— Anakin Skywalker

Challenge de Escritura

05. Se reencuentran (AU)

por si quieres leerlo en ao3

En el castillo, una preocupación general rodeaba a sus habitantes. La guerra contra el país del Sur ya había empezado hace más de dos meses, y la ausencia del Rey era un tema que Naeve intentaba manejar con una sonrisa en la cara. 

Era de un buen conocimiento que el Rey era el mejor guerrero, y que por ello, sus soldados también eran de los mejores. Sin embargo, no importa que tan buenos sean; la guerra es la guerra y siempre hay caídos. 

Naeve confiaba en las habilidades de Kylo, confiaba en que volvería, con algunas heridas pero volvería. Fue un día lluvioso cuando las noticias llegaron, de que habían ganado la guerra y de que preparen las unidades de sanación. 

Solo fueron tres días a esto, de que un bullicio llegó con el atardecer y los soldados aparecieron. Naeve organizó la entrada, y los heridos mientras llegaban fueron llevados a sanación, la pelea había sido ruda, las heridas eran profundas pero sólo hubo tres guerreros perdidos en batalla. 

Naeve no tuvo tiempo a preocuparse, no hasta que todos los heridos estuvieron acostados y medianamente estables. Eran tardes de la madrugada cuando Naeve finalmente pudo preguntar por su esposo. Aunque nadie supo darle una respuesta. 

Con un pánico en el pecho, buscó por los jardines, por las unidades de heridos, el establo y las habitaciones de los soldados, que los pocos que no habían sido heridos la recibieron con sorpresa, aunque tampoco pudieron darle una exactitud de donde se encontraba Kylo. 

Decidió calmarse, respirar e ir a cambiar su ropa manchada por la sangre. Casi nadie se encontraba en el castillo, sino estaban ayudando a los soldados, estaban preparando la comida para darles. Su cuerpo se sentía pesado, tenía ganas de llorar pero era la Reina, no podía permitirse deprimirse cuando su pueblo estaba luchando por mantenerse. Entró a la habitación deseando verse a sí misma dormida y darse cuenta que todo esto era un sueño, sabía que no lo era. 

Y esto fue claro cuando dentro, sentado en la cama y gimiendo de dolor se encontraba Kylo, quién intentó pararse y ocultar su cuerpo tapado por la sangre. Heridas profundas en toda su espalda. 

—Amor—Naeve corrió hacia su lugar, y sin siquiera prestar atención a otra cosa que no fuera Kylo. Intentó tocar su hombro sin embargo antes de que siquiera pudiera ver bien la herida, Kylo se paró tapándose con su camisa negra—¡¿Qué haces?! Estás lastimado, hay que limpiarlo…

—No hay problema, no duele—mintió alejándose del tacto de su esposa y en cambio ponerse a su frente besando su sien—No te acuestes aún, cambiaré las sábanas. 

—Kylo—la joven se sorprendió de lo seca y dura que salió su voz, pero su esposo no se detuvo de buscar las frazadas. 

—¿Si, mi amor?

—Acuéstate ahora mismo, o consideraré nuestro divorcio. 

El hombro se congeló, y se sentó en la cama sin rechistar. Naeve se acercó a él sacándole la camisa con descontento. Reviso la herida, llegaba desde el hombro hasta la parte baja de la espalda, la piel estaba abierta y la sangre no dejaba de chorrear. ¿Cómo siquiera podía fingir que no le dolía cuando de solo verlo a ella le daba escalofríos? 

—Iré a buscar vendas y alcohol, espera aquí. 

—Amor, no es necesario…—intento decir Kylo con una sonrisa. Pero a Naeve le dolía el corazón. 

—No digas una palabra más. 

Tan pronto como la joven se fue, el pelinegro suspiró queriendo dormir por tres días, abrazado a su esposa. Esta situación… Era molesta. Cuando volvió, Naeve sacó el algodón y limpió la herida sin decirle una palabra. Kylo aguantó quejidos de dolor y cuando su herida empezó a ser cubierta por las vendas, notó los ojos dolidos de Naeve. Era tan estupido. 

—Gracias. 

—¿Tienes hambre?—Naeve se paró tirando los algodones sucios. Negó y llamó a la chica por su nombre. 

—Lo siento. 

Silencio. Y de repente los sollozos se hicieron presentes. 

—Maldita sea, Kylo. Ni te imaginas lo preocupada que estaba—Naeve tapó su cara con sus manos—¿Porque no fuiste a una unidad de sanación? Nadie sabía dónde estabas, ni cómo. 

—Lo siento, en serio, simplemente quería estar aquí… contigo—sonrió—y descansar. 

Kylo agarró sus manos, y apoyo su cabeza ahí. Naeve se soltó haciendo que su esposo levantara la mirada, acarició su pelo y besó su nariz. 

—Te extrañé muchísimo, Kylo. 

