#but I’m still working towards my license

[jaejoongs-nipple-piercing]

Forgot to do this earlier but I wanted to post something before the end of the day.

Happy Birthday Kang Daesung!! I hope you have/had a wonderful day and I hope everything you want in the next few years comes your way. I’d love to have some more songs from you and Big Bang, or maybe see you acting. But it’s ultimately up to you.

[camgoloud]

he still has his tonsils. by the way if you even care

[anaquariusfox]

I spent the evening looking into this AI shit and made a wee informative post of the information I found and thought all artists would be interested and maybe help yall?

edit: forgot to mention Glaze and Nightshade to alter/disrupt AI from taking your work into their machines. You can use these and post and it will apparently mess up the AI and it wont take your content into it's machine!

edit: ArtStation is not AI free! So make sure to read that when signing up if you do! (this post is also on twt)

[Image descriptions: A series of infographics titled: “Opt Out AI: [Social Media] and what I found.” The title image shows a drawing of a person holding up a stack of papers where the first says, ‘Terms of Service’ and the rest have logos for various social media sites and are falling onto the floor. Long transcriptions follow.

Instagram/Meta (I have to assume Facebook).

Hard for all users to locate the “opt out” options. The option has been known to move locations.

You have to click the opt out link to submit a request to opt out of the AI scraping. *You have to submit screenshots of your work/face/content you posted to the app, is curretnly being used in AI. If you do not have this, they will deny you.

Users are saying after being rejected, are being “meta blocked”

People’s requests are being accepted but they still have doubts that their content won’t be taken anyways.

Twitter/X

As of August 2023, Twitter’s ToS update:

“Twitter has the right to use any content that users post on its platform to train its AI models, and that users grant Twitter a worldwide, non-exclusive, royalty-free license to do so.”

There isn’t much to say. They’re doing the same thing Instagram is doing (to my understanding) and we can’t even opt out.

Tumblr

They also take your data and content and sell it to AI models.

But you’re in luck!

It is very simply to opt out (Wow. Thank Gods)

Opt out on Desktop: click on your blog > blog settings > scroll til you see visibility options and it’ll be the last option to toggle

Out out of Mobile: click your blog > scroll then click visibility > toggle opt out option

TikTok

I took time skim their ToS and under “How We Use Your Information” and towards the end of the long list: “To train and improve our technology, such as our machine learning models and algorithms.”

Regarding data collected; they will only not sell your data when “where restricted by applicable law”. That is not many countries. You can refuse/disable some cookies by going into settings > ads > turn off targeted ads.

I couldn’t find much in AI besides “our machine learning models” which I think is the same thing.

What to do?

In this age of the internet, it’s scary! But you have options and can pick which are best for you!

Accepting these platforms collection of not only your artwork, but your face! And not only your faces but the faces of those in your photos. Your friends and family. Some of those family members are children! Some of those faces are minors! I shudder to think what darker purposes those faces could be used for.

Opt out where you can! Be mindful and know the content you are posting is at risk of being loaded to AI if unable to opt out.

Fully delete (not archive) your content/accounts with these platforms. I know it takes up to 90 days for instagram to “delete” your information. And even keep it for “legal” purposes like legal prevention.

Use lesser known social media platforms! Some examples are; Signal, Mastodon, Diaspora, et. As well as art platforms: Artfol, Cara, ArtStation, etc.

The last drawing shows the same person as the title saying, ‘I am, by no means, a ToS autistic! So feel free to share any relatable information to these topics via reply or qrt!

I just wanted to share the information I found while searching for my own answers cause I’m sure people have the same questions as me.’ \End description] (thank you @a-captions-blog!)

[moonlit-imagines]

Headcanons for being Johnny Lawrence’s daughter

Johnny Lawrence x daughter!reader

warnings: alcohol, underage drinking, classic johnny sexism <3

a/n: WHAT! ME write a fic thats not gn, i know. im shocked too but its just bc i feel johnny is so gender-stereotypey that doing this gn wouldn’t work very well but very open to a son!r or nb!r if anyone is interested (bc seriously. johnny cannot help but bring up genders). also i just want to say that a lot of this (not all!) honestly reminds me of or are actual things that have happened w my dad bc johnny is literally my dad if my dad was like 8 years older i think also i wrote this all in one sitting ALSO NO COBRA KAI SEASON 6 SPOILERS

prompt:

GIRL DAD!

you always kinda just gravitated toward living with your dad

“y/n, i’m so proud of you. i never have to worry about you. you can take care of yourself. robby on the other hand, i worry about him. i think girls are just more self sufficient” -johnny, a little drunk

“thanks dad” -you, also a little drunk (hes a “cool dad”)

he was the type of parent that “prefers that if you’re gonna do something stupid at least do it while he’s around” aka underage drinking

whenever he stays out late you fall asleep in his bed. and lock him out

“y/n! open the door!” -johnny, banging on the door

“no! your bed is more comfortable��� -you

he thought it was sweet honestly but he did want to sleep in his bed

sort of like a lesson not to come home late all drunk and gross

he was VERY against letting you drive his car

“dad, i need my license!” -you

“no woman is getting behind the wheel of my firebird” -johnny

“why do you have to make it about women? i’ll fight you” -you

“you’ll lose that fight” -johnny

“oh, so you’d fight a teenage girl? wow, real classy, dad” -you

“no, but i’d fight my teenage daughter. i brought you into this world and i’ll take you out” -johnny

you honestly had a great sense of humor with johnny, but you’d check him if he said anything too messed up

“dad, it’s not the 80’s anymore, you can’t say that” -you

“dont tell me what i can and cant say! the 80’s were awesome, i wish it was the 80’s again” -johnny

“so i’ve heard” -you

he helped you with your homework as a kid until like, 2nd grade when multiplication and division got involved

he did teach you karate growing up! but mostly the basics, for self defense purposes

“hey, never let any guy try to impress you with his karate skills. he’s probably a douche” -johnny, pausing “i sure was”

late night movie marathons (70s/80s classics for sure)

he took care of you during your first hangover (high school parties, ya know)

“didn’t i teach you better than to mix liquors” -johnny

“ugghhhh” -you

yes, you have heard about daniel larusso. enough said LMAO

robby and you had a kind of sweet but distant relationship

occasional check-in texts

robby: are you doing okay with dad? he’s actually buying food and shit?

you: yeah! he’s fine right now, how’s mom? new stepdad yet? is he rich?

robby: mom’s not going anywhere she’d find a rich guy, but keep dreaming

you wear a lot of your dad’s old t-shirts. usually band tee’s

oh and he made sure you got into the “right music”

he used to drive you around in the firebird when you were a SMALL CHILD (front seat, no car seat!) and blast his old cassettes

for YEARS he’d pull the “who is this” “what song is this” game with the reasoning:

“if you wear a band shirt and some asshole asks you to name three songs, i want you to name ten” -johnny

listen. you were still “daddy’s girl” or whatever used to be a cute little saying and is now ruined but whatever

“dad, can i have twenty bucks?” -you

“for what” -johnny

“for fun. pleaseeee” -you

*johnny pulls out his wallet and gives you $40*

could he afford it? no. can he say no? also no.

the absolute fear he felt when you got your first period

“it’s fine, i can call mom” -you

“no, it’s not fine! i’ve had girlfriends before, i got this. stay here, i’ll be back” -johnny

he went to the store and bought the most random assortment of period products and pain meds and snacks and a heating pad

A for effort

when the diaz family moved in across from you guys, miguel took one look at you and johnny said:

“stay away from my daughter”

when the karate fuss got started you tried to keep your distance but sooner or later you joined the dojo and proved to your dad just how “badass” you could be

“take notes everyone, y/n’s gonna be the next all valley champ!” -johnny

taglist: @ravenmoore14 // @retvenkos // @sweetheartlizzie07 // @an4aaa // @summersimmerus // @xoxobabydolls // @sapphireplums // @petersgroupie // @ravenhood2792 // @evilcr0ne // @thedarkqueenofavalon // @elenavampire21 // @elemental-of-magic //

[dwaekkicidal]

𝖪𝗂𝗇𝗄𝗍𝗈𝖻𝖾𝗋: '𝖤𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝗈𝗇 𝖴𝗌' ༄࿔ S.C.

⤷ Daddy Kink | Exhibitionism | [Semi]Public Sex

♱ word count: 2.3k

♱ warnings: fem!reader, dom&sub dynamics, daddy kink, sex in a public place (basement car garage), p in v with no prep, overstimulation, exhibitionism (chan watches & sorta participates hehe), might be considered cnc, creampie, chan “fingers” reader at the end, slight mention of partner sharing? (mentions of binnie letting chan have a go)

♱ notes: thank u my silly googey for helping me with this :3 @bbokicidal <3 also these pics of him drive me fucking nuts.

Kinktober Schedule

DO NOT republish or translate+post my work!

The first sign was your leg bouncing. He thought you might just be stressed or tired and eager to go home, but he still made an effort to give you extra attention, even while feeling the weight of daggers aimed at him. He and Chan were busy working on a new beat, and he understood how much his hyung wanted his complete focus on it, but he was worried about you.

The next sign was the lip biting; the way you shamelessly eye-fucked his biceps while biting into your lip so hard that he swore you were going to bleed. It was at this point he was growing suspicious and occasionally narrowed his eyes at you, but he nonetheless charted it up to you being exhausted and simply wanting to go home.

The final sign was your thighs pushing together. The way you squirmed on the couch as you pushed your knees together was a telltale sign of what was going on in that pretty little head of yours. 

It normally would make him ecstatic, excited even, to watch you get so built up over nothing. He loved watching you grow so desperate that you would beg oh so prettily for him. What he didn’t like though, was how hot and bothered you were getting with his leader in the same room.

Even if Chan was the one who caused you to get so horny all of a sudden, Changbin knew at the end of the day, when you needed to be broken down just to get built back up, that you went to him. Not Chan. Despite this, he could still feel the jealousy dripping off his skin. He wanted- no. needed to remind you who you belonged to. 

“Love, can you get me some water?” He watched you blink a few times to screw your head back on before you nodded silently and scurried out of the studio. The second the door closed behind you, he turned back to Chan to put the rest of his plan in place.

By the time you returned with the water bottle, Changbin was already zipping his bag shut and rising to his feet. He gave his elder a pat on the back along with a message about not staying in too late before helping you gather your things.

The whole elevator ride was quiet aside from your sighs of happiness as you nuzzled into his arm. Changbin, however, kept his eyes straight forward and his jaw locked in place as he waited for that familiar ding that announced your arrival to the garage floor. He granted you a few hair pets as the elevator descended, but nothing more.

Once the doors opened, he hurried you out towards the car. Long, quick strides towards his dedicated parking space all while his hand was on your lower back, almost pushing you alongside him. The beep of the car unlocking was heard for a moment before he all but threw his bag inside the backseat.

You tried making your way around to the passenger door, but he didn’t let you get far. You got maybe 2 feet away before he reached out and grabbed a tight hold of your wrist. He led you to the back of the car and popped the trunk, pulling you towards him before shoving you to sit in the trunk and leaving your legs dangling helplessly over the license plate.

“Binnie!? What are you doing?” He simply scoffed and trailed his hand up your arm, lightly grazing any bare flesh he came across before settling his hand around your throat, squeezing it just enough to make you understand exactly what was going on.

“Do you think I’m stupid baby? You think I don’t see my pretty girl being a whore on the couch, right behind my best friend? Hm?” Your mouth is parted slightly and you’re at a loss for words. While you can’t deny that what he said is exactly what happened, you also weren’t expecting him to flip his mood so fast.

“I…”

“You… You what, Love? You want Channie-hyung that badly? Should I tell him to come down here and take my place?” The hand around your neck tightens and you can’t hide the whimper that comes out.

“No! I was only thinking about you the whole time, Binnie. I promise.” You pout and look up at him under your eyelashes, even going as far as to chew your lip in hopes that he would believe you. It was the truth after all, but Changbin tended to get very jealous and would get in this headspace that always ended in your lower half aching for a few days.

Which is exactly the mood he seems to be in tonight.

“That’s not my name, baby.” His other hand moves up to your chest where he grabs a handful of your tit and squeezes it. Your legs squeeze together and he sighs happily at the sight of your body already reacting to him, taking it as his sign to continue. He moves his hand down your body and only stops when he meets the button on your shorts.

He snaps it open and lets his fingers trace your panty line for a moment while he silently decides what he wants to do with you. The hand on your neck loosens its grip in favor of cupping your cheek, using his thumb to play with your bottom lip.

