tried his best to hide the true extent of his joy.

“Amazing. I knew you’d say yes. I do have to leave tomorrow morning though, and get back to Argentina.”

I shrugged.

“That’s fine by me. I’m leaving tomorrow as well.”

The Uber ride was nearly silent. I hadn’t seen Enzo in forever. Now, the one night of my trip we had together, neither of us could speak. I wasn't bothered. I'm sure he was tired, as was I.

The streets of Qatar were beautiful. The sparkling city lights were dazzling to behold. Despite having had the pleasure of taking in the gorgeous scene prior to this night, I gawked in awe as we rolled between the tall buildings.

“It feels so weird. I’m seeing you for the first time in ages tonight and we’re already both leaving tomorrow morning.”

Enzo said. With a sigh, I slid onto the couch, kicking off my shoes in the process.

“I know. We need to be more consistent with our weekly calls.”

It was difficult to live in America when your best friend was always on the move, going wherever the world of fútbol called him. Even when we did have a conversation, it was rarely long enough to be meaningful. Our calls were usually limited to a quick chat at halftime or a few minutes to say hello before bed. As a result, it felt as if I hadn't truly heard from him in ages.

Enzo slid onto the couch, throwing his head back with an obnoxiously loud sigh of relief.

“Do you wanna turn on a movie or something?”

I asked.

“How about we just talk.”

I nodded.

“Sure. I’d like that.”

The air was still. The soft hum of traffic continued below. I drew my knees to my chest, wrapping my arms around my calves to secure my position.

“So, what was it like playing in the World Cup?”

Enzo scoffed.

“It was amazing, obviously. But, like, at the same time I’m really glad it’s over. But, at the same time I’d do it all again if I was asked to, y’know?”

My attention was drawn to his stunning side profile. Thankfully, Enzo’s eyes were closed. Damn. Did he always look this good?

I must still be buzzing from the adrenaline rush.

“Yeah, that makes sense.”

I drew my attention away from him, knowing that if I focused on him for too long, my mind would wander to places I didn't want it to.

“How’s life besides soccer? All good? Any new relationships I should know about?”

I queried, sarcastically. Enzo laughed. I cracked a smile. Even if it was quiet, it felt good to hear his laugh after such a long period of absence. The sound made my heart warm with nostalgia.

“No, nothing super interesting.”

His lack of a social life piqued my interest. I mean, I'm his closest friend. I know he's a wonderful person. So why hadn't anyone else noticed?

“Really? Why?”

Enzo shrugged.

“I’ve been really busy, I guess. There hasn’t been a lot of time to search for hot new singles in my area.”

I noticed a faint smile on his lips. He was pleased with himself for cracking that wonderful joke. Leaning my head against my knees, I chuckled.

“That’s fair.”

I swallowed uncomfortably, knowing that questions about my life would follow. And with questions came the inevitable discussion of a subject I knew Enzo detested. I cast a glance down at my sparkly engagement ring.

“I guess it’s my turn.”

Enzo said with a hint of cheekiness. I exhaled shakily.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

I returned my stare to Enzo. His eyes were open, and his gaze was soft and enticing.

“So, how’s your life?”

I smiled and gave him a meek nod.

“It’s good.”

Enzo's eyes fell to my hand, where he noticed me fondling my engagement ring. He hummed in a disapproving manner before returning his gaze to mine. His pupils were dark, and his stare possessed a hard undertone.

“How’s Nick?”

Oh shit. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.

“He’s fine. He’s great, even.”

Enzo shook his head and pursed his lips into a straight line. I couldn't help but scoff at his disapproval. To be honest, I was tired of his games. I needed to put a stop to his childish behavior.

“Enzo, I get it. You hate my fiancé. But can you please for the love of God at least pretend to be happy for me?”

Enzo leaned forward, and his sudden closeness made my heart skip a beat.

“No. I can’t.”

His voice was stern. His gaze had significantly hardened.

I rolled my eyes.

“Why?-”

“Why do I hate your fiancé?”

He gestured to himself.

“I think the better question is why don’t you hate your fiancé?”