—Yo también mi amor. 

i am always waiting for this fic AND IM HAVING THE DRAMA AND KISSES I NEEDED

Gotta Be You - Charles Leclerc (THREE)

masterlist | promptlist | previous part

Here is part three! And I'm honestly so proud of this chapter! I think it turned out awesome lol <3

↳pairing: charles leclerc x female!gasly!reader ↳word count: 5K ↳warnings: awkward encounters, truth or dare (trust me lol) , jealousy, alcohol, drinking games, talking about feelings ↳side info: friends to enemies to lovers, reader is Pierre's younger sister, reader is Arthur LeClerc's childhood best friend, Charles is her former crush, Charles is a jealous ass sometimes, age gap between reader and Charles (5 years) ↳summary: In which you go on a shared holiday with both your and your brother's friend group, forced to be confronted with your former teenage crush Charles LeClerc yet again. The only problem is? You can't stand him nowadays, until you suddenly can.

*a few days later*

As you stood in the bathroom, tying your hair into a ponytail, the familiar scent of the devil himself filled the small space. You didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. Charles had a way of entering a room without saying a word but still commanding all the air in it. He closed the distance between you two, silently taking his place by the sink next to you, reaching into the cupboard for his hair products.

You bit back a groan, focusing on your reflection. There was nothing inherently wrong with him being there—but him standing this close stirred feelings you desperately wanted to push aside. His presence was overwhelming, in that maddening, familiar way.

Your usual coping mechanism kicked in: sarcasm, sharp enough to keep him at arm’s length.

"Fixing your hair won’t fix your attitude, you know that, right?" you sassed, not entirely sure why you felt the need to say anything.

Charles scoffed, his eyes catching yours in the mirror. His gaze was intense, steady—always knowing too much. "There’s no attitude that needs fixing," he huffed, washing his hands and drying them on the towel with deliberate slowness. "Besides, some people actually put effort into how they present themselves..."

Your head snapped toward him. "Is this your not-so-subtle way of saying I look like shit?"

He rolled his eyes, the corners of his mouth twitching in amusement. "Are you honestly this delusional?"

You threw your hands in the air. "Well, apparently, I am! Because that insult was completely unnecessary." You crossed your arms, leaning back against the sink with a challenging glare.

Charles shrugged, unfazed. "First of all, you started it. I didn’t do anything until you found it necessary to attack me." His voice lowered slightly, holding that aggravating calmness. "And besides… you and I both know that wasn’t an insult."

You narrowed your eyes. "How was it not an insult? You basically said I don’t put effort into how I look."

He inched closer, his movements slow and deliberate. Before you could register what was happening, his hands were on either side of you, gripping the edge of the sink. His chest hovered just inches from yours, effectively trapping you in place. His cologne wrapped around you, sending shivers down your spine.

Your breath hitched as his gaze flicked from your eyes to your lips before snapping back, locking onto yours like he was daring you to look away.

"Chérie, don’t act like you’re unaware that I think you’re hot," he whispered, voice low and rough. "You don’t need the effort."

Your heart thudded violently in your chest. For a split second, your gaze dropped to his lips—damn it. Realizing your mistake, you forced your eyes away, breathing through the sudden rush of heat.

You steeled yourself and met his gaze again. "Charles, quit playing games and get out of my face," you said through clenched teeth, though your voice wavered ever so slightly.

His eyes swept over you one last time, lingering on how you were still pressed against the sink, tension radiating between you like a live wire. His jaw clenched.

What the hell is he thinking?

Charles shifted back slightly, but something held him there, still too close for comfort. He exhaled sharply, as if wrestling with himself.

"What changed?" he asked quietly, voice strained.

Your brows furrowed. "What the hell are you talking about?"

He sighed, shoulders tense. "What did I do that made you hate me so much?" His voice softened, tinged with something dangerously close to regret. "What changed?"

Before you could answer—or even begin to process what to say—someone cleared their throat at the doorway.

Charles jumped back like he’d been burned, stumbling a step before retreating to sit on the edge of the bathtub, his gaze fixed firmly on the floor. You turned your head sharply, locking eyes with Arthur, who stood leaning against the doorframe with a massive, knowing grin.

"I came to ask if you’re ready for game night," Arthur said casually, though his smirk betrayed every innocent intention.

You let out a slow, steadying breath, forcing yourself to relax. "Yeah, coming," you muttered, pushing off the sink and brushing past him.

But before you crossed the threshold, something tugged at you. You rested your hand on the doorframe, glancing back at Charles. His head lifted, eyes locking onto yours with a silent intensity.

"As for what changed?" you said quietly, voice sharper than you intended. "The fact that you have no idea says enough, Charles."

With that, you walked out, catching up to Arthur as he fell into step beside you, still grinning like an idiot.

He glanced sideways at you, suppressing a laugh. "You two really have a thing for getting caught in bathrooms together, huh?"

You rolled your eyes. "Don’t start."

Arthur chuckled. "Well, let’s just say... I did put my money on you two hooking up this holiday, but I didn’t expect you to get that intimate that fast."

"First of all, nothing happened," you snapped, face heating. "And second, it wasn’t what it looked like."

"That’s what they all say," Arthur teased. "But to me, it looked like my brother had you pinned against the sink pretty damn convincingly."

You groaned. "He did not have me pinned—"

Arthur raised his eyebrows. "Oh? Because you being pressed against the sink while he boxed you in with his hands definitely looked like pinning from where I was standing."

"Fine," you admitted, throwing your hands up. "It looked exactly like that, but it was not for the reason you so desperately hope it was. So shut your mouth before I call your mom and tell her what happened to her couch." you said, referring to the time you caught Arthur and his former girlfriend having sex on his mom's new couch.