“So pretty... You know I love you, right baby?” His eyes are still sharp as he stares down at you and waits for your response.

“Yes, Daddy.”

He licks his lip and smirks, nodding his head in satisfaction and dipping his thumb into your mouth. ���Good. My good girl.” He mumbles quietly as he watches your lips wrap around his thumb, his dick twitching in his sweatpants as you suck the digit. He moans lowly at the feeling and pulls his thumb out.

He pulls you out of the trunk and spins you around, shoving you headfirst into the trunk as he pulls your shorts to your knees. He groans at the sight of your underwear; his favorite set paired with an evident wet spot right where your- his cunt is.

A hand comes down on your ass, fast yet more playful than he would if it was a punishment. It causes you to jump and moan against the fabric of the trunk. He only laughs, his calloused hand massaging the area he just hit while he grinds his clothed dick against you.

“Such a pretty baby with a pretty ass… I can’t wait to see that pretty pussy again.”

“‘S all yours, Daddy-” He grins and smacks the other cheek. “Damn right it is, baby.”

He hooks a finger into each side of the waistband of your panties and pulls them down, letting them fall into your shorts as he lets them go to spread you open. He’s quiet as he stands there and stares. It’s not until he blows lightly that one of you makes a sound- you being the one to moan desperately at the cold air.

Your pussy clenches as well and he almost moans, already excited to take you despite the lack of privacy. But he doesn’t care. He has a goal and you are going to take it right here, right now.

He shoves his sweatpants down just far enough for him to slip his cock out. One hand rests on your tailbone while the other pumps himself a few times. It doesn’t take long for him to grow impatient though, and you find him sliding his tip through your folds only once before he slides in.

The stretch is noticeable, but it’s not unwelcome nor does it hurt. You let it be known by pushing back into him, making him groan as your tight cunt wraps around him even more. He curses under his breath as he bottoms out and you shake as he rests right beside your G-spot in this position.

“D-Daddy…” He shushes you and pushes your back down, arching it just how he likes it. His hands find home on your hips once he has you positioned perfectly and he wastes no more time, moving his hips backward before sliding back into your heat.

A low groan leaves his throat and his eyebrows furrow in disbelief at how warm and tight you feel. He’s more than familiar with your body, but it never ceases to drive him crazy. So much so that he finds a fast pace rather quickly, using it to desperately fuck into you for a few minutes.

The sound of the elevator dinging can’t be heard over the squelching of your pussy and the huffing from Changbin, so neither of you notice the audience. Nor does Changbin notice his best friend staring in his direction with wide eyes and his own dick growing hard in his pants.

He doesn’t notice it at all, but just so happens to pound into you even harder right as the older man starts watching. The hands on your hips maneuver to hold both of yours in one hand while the other slides underneath you, quickly rubbing his fingers back and forth over your clit.

“Daddy!! I’m cumming-” You can feel your orgasm starting to take over your body and you clench tightly as it snaps. It pulls a squeal from you as his hips keep up their pace, fucking into you fast and calculated as he fucks you through your orgasm.

The overstimulation kicks in fast and he has to tighten his grip on you when you start thrashing. Your body does everything it can to make him slow down but to no avail. The final attempt was when your legs squeezed together desperately, making your pussy tighten around him.

It only slows him momentarily, and he recuperates faster than you thought. With a growl, he returns to his pace and the now free hand comes down on your ass harshly before tangling itself in your hair.

He pulls your upper half out of the trunk with his newfound grip and uses the new angle to his advantage, thrusting more calculatedly and ramming into your G-spot. He leans forward, pushing his chest against your back and continuing to use you as his personal fleshlight.

Your tits bounce with each thrust and tears start forming at your eyes, causing your onlooker to sigh loudly as he holds back a moan. This is the sound that finally meets Changbin’s ears, and your boyfriend's hips stutter as he prepares to shield you with his body.

He’s completely bottomed out, his tip digging meanly into your G-spot, as he whips his neck to the side. You go to ask him what happens when a familiar voice meets your ears, causing you to clench around Changbin.

“Oh- don’t mind me bro! I’m just enjoying the show.” Chan smirks and looks into his member's eyes. He tilts his head playfully and licks his lips, almost ordering the younger man when he tells him to “Continue, Bin.” The man in question holds eye contact and experimentally grinds his hips into you as he gauges both your and Chan’s reactions.

“W-Wait! Daddy-” Changbin thrusts sharply, excited that you’re using his title so freely in front of somebody he’s looked up to for so long. Chan himself whistles at the name and leans his head against the concrete wall behind him, arms crossed and eyes now boring into where you and your boyfriend’s bodies meet.

“Damn, didn’t know you were into all of this, Bin. Always thought you were the least kinky out of everyone.” Chan tilts his head the other way now, trying to get a better look at your pussy sucking Changbin in.

Changbin whines at the newfound attention but he continues to move his body anyways. He even goes out of his way to angle his body so that Chan can get a better look at you.

You blink a few tears away and glance back at the older man. You moan when you’re met with his lidded eyes staring so intensely at your backside. He looks so interested in the way you’re literally dripping around your boyfriend and it causes you to clench again, your second orgasm building up faster than the first.

“D-Daddy, I’m gonna cum again…” You mumble it out of embarrassment, but the older man hears you anyway and teases you for it.

“You hear that, Daddy? Baby says she’s gonna cum again.” Both you and Changbin moan at the same time and he has to rest his forehead against your shoulder to ground himself.

“Shit… Channie-hyung, you’re so d-dirty.” In his stupor, Changbin loosens his grip on your hands and you fall forward, hands settling in the truck and causing you to put yourself on display in a new position.

Both men groan at the sight of your arms shaking and Chan has half the mind to come over there and hold you up himself. But he’s not trying to push any more boundaries than he already did just by being here, so he just watches in amusement as you struggle to hold yourself up.

“Y/N, you gonna cum, baby?” Chan using that nickname on you isn’t new. He uses it with all his members when he’s trying to tease them, and he often considers you an honorary member. But when you’re like this, getting split open and fucked within an inch of your life all the while he watches, the nickname only pushes you closer to finishing.

“B-Baby…” The man you’re more familiar with calling you the nickname gasps it out and whines loudly as he starts to cum, his cock spurting everything he has to give into your cunt. The feeling of getting filled up triggers your own orgasm and you milk your boyfriend dry, arms finally giving out and causing you to fall forward into the trunk.

Changbin groans when a few drops of his cum spill out as he pulls out, but he doesn’t push it back in. Instead he watches it drip and allows the older man to see his claim to you.

He can’t tell if he accomplished his goal of reclaiming you or not. Especially not when Chan walks over and fingers his seed back inside of you with his knobby fingers. But that doubt didn't stop his cock from twitching, so it sure as hell won’t stop him from saying what he's about to say.

“So… Channie-hyung’s turn. Right, baby?”

Taglists: (red=can't be tagged)

@valkyriexo @lunearta @jabmastersupriseee @rylea08

@yaorzu-blog @amararosesblog @jiminssluttyminx @clemissleepy

@miss-daisy04 @kittyxnoa @dwaekkiiracha @bubblerizz

@mariteez @fun-fanfics @honeyybbuubblleess

@dreamingaboutjisung @everythingboutkpop @velvetmoonlght @4l17h4

[cherry-leclerc]

method acting ☆ cl16

genre: angst, yearning, humor, fluff, journalist!reader, established relationship

word count: 13.2k

There’s a lot of things you’d like to do differently in life. And the weeks leading up to that night is one of them.

inspired by this, this, and this !

cherry here!… hello there. sooo this was supposed to go up a few days ago, but silly me scheduled the wrong date, haha, so this is me formally apologizing for that. on a more lighter note: i’m so excited for you guys to read this one considering this is the re-written version of ‘method acting’ if you guys even remember the original version. love u all very much, and enjoyyy :)

From his boyish smile, to his dominant smirk—you knew it all. 

The way it would slowly start to spread, but always ended with a dimple. You loved many things in life—many, many things—but nothing comes close to him. From the very start, he’s been gentle. A gentle giant, you’d sometimes joke with a teasing voice, to which he’d roll his eyes yet never deny. 

The way he’d start every sentence with—honey—and end with—I love you. The way he’d cradle your face between his hands, kissing the corner of your mouth first before pressing down completely. The way he’d translate for you with all the patience in the world. Everything about him had been so easy to learn, so easy to love.

But here, in a room, staring at each other, you begin to wonder if you ever knew him at all. Because suddenly you don’t know what the frown on his face means. What the furrowed brows with the pinched expression interpret to. You don’t know any of it. 

Why are you so surprised, though?

You caused this, anyways.

-

“I still can’t wrap my head around the fact that you don’t know how to use a USB, Lis. Aren’t you supposed to be, I don’t know—tech savvy?” 

Lissie aims a harsh glare before tapping her nail against the computer screen as if that might make the process a whole lot quicker. “So what? I lied on my resume. Everybody does it.”

You chuckle. “Who even uses USB’s nowadays?”

“Apparently Grandpa Will. Oh, yay, it's done!” She shimmies. “I’ll see you later, m’kay?” With that, she zips down the paddock without a second glance. You sigh, gathering your stuff and making your way down the busy crowd, heading straight towards Ferrari Hospitality. 

He’s on his computer when you first walk in, keys clicking. He nibbles on his bottom lip, knits his dark brows like he’s in pain. As soon as you tap your finger against the wall, he perks up, all his interest suddenly gone. He grins. “And to what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Lis,” you respond, claiming a seat next to him. 

The Monegasque hums, leaning in to kiss your lips swiftly. “Thank you, Elisabella.” You giggle, sneaking a quick peek at his open screen. “Whatcha’ workin’ on? Wait—let me guess. You’re getting your marriage license annulled?”

“To be with you, yes,” he agrees, nodding enthusiastically. “How do you think Joris is going to take it?”

A playful shrug. “He’s just going to have to accept it, no?”

“I suppose.” Snapping the computer shut, he fixes himself, head pressed softly against your lap, closing his eyes. The sight of his even breaths and curved nose makes you smile as you start threading your fingers through his hair. He sighs, tense shoulders instantly rolling back. “Journling, and whatnot. It’s a habit that has a near expiration date, for sure, but is quite nice as of now.”

And though he can’t see you, your neat brows raise up in surprise. “Journaling on an electronic device? Why not an actual journal? You know—something authentic. I actually know of a place back in Portland where they sell some cute ones, ver—”

“I’m not looking for cute. I’m looking for security.” A beat. “I’d lose it in a week, and we don’t want that happening, now do we? My laptop works just fine. Plus, I feel more at peace knowing it’s not something I will just leave behind.”

“I wouldn’t put it past you,” you declare, enjoying the way his lips twist with a childlike snarl. “Anyways, I’m glad you’ve picked up on a new hobby. It’s good for you, Charlie.”

“Learned from the best.” You blush. “By the way, media shouldn’t last longer than an hour? Wanna go out?”

“Aren’t you tired?” you question, forcing his eyelids open as he squirms, pushing your hand away.

“A little. But I still want to do something with you.”

A tired sigh. “Cute, but I can’t. Lissie and William are out for today, so it’s just me, which means I have to conduct all the interviews by myself.”

The brunette bats an eye. “Why?”

“She forgot she had a deadline—hence why I was busy helping her—and Will still has to look it over. They have to send it in by midnight and it’s—it’s a lot.”

“Why couldn’t she just email it?”

“That’s what I’m saying!” you screech, causing him to flinch and squeeze his eyes. Sheepishly, you pat his head. “He insisted on a USB. Says he wants all work done like the olden days.”

“That sucks,” he mumbles. “And who even uses USB’s nowadays? They’re so outdated.”

“That’s what I’m—” You stop, mid-sentence, lowering your voice when he sits up and scoots away. “Saying,” you finish, whispering. You purse your lips, sending a slight grimace. “You get it.”

Charles nods, standing up and placing his laptop into his duffel bag. “I’ll come back and pick you up, yeah? Meanwhile, I can maybe cook something for us.”

“Honey,” you coo. “I love you, but please don’t.” His face drops. What the fuck? You giggle. “How about take-out?”

“How about,” he mutters, stiff as a statue when you press your lips down onto his jaw, but quickly melts. “Chinese?”

“Sounds good.” Another peck. “I’ll call you!”

-

If you remember—and you do remember—you fell in love with writing ever since you watched The Devil Wears Prada. It was a reset for you because before that you had seriously considered going to law. At first, you started with column writing in your school's newspaper. No one ever read it, you’d always find it on the floor after being trampled on, but you never cared. 