My gaze narrowed.

“He’s a jerk! He treats you like shit! The only reason he bought you that ring was so you’d have a reason to talk about him while he’s out partying with his country club friends.”

I shook my head. Enzo exhaled sharply through his nose.

“You know I’m right Y/N. I don’t think you love him-”

“He's a safe choice!-”

“Why are you settling for him? When have you ever cared about being safe? You were always the one telling me I could do anything I wanted if I tried. You deserve so much better than that asshole!”

I clenched my teeth. I felt compelled to spit fire. I wanted to tell Enzo that he was mistaken and that I was madly in love with my fiancé. But, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't bring myself to lie. So, in an effort to be argumentative, I spoke without thinking.

“Who do I deserve then? Huh? You and only you?”

Enzo's face fell into a neutral expression. I was perplexed for a moment. What made him suddenly stoic?

Then it hit me. My stomach dropped to the floor.

“Oh.”

I averted my gaze from him and concentrated on the plain wall ahead. I breathed evenly, working to process the confession I'd just heard.

“I wasn’t planning on telling you like this Y/N.”

“How long?”

“Um-like, a long time.”

“Is that the reason why you wanted me in your hotel room tonight?”

Enzo was deafeningly silent. The traffic continued to move, and the city continued to live around us. Despite being trapped in the middle of a life-changing experience, the world did not come to a halt.

“Uh-Well…”

His voice trailed off into the heavy night air.

“Yes.”

I sighed.

Although the possibility of him luring me into his room solely for the possibility of sex should be upsetting, I couldn’t grow angry.

“I really want to be mad. I really do. But… I can’t.”

I knew him better than anyone. I knew exactly where his heart was at this precise moment. I also knew exactly where my own heart was, and I knew they were both in the same place. I swiveled my head to face him, catching his eager gaze before lowering my eyes to my engagement ring.

The sight of it made me sick.

I slid it off my finger in one fluid motion and slammed it down onto the glass coffee table in a rather dramatic fashion.

Then I twisted my body around to face Enzo. His posture was flawless. He was tense, anticipating my next move. My gaze was drawn to his plush lips before returning to meet his anxious eyes.

I cut to the chase. I reached forward, clenching my fist around his collar and pulling him into me. He received the message and pressed his surprisingly soft lips against mine. On his hot skin, the scent of turf and sweat lingered.

I was expecting this moment to be tense or astounding, but it just felt… right. It was peaceful and serene. This was meant to happen, in this place, at this time, with this person.

After a brief moment of hesitation, Enzo allowed his hands to crawl towards my waist. His body melted into the kiss, his mouth moving in impeccable unison with mine.

My opposite hand brushed through the short hairs on the nape of his neck. Enzo groaned, and the vibrations echoed down my throat.

“Enzo.”

I whispered, already breathless with love.

“Yes?”

He inquired, hurriedly reconnecting the kiss despite knowing I had more to say.

I drew back, softly smiling as I noticed the prominent blush on his face. His lips were swollen from the passionate kiss, and his pupils were blown with lust.

“Fuck me like you mean it.”

I said, demanding he follow my orders.

“Yes ma’am.”

He remarked lightheartedly. As he began kissing me without hesitation, I could feel the prominent smirk on his face. Enzo’s tongue soon slipped between my lips. My eyes fluttered shut, and I allowed my mouth to move in response to his.

Enzo hoisted me atop his lap with ease. I groaned as his growing bulge brushed against my hot core. My nails raked along his scalp, eliciting a low groan from deep within his throat.

“Oh Jesus baby.”

Enzo mumbled erotically, breaking the kiss to trail his wet mouth down my jugular.

“You have no clue how much I’ve thought about this.”

He placed fiery hot kisses along my cool skin. I sighed softly, muscles relaxing as he located my sweet spot. My lower abdomen was already buzzing with a gentle hum of pleasure.

“God, I’ve wanted you for so long.”

Enzo dipped his hands under the hem of my shirt, teasing the skin above my waistband with his thumbs. Despite his warm hands, the featherlight touches caused goosebumps to appear on my skin.