Arthur’s grin dropped instantly, his hands shooting up in mock surrender. "Alright, relax, no need for threats!" he laughed, shaking his head as the two of you headed downstairs.

As you and Arthur walked into the living room, you couldn’t help but laugh at his teasing, shaking your head in mock exasperation.

"I’m still putting my money on it, though," Arthur added with a mischievous grin, his voice light but teasing.

Before you could respond, Dennis looked up from where he was lounging on the couch, eyebrows raised in curiosity. "Putting your money on what?"

Arthur didn’t miss a beat. "That she’ll hook up with Charles before the end of this trip," he declared confidently, shooting you a knowing smirk.

Dennis let out a deep chuckle, sitting up straighter. "Oh, definitely. There’s no doubt in that," he agreed, his tone playfully conspiratorial.

You groaned dramatically, throwing your hands in the air. "Seriously? You’re both delusional."

Arthur shrugged. "Just calling it like we see it. The tension could be cut with a knife."

Dennis nodded sagely, as if offering expert commentary. "It’s practically inevitable."

Rolling your eyes, you grabbed a pillow from the nearest couch and tossed it at Dennis, who dodged it with practiced ease, laughing.

"You two are ridiculous," you muttered, fighting back a smile as they continued to exchange amused glances like co-conspirators.

⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⁺⋆ ☾⋆₊⁺

Tonight, the sky outside was pitch black, the faint sound of waves crashing in the distance as the group gathered in the living room. Sprawled across the plush couches, each of you with a drink in hand, the night carried an air of relaxed intimacy. The warm light of the room and the subtle buzz of alcohol created the perfect atmosphere for a game that was bound to stir up some chaos.

It was Inès who first suggested it, her eyes sparkling mischievously as she leaned forward, waving her drink for emphasis. “Okay,” she announced, her grin widening. “Let’s play ‘Never Have I Ever.’”

There was a mix of groans and laughs, but no one protested. As the alcohol worked its magic, the group quickly fell into the rhythm of the game, starting with tame questions.

“Alright,” Inès began, her tone playful. “Never have I ever made out at work.”

A beat of silence followed before all the boys raised their glasses almost simultaneously, their movements earning a round of laughter.

“I should’ve guessed,” you said, shaking your head as they took their sips.

The game continued, the questions growing more personal but still lighthearted. Dennis asked if anyone had ever called in sick to work when they weren’t actually sick, which prompted a unanimous drink from nearly everyone. Joris, with his usual antics, asked if anyone had ever gotten so drunk they couldn’t remember anything, earning another flurry of laughter as most of the group took a sip.

Then Kika piped up, her eyes sparkling as she leaned back against Pierre with a devilish grin. “Okay, my turn,” she announced, her voice dripping with amusement. “Never have I ever made out with my brother’s or sister’s best friend.”

The room broke into a chorus of gasps and giggles as everyone’s eyes darted around, scanning for raised glasses other than the obvious ones. Pierre groaned, shaking his head with a laugh as he lifted his drink and took a sip.

“You just want to get your boyfriend drunk, don't you?” Dennis teased Kika, his grin widening as he, too, raised his glass and took a sip.

Kika laughed, and looked at Pierre, who shot Dennis a playful smirk. “You did too, I see?”

Dennis chuckled, not bothering to deny it. “Yeah, can't deny that.”

Kika raised an eyebrow, her gaze flitting around the room. “Alright, anyone else want to confess?”

You stayed silent, hiding your smirk behind the rim of your glass as you watched the game unfold. The question might not have been directed at you specifically, but the implications swirling around the room were impossible to ignore, clearly an indirect question to see if you actually ever made out with Charles, which bummer to them, you didn't.

The game was already proving to be far more chaotic than you’d anticipated. The group sat sprawled out on the plush couches in the villa’s living room, drinks in hand and laughter filling the air. You’d already survived a few rounds of lighthearted questions—some borderline embarrassing—but when Dennis sat forward, his mischievous grin spelled trouble.

“Okay,” Dennis announced, his voice cutting through the chatter. “Y’all ask boring questions. Let’s spice this up.” He took a dramatic pause, letting the tension build before smirking. “Never have I ever gotten off to the thought of someone in this room… since we arrived here.”

A ripple of laughter broke out immediately. Kika, sitting snugly next to Pierre, was the first to respond, raising her glass with a playful roll of her eyes. “Well, I think I better drink, because let’s be honest—no one would believe me if I said no, considering my boyfriend is literally right here.”

Pierre nudged her with a grin, clearly unbothered by her admission as he sipped from his own glass. “As if the feeling isn’t mutual,” he teased, earning another round of laughter.

Across the room, Gigi tried to be subtle, lifting her glass for a quick sip, but Dennis’ sharp eyes caught her immediately. “Oh, I saw that, Gi!” he exclaimed, wiggling his eyebrows at her.

Gigi flushed crimson, glaring at him. “Shut up, Dennis,” she shot back, though the laughter in her voice betrayed her. “Don’t turn all the attention on me. I’m not the only one who drank!” She gestured toward a few others who had lifted their glasses.

“Oh, I’m not pretending I didn’t,” Dennis said casually, raising his glass again for emphasis. “Because I have zero shame” His eyes flicked toward you for the briefest moment, a sly grin tugging at his lips.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, silently hoping to stay under the radar. But your attempt at blending into the background only seemed to make you more conspicuous.