Soon after, you started publishing smaller pieces here and there on your fashion blog that has since been taken down, but that was the moment you knew. Thing was, you wanted to nurture this into a career, you really did, but nothing to do with fashion, rather sports. 

Maybe it had to do with the fact that every Sunday your Grandpa would beg for you to come over to his house and watch the races with him. They were extremely boring at first. Who willingly drives for roughly two hours in loops? Then, it clicked. Everything changed and you were enthralled. 

After that, all you knew was that you wanted it bad. It was hard, studying over time in order to get done quickly and just start working, but it was well worth it. You met Lis the same year she started working with Formula One, so you both figured a lot of things out together, and for two years, it was just you and her, interviewing and writing about the drivers on the grid.

But he noticed you both years ago.

He first noticed the burn on the back of your left leg. He initially thought it was a band-aid by the way it healed, but later found out you had burned yourself with a curling iron back in highschool when you were rushing to get your senior pictures taken. Then he noticed your eyes and the way they always had a glimmer to them, even if something wasn't going your way. He respected the hell out of you after that.

 How do you do that? 

You freeze. Do what?

Stay so…so—optimistic. Happy, I suppose.

You laughed then, and he saw the way your hair fell over your shoulder like a silk curtain. He would have smiled if he wasn’t so stuck up on that. It’s all a facade. They way you see me—it’s not real.

Believe me, I don’t think you’re real.

You blush, looking back down at your journal where you’ve been too busy scribbling prior to his question. You just have to ignore them sometimes, you know? Remind yourself that they don’t know you and you don’t know them. Trust me, it helps.

And after that, you two never stopped talking. 

Whether it was about work, or perhaps even the weather, you two always had something going on. Something everyone noticed, but never brought up. And at one point, you confessed your next dream.

Journalist of the Year, he repeated, a goofy smile slowly itching his skin. Yeah, I can see that.

It’s not that easy, though, you retort, exhaling heavily. I mean, I’ve been doing this for quite a while now and I haven’t even been considered once, which is fine, maybe I’m not good enough, but maybe it’s also time to…I don’t know—give up?

He kept quiet, kept his eyes focused on you, and frowned. If it’s something you want, then it’s most likely something you can have. 

Pft, you scoff. Nah. Not this. It’s nearly unattainable for someone like me. Even Lissie has won, and we’ve been here for the same amount of years. Now I’m not saying she doesn’t deserve it, but that just comes to show that there’s always someone better. And I’m just here. You look up. It’s okay, you can laugh.

A beat. I could be a hypocrite to tell you that it’s not good to measure how talented you are or how talented you can be based on some award, but Jesus Chrsit, I do the same thing. I understand. And it’s because I understand that I’m telling you to keep working hard and prove yourself to them. You have it in you—I’ve known ever since we met. You smile. Your time will come, yeah?

And for the first time: you believed it. 

A nod. Thanks, Charles. Yours will too.

About a month later, you two started officially dating. It almost seemed too good to be true at times, but wherever he looked for you in the crowd, you knew it just had to be. 

But the start of your relationship was also the end of something else.

Interviews and articles? 

He nods. Right. None of that.

You follow his actions, nodding numbly as you blink. So, no more working together? Because you want me to have a fair shot?

Yes, he confirmed. I just don’t want you to be nominated—because it’s only a matter of time, I have a feeling—and feel as if they picked you simply because of your dating status. 

Who’s going to do all of that, then? 

There’s plenty of other reporters. Lissie? Will? Maybe even Natalie. He took a step closer, grabbing your hands gently. What I’m trying to say is that I want you to feel accomplished. That what you did was simply because of your work, and not having to do with your connections because trust me, that doesn’t feel good.

But I love working with you. You give his hand a squeeze, tilting your head and smiling sadly. You’re my favorite person to write about and talk to…

And he genuinely seemed to be pained by your words, wincing.

But you suck it up because you know he’s right. I’ll always be your favorite?

Only the best.

A hum. Alright then. You take a step back, extending your hand for a professional handshake. He smiles, taking it and giving it a good tug.

 It was nice working with you, Mr. Leclerc.

-

“I’ll never understand,” Lissie starts, pressing the elevator button for the twenty-fifth floor and chewing on a licorice. “Why you two ever create such a stupid rule like that?” A hard chew. “All I’m saying is that it could have definitely helped you out a whole lot. You probably would have won by now.”

You roll your eyes, but not without thinking how she might be right. You’ve definitely wondered about a world in which you two hadn’t taken this approach, and while it would have been nice, you also know that it would have felt a little less special knowing that being a nepo to Charles had something to do with it. Which is most likely what would have happened, let’s be completely honest here. 

“You came to this arrangement, what? Twenty years ago, maybe fourty? And it’s not to be rude, but you haven't been nominated, so was this really worth it if it hasn’t made much of a difference?”

“Okay,” you grunt, ripping the red candy away from her and throwing it into the nearby trash as soon as you step out of the elevator. She pouts, following along. “I think we get it, I fucked up, very funny.”

“No,” she hums. “I never said you did, I was simply thinking, that's all.” You scoff. “But whatever. I have a feeling this is it. You definitely have it in the bag. They’d be crazy not to add you for a fourth time!”

Spinning, you smile bitterly at the Brit girl. She gulps. “Thank you, Lis, your mild support is very much appreciated.”

You turn back around, walking faster.

“Sheesh, sorry,” she hisses, entering the familiar office with a lost expression.

Carly, your manager runs over, practically jumping onto you and hugging you tight. “Lis, close the door!” You groan at the loud sound against your ear, but she's none the wiser, already embracing you harder. “You did it!”

“I told you!” Lissie shoots smugly.

You freeze, heart racing. “You’re lying.”

“I’m not lying—”

“Why would she be lying?”

Letting go, Carly lets out a delirious laugh. “Everything—all of it—has finally paid off. You did it, you’re on the list!”

“Holy shit,” you whisper in disbelief, playing with your necklace as you pace the spacious office. Lissie and Carly both grin at each other from ear to ear, nodding enthusiastically. You come to a halt. “Are you making this up because I said I would kill myself if I didn’t make it this year because, for your information, I was totally kidding!”

“It’s not a joke,” the redhead squeals, jumping again. “I’m so proud of you!”

“I am too!” Lissie shrieks, running and kissing you face as you try your best to swat her away even though you’re laughing. “Even after what I said in the elevator, I knew this shit was the real deal this time! Didn’t I tell you? Carly, I told her.” She twirls you, making you grin harder.  “You won!”

“Okay, let's touch some grass, ladies,” Carly cuts in. “We can’t forget that this is just a nomination and that there’s still work that needs to be done in order to secure our best chances.”

“Right,” you respond, elegantly fixing yourself and nodding up and down. You freeze. “Wait, what work? I thought this was it?”

Carly shakes her head. “Oh honey, we’re just getting started.” A pause. “You have to write an article.”

“I am—confused. What do you mean by article?”

The Brit takes a seat in a nearby chair, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “It’s their one and only requirement. Show them why they should pick you.”

Carly nods, red hair bouncing. “Shouldn’t be too hard. You’re as talented as they come. Just do what you do, but…better!”

Color drains your face as you go back to pacing. “What do you mean better? This is all I got! There’s nothing left to show, oh God—”

“What are you talking about?” your manager yelps. “There’s always more!”

“Exactly,” Lissie hums, somehow munching on another piece of candy. “There’s always—that, yeah. More.”

Your eye twitches. “Okay, you already went through this and won. How did you do it?”

She pouts, tapping the licorice against her lips before clicking her fingers. “I wrote my piece on fashion and how it’s made its way into Formula One. Wasn’t even that hard. Well. Shouldn't be. Write what you know and it’ll come to ya, they say. Or maybe they don’t, but definitely still do that.”

Your shoulders drop, plopping down next to her and placing a pillow over your face. “Fuck. That’s genius.” It is, isn’t it? she mumbles, slowly chewing in deep thought. Screaming into the pillow, you feel the frustration you didn’t have a second ago finally erupt. “What am I going to do?”

“Sweetheart,” Carly starts, forearms pressed against her glass desk, and stern eyes trained onto you. “You have got to be one of the most raw writers I have ever worked with.” A beat. “Sorry, Lis.” 

“Screw you,” she snarls, focusing on her phone now. 

Your manager sighs, rubbing her temples. “And please take that as a compliment because it is. You don’t hold back, and you tell it how it is. That’s what makes you one of the best! And if it weren’t for you wanting this, I would have definitely sent an angry email on your behalf because you deserve this more than anyone.”

“Wow,” the Brit muttered, raising her dark brows. 

“Sorry,” she mumbles, cringing. “But you’ve won already, Lis, and we supported you, and now…” She faces you again with soft eyes. “We’re doing this for you. You got it, m’kay?”

“But—” your voice cuts off as you blink rapidly, losing focus with the thought of failing, imprinting itself into the forefront of your mind. “I don’t know what to write about, which is weird because I always have an idea, at least. That’s simply a bad sign, that much I know.”

“It’s only bad if you think it is,” Lissie says, clicking her phone off and smiling gently. “But in all honesty, I think it’s actually quite good. That means you know what's at stake, and you know you have to make this the best goddamn article in your entire life.” A beat. “Write what you know, I’m telling you.”

“What she said,” Carly squeaks cheerfully, eyes crinkling as she starts pouring champagne and handing them one by one. “But just so you know, we have to get this in by October thirteenth because they make their decision by the sixteenth.”

“But that’s Charles’ birthday week,” you wail, rubbing your eyes harshly. “Fucking hell—”

“He’ll understand,” Lissie cuts you off, clicking her glass against Carly’s who shrugs, sipping neatly. “All of us know he will.”

“Okay then,” you whisper slowly. You curl your hand tighter against the glass. “Cheers?”

“Cheers, mate!”

-

Entering his Monaco flat, Charles lets out a tired sigh, taking his shoes off and flinging his keys to the nearby coffee table. The loud thud makes him flinch before running over hurriedly. A large scratch lays across the rich wood as he panics, kneeling down to inspect it carefully.

“Are you serious, Charlie?” he hears over his shoulder, jumping to find you with a frown on your lips and hands on your hips. “That was a gift!”

“I’m sorry!” he squeaks. “From your Grandpa, I know, I’m sorry!”

You let out a breath, shrugging. “It’s fine. How was your day?”

He eyes you suspiciously once before getting closer to you and kissing you hello. “Eh. Decent. Yours?”

Plump lips twist before flattening back out. “Decent.”

He squints, noticing the way you play with your necklace. “You’re lying.”

“No, I’m not,” you answer quickly. Defensively.

His brows furrow deeper. “Blow me.”

“Blow you?”

“Yes. Right here, right now—blow me.” He demonstrates, letting out a breath as if taking a breathalyzer test. 

You let out a sore laugh, rolling your heels as you stumble back. What? Your laughing stops, though tears run down your face as you try to get your words out. “You mean breathe out, not blow you.” Your giggles pick up once again, making him blush deep red. “God, you need to learn a bit more proper english.”

He looks away, cringing at the sound of his voice replaying, and then turning with a stoic face. “Don’t change the subject.” A pause. “Breathe out.”

You freeze. “Why?”

“Don’t ask questions, just do it.” “I’m not going to do it.”

“Just do it,” he presses harder.

You glare. “No. I’m not.”

Taking one last glance, he leaps forward with zero warning and starts tickling you, making your squeal. Stop! “Breathe!” I am breathing, you twat! “Blow me—God damn it! Whatever! Blow! Breathe! Blow!” 

“Fine, fine, just stop!” you screech, giggles coming to an end as he nods and stares down at you, which by now, you’re laid down on the couch with him towering over. You blush, breathing out lightly, nearly nothing. He rolls his eyes. Blow me harder. “Blow me harder,” you mimic, copying his accent. 

He groans. “You get what I’m saying—”

“I don’t, though,” you joke, laughing harder. As soon as your eyes shut, he smiles down at you affectionately, but when they open again, he reverts his lips back into a straight line. Your lips wobble playfully. Letting out a big breath, he whiffs strongly. “Gross, Cha!”

“You smell like strawberry sorbet, relax.” A beat. “Open your mouth and stick your tongue out for me.”

“Okay, this is getting really kinky.”

He aims for a deadpan expression. 

Rolling your eyes, you do as you're told and he lets out a scream. “What the fuck!”

“It’s red!”

“No duh, Charles!”

“Strawberry sorbet. The last pint. You ate it all, didn’t you?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“So that's a yes.”

You frown.