“I get so hot when I think about fucking you. You have no idea.”

The mere image of Enzo with his hand far past his waistband made my cunt throb with desire. I pictured him softly groaning my name while thrusting his hips into his calloused palm. He would try not to cum too quickly, but the image of me wrapped around his cock would be far too sweet to deny.

“My hand can only do so much.”

Shit. My suspicions were confirmed.

“Take me to the bedroom, Enzo.”

I begged, my tone breathless with lust. Enzo pulled back, his calloused hands trailing downwards to grasp my soft thighs. A faint smirk was visible on his swollen lips.

“Yes ma’am.”

He stood, lifting me effortlessly. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and my legs around his waist. Our faces were in close proximity due to my firm grip on his body. I reconnected our fiery kiss, confident that Enzo could decipher his way to the bedroom completely blind.

Fortunately, I was correct. I was so engrossed in the sensation of his tongue flowing in perfect unison with mine that I didn't perceive we were in the bedroom until my back collided with the mattress.

My body weight did not cause the springs to groan. They didn't want to disrupt our passionate connection. Enzo hovered above me, his kisses intensifying now that he had me where he wanted me. I, like him, quickly became breathless. The collective gasps as we struggled to refill our spent lungs were like music to my ears.

My hands dipped beneath the hem of his shirt. Enzo’s abdomen rippled under my soft fingertips. I moved upwards, caressing every inch of his perfectly sculpted chest before breaking the kiss momentarily to throw the jersey over his head. I threw it to the floor, out of sight, out of mind.

Enzo hastily followed suit. He grasped the hem of my shirt and threw it to the ground, swiftly reigniting the spark between our mouths. He was clearly not as patient as I was. I arched my back as a silent indication to remove my bra. The message was delivered. Enzo reached behind me and unclipped my bra in a singular fluid motion.

I shrugged off the straps and discarded the piece of fabric. Enzo pulled back, his hungry eyes drinking in my bare torso. I quickly grew hot under his gaze. My face flushed and my core grew wet.

“So pretty.”

Enzo muttered, his tongue trailing along his lower lip. He was studying every inch of my chest, carving every minute detail into his brain so he could possess a mental image of me laid out for him.

He pressed his wet mouth to the valley of my breasts, beginning his gradual descent to the area which I desired him most.

“You’re gorgeous, you know that?”

My stomach fluttered. Enzo placed hot, open mouthed kisses along my skin. The saliva he left in his wake was hit by a cool draft, sending chills down my spine.

“I can’t believe that asshole got to see this before I did.”

The erotic tone had returned. His hands found my breasts, and began to knead the soft flesh. I groaned in pleasure, my eyes fluttering shut.

Enzo’s knee bumped my clothed core. I convulsed, involuntarily rolling my hips along his thigh, desperate for friction.

He chuckled against my breastbone.

“Jesus baby, you’re so worked up and I’ve barely touched you. I can’t wait to see what you do when I fuck you.”

In response, all I could manage was a groan. I tangled my fingers in his hair, my eyes opening to perceive his movements along my stomach. While his lips trailed downwards, Enzo continued to knead my breasts. His movements came to a sudden halt when he reached the waistband of my jeans.

I could feel the uncomfortable pool between my thighs. I was growing antsy, desperate for him to make me cum. Fortunately, it appeared Enzo was growing impatient as well. He removed his hands from my chest, hastily unbuttoning my jeans and tugging them down my legs. I kicked them to the floor, shortening the process. My panties soon found the floor along with the rest of my clothing.

Enzo nestled between my spread thighs, his large hands caressing the soft flesh. I grew impatient as he refused to give me what I truly desired. Instead, he resorted to placing tender kisses along my inner thighs, being cautious to keep his distance from my aching cunt. Typically I appreciate sensuality, but after a long hiatus from erotic pleasure, I was sexually frustrated.

I tugged on his roots, urging him to move towards my core. Enzo smirked against my thigh.

“Jesus baby, you’re impatient. How often does he touch you?”

He glanced at me through his lashes. I grit my teeth, not wanting to provide him with an answer. Enzo scoffed.