“Don’t act all shy now, Gasly,” Dennis teased, his tone smug. His eyes locked on you as he leaned forward. “I saw you take a sip. Don’t think I didn’t notice that. Care to enlighten us who the lucky one is?”

Your cheeks burned as every pair of eyes turned toward you. You scrambled to think of a response, your heart pounding in your chest. Finally, you forced a laugh, raising an eyebrow at Dennis. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” you quipped, your voice surprisingly steady despite the heat in your face.

The group erupted into a mix of laughter and teasing comments, but before the attention could shift completely, Arthur piped up from where he was seated beside Charles.

“Alright, alright,” Arthur said, his grin widening as he leaned forward. “We’ve all been so focused on you three, but is no one going to mention the fact that two other people drank as well?” His eyes darted pointedly toward Charles and Joris, his tone dripping with mock innocence. “Hmm, I wonder who those drinks were about.”

Charles stiffened slightly beside him, his jaw tightening as he tried to play it cool. “Don’t drag me into this,” he muttered, taking another sip of his drink as if to distract himself.

“Too late, mate,” Arthur shot back with a grin, nudging his brother’s shoulder. “You drank. That means you’ve got to own up to it.”

Joris, ever the instigator, leaned back with a smug grin of his own. “Yeah, Charles, don’t be shy. Who’s the lucky one, huh?”

Charles rolled his eyes, leaning back against the couch and trying to appear nonchalant. “Not a chance,” he said simply, though the tips of his ears betrayed a faint redness.

You couldn’t help but glance at him briefly, your curiosity piqued. Did he…? No, there was no way. You quickly shoved the thought aside, but the idea lingered annoyingly in the back of your mind.

Meanwhile, Charles’ thoughts were anything but composed. When you’d taken a sip earlier, his stomach had twisted uncomfortably. At first, he’d assumed it was Dennis—the way Dennis was always teasing you, always so close—but then another thought crept in, one that made his pulse quicken. What if it wasn’t Dennis?

The idea of it being about him sent a conflicting mix of emotions surging through him—hope, doubt, and an overwhelming sense of confusion. He was so caught up in his own thoughts that he didn’t notice Joris’ subtle kick to his shin until it made contact.

“Stop staring,” Joris whispered, smirking at his friend. “You’re making it obvious.”

Charles snapped out of his reverie, glaring at Joris. “Shut up,” he muttered under his breath, shifting in his seat.

Arthur, ever the opportunist, caught the exchange and raised an eyebrow. “What’s this now?” he asked, clearly amused. “Charles getting a little distracted?”

“Leave him alone,” Joris said with a grin, though his tone was far from serious. “Poor guy’s got enough on his plate already.”

“Oh, definitely not, he's pestered me long enough about things, payback time” Arthur said, his laugh echoing over the group’s chatter as Charles groaned, clearly regretting his choice to participate

The laughter hadn’t fully settled when Paul leaned forward with a mischievous grin, his drink loosely dangling in one hand. He glanced between you and Charles, his tone teasing as he spoke.

“So, Y/n, didn’t you mention something about the walls here being thin?” Paul asked, clearly enjoying the tension he was stirring. “Hope Charles has been a quiet neighbor. Otherwise, you probably heard everything. Poor Y/n.”

The room erupted into laughter, Dennis and Arthur practically doubling over. Kika smirked, nudging Pierre, who groaned, already sensing where the conversation was heading.

Charles narrowed his eyes at Paul, his jaw tightening slightly before he forced a smirk onto his face. “I’m not a complete idiot, you know,” he shot back. “If I had to… handle things, I’d make sure no one heard a damn thing. Either that or I’d do it somewhere more private.”

The laughter grew louder, Dennis nearly choking on his drink. “Good to know you’ve got a strategy, mate,” he teased, wiping his mouth.

You couldn’t help but feel heat creeping up your neck at the implication. The idea of Charles trying to stay quiet, and worse, the thought of actually overhearing him, made your stomach twist in ways you didn’t want to unpack. Not that you’d ever admit it.

“Well, I’m glad I didn’t hear anything,” you retorted, forcing a grin to hide your flustered state. “Because if I did, I’d probably have hearing damage.”

Charles turned to you, his smirk sharpening as he shot back, “As if I’d want to get off with you right outside my room.”

The room went silent for half a beat before Dennis, never one to miss an opportunity, leaned forward with a wicked grin. “No,” he said, drawing out the word for effect. “Because you’d prefer her in the room, wouldn’t you?”

The laughter that followed was deafening. Dennis clinked his glass with Paul’s, who was shaking his head but laughing just as hard. Charles, on the other hand, turned beet red, his face almost matching the color of his drink.

You weren’t any better, your face burning as you buried it in your hands. “Dennis, I swear to God,” you muttered, though your voice was muffled by the roar of the group.

Pierre groaned, his expression one of pure disgust as he rubbed his temples. “Okay, are you done? Because we are so not dragging my baby sister into Charles’ dirty fantasies.”

Arthur, always ready to escalate things, grinned and leaned back in his chair. “We don’t have to drag her into anything, Pierre,” he joked. “Charles probably already does that himself.”