“And we always share, but when we don’t it’s because you’re going through something and you couldn’t help yourself.”

“Okay, Sherlock Holmes, we get it,” you grunt, pushing him off as you sit up. He does the same, staring at you, concerned. “By the way, does that upset you?”

“The ice cream? Nah.”

You nod, then yawn. “Why do you have to be so attentive?”

“Because I love you.”

You smile. “I made it onto the list.”

“The list?”

“The list.”

A wide grin dances across his pink lips as he jumps onto the coach, up and down, making you bounce and stare up with a soft look. “The list! Thee list. Holy crap, congratulations, honey!” Landing on the ground, he hugs you, digging his face into the crook of your neck and kissing it over and over. “You smell nice—congrats—is that citrus—wait, this smells really nice—”

“It is citrus,” you giggle as he separates from you. “And thanks. It means the most coming from you.”

Silence takes over for a second or two before his brows knit neatly. “What’s wrong?”

“No. Nothing.” They raise up higher. “I’m not gonna lie—I’m scared.”

Tugging you closer to his chest, he drags so you two are laying back down. You close your eyes at the feeling of his arms wrapping around you like some blanket. “About what? You totally got this.”

“Hmph. It’s just that, I, uh. I have to write an article on a topic of my choice, and—I. Don’t know? I have no clue what to write about.”

Listening attentively, he doesn’t interrupt as your words begin to pour out like a prayer. He doesn’t even interrupt when you say something along the lines of being “at best—mediocre”, even though he really wanted to. You scoff. “It’s a silly problem to have, I’m well aware, but…it’s the truth.”

The Monegasque picks your breathing patterns, mindlessly copying as you cuddle him. “You’ll figure it out.”

You swiftly look up, cheek pressed against his heart beat. “That’s it?”

“What else do you want me to say?”

What do you want him to say? Your lips open aimlessly, then close forcefully. 

He grabs a nearby blacket, covering you both and hugging you the same he’s seen you hug your teddy bear. “I think you need to have a little bit more faith. In yourself, that is. Because your mind…” Green eyes connect with yours as your breath comes to a strong halt. He tends to make your body react that way, quite often. He sends a simple grin. Dimples and all.

“It's the most beautiful thing on this earth.”

-

Abu Dhabi 2021.

It’s been talked about too much already.

Spain 2016.

You’re kidding, right?

Fine. Azerbaijan 2018—

You let out a muffled scream. “Pierre, no! I need something better.”

“Better than all that drama?” he dead pans, genuinely confused as to why his ideas are being shut down.

You exhale, hair flying outward. “I love it too, but I need something new. Unheard of.”

The Frenchman pauses, curling a brow. “I’ve gone blank.”

You bite down on your tongue, shrugging it off. “It’s okay. I should probably come up with my own topic, anyways.”

Getting up, you wave goodbye and make your way to the ice cream truck that’s been rented out for the weekend. Smartest investment, you think to yourself as you twirl your tongue around the lavender spoon. 

“This time I really do mean it—blow me.”

Squinting up at the sun—which so happens to be behind Charles like a halo—you chuckle, feeding him a spoonful. “Good, no?”

“Delicious,” he hums, going in for another. “Have you tried the funnel cakes?” They have funnel cakes? you squeal, eyes shining. He nods. “Want one?”

You deflate. “Later.”

Watching the crowd walk by, you two sit there, switching turns and enjoying each other's company. It’s amazing how no one comes up to Charles, either. Not that he would mind, but it’s definitely a nice surprise. Glancing over, he hands the spoon back to you. “Come up with something?”

“I have a few ideas, but nothing solid yet.”

Pistachio ice cream melts away faster. “I told Pierre to leave you alone, I hope he didn’t bother you too much.”

“He’s actually the reason why I have these ideas. Don’t let him know, though, I would never live it down.”

Watercolor eyes go wide. “Really? Pierre actually helped?”

“Weird, huh?”

“Without a doubt.”

“Don’t stress out too much, honey. You still have time.”

You purse your lips. “But the sooner I figure it, the sooner I can start and just focus, and do the proper research and try and—”

“You have time,” he reaffirms with a knowing look. You cock your head and he sends a sly grin. “Plenty.”

“Plenty,” you copy as he nods along. Extending his arm, he signals to the spoon. You shake your head. “You can have the rest.”

“You’re the gift that keeps on giving.”

-

Write what you know. Write. What. You. Know.

What the fuck does that even mean?

Biting down on your pen, you’re spaced out, staring at the picture frame. In it, Charles and Carlos smile, you can tell, behind their helmets. While the Monegasque’s eyes crinkle sweetly, the Spaniards are dilated and wide. Both nice, but nothing beats those green eyes. 

You can slowly feel your sanity slipping away, day by day. There’d be times where you thought you had it figured out, but then you’d bring it up and Lissie would smile and say—

“Yes! Stick to that one! Start it. Right now.”

It wouldn’t seem genuine because you know she just wanted you to get it done given it’s due in less than two weeks. And even though it was good, it wasn’t good enough. 

“I’m just going to brainstorm a few more ideas.”

She’d given up, mumbling beneath her breath and grabbing her keynotes and headed to her meeting. Well, technically it was your meeting too, but again. Time crunch.

Hence, why you’re admiring the picture and thinking harder than you were a minute ago. The door slides open then, the two Ferrari drivers back from their media duties. You rip your gaze away as soon as they make their way closer. “How does one fake their own disappearance?”

“Oi,” the brown eyed boy warns, toothy grin expanding. “Good question, though.”

“Oi, you,” your boyfriend warns back, glaring at his teammate. “At this point, I’m sure she’d go through with it.” He turns to you. “Honey, you’ve got to decide already, it can’t be that hard.”

“I know that!” you burst out, ears burning as you avoid their eyes. “But there’s just so much! I don’t want to jump the gun and make a mistake, is all.”

Carlos juts his lip, then rolls his jaw. “If only you took someone’s very good proposition.”

A scoff. “I wasn’t going to write about Papaya Rules, Chili.”

“It would’ve been so good, though!” A beat. “What about—”

“Nor multi-21.”

His expression drops, along with his shoulders, and strolls away, flipping you off. I hope you figure it out, then! A low chuckle makes its way as you exhale loudly. “C’mon, what’s the problem this time?”

You bite your lip, brows drawn in together as you gaze back at Charles. “I’m not entirely convinced.”

“Honey…”

“A-and I know I’m running out of time, but I just want it to be perfect!”

He smiles, throwing his arm on your shoulder. “And it will be, but you need a topic.”

“Yeah…” You raise a brow.  “What happened to having ‘plenty’ of time?”

The Monegasque wiggles his brows. “You can’t take up too much advantage.”

-

I’ve decided. 

That’s the lie you settle with because quite frankly, you’re done with the constant questions. If you were going to come up with the best matter to write about, then you need to have a clear head. Carly is over the moon, Lissie is ecstatic, and Charles is proud. 

Great! What’s it going to be about?

It’s a surprise. 

At first, they were all as curious as can be, but later when you insisted that it’d be better that way, they nodded, though the interest was still there. 

Now—with only a week and a half before your due date—you lay, plopped on your stomach, fingers teasing the keyboard as you watch Charles jump into his race suit. You sigh, sitting up. “I think I’m going to stay in here today.”

He fixes the zipper. “Yeah?”

You nod. “That way I can work and watch you.” You point to the T.V. hung up on his room wall. “Is that okay with you?”

“Whatever you need to do in order to focus, baby.” A wink. “It’s fine by me.”

They’re in lap sixty out of seventy-five, the last time you check, and your page remains as white as a ghost and as bare as a newborn baby. It’s both amusing and mind-boggling. Groaning, you hit your head with the back of your hand before running it down your face. Then, to make matters worse, your laptop dies.

Shit, you grit as you look around and spot Charles’ placed neatly on top of a nearby chair. Strolling over, you grab and open it, typing in his passcode and signing into your account. A few seconds later, the blank page resurfaces. Blinking slowly, you spot it. 

Notes. 

You take a look around, but really don’t know why since you’re the only one in his motorhome, and then click onto the App, furrowing your brows with concentration. 

Turns out, you really like to read because one after another, you skim through his journal entries without a second thought. Eagerly, might you add. Some things you know, others you don’t, but nevertheless, you’re caught off guard. How sensitive he is and how it portrays in every word. Not only are you amazed, but you’re completely engrossed. 

And it sparks something in you.

With a large grin, the brunette makes his way back to his room, trophy in hand and handshakes and pats on the back all around. Grazie mille, he beams as he makes his way closer, sending a final wave before opening his door. Finding you with his spare helmet over your head, he laughs. You giggle, opening the visor. “That’s one good looking winner!”

He laughs, placing the gold trophy down and enjoying you the way you struggle to take it off. You let out a loud gasp as soon as he assists you, tugging it off. “Shit.” Another gasp. “How do you wear that thing for two hours?” Fixing your hair, you pat it down as you send him a sheepish smile. “Give me a kiss!”

“No thanks. Too sweaty.”

Pouting, you pinch his ear tenderly before he gives in, pressing his lips against yours. “You were amazing out there, Charlie. You really were, I want you to know.”

Green eyes soften as he tries his best to savor this moment. “Only cause you say so.” You giggle, hugging his waist and he drapes his hands over your shoulders and rests his chin on top of your head. “How far along were you able to get?”

A hum. “Quite far, actually.”

He lets out a whistle, making your cheeks glow. “Looks like we’re both having a good day.”

“Looks like,” you swoon. “Looks like.”

Tilting your head back, you match with his eyes as he sends a dimpled smile. 

Write what you know, you think to yourself as he leans back down to kiss you. His lips greedily crash against your own as you let out a soft moan, playing with his hair, large hands making their way down to your ass. And you, my dear Charlie…

He groans, shuddering as soon as you grind back against his thigh. You smile, admiring his open mouth.

I know you very well.

-

You feel guilty when you start on your first page, but by the time you make it to your third, you’ve talked yourself out of it. You would explain. As soon as you’re done, before you turn it in, you would explain it all to him. Tell him that this is simply because you love him. How he’s your biggest inspiration, and how this wasn’t you using him, but rather you showing others how amazing he truly is.

He notices it right away—the determination. And he admires you for it because he hasn’t seen you like that ever since your writer’s block. So, he tries not to intrude in moments where you’re on a roll, and instead makes sure to have a bath ready for you. He joins you sometimes, too.

Cracking your fingers, you yawn, exhausted, and stretch like a cat. He chuckles, closing his book like a light thud. “Update?”

“Six pages.”

“Wow. You really got it going on.” You blush. “You deserve something sweet. What do you want?”

“But it’s so late, and you have to be up early tomorrow…”

He rolls his eyes, already grabbing your trench coat. “It’s a bit cold out right now.”

You smile.

It’s not that far of a walk, three miles. After buying you a hot chocolate—with extra whip—he takes your mitten covered hand and leads you out the small coffee shop. By now, not many people are out, so it makes for a calm stroll.

“Shhh—ah,” you hiss, tongue sticking out as your face twists with subtle pain. He laughs, eyes crinkling. Drink slowly, he says, voice laced with humor. “The cool air helps,” you murmur, blowing on the hot drink. “Are you sure you don’t want anything?”

He shakes his head. “I just wanted you to unwind.”

“You’re so thoughtful,” you coo, enjoying the way his ears turn pink. You giggle. “Why do I feel like you’re thinking about something, though?”

“I am. You.” A gust of wind dances. “Always.”

You purse your lips, taking a slow sip, lipstick painting the white lid. “I’m serious, Cha. You’ve been quiet ever since you got off that phone call two hours ago.” Neat brows knit together with concern. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes,” he answers, but it’s too quick for it to be the truth.

Giving his large hand a squeeze, you send a knowing look. His breath hitches. “You can talk to me—”

“Are you almost done with your article?” he asks, obviously changing the topic as he stares up ahead, and if not, down at his shoes. Pink nose twitches. “I miss you, and call me greedy, but I was hoping you’d be done before my birthday, at least, that way we could…I don’t know—” He shrugs. “You’ve just been really busy—which I get why, and I understand—but I miss y-you.”

Wincing, you chew your bottom lip a couple times before letting go. “Almost, but.” His shoulders drop, making your stomach twist. You panic. “I feel like I’m missing something. Like the final bang in order for it to be…” A beat. “I’ll be done before your birthday, you can count on that.”