“That’s pitiful. If you were mine I’d touch you all the goddamn time.”

His movements looked promising. He was now slowly inching towards my core, presumably with no intent of stopping.

“You’d be so full of my cock.”

My entire lower half was throbbing with desire. The anticipation was coursing through my body in waves. God, how I wished he’d just hurry up and eat me out.

“I’d fuck you so good every single day. God you wouldn’t be able to go two minutes without thinking of me inside you.”

That sure as hell sounded like a good life. Unfortunately, it appeared that he wanted to further prolong my suffering.

“Enzo,” I begged, “please, I’m aching.”

“Sorry baby, that was rude of me.”

I was about to roll my eyes, but a sudden wave of pleasure halted my movements. Enzo’s warm mouth enveloped my clit. My back arched off the bed. I tightened my grip in his hair, tugging a few loose strands from the roots.

“You’re so wet for me baby.”

He murmured, the vibrations reverberating throughout my cunt. I moaned loudly, crushing his head between my thighs. Enzo’s movements didn’t falter. He was precise and intense. Each flick of my clit was carefully placed and timed in order to give me the most intense pleasure possible.

I was soon reduced to a moaning mess. I was panting, my head thrown back and my jaw on the floor. I couldn’t prevent the whimpers and groans that passed over my plush lips.

“Your moans are so pretty.”

Enzo rolled his hips against the mattress, searching for friction to somewhat dampen the ache pumping through his painfully hard erection.

“Keep moaning, just like that, let the whole world know how good I make you feel.”

Two fingers prodded at my entrance. Moments later, when his long digits pushed into me, I swore I saw stars. He began a steady pace with his fingers, fondling my g spot with every thrust.

I bit back the impending orgasm, trying to ignore the tightness in my lower abdomen. I wanted to preserve this glorious feeling. To my surprise, Enzo slowed down. I groaned from the lack of stimulation.

“Keep moaning baby. I wanna hear how good I make you feel.”

I gulped, a large lump forming in my throat.

“I’m not gonna last much longer.”

Only when I spoke did I realize how pitiful and breathless I sounded.

“I don’t care.”

Enzo resumed his pace, this time, with tenfold the intensity as before. I obeyed his command, and didn’t hold back. Every sound that crept up my throat was released into the still night air.

I was close, so painfully close. The wet sound of his fingers fucking me along with the slurping was truly erotic. The coil was pulled tight, and would release with the tiniest of pushes.

Enzo could tell I was teetering on the verge of an orgasm.

“Cum all over my fingers pretty girl.”

I came undone. My entire body convulsed. The walls of my cunt clenched around Enzo’s thick fingers. I was lifted into a world of pure euphoria. If it wasn’t for the soft pumping of Enzo’s fingers, I would’ve sworn I went straight to heaven.

I loosened my death grip on his roots, stretching my cramped fingers as Enzo relished in the taste of my juices.

“You taste so good.”

He said softly.

Jesus. I wasn’t even done with my first orgasm and I was already growing impatient for the next one.

Enzo climbed over me once he was satisfied, nestling between my shaky legs. His lips were wet, yet I wasted no time in reconnecting our hungry mouths. I could taste myself on his tongue.

I dragged my open palms down his chest, gathering sweat beads as I went. I eventually reached his waistband. Fortunately, the band was stretchy, allowing me to easily dip my hand into his shorts and cup his painfully hard erection.

Enzo groaned, resisting the urge to buck his hips into my warm hand.

“Hurry up and take those off baby.”

I hooked my finger into the waistbands of both his boxers and shorts. Then I began pulling them down his thighs. I pushed them down as far as I could, and when I couldn't reach, Enzo took charge. He stripped the remainder of his clothing, leaving him bare.

Enzo pressed his body against mine, leaving little room to breathe comfortably. I made no complaint. I was already breathless from his dizzying kiss, and the comforting sensation of his body weight resting atop me made my stomach flutter. He was incredibly warm, and the prominent heat blossoming from his erection contributed to the steady thrum of pleasure building within my stomach.