The laughter doubled, filling the room with chaos as you and Charles sat frozen in mortification. Kika had tears streaming down her face from laughing, while Joris clapped a hand on Charles’ shoulder, grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

Pierre glared at the group, clearly over it. “I don’t even want to know,” he muttered, waving a hand dismissively. “Can we just move on before I lose my mind?”

The group slowly settled, though the smirks and giggles lingered as someone suggested the next round of the game. But despite the conversation moving on, you couldn’t help but feel Charles’ gaze flick toward you now and then, and you hated how much your heart raced when it did.

Meanwhile, Charles couldn’t stop replaying Dennis’ comment in his head. The idea of you in his room—or worse, of you thinking about him in that way—had lodged itself in his mind, refusing to budge. He shook his head, trying to focus on the game, but it was no use.

Neither of you wanted to admit it, but the seed of thought had been planted, and it was impossible to ignore.

The game moved on, the attention shifting away from Charles and you for the moment, but the tension hung in the air like a spark waiting to ignite. Charles stole another glance at you, his thoughts still tangled in the what-ifs. And as for you? You couldn’t help but wonder if you were indeed the one that had made him drink in the first place.

It was Joris who leaned forward next, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “Alright, never have I ever kissed my best friend.”

The room buzzed with anticipation as everyone exchanged curious glances. Inès was the first to raise her glass and take a drink, earning a few cheers and teasing remarks. But it was the way both you and Arthur looked at each other, simultaneously bursting into laughter, that drew all the attention. Without hesitation, the two of you clinked your glasses together dramatically and downed your drinks in one go.

Charles raised an eyebrow, his perplexed expression giving him away. “Wait—you and Y/n kissed?” he asked, his gaze flicking between the two of you, his tone tinged with disbelief.

Arthur let out a laugh, leaning back casually. “Jealous much?” he shot back, his grin widening when he saw the flicker of annoyance cross Charles’ face.

Charles opened his mouth to protest, but Arthur cut him off with a chuckle. “Relax, I’m just kidding.”

Despite his brother’s reassurance, Charles still looked a little dumbfounded, his confusion—and something else he wouldn’t name—lingering. Kika, always one to stir the pot, leaned forward with a smirk. “Okay, I’m curious now. What’s the story?”

You laughed, shaking your head as you waved a hand dismissively. “There’s not much of a story, honestly. Happened a few times. We were both hopeless and single, and we figured, why not? It was just for fun. Turns out we were terrible at it.”

Arthur nodded in agreement, still grinning. “Massive failure. Zero chemistry. The kiss sucked, and we both agreed never to try again.”

“And the other times?” Kika pressed, her curiosity clearly piqued.

“Oh, just Truth or Dare,” you replied with a shrug. “Happened once or twice when we were younger. Nothing serious. More like a punishment than a kiss, honestly.”

The room erupted into laughter, with Inès nearly choking on her drink as she laughed the hardest. “I can so picture your disgusted faces,” she managed between giggles.

As the laughter died down, Inès perked up, her eyes glinting with mischief. “Speaking of Truth or Dare,” she said, her grin widening, “we should switch to that. Way more interesting than this.”

The group exchanged glances, a ripple of excitement building at the prospect of what chaos Truth or Dare might bring. You couldn’t help but glance at Charles, whose expression was still unreadable, though his gaze lingered on you for just a second too long before he looked away. Whatever this next game would bring, you had a feeling it wasn’t going to get any less intense.

The questions escalated slowly, moving from tame confessions to more suggestive dares. Someone dared Dennis to prank call his ex, which he executed flawlessly, much to everyone’s amusement. Gigi had to show the last text she sent to Joris, blushing furiously as everyone gathered around to read it. Pierre, naturally, had been dared to whisper something filthy to Kika, who doubled over laughing and refused to tell anyone what he’d said.

Then it was Paul’s turn, and his eyes gleamed as he scanned the room, finally landing on you. “Y/n,” he called out with a grin. “Truth or dare?”

You didn’t hesitate. “Dare.”

Paul’s grin widened, and the others leaned in, already sensing mischief. “I dare you to kiss Charles.”

The room went dead silent, every eye darting toward you.

You froze for a beat before scoffing loudly. “God, no”

“Oh, come on,” Dennis teased, smirking at you. “A dare is a dare”

“No, ew!” you shot back, shaking your head emphatically. “Anyone else in the world rather than him. I’d rather stick my tongue inside a trash can than kiss him.”

The tension seemed to settle, the group already laughing at your dramatic protests, until Charles’ voice cut through. Low, clipped, and tinged with something that sounded like a challenge.

“That’s not what you told me when you were sixteen.”

The room froze. Even the laughter died instantly.

You stared at him, wide-eyed and stunned, your pulse roaring in your ears. His words hit like a slap, and you could see the regret flicker in his eyes almost immediately.

“That was a low blow, Charles,” Arthur muttered, shaking his head in disapproval.

Pierre leaned back with a grimace, gesturing to the group. “Guess it’s better to call this game quits, non?”

But you weren’t about to let it go. Swallowing the knot of hurt lodged in your throat, you stood, fixing your gaze on your brother. “No need to,” you said firmly. “Dennis is right, a dare is a dare.”

The group exchanged glances, unsure of what was about to happen, but you didn’t stop. The anger bubbling inside you had morphed into something else—something that demanded revenge.