Round eyes finally flicker up as he nods, a more relaxed look evident. “This makes me sound so needy,” he says. “Which I guess I am, bu—”

“Don’t apologize,” you cut him off with a reassuring smile. “But please, tell me what’s going on…”

The Monegasque stiffens. Despite walking, you can tell. You can feel it. Also, it doesn’t take a genius to notice. “They’re not renewing Carlos’ contract for next year.”

You stop walking, making him stop too. He’s still holding onto you, rubbing small circles against cashmere. “W-why?”

“Guess.”

Your mind races. The rumors have definitely been swirling—everyone’s heard—but really? “They’re actually doing it?”

He nods.

“Lewis,” you whisper like it the first time you pronounce his name. “This is, uh…wow. I mean, wow.” 

“Yup,” he says, popping the p. “Wow, for sure.” Letting go, he takes a small step back, but still faces you with an uneasy look. “They brought it up as a possibility, but I don’t know why I never thought they’d be capable of…” He grimaces. “I can’t even begin to imagine how Carlos must be feeling.”

“Weren’t they just praising him last time during your guys’ team meeting?” You curl the cup towards your chest. “That’s fucked up.” Charles sighs, pinching the tip of his nose swiftly. Your eyes fill up with concern. “What about you?”

“I got an extension.”

You let out a breath of relief, nodding. “O-okay, okay. That’s good, Charlie, that’s really good.” When he keeps quiet, you pause all movement and blink feverishly. “Why are you upset, then?”

“I’m not,” he answers. “Only worried.” Listening closely, you silently wait for him to continue. He sighs, rubbing his eyes, suddenly tired. “It’s just that…he. He’s Lewis,” he finishes like that’s enough explanation.

You curl a brow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

A weak chuckle. “It means he’s better, and the team is going to favor him over me.” A timid shrug. “I get it, though. If anyone can bring a Championship home for the team, it’s going to be him.”

“It’s going to be you.”

“No.” The light in his eyes gave out, slowly and painfully so. “It’s not.”

Berry lips open, then close lamely, analyzing him like the world's biggest mystery. Sternly, you narrow your eyes down like knives. “World Champion?”

He flinches.

You click your tongue. “Do you realize how crazy you sound?”

“What?” he says, puzzled.

You nod. “Why are you giving up so easily, huh?”

Sharp jaw clenches. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s because he’s a former World Champion, and I’m not.” He chuckles sourly. “It’s really not that difficult to figure out. I mean, I’ve been working for it for so long now, and look at me! I’m nowhere close to being there!”

Silence. Chest heaves. You never let go of your gaze, and he has no other choice than to do the same. He’s not mad at you—not mad at anyone, really—but he’s frustrated. And yeah. Maybe he is giving up the fight, but anyone else who was in his position would too. No one wants to be the laughing stock, no one wants to be compared. 

“Listen to me Charles Leclerc, and listen to me closely because I’m only going to say this once.”

He waits.

“If it’s something you want, then it’s most likely something you can have.”

Pink lips turn upward as he tilts his head in the slightest of tilts.

Holding his face between your delicate hands, you raise your brows, shivering at the icy air. He can feel your hand vibrate against his skin as he grabs them, brings them up to his mouth, and blows hot air onto them. “I believe in you. Everybody does. Do you believe in that?”

And it takes a moment for him to answer. It takes a moment for it to register. He nods. Sure of himself.

“Only because you do.”

-

“A USB?” He frowns. “I thought you hated those?”

“I do,” you say, combing through your hair, staring at him through the reflection of the mirror. “But I feel like this makes it real. Physically turning it in, I mean. It’s dumb, but…” You check the time, shrieking and grabbing your things. “Carly is going to kill me! Okay, I’ll be back in an hour, and then we can go with your family for dinner, or I’ll meet you there, yeah?” You huff. “Red or white wine?”

“Sparkling water,” he ponders. “Maman is trying to get to ‘quit.’ Which is probably not the right way to put it because it’s not like Lorenzo, Arthur, and I are alcoholics.”

“Oh. Alright then, I’ll just get that instead.” Tippy toeing, you peck his cheek briskly, sweet perfume hitting him. “I love you.”

Adoration fills his watercolor eyes. “I love you, too.”

Who knew?

Who knew that’d be the last time you’d hear those words coming from him?

-

Entering the familiar office, you wheeze, crouching down to catch your breath before sending over a coy smile. Carly laughs, clearly amused, before signaling to the chair that sits right in front of her. “We could have done this any other day as long as it was before the deadline, you know?”

“No,” you pant, heart beat barely switching back to its regular pace. Well. Sort of. “I need to get this out of the way, I promised Charles I’d be free before his birthday. He said it was his one and only wish, could you believe that, he’s so cute, isn’t he?” She blinks. Pink dusts your cheekbones. “Anyways, here it is.”

Looking down at your extended hand, she almost lets out a snicker. “I get I’m older than you, but really? You emailing it to me would have been just as effective.”

“I didn’t want to risk it going straight into your spam folder.” That, and I don’t want to see when you actually read it because I have a funny feeling you’re going to disapprove, which is okay, fair. “Here.”

“Very well, then,” she mumbles, retrieving it. “Why don’t we proofread it together one more time before send—”

Horrified at the innocent suggestion, you leap up from your chair, pushing back. “There’s no need, I checked it about a thousand times.” She raises a sharp brow at your outburst, the defensiveness in it. You laugh nervously. “And I should get going, anyways. Pascale is cooking Cha an early birthday dinner, can’t be late.”

Placing her forearms against the table, she nods slowly, but still unsure. “I won’t hold you back any longer, then. Tell him I said happy birthday.”

Tight lips form a forced smile, uneven breaths expanding. “Of course.”

You’re expected in an hour, so when you should be up forty-five minutes early, Pascale is pleased, but a bit surprised. Hugging you hello, she opens the door wider, letting you in. “They’re out in the back. Dinner should be ready in a bit.”

“No worries. Do you need any assistance?”

She shakes her head, thin blond hair swaying. “I’ve got it all under control, chérie.”

Nodding, you put your things down and start making your way towards the sound, beers clinking. You let out a snicker. “And here you are claiming not to be an alcoholic,” you joke. Flustered, Charles turns to face your soft voice. 

“It’s my first,” he squeaks.

“Third,” both Lorenzo and Arthur shoot, greeting you with a gentle nod. 

“It barely even has any alcohol,” your boyfriend tries defending, but the crack in his voice makes everyone burst out with laughter. Blood rushes to his cheeks. “Weren’t you supposed to be with Carly?”

“I was, but we got done pretty quickly.”

“What’d she think?” he asks, tugging you onto his lap. You giggle, meanwhile Arthur gags and Lorenzo blinks unbothered. “Bet she loved it.”

“I wouldn’t know. I left before she read it.”

He cocks his head. “Seriously?”

You nod. “You said you wanted my full attention.”

“I didn’t say it like that—”

“Well, now you have it.” You kiss his nose gingerly. “Happy early birthday, Charlie.”

The Monegasque smiles deeply. “Thank you.”

“Arthur! Lorenzo! Come help and set the table!”

Arthur groans. “Why just us? What about Charles?”

Poking her head out the window, Pascale aims a stern look, making him dash up. You laugh, ideally going to stand up, but gets tugged back down onto his thigh. You roll your eyes. “I should help, too. But you stay here and relax.”

“I will, but only if you stay with me.”

“Pascale needs my help—”

“Right, but she has both of them already.” He gives your hair a gentle tug. “Stay.”

Sighing, you nod, resting your head on his shoulder as he holds you. From here, you can see the breathtaking view of Monaco’s sunset. The ocean, the trees. Filled with satisfaction in life, you kiss the side of his neck, making him squirm slightly. “Carly says happy birthday. Early. Early birthday.”

A hum. “Make sure to tell her that I said thank you, the next time you see her.”

The sound of waves crashing sings softly. He traces shapes down your leg. “When will I be able to read it?”

You’re sure you stop breathing. “S-soon. After Carly gives me the green light, at least.”

A beat. “I’m excited.”

Your stomach churns. “You are?”

“Mhm. Very. Didn’t you know I was your biggest fan?”

Fixing yourself to look at him, you open your lips, feeling how dry they’ve become. “Charles—”

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.

A sore laugh. “They’re calling you.”

You reach towards your back pocket, pulling it out. Carly Freeman. Clicking it off, you shake your head. “It’s nothing.”

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.

He wiggles his brows. “Doesn’t seem like it’s nothing. Answer her, it’s fine.”

“She’s going to have to wait until tomorrow,” you announce, standing up and dusting your hands off. “I’m here with you, and she's going to have to wait. Whatever it is, it can’t be more important than this.”

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. 

He sends a worried look. “Are you sure? What if it has something to do with your article? You should pick up—”

“I said I’m here with you,” you affirm. “Tomorrow. She’ll be fine.”

“Okay…” Standing to his full height, he sends a gesture towards the house. “Let's go?”

His hand reaches out, waiting for you. You smile, taking it. “Let’s go.”

-

Your phone keeps buzzing and it doesn’t let him sleep.

That, and Carly is a terrible liar.

Shifting in the bed as quietly as possible, Charles reaches for your phone, trying his best not to wake you. “Hello?” he croaks. The line stays quiet, static rolling. “I know it's you, Carly.”

“Charles! How’s my favorite driver?” 

You twist, unwrapping your leg that was draped over him. He freezes, soothing you a bit before you settle down. Climbing off the bed, he walks out, gently closing the door and heading towards the living room. “I know your favorite is Fernando, what’s up?”

She laughs nervously, cursing underneath her breath. “Is my little journalist with you?”

“She is.”

“Great! May I speak with her very quick—”

“But she’s asleep.” She groans. “Why? Is something wrong?”

“Well…”

Sitting down on the couch, he leans back, placing his feet onto the coffee table. Normally, he wouldn’t, but you weren’t here right now, and lucky for him, he wasn’t wearing any shoes. He clicks his tongue. “Does this have something to do with your guys’ meeting today?”

“Yes. And no.” More static. “Do you mind waking her up for me?”

“Um…well I do. Sorry, Carly, but she needs to get some rest, she’s been working non-stop, and—”

“No, no, I get it!” she squeals. “I totally understand. Can you let her know that I need to talk to her as soon as possible? Like—urgent. Please and thank you and have a good night!”

“Wait,” he says, furrowing his brows and pushing the phone closer to his ear. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing to worry about. Too much,” she adds. “It’s just that I need a bit of clarification, that’s all.”

“Clarification?”

“Yup. On a tiny mistake of hers. But we can fix it together, she still has time, and if she hurries then we can still meet the dea—”

“She doesn’t make mistakes, though. Ever.”

A hiss. “It’s a tiny one, Charles—”

“Okay, tell me and I’ll tell her.”

“What? I can’t. I need to speak directly with her first.”

“Carly…”

“What now?” she grits. 

“What’s the issue?” he presses harder. “I’ll let her know right now.”

The line goes quiet. For a moment, he begins to wonder if she’s hung up already, but when she clears her throat, he listens carefully, but can’t decipher her mumbles.

“She gave me the wrong USB.” That’s it? She groans. “Listen to me Charles—the USB she brought to be today only has her title written on it along with a few notes about what it’s supposed to be about. It’s the wrong one and I need the other one now.”

“Okay,” he mutters slowly, nodding. “I’m sure she’ll bring it to you once I let her know, but that’s going to have to be until tomorrow.”

She gasps. “You said you’d let her know right now!”

He winces. “I know I did, but it’s late! Trust me, though. I’ll tell her you called and I’ll even drive her myself tomorrow to drop it off. It must be around here somewhere right…” And it sure is. Sitting nicely on the coffee table, inches away from his feet. He sits up straight away, picking it up as if it were some sort of new discovery. Which in a way, it was. “Carly, why is this so important to you?”

“She’s my favorite client,” she answers without missing a beat. “I only want what’s best for her, and right now we need to fix this little mishap and get this article in as soon as possible.” A beat. “Also, maybe don’t mention the first part to Lissie, she’d totally kill me.”

Analyzing the black USB, he remains stoic, blinking only because he needs to. “Goodnight, Carly…”

“Yeah. I, um—goodnight, Charles.”

Once he hangs up, he’s quick on his feet, retrieving his laptop from the counter and sticking the drive in without a second to process what he’s doing. He shouldn’t. Probably. Definitely not. But the interest Carly clearly has was enough to poke his mind and for him to start wondering what on earth is so significant? 

And it’s so obvious now why.

Charles Lecelrc: The Man Behind the Helmet

His eyes skim fast, narrowing sharply.