Enzo rocked his pelvis forward, the swollen tip of his cock prodding at my entrance. I whimpered against his mouth, the messy kiss swallowing my noises.

“Enzo-“

“I know baby, I’ll fuck you.”

He reached between our bodies, lining his cock up with my entrance. Enzo rolled his pelvis forward, burying himself deep within me. The wetness of my cunt made it easy for him to stretch my walls to the absolute brim. I broke the kiss, throwing my head back and squeezing my eyes shut as he bottomed out.

“Jesus Enzo, you’re really fucking big.”

I shuddered. Enzo gave me a moment to adjust, placing hot kisses to my neck as he waited for my body to relax. After a sufficient period of time, Enzo began rolling his hips, beginning a steady rhythm.

“Good girl, you’re taking my cock so well.”

I whimpered, the dull pain of his thick length slowly transforming into pleasure. Enzo nestled his face into the crook of my neck, his hot breath cascading across my skin.

“Oh fuck baby, you feel so good. So nice and tight.”

His erotic tone was punctuated by deep breaths. The sensation of my wet cunt wrapped around his thick cock was far too wonderful to deny.

“Faster, please.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Enzo began to increase his pace, the tip of his cock brushing against my cervix. I shuddered as I dug my nails into his strong back, breaking the skin. Enzo let out a guttural groan.

“Sorry.”

I mumbled.

“Don’t be, I like it.”

Enzo grasped my thigh and hooked a leg around his waist. The new position provided the perfect angle for his cock to slam into my g spot with each thrust. His lower abdomen brushed against my clit and allowed for the perfect amount of delicious stimulation to pair with the rigorous snap of his pelvis.

“Who can make you feel this good?”

He murmured. I stared blankly at the plain ceiling, my mind trapped in a foggy daze. My muscles completely relaxed, my body succumbing to the effects of the pleasure.

“You.”

“What was that?”

He pulled back, igniting a moment of intense eye contact as he fucked me into the matress. I cupped his cheek, pulling his face forward to reestablish contact between our lips. It was a heated mess of tongue and clashing teeth.

“You, only you.”

I whispered against his lips, mustering all of the remaining self-control I had to make my voice as clear as possible.

The coil within my lower abdomen was pulling tight. I could feel the delicious release seeping into the corners of my brain.

“Enzo, I’m gonna cum.”

Enzo drew back, our noses brushing against each other as he maintained the rigorous pace of his hips.

“Look at me, I wanna see your face as you cum all over my cock.”

Enzo released my thigh and brought his hand upwards to gently cup my face. The gentle touch of his calloused fingertips provided yet another area of stimulation. I kept my face still and my eyes open, allowing any expression to waft over my features.

“Shit! Enzo!”

I encircled his neck with my arms, holding him impossibly closer as the coil within my snapped. I came undone, my walls clenching around his cock as I was immersed into a pool of pure euphoria. I moaned pornographically, unable to resist the temptation to squeeze my eyes shut. Enzo didn’t seem to mind. His cock twitched within me as I came, indicating that he was also close to reaching his orgasm.

Jesus, I feel bad for the other guests who came to this hotel hoping for a quiet night full of restful sleep. Our combined moans were enough to rock the walls.

“Shit Y/N.”

Enzo muttered, his head collapsing into the crook of my neck as he coated my walls with his hot cum. He mumbled my name like a prayer while he continued to roll his hips. His soft cock gradually brought me down from the freight train of an orgasm I just experienced.

Enzo came to a complete stop after we had both caught our breath. He collapsed atop me, and I ran my fingers through his sweaty hair. I cocked my head to the side, taking in the glimmer of the city lights through the enormous window.

“What now?”

He inquired meekly, his face nestled comfortably against my neck. I dragged my hand down his back, tenderly rubbing his sweaty skin. Only after the filter of pleasure was removed did I notice he still smelled like an intense fútbol match. And although I knew his question hinted at something more serious. I responded with what should happen next at that precise moment as opposed to worrying about the inevitable problems that I would be forced to address once I touched down in America.

“I think you need a shower now.”

I said, a smile on my face. Enzo chuckled.

“Wanna join me?”