You marched over to where Charles sat, his eyes widening as you closed the distance. Without a word, you reached down, lifting his chin with your thumb, forcing him to look at you.

His breath hitched, his lips parting slightly, but before he could speak, you crushed your mouth against his.

The kiss wasn’t gentle—it was heated, full of anger and defiance. His lips were warm and soft against yours, but the sharp inhale he took before his hands moved to your waist betrayed how caught off guard he was.

Charles froze for a split second, his mind scrambling to process what was happening. But when your tongue brushed against his lips, seeking entrance, he couldn’t hold back any longer.

A low, guttural sound escaped his throat as he kissed you back with equal fervor, his hand sliding behind your neck, fingers tangling in your hair as he deepened the kiss. His pulse was racing, heat surging through his veins, and he struggled to keep himself in check.

Your hands slid down his chest, slow and deliberate, feeling the hard muscle beneath his shirt. You knew exactly what you were doing as your palm settled over the bulge in his jeans, giving it a playful squeeze.

He let out a strangled sound, his body reacting instinctively, and you pulled back just enough to whisper, “I might’ve had a crush on you back when I was too delusional to see you for who you really are, but at least I’m not the one sitting here, a 27-year-old guy, getting hard because he had to kiss his best friend’s baby sister during a game.”

The room erupted. Dennis and Joris were practically howling with laughter, clapping each other on the back. Gigi and Kika exchanged wide-eyed glances before bursting into giggles. Even Arthur had his head in his hands, laughing despite himself.

Charles, on the other hand, looked utterly mortified. His face was beet red, his mouth opening and closing as if searching for words that wouldn’t come.

“Poor Charles,” Dennis teased, grinning wickedly. “Bet that wasn’t the reaction you were expecting.”

Another wave of laughter erupted, leaving Charles sitting in stunned silence. Finally, Charles downed the rest of his drink in one go, standing abruptly. “I need air,” he muttered before making his way out of the room and into the garden.

He pushed open the glass doors that led to the terrace, the cool night air hitting his flushed face like a balm. The stars glittered overhead, but he barely noticed them as he sank into one of the patio chairs, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

His heart was still pounding in his chest, his mind replaying the kiss over and over. He could still feel the ghost of your lips on his, the way your hand had trailed down his chest, resting on him with enough boldness to completely disarm him. And your words—sharp, cutting, and delivered with such venom—they were like a slap in the face.

He groaned softly, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, burying his face in his hands. What the hell had he been thinking, making that comment about you at sixteen? He’d known it was cruel the second the words left his mouth, but he couldn’t stop himself. His insecurities, his regret, his jealousy—it all spilled out in the worst way possible.

The sound of the sliding door opening made him glance up. Arthur stepped out, holding two fresh beers in his hands. Without a word, he handed one to Charles and took the seat next to him.

They sat in silence for a few moments, the only sounds the distant crash of waves and the faint hum of cicadas. Finally, Arthur broke the quiet.

“You’re a dickhead,” he said matter-of-factly, taking a sip of his beer.

Charles let out a humorless laugh, nodding slightly. “I know.”

Arthur turned to him, his expression softening slightly. “That comment, mate—it was out of line. You really hurt her with that one.”

Charles sighed, staring at the bottle in his hand. “I know,” he said again, his voice quieter this time. “I wasn’t thinking. Or maybe I was, and that’s the problem.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue.

“It’s just…” Charles paused, struggling to find the right words. “She makes me feel things I don’t know how to handle. And then when she said all that stuff about how she’d rather kiss a trash can or anyone else but me…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “I just—reacted. Like an idiot.”

Arthur studied his brother for a moment before leaning back in his chair. “You know, it’s okay to feel things. But lashing out like that? That’s not how you handle it. You deserved what she did to you after that comment. Hell, if it were me, I’d have punched you.”

Charles chuckled softly, though there was no humor in it. “Yeah, well, she went for humiliation instead. And it worked.”

Arthur grinned. “Oh, it definitely worked. She got you good. But seriously, Charles, what’s your deal with her? One minute you’re at each other’s throats, and the next, you’re looking at her like…” He gestured vaguely, trying to find the right words.

Charles sighed, leaning back in his chair and looking up at the sky. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “She gets under my skin. Always has. And for the longest time, I told myself it was just because she’s Pierre’s sister, and I shouldn’t feel anything for her.” He paused, his voice softening. “But I do. I have for a few years now.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow. “You’re in love with her.”

Charles didn’t answer, but the silence spoke volumes.

Arthur let out a long breath, tapping the neck of his beer bottle thoughtfully. “You’ve got to stop letting that eat you alive, mate. Either you tell her how you feel, or you let it go. This whole act of yours, pretending you’re indifferent while secretly wanting her? It’s not working. It’s just making things worse—for both of you.”

“I know,” Charles said quietly. “But it’s not that simple. She hates me now. And maybe she has a reason to.”

Arthur gave him a pointed look. “She doesn’t hate you, Charles. She’s angry, sure. And maybe a bit hurt. But hate? No. If she really hated you, she wouldn’t have kissed you like that.”

Charles frowned, replaying the kiss in his mind. The anger, the passion—it had been overwhelming, intoxicating. But there had been something else beneath it, something he couldn’t quite name.