Like any other human being, he struggles with depression, though fails to admit. Many sleepless nights, many fights, many canceled therapy appointments, I begin to question: does every praise his fans give him make him think he’s above all these things? The truth hurts, but it's only because it's real. And Charles Lecelrc, you are nowhere close to being as perfect as everyone makes you out to be.

His heart stops, re-reading the last sentence. He wishes for it to say anything but that, but it never changes, and it only mocks him like a school bully. 

Many assume that the death of his late-father, Hervé, and his late-godfather, Jules Bianchi, have made him stronger in a sense. That it has fed the drive in him to succeed. To be the best of the best, but what if that wasn’t true at all? Would any of you be surprised? Probably, but again, no one truly knows him the way I do. So, what feeds his determination? 

The thought of failing the same way they did. 

Anger bubbles up inside of him, grinding his molar until they crunch loudly against his temples. 

But who can blame him for having that fear inherited down onto him? Tabloids also have a part in this, and so do unwanted changes. One way or another, we can relate with the latter, but never in the way he does. Reading and hearing rumors takes a toll on Charles, that much is true, but what can we expect when his next new teammate is a seven-time World Champion. 

I guess the only question that stands in not only our minds, but also his… 

Is he strong enough to come head to head with someone as talented as Lewis Hamil—

“Wake up.”

Groggily, you rub your eyes. “Charlie, it’s dark out, come on. Come back to bed.”

“Stop calling me that, and get up.” In a single movement, he rips the blanket away and yanks you from your wrist, forcing you to sit. You gasp, his change of heart sobering you up from your sleepy daze. 

“What’s wrong with you?”

He laughs. “Me? What’s wrong with me? Are you serious right now or are you stupid?”

You flinch, taken aback. “Don’t talk to me like that, what did I do?”

“I won’t waste my breath explaining.” He drops his laptop on the bed, making you freeze as soon as you spot the familiar USB. “I'll let you re-read it.” 

“Where did you get this from?”

“Really? That’s what’s important to you?” He rolls his jaw, rubbing it until his skin turns a light shade of red. “If you don’t want me finding it, then next time don’t leave it out.”

Your lips go dry, crawling to the edge of the bed, but as soon as you’re about to reach out for him, he grimaces, shaking his head and taking three steps back. “Charlie—”

“No,” he hisses, glaring at you with utter hatred. The sight alone makes your eyes well up. “You don’t get to call me that. You don’t get to call me that ever again.” A cry rings through the air as you cover your hands over your face. “A-am I supposed to be impressed by what I read or what?”

“It’s no—”

“Did I do something to upset you or w-why were you talking about me like that?” he questions, genuine confusion taking over as he furrows his brows until they cause his eyes to pinch up too. 

Sniffling, you get up quickly, shaking your head adamantly until you get dizzy. “It wasn’t supposed to come off across that way! Are you kidding me?” Grabbing your heart, you soften your eyes. “I’m your biggest supporter.”

“Yeah? Well, that,” he snarls, pointing at the open screen like it's the most disturbing thing. “That doesn’t make sense with what you’re saying…” A beat. “Why would you do this to me?”

“Do what, though?” you whimper. “Everything I wrote about you is based on what you told me!”

“Exactly!” he shouts back, making the distance between you smaller, making you shrink. “I told you! Just you! I never once asked you to air out my business, and quite frankly, I thought that was common sense.” He lets out a dry chuckle. “You called me crazy and troublesome among other things. Are you my girlfriend or wolves in sheep's clothing? I’m trying to understand your logic here.”

You push your hair back, breathing hard. “You can’t just say that, there’s context behind that, come on…”

“Oh. Okay. My bad. I’m crazy because I talk to my father’s tombstone and Jules’. It's troublesome because I used to do cocaine in order to de-stress. I’m in over my head because I actually think I stand a chance against Lewis—a chance you convinced me I had!”

“That’s not what I meant!” you squeak. “You’re taking it all wrong, Charles, I would never say that about you!”

“But you did,” he states firmly. “And you know? If I’m so unready to face a friendly competition against my future teammate, then maybe I’m unready to face a lot of other things, too.” You freeze, dreading his next words as you plead him silently not to say them. “Maybe I’m not as ready to settle down with you as much as I thought I was…”

That does it. That seems to cut the little oxygen you had, off. Stumbling back, you feel the tears start to form again. “You don’t mean that…” You smile weakly. “You’re just a tiny bit upset right now, okay, fine. That’s fine. But you don’t mean any of that.”

Glaring until it hurts, he maintains eye contact. “Don’t tell me what I’m feeling, you don’t get to do that!”

You flinch. “I’m sorry.” A droplet slides down. “I’m sorry, okay?” More follows. “For all of it. For all of this. If I could take it all back, I would, you have to believe me, Charles, you know I would.”

His gaze lingers for a while longer, taking in your rosy nose. Your swollen eyes. Your wet cheeks. Everything that's supposed to make him feel better, but it doesn’t. “I really did trust you…” You breath hitches. “And I really did want you to win…” Pause. “And I still do.”

Strolling over, he disconnects the USB, making the screen go completely black, and hands it to you. Blinking down, you shake your head, too embarrassed to even look at it. “I don’t want it.”

“Yeah, well I don’t want it either…” Forcing your palm open, he places it down, instantly making your skin burn. “Journalist of the Year.”

You let out a wet sob, shoulders shaking. You don’t know exactly what you’re feeling, but what you do know is that this doesn’t feel good and that your heart breaks with every passing second.

Never in a million years did you think you would experience any of this, especially with Charles. The Monegasque cocks his head, curls following. “I’m glad you’re about to get everything you’ve ever wanted, I really am.” He chuckles softly, eyeing you intently. “I just can’t help but wonder what that must feel like.”

“I was going to tell you,” you whisper meekly. “And you were supposed to understand where I was coming from.”

And if any anger was gone, well fuck that, it all came right back.

“Understand where you were coming from?” he spits out, shocked by your choice of words. “You really thought I would understand? I planned my entire future around you, and this is how you repay me? You went behind my back to write an article I didn’t even know about! We made a choice years ago!”

“No, you did!” you retort, despair rising hard and fast. “You came up with that decision all by yourself, Charles, I never agreed!” You look down. “Not entirely.”

“Huh,” he scoffs, squinting his eyes. “I was simply looking out for the girl that I love given that the internet is a scary place and she probably wouldn’t have been able to handle it, for God sakes, I guess this is my fault now, isn’t it?”

“I would have been able to handle it, but you never gave me the chance!”

“Yeah, because reporting on a driver and driver who's your boyfriend are two completely different things that you can’t seem to comprehend!”

Trembling, you blink carefully, gulping. “I would have done just fine.”

“You think so?” he challenges, a sour smile forming. You nod. “Okay. Sure. Why not?” Closing the final distance between you two, your breath gets stuck as he sends a dirty glare, one that's meant to sting. “You’re not talented. You only have your position because of your dating status, when in reality, your work is utter shit. Everything is handed to you.”

There’s a mix of a whimper and a plea that comes out of you as you screw your eyes shut. “You’re being mean, Charles…”

He laughs, clapping his hands once with amusement. “That’s what the internet is! Maybe I was right, then—you can’t handle it.”

“I could…” you murmur, but it's no use. 

The brunette catches himself wanting to comfort you. To apologize for everything. But then he figures—why? It’s not like he truly did something wrong. 

“You’re the greatest disappointment of my life.”

Something ended the moment those words left his mouth—you both knew it. Sobbing hard, your shoulders vibrate violently as you seemingly gasp for air. He looks away. 

“You know, our life could have been so good. So fucking good. But you went and ruined it.” Green eyes flicker back. “Why would you do this to us?”

“I never meant to hurt you,” you declare with wet lashes. 

“You did a bit more than that,” he replies, wincing, blinking rapidly. He smiles. “If you wanted to write your article on me, you should’ve asked me. You should have talked to me. But no. And the thing is, I would have let you! God. I would have let you write whatever you wanted—but not like this. You stole an interview from me with no right, honey…”

Quickly, you flicker your gaze up at him, hoping to see any trace of  love in that one word, but you’re not surprised when you don’t find any, deflating furthermore. He shrugs. Like what you did to him was no big deal. 

“You took it from me. But I would have given it to you.”

-

“Are you sure you want to do this? You can always change your mind, babe, it’s totally fine!”

“No.” You fix your hair, posture straight. You smile. “I need to.”

Lissie shares a slow nod, nibbling on her bottom lip before handing you her keynotes. “Alright. Good luck.”

The idea first sparked when the Brit girl mentioned how she was the only one granted permission to interview Charles at this year's FIA prize giving ceremony. You had debated back and forth with what seemed like forever, both Carly and Lissie trying to talk you out of it, but you pleaded until they reluctantly agreed. 

You haven’t seen him ever since that day.

It’s insane to think about, sometimes. You knew each other for two years, dated for three, and haven’t crossed paths for another two. And now, you’re here. He’d been upfront that day, didn’t even flinch with his one and only birthday wish, meanwhile you felt the last stab hurt more than anything.

I wish to never see you again. 

Not long after, he grabbed his things and left. But not before turning around, sending you one last glance, dull, empty, and nothing like him anymore. You still recall.

Turn it in, he said, smiling warmly despite his better judgment. Despite not meaning it. Don’t let this all be for nothing.

Shaking your hands, you grin, fixing your silk dress. The Brit girl stares worriedly, but as soon as you wink, she hides it. Not that well, but enough. “He’s going to be so mad at me,” she jokes, but it’s probably true. He has a soft spot for her, and he only gave permission to her. No one else. 

You wince, grabbing her hands delicately. “I really appreciate this, Lissie. More than you’ll ever know.”

Waving goodbye, you make your way to the private conference hall. It’s daunting, actually, the sight of the large table where he’ll be sitting and the small chair where you will. Quite the narrative. His picture is hung in almost every corner, from the beginning of his career to now. The latest one makes you smile as he lifts the trophy high up with a beaming grin, dimples poking out and eyes crinkled just the way you remember. 

You thought about apologizing again. Better this time. Once things simmered down. You really wanted to, but as soon as Carly informed you that the article would need to be published in order for fans to engage with your content and for them to decide on a winner, you knew the gist of him accepting your apology was most likely never going to happen. 

And you contemplated not posting it. Carly did too. Lissie did too. No one thought it was a good idea, but you still did it. Like he said—you couldn’t let all that be for nothing.

The hate came immediately, you expected nothing less. In their minds, you were a loyal girlfriend, but after reading your work, the comments came rolling in. You were honestly quite grateful because you know you deserved every last bit of it. 

But somehow—somehow—you won Journalist of the Year. 

You were shocked to say the least—bewildered. And you could see it in Lissie and Carly’s eyes too. So, while accepting the award with a forced smile, it hit you like a truck.

Did you truly earn this or was it all thanks to him?

Either way, does it matter anymore?

The door gently opens as he steps in, a loopy smile stretched onto his lips before coming to a complete stop. With your heart in your throat, you cough awkwardly, standing up and waving. You cringe, putting your hand down as soon as he furrows his brows, looking around. 

“S-she’s not here,” you say, voice cracking. You blush. “You’re looking for Lissie, right?” Utter silence. He blinks, unresponsive and as stiff as a tree. You lick your lips. “I-I-I can leave if you want.” But you really hope he doesn’t want you to.

The Monegasque’s features strike with something familiar—something you knew not long ago. Then…

He smiles at you. 

“It’s alright.” Carefully, he makes his way closer, scooting his chair right next to yours as you blink, sitting back down and staring with your plump lips slightly open. He cocks his head. “Y-you look the same.”

You giggle. “Is that supposed to be a good thing?” When he fails to answer, you bite down on your lip hesitantly. “You haven’t changed much, either.” 

He clears his throat, averting his gaze. “I don’t mean to sound rude or anything, but why are you here and where is Lissie?”

You flinch. Okay. This was expected. You practiced hours for this very moment. “Don’t be mad at her, okay, I asked her to let me do this. I wanted to…see you, Charles.” The sound of his name leaving your lips makes his heart stop because it's been so long since he’s heard it. Too long. A subtle blush. “I’m here to apologize.”

“Ah,” he winces, scrunching his nose. “Don’t. We’re cool.”

“Are we, though?”

He stiffens. 

Exhaling, you place your things down, pursing your lips. He watches the way your knee bounces up and down. How you play with your ring before covering it neatly with the opposite hand. That catches him completely off guard as he blinks rapidly, thinking he must be mistaken. 

“I know I don’t deserve any of this,” you say nervously. “By all means, I should have been kicked out five minutes ago, but you…” Round eyes soften, lashes batting slowly. “You’ve always been a kind and generous human being, Charles.”