“I don’t know what to do,” he admitted finally.

Arthur clapped a hand on his shoulder, squeezing lightly. “Start by apologizing. And I don’t mean a half-assed apology. Really apologize, Charles. Own up to your shit. Then maybe, just maybe, you can start fixing things.”

Charles nodded slowly, the weight of his brother’s words sinking in. He didn’t know if it was too late to fix things with you, but for the first time, he felt a glimmer of hope that it might not be.

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taglist: @vroomvro0mferrari @fishyfishersticks @prttylight @tempo-rary-fix @suns3treading @a-beaverhausen @formula1fordisaster @janeh22 @leclercdream @sageskiesf1 @ch16les @emryb @vyctorya @asmoothoperator @dilfsaresohot @freyathehuntress @sarx164

Tender Love & Care | Sebastian Vettel/reader

Set during and after the 2009 Australian gp but he has his longer, curly hair bc fuck his buzz cut (/j ily sebby but your curls are to die for)

Warnings: 18+, hair pulling, dry humping, kinda sub!seb?, unprotected sex

Word count: 1k

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Having still not fully processed what had happened, you watched the screen in horror as Seb continues, left tyre hanging on, balancing on top of his car.

Angry and exasperated sighs erupt around you in the Red Bull garage. A lap later, Sebastian’s car eventually comes to a stop, and you let out a sigh of relief, glad he’d be returning soon.

“I’m an idiot, I’m sorry, I’m very sorry.”

You hear the crackled voice through the team’s radio and your heart breaks.

He finally pulls into the garage, and is immediately overwhelmed by angry comments. You rush to hug him tightly, feeling him shake slightly in your arms. He mumbled something incoherent into your chest as your hand gently circled his back.

After remaining like that for a few minutes, you decided to let the team know you were taking him home, and to contact him tomorrow to debrief, leading him to your rental car.

As you walked away you heard talks of an investigation and penalties, and knew you had to take extra good care of your poor German.

———

The drive to your hotel was silent, interrupted only by the occasional sniffle from Seb. One hand on the wheel, you reached out with your other to pet his thigh, knowing the physical touch would comfort him.

Finally reaching your room, you immediately went to run a bath for him, while he sat slumped over the edge of the bed. Your heart broke seeing him hug his small frame, letting out shaky breaths.

Gently stripping him, you guide him slowly to the warm bath, grabbing the shampoo to tenderly massage it through his blond curls. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, and the tension started to dissipate out of his body.

Taking a sponge from the side, you washed him, kneading the knots out of his shoulders and wiping the tear stains away.

Seb looked at you through watery blue eyes and spoke for the first time since you’d held him, asking you to join him.

Stripping off your clothes, you felt his gaze on your body, his bitten, swollen lips parted slightly. You felt your face burn at the attention.

Signalling for him to move, you climbed in behind him, placing his head on your shoulder and your arms on his stomach, hands entwined with his.

He tried to speak again, but you shushed him, peppering kisses along his neck and shoulders, making him shiver.

“It’s okay baby, you don’t need to talk, let me take care of you.”

You both lay there until the water turned cold. Throwing a robe on, you dried your hair, watching Seb in the mirror, towelling his curls.

You turn around, taking the towel from him and ruffling his messy hair. “You’re so cute, Sebby”, you giggle as he pouted at you.

Leading him to the bedroom, you placed him gently at the foot of the bed then perched on the edge. He laid his head on your lap, staring up at you with sad, doe eyes.

“It’s all my fault.” He said, nuzzling his head in your hand, as you gripped his hair once more, pulling gently.

He moaned, kissing along your thighs, and you pulled harder. He bucked his hips and looked at you with widening pupils.

“Are you going to be good for me, baby?” You asked, running your hands down his chest, fingers grazing his happy trail.

“Yes, please.” He whined, taking your hands and dragging them lower, brushing them against his hardening cock.

“Now, Sebby, you have to earn it.” you tutted, pulling him to straddle your lap. “Are you going to show me how much you need it?”

He kissed you desperately, licking into your mouth, gripping your waist. You broke the kiss to finally breathe, gazing into his hooded eyes.

Seb started grinding against your thigh, seeking his release. You could tell he was close already, his precum wetting his stomach, so you grabbed his hips, stilling him. He mewled, eyes glassy with tears of desperation.

“Please,” he whimpered, moving a hand to your pussy “let me touch you.”

He gathered your wetness on his fingers, sliding them up to lazily circle your clit, smiling cheekily at your soft gasps.

Moving his head down, he starts lapping the wetness that had dripped down your thighs, all the way up to your aching hole.

“Sebby- need you inside me!” You moan, watching his eyes light up.

You move further up the bed and lay your head on the pillow, the blond following with lust-filled eyes.

He kisses you again, and you taste yourself on him. He kneads your breasts before holding your hips and lining himself up. Your body twitches slightly as his dick nudges your sensitive clit before the head disappears inside you.

Moving down to your nipples he alternates between sucking and flicking, as he slowly bottoms out.

He stays there while you adjust, kissing hickeys down your neck and breasts, knowing you wouldn’t be able to hide them.

Finally, he pulls out steadily, not wanting to hurt you, until only his tip was inside you.

“You’re so perfect for me, liebling, so beautiful.” He said, gazing down at you lovingly. Your blush deepened at the praise, and you pulled him in for another kiss.

Pulling his hair caused his hips to jut into you suddenly, making you break the kiss to gasp. Seb smirked in satisfaction at your reaction, as he started thrusting deep into you at a steady pace.

Evidently he was more excited than you first thought, as not long after, his thrusts started to become more irregular. You could feel your orgasm building too, as Seb moved his hand back to your clit, matching his pace.

“Come for me, schatzi.” He whispered, his accent thicker.

You came, walls tightening around him, making him groan into your neck. He followed not long after, filling you full of his warm cum.

He pulled out slowly, resting his head on your chest while you rubbed his back and played with his curls.

“Sebby, dear, are you okay?”

He nodded lazily, not wanting to move. “I love you.” He mumbled into your neck. “I’m sorry.” He added quietly, still ashamed from the DNF.

“Baby, you don’t need to be sorry, it was an accident. I love you, sweetheart.” You replied, kissing his curls and holding him closer, feeling him slowly drift off.

I need a r2d2

y/n: but look at him! He is soo cutee, should we adopt him? *rise the kitten*

anakin: we still have R2D2, we can't have another pet

r2d2: *angry robotic noises*

its so cute omg im crying

More Diverge AU Reylo Doodles! 😁

1) After a mission, Rey invites Ben out to get drinks with their other Resistance friends. Takes places shortly after their conversation about her scar.

2) Rey starts out taking more initiative when it comes to affection, and surprises Ben with a cheek kiss just after (or even in the middle of) a battle. Ben’s all flustered and is gonna need to step up his game soon. Rey hasn’t outright kissed him yet so… hehe 😙

BONUS AFTERMATH DOODLE:

PLEASE DO NOT REPOST. REBLOG ONLY!!

tyy to all the people who send me their request im writing them! slow but im writing! please have in consideration that english is not my first language so sometimes I write my fics in spanish and then I rewrite in english BUT TY SO MUCH FOR THE REQUESTS

seb in his natural state

Challenge de Escritura

Pelea

si quieres leerlo en ao3

Naeve y Kylo, la pareja que el reino respetaba y adoraba. Quienes se amaban con profundidad, y guiaban a sus súbditos con respeto, no siempre fueron una pareja comunicativa, aunque esos tiempos quedaron atrás y la gente se había olvidado lo que era escuchar a los Reyes gritar. 

—¡Al menos deberías cuidarte a ti misma!

—¿Y qué quieres que haga?—exclamó Naeve moviendo los brazos—¿Que abandone mis responsabilidades por unos rasguños? No seas ridículo, Kylo. Tu no dejas tu puesto incluso si te han acuchillado.

—¡Pero yo soy un soldado, Naeve!—Kylo pasó su mano por su pelo suspirando y apoyándose en la cama—Además, no es eso lo que me molesta. 

—¿Entonces qué es? Porque no te entiendo y en serio estas frustrándome—Naeve puso sus brazos en su cintura con el ceño fruncido. El silencio de su esposo la hizo resoplar—Bien, me voy. No voy a aguantar tus actos de niño caprichoso. 

Naeve camino hacia la salida de la habitación, acomodándose la ropa abrió la puerta chasqueando la lengua, con una presión en su pecho, odiaba cuando Kylo la hacía ser la víctima. Su cuerpo fue agarrado por detrás apenas cruzó un paso al corredor, y la puerta fue cerrada en un estruendo. La joven terriblemente enojada empezó a golpear al hombre, que ni siquiera emitió un sonido, era un soldado fuerte pero Naeve no quería admitirlo en ese momento. 

—¡Suéltame, ya no quiero hablar contigo!—golpeó con su codo las costillas de Kylo, e intentó liberarse pero este hizo que ambos se tiraran a la cama en un movimiento ridículo para un soldado, rápidamente Kylo agarró las frazadas caras de la cama matrimonial y envolvió a Naeve en ellas. 

—Entonces, hablaré yo—los brazos de su esposo no la dejaban ni moverse—Amor, no puedo sentirme tranquilo si sé que no confías en mí para decirme si te lastimas. Sé que no puedo protegerte siempre, y sé que tampoco me dejarías hacerlo. Sin embargo, no puedo evitar sentirme ansioso si tengo que descubrir que estas lastimada por una simple casualidad. 

Kylo no solia ser tan detallista en expresar sus sentimientos, sin embargo, esos ojos oscuros que brillaban con súplica le aguaron el corazón. 

—Maldita sea, Kylo—Naeve cerró los ojos—¿No podías decir eso antes de que me enojara tanto? Ahora me siento mal por ocultarlo. 

—Lo siento—susurró su esposo abrazándola aun cubierta con las mantas. 

—Sin embargo, te lo hubiera dicho si no actúaras como si fuera a darte un paro cardíaco cada vez que ves una gota de mi sangre.

odio que le digan papaya a los de mclaren lit 😩 le voy a decir naranju

main masterlist \\ f1 masterlist

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𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫?

✩ : the f1 drivers giving more attention to your brother than you

𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭. : max verstappen, lando norris, charles leclerc, oscar piastri, carlos sainz, lewis hamilton + special guest... franco colapinto!

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 : humor, suggestive in some parts

✍︎ : *insert the lion king song here* (no i haven't seen the movie yet 🙃)

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