“Stop,” he whispers. You frown. “Saying my name, I mean. You can talk—we can talk, but please, just. Don’t say it.”

“O-okay,” you mumble, stomach churning. “I won’t.”

He lets out a tight smile, tilting his head. Years ago, his hair was a tad bit longer, fluffier even. Now, it’s still the same, but somehow more mature. His eyes are still young and naive, but with a hint of wisdom. He usually would wear mismatching suits, but now it matches. A lot of him has changed, and you weren’t there to witness it.

“Congrats, by the way,” you add happily. “World Champion, eh?”

Pink spreads across his cheeks, slowly but surely. “Thanks. I was close to losing my mind.”

You laugh. “Seven years later, but it’s well deserved. I’m so proud of you.”

And for a moment, he goes completely numb. He’s heard plenty of kudos ever since winning his first title—and they were nice, they made him feel nice—but this. You? It’s the first time it makes him feel accomplished. And that feels more than nice.

Playing with his bracelet, he nods sheepishly. “How have you—how, um…God. I, um, how have you been?”

“Oh.” You let out a genuine smile. Soft. Angelic. And everything he wishes to find in any other girl that isn’t you. It’s not something he should notice. “I’ve been well.” You raise your hand. “Engaged.”

“You sure are,” he mumbles, finally acknowledging the silver band before flashing an easy smile of his own. And maybe it was real, or maybe it wasn’t, but he wasn’t as upset as he thought he’d be. Just a tiny bit bothered, is all. “Who’s the lucky guy?”

You lick your lips awkwardly. “You remember Carly’s son?”

A tide hits him as he internally screams. “Grayson, right?”

You nod. “She, uh, set us up a while ago and we hit it off.” You wince. “I’m sorry, is that weird?”

“No. Of course not,” he replies, shrugging. “You’re allowed to build your life with whomever you want. What happened between us was…” He chuckles. “So long ago. I’m happy for you both, I really am.”

And he means it this time.

Admiring the oval-shaped ring, you swoon as if you’re thinking of the exact moment he proposed to you, and that’s the prettiest sight Charles thinks he might ever see. Even if it didn’t end up being him. Once you look back up, he looks away, feigning interest in anything else stupidly.

“Yourself?”

“Myself?”

A playful eye roll. “Are you seeing anyone?”

A retch. “Ha ha, no! No, that’s not—that’s not for me.” You frown. He winces. “Please don’t be offended, but after you, I sort of lost interest in meeting other people. Pierre calls it trauma, I call it precaution.” A sore laugh. “B-but maybe one day. Never say never, am I right?”

The lights reflect directly towards you, so that lets him see the rosy blotches beginning to hug your cheekbones as your lips wobble. He panics. “N-no! Fuck. I didn’t mean to—”

“I ruined your life,” you wail, throwing your hands over your face. “Oh my God, I wrecked it!”

“You didn’t!” he tries. “I’ve gone on a couple of dates, here and there!”

You’re tiny cries take a quick pause. Sniffling, you shoot him a look, shiny eyes beaming back at him. “You have?”

“Yeah,” he whispers, slowly relaxing against his seat. “Sort of. Kind of.” A horrified expression maps out against your face. He grimaces. “I-It’s just not my thing!”

“I’m sorry, Ch—” You pause, rethinking your words. “I’m sorry.”

The Monegasque shrugs, hoping that’d be enough for you to drop the topic. “It’s okay, really. It’s a decision I made long ago, and I’d like to keep it like that for a while, at least.” You bite down on your bottom lip, nodding halfheartedly. “But please, um, tell me, how far along are you? Heard from Lissie that it’s a boy.”

You let out a wet giggle, wiping your tears away to the best of your ability. “Nineteen weeks. I’m in my second trimester.” Gingerly, you rub your tiny belly before your eyes light up. “Give me your hand!”

“What?”

Leaning in, you grab his large hand and place it down on your stomach, looking up at him to watch his reaction. At first, he’s weirded out, you can tell. He makes a silly face he probably doesn’t realize he’s making, but seconds later his features soften. His green eyes go round, no tension behind them. His brows lay flat, then knit together in amazement. He laughs, rubbing his thumb gently.

“Does it hurt?” he whispers. “When he kicks?”

You hum. “Sometimes it can. But I suppose it’s more discomfort than anything.” You wiggle your eyebrows. “Cool?”

He nods rapidly. “Super cool.”

Pulling away, he can feel his adrenaline as high as a kite, and as fast as his car. He feels different, he notes, as if something has finally shifted inside of him. With this, he takes time to admire you in a way he hasn’t been able to ever since.

Your hair is cut into layers now, glossy and shorter than he remembers. Your lips, round, plump and berry tinted. Your eyes, doe, innocent, and pure in a way he can’t seem to wrap his head around. Smile, even, wobbly, and everything in between.

Your gaze flickers. “Question…”

“Answer,” he replies, studying your body language. 

It’s harder than you had initially thought it would be, asking him what you’d been wondering for these past two years. Was it all that bad? The answer might be yes. Yes, it was. To him, perhaps. But it tugs your tongue, and it burns a bit, but you push through, focusing on him and his watercolor eyes.

“Do you—”

But he still knows you. He can still read you. Before you, it’s always him who understands your train of thought. 

He shakes his head, dimples imprinting like a finger in sand. “No regrets.” 

A peach seed forms as you let out a sheepish laugh. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes in life,” you admit, cringing slightly. “Just yesterday, I bought the wrong plane ticket. Got stuck in the airport for three extra hours.” He chuckles. “Totally unnecessary.”

“It happens,” he comforts you, clicking his tongue. 

“I guess so,” you say, sighing. “But betraying someone you love? Yeah. That’s got to be the worst mistake of my life.”

He flinches, an old wound suddenly opening. “Hey, you—”

You raise your hand, pleading with him. “Let me just…” So, he forces himself to sit there quietly, to not intrude no matter how much he really wants to. It’s fine, he wants to say, I’m fine now, we’re fine now, seriously.

A wince. “Do you know how guilty I feel whenever Grayson polishes my award?” A scoff. “He means no harm with his actions, but it makes me feel like shit everytime I walk past it. I’ve begged him to put it away somewhere in the attic, but he’s as proud as can be. Say’s an accomplishment like that deserves to be shown off. That it’s proof of all my hard work.” You smile. “Much like you and your trophy.”

You exhale. “You were right, though.” A hum. “I don’t deserve it.”

“I never said that.”

“Sure,” you give in quietly. “But you did say that if I won, I’d always wonder if I was truly respected for my work or if I was respected because of you.”

He bites his tongue. 

You shrug lamely. “And that’s just something I’m going to have to live with for the rest of my life…” Steadily, you ease your eyes back towards him as you find him already staring at you, listening close and curious. “And I want you to know that I’m fine with that.” A beat. “What I’m not fine with is you being mad at me for the rest of your life.”

Charles opens his mouth, feeling his tongue as dry as the desert and his throat as dusty as the highest mountain. “I’m not mad at you…anymore.” He sits up straighter. “I said a lot of things to you that night that I shouldn’t have said, but you have to understand that you hurt me a thousand times worse.” 

Tears well up your eyes as you nod shamefully. He continues despite feeling the need to reach out for you. “I just wanted you to feel what I was feeling, even if that meant—well. You know. And, um…I tried to forget all of that, but I, too, felt guilty, so—I’m glad you’re here. That way I can say…I’m sorry.”

“No!” you wail, raising your arms up. “No, I’m sorry! I broke your trust, and I was a God awful girlfriend.”

“You did,” he chuckles before scrunching his nose in deep thought. “But you were also the best I’ll ever have.”

A wet sob escapes.

“I forgive you.”

“S-shit,” you let out. “You don’t know how g-good it feels to finally hear you say that.”

A gentle smile. “You?”

You giggle, standing up. “I have nothing to forgive you for, but yeah. Okay. I forgive you, as well.” You open your arms for a hug. He blinks. “It’ll make me feel better.”

Tsk. “You used to do this all the time wherever we fought,” he says, a hint of sadness wavering in his eyes before disappearing into thin air. Extending to his full height, he towers over you before going in to close the distance. He halts, coughing awkwardly.

You snicker, eyes crinkling with amusement. “Right. You're hugging two of us now.”

A wave of jealousy pangs his chest for a second. You’ve moved on, and he’s stuck in the year you were still in his life. Still his. He envies Grayson in every sense there exists, but he swallows down that pill because he’d always been a nice bloke the very few times he interacted with him. He needs to move on, too. 

Even if it takes him his whole life to figure out how. 

“The more the merrier.”

Your face has gone completely numb by now from how hard you're grinning from ear to ear. Wrapping your arms around his waist as he goes over your shoulders, you sigh contently as you catch the whiff of his cologne. His heartbeat quickened at the smell of your perfume. 

“Question,” he whispered. You chuckle against his chest. Answer. He gulps, nose twitching. “Would it make me a bad person to say that you’re probably the only girl I’ll ever love?” Silence. He screws his eyes shut, gritting his teeth. Why the fuck would he ever say that—

“I’d only say that I don’t deserve to be her,” you respond. “Anyone but me.”

A flinch. “O-of course. You’re getting married, you’re having a baby, what was I th—”

“Honey…”

He freezes. 

You lean back, holding his face between your hands and smiling. “It’s not your name…”

His voice catches. “It’s not…”

A deeper smile. Nostalgic. “A piece of me will always love you.” A pause. “You know me so well. Better than anyone. You’ve seen me naked. You’ve dressed me. You’ve seen me with makeup. You’ve seen me without. And…well—you’ve seen my good side. But you’re also the only one who's seen my bad.”

His palms quickly get sweaty as he tries his best to not do anything he might regret. And not because he’ll wish to take it back, but because you would. Neat brows draw in together as you graze his stubble with your thumb. As nurturing as a mother, which he supposes you already are. 

“I’d say that makes us pretty close, no?”

“Not as close as I’d like to be.” 

“You’ll find someone.” A beat. “Someone who’ll love you right.”

“You didn’t?” he questions before he can stop himself. “Sorry—”

“My love for you was honest. But I blew it.”

I’m still here, he wants to yell out. If you still want me like I want you, then I’m still here.

But he refrains from doing so.

“You’ve never done me wrong,” he attempts, kissing your palm gingerly before softening his gaze. You send a playful glare. “Except for that one time.” You snort. “But I don’t want to talk about it anymore because—because it doesn’t matter anymore…”

Maybe it's the hormones, you sort of wish it was, but you know it’s due to his gentleness. You don’t deserve his sympathy, you don’t deserve even a fraction of it. Crying, you kiss his cheek, hoping everything you feel transfers itself into the warmth of his skin. And you don’t know, but it does just that.

Closing his eyes, he prays to dream about this kiss forever. Have nightmares, who even cares. As long as he doesn’t forget. 

You step away carefully, taking him in as his eyes flutter. 

“Charles Leclerc, first time World Champion…”

He smiles. You smile. 

His dimples pop out. Your eyes crinkle.

He loves you. You love him.

And maybe it didn’t work out in this life.

But maybe in the next.

“May I have an interview with you?”

taglist: @blueflorals @starmanv @coolio2195 @lovrsm @weekendlusting@chanshintien @brune77e @myownwritings @timmychalametsstuff @milasexutoire@alesainz @c-losur3 @darleneslane @togazzo @urfavnoirette @namgification @lpab @d3kstar @anniee-mr @nebarious @notkaryna @emmaxdelicate

[ddejavvu]

I love your best friend with no boundaries James, and I was wondering if you could do one where James and reader are having their regularly scheduled mid-day naps, and Sirius and Remus walk into the dorm to find James just humping reader while they’re asleep? Maybe James and reader wake up to the GASP of horror from Sirius after his not so innocent eyes witness “straight up porn in their shared dorm where Peter of all people could witness”

I love all your works and was wondering if I could be marked as 😻anon? I’m the person who requested the bsf Steve imagine and I’m 100% gonna request something again because you’re perfect and I just wanna kiss you on the mouth🫶🏻🫶🏻

this post is 18+, minors dni.

Sirius considers himself James's best friend- no, brother, but he's not afraid to whack the man upside the head when he finds James grinding on you in his sleep.

"You-! Nasty-! Fucker-!" He bullies James awake, appreciating the much calmer, kinder way that Remus rouses you, tugging you away from James on the bed and murmuring that your nap is over. You blink your eyes open serenely, and James's shoot wide in pain as Sirius assaults him.

"What the fuck? Agh- Sirius! I know you're mad that I've got the better potions grade, but killing me won't help!"

"This isn't about potions, Potter," Sirius scoffs, "But I am thinking about tossing you in a hot cauldron. You were- eeugh, you were humping her, you animal!"

Your brows are furrowed and your blinks are bleary, but your brain catches up with the help of Remus's hands where they trace soothing circles on your back.

"Oh," You mumble groggily, as James groans with quickly reddening cheeks, "Uh- s'alright, Jamie."

Remus's hand stills on your back, but James and Sirius join in a fused indignant-confused "What?"

"S'just natural I guess," You shrug, "I dunno, I haven't- er, got one. But it was an accident, Jamie, you were asleep. It's alright."

James’s cheeks are still plenty rouged, but he nods sleepily at your forgiveness, relieved that he's not being hit by two people instead of only one.

"Yeah, thanks bird," He flops back down onto the mattress, letting out a sigh heavily infused with relief, "Wouldn't do it on purpose, y'know. Not while you're sleeping, that's- that's pervy."

"Some people like pervy," You hum, settling back into your own position in James's bed, though he's no longer curled around you. Sirius watches as you knock your hand against his own, "Sirius thinks I'm a perv."

"You're both pervs," Sirius grimaces, his lip curled in distaste as Remus stands from James's bedside, "Seriously, he eats off of your spoons, you've seen his dick, he's been grinding all over your ass - if you don't get a marriage license soon you're going to be very unpopular with the traditional crowd."

James turns towards you with a gasp, his eyes shining just the same as his grin does, "We could get married!"

"We should," You laugh, "And we could get a flat, and we could have your mother over for dinner every Tuesday."

"That would work." He nods, fully settled back into the pillows from Sirius's disturbance, "She loves you. And she's free Tuesday nights - her knitting circle ends at three."

"I know that," You scoff, barely biting back an overexaggerated eye roll, "James, I write your mother once a week. I know when her knitting circle is."

"You write my mum?" He rears back, momentarily confused, "She's never told me that!"

"Of course she hasn't," You snicker, "Because if you'd known, you would have stopped me from telling her how many times you get detention every week, and you'd want to share the sweets she sends me in exchange for the intel."

[qwimblenorrisstan]

Lesson Learnt | John Price x Reader

Summary: Your good-for-nothing boyfriend won’t help you change out your flat tire in the cold, soaking rain, but luckily someone else comes along to assist, and teaches your boyfriend a lesson while he’s at it.

Word Count: ~ 1.6k

Warnings: annoying boyfriend, toxic relationship, platonic!gaz being a cutiepie, price being the greenest flag known to mankind, fem!reader, I’ve never changed a tire before in my life and it’s glaringly obvious…

A/N: been in a major writing slump lately+school kicking my butt+I think I’m getting sick, but full credit to @ceilidho for this idea, hope you enjoy<3

Requests are open!

Masterlist | Next

Your day hadn’t been the shittiest so far, but it certainly hadn’t been great.

You’d been off that day, but your boyfriend had called, needing you to pick him up early from his job for whatever reason. He only worked at some little restaurant in town with a decent salary, enough to get food and rent paid for combined with your money anyway. Something about his shifts being moved or the schedule being off, but whatever it had been had been enough for you to hop into his truck, drive over to him, and pick him up.

“Did you cook for dinner tonight?”

He asked from the passenger seat, the seatbelt not even on, despite it already being dark because of the early winter months, and the rain coming down against the windshield. Your lights were on, but still.

“No, wasn’t thinkin’ about it.”

You replied with a small mumble, and he sighed. You were the one who cooked and kept the housework up, and he earned most of the money. It would be balanced, except for the fact that you earned almost the same amount of money as him, and also worked full-time. It barely left any time for meals, most just being pre-prepped on weekends, or thrown together.

“Guess we can just get takeout then.”

He said, tone holding a bit of disappointment. You sighed inwardly, turning your turn signal on as you went down the road to one of the nearest places there. It was a run-down chicken joint that you were pretty sure was a front for some sort of illegal activities, but they had delicious chicken at cheap prices, so you weren’t complaining.

Your mind began to wander when you thought about the restaurant, and what you’d order. You hoped your boyfriend had brought his card because you’d left your wallet at home, ID and license long forgotten. Well, I guess you were just hoping to not get pulled over tonight, or come in contact with any cops.

As if whatever gods there were had heard your thought process, a small ‘thump’ caught your attention, and then a light squeaking sound as the air pressure in your front right tire began rapidly decreasing. With a sigh, you pulled over onto the side of the not-too-busy road. Your boyfriend gave an exasperated exhale.

“We’re gonna have to change the tire.”

You said, and he gave you a withering glance, jerking his chin towards the back of the truck.

“Spare’s in the back. Got a few tools back there to get ‘er done.”

A small pause for a moment as your hand reached for the handle of the door, and he didn’t move at all. You just stared in pure shock.

“You aren’t going to help?”

He gave you a look as if to say you were being ridiculous and illogical right now. You hated that look.

“I just got off work. I’m tired and hungry, and your poor driving skills aren’t my problem.”

He said with a shrug like it was obvious. Your mind still reeling, you searched for the little umbrella you kept near the console, only to find it missing. Great, just great, you thought.

With no other option, you stepped outside, immediately being pelted by the cold raindrops, and skin being lashed at by the harsh wind. You walked around to the trunk, opening the back, and finding the spare tire there, and a toolbox as well. Your shivering hands sorted through the cold metal tools, eventually finding a lug wrench, and a screwdriver, and behind the toolbox you found a jack.

You advanced towards the flat tire, rolling the spare behind you, and you knelt, skirt already soaking wet, your white shirt soaked through and not leaving much to the imagination as it was practically see-through and sticking to your form. The lug nuts didn’t come off easily, but somehow, your fingers got them.

Right when you began using the screwdriver to try and get the hubcap off, something else caught your attention.

Another car, beat up, but well-loved on and taken care of pulled up behind you on the side of the road. It stopped, and two men stepped out. One was taller, with a beard, a thick cigar in his mouth, and a hat on. He might’ve been one of the owners of that chicken restaurant. Whatever it was, he looked familiar. The other man had pretty brown skin, was less tall but still had some muscle in him like the other man, and wore his hat.

The taller one strode up to you just as you managed to pry the hubcap off. His brows furrowed as he looked at your boyfriend sitting in the car, and you, drenched in rain, changing the flat tire of the truck he assumed probably wasn’t even yours.

“Gaz, come help ‘er out wit’ this.”

He said, his voice brusque but also warm at the same time. Realizing he hadn’t introduced himself yet, he gave a nod of his head to you.

“John Price, that there is Kyle, but we call ‘im Gaz.”

You blinked, and Kyle walked over, crouching down next to you and offering a polite smile. One that didn’t quite meet his eyes, but it wasn’t rude. Price must’ve noticed your shivering form or the sheer white shirt that was clear because of the rain because he took his brown jacket off and put it around your shoulders. The insides were fuzzy and warm, and it was oversized, but enough to keep the heat insulated and the wet cold out. A bit surprised, you simply said your name.

“Oh..thanks. Y/N.”

You offered, for some reason trusting these strangers enough to give them your real name. Something about them felt right. Price nodded, then raised a brow at your boyfriend in the car, who still hadn’t noticed them, too preoccupied with his phone.

“What’s a pretty birdie like you doin’ changin’ wheels out here?”

John asked, and you weren’t sure what overcame you, but you cast a glance up at the boy in the car.

“He wasn’t going to help.”

Gaz and Price both looked slightly taken aback by that, exchanging glances, as Price opened up the door where your boyfriend was (avoiding hitting you or his sergeant's heads with it, of course) and pulled him out by the collar.

“Hey—what-“

Price shut him up real quick, then moved to hold him by the scruff of his neck.

“Now you listen here, why’ve you got your girl ou’ here doing all this work in the soakin’ rain, when you should be the one doing this, yeah?”

He asked, and your boyfriend turned a light shade of pink that wasn’t fully visible in the dark of the night.

“Well, I..”

“I’ll show you how a real man provides for his partner. Garrick, move over.”

He shoved your boyfriend back into the grass, and Gaz scooted more to the right, letting Price take the left side. Price carefully grabbed you by the hips and moved you back, out of the way, but to where you could still watch and hear him talk.

“Can’t believe it, ‘at’s ridiculous.”

He muttered, and Kyle shook his head.

“Can’t help but agree, sir.”

They used the jack to jack the car up, strong arms easily placing the spare tire in place, Gaz holding it up while Price screwed the lugnuts back on. While putting the hubcap back on, John began talking to you.

“You oughta find you a man, someone that would provide for you, that lil’ boy you got isn’t it. We’d never treat a woman like that, now would we, Gaz?”

“Never, sir.”

“Look at ‘im, two complete strangers are here, changing out his tire, and he ain’t offered a lick o’ help.”

He said, shaking his head, not even glancing back at your boyfriend who still was sitting in the grass behind you all. The hubcap was put back into place, and they both stood, lowering the jack before removing it. Price offered you a hand up, and you took it, surprisingly enjoying how his burly callouses felt against your soft skin. Kyle put the tools and jack back in the trunk, before again being at Price’s side.

His eyes met Kyle’s, and Kyle took out a small notepad and pen, scribbling something down, before passing it to John who did the same. They tore the paper off, handing it to you. It was their numbers, Gas’s having a little smiley face next to it, and Price’s having a simple ‘Call me’.

“If you’re ever in trouble, give us a ring.”

Price said, and Gaz nodded as if to confirm this. You took the piece of paper and folded it in half, putting it in your pocket to protect it from the rain. Price gave you a little pat on the back, and Gaz brushed his hand ever so slightly against yours, before they both walked back to their car, getting in, and driving off with nothing more than a wave.

With a judgemental look down at your boyfriend, you got into the car, throwing his things that were still inside out at him where he was still sitting in the grass.

“We’re done.”

And with that, you drove off before his angry cussing started.

It was only when you got home that night (to the shared apartment, which you would very soon be leaving) that you noticed something. Price hadn’t ever taken his jacket back.

[persevereforahappyending]

No Man's Land |10|

Pairing: Sam Carpenter x Reader

Summary: Sam can’t help but be drawn to the cute stranger from her gym, even if everything about them makes them the perfect suspect, just when Ghostface has returned.

Warnings: Fighting, Attempted Murder, Stabbing, Strangling

Word Count: 4k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12

You sat on the back of an ambulance as one of the medics checked you out. You didn’t get hurt in the fight, but you didn’t realize you had ripped open your stitches until a medic was running over to you, asking if you were okay and pointing at the drops of blood. You denied them when they asked if you wanted to go to the hospital, you didn’t have time for all that, so they just stitched you up there and gave you a disapproving look.

“Gone up against Ghostface twice and game come out on top both times,” someone said. You looked up to see Kirby walking over to you. “Not many can say they’ve done that.”

“Seems like plenty have survived Ghostface,” you mumbled. Your eyes moved to focus on the figures behind Kirby. Sam was next to Tara as they were checked out by a medic and gave their statement to an officer. You took notice that the detective who was apparently on the case was the one person yet to be on the scene.

Kirby bobbed her head back and forth. “Not usually on their first encounter, unless they were running away or someone else showed up.”

“What the hell do you think you were doing?” Bailey shouted as he stormed up to you and Kirby. “You had a gun?”

“It’s licensed,” you snapped. “And it came in handy, would you like me to not have a weapon when a psycho is attacking us?”

Bailey scoffed and shook his head as if he couldn’t believe you dared argue with him. “Lot of good that did, he got away,” he gestured to the store.

“I got him, it’s not my fault you didn’t arrive in time.”

“Well, you didn’t finish the job,” Bailey snapped, as if it were your fault Ghostface got away. “Thought you were supposed to be special forces,” he scoffed.

You slowly rose from the ambulance until you were standing tall, staring Bailey down. “I’m a soldier, not an executioner,” you kept your voice steady but there was an edge to your tone, one daring Bailey to cross the invisible line.

Bailey let out a chuckle, as if he were truly amused you said that. “Your file isn’t even legible with how much is redacted,” Bailey stepped forward, puffing out his chest. “How many missions have you had involved you getting your hands dirty?” You clenched your jaw, he was trying to compare your missions to Ghostface, they were completely different, as a cop he should know that. “How many people have you executed without them even knowing you were there?”

“It’s different,” you said, your tone quiet as you tried to contain the rage underneath. You were aware of Sam’s eyes on you from where she still stood next to Tara, though she moved forward a few steps, as if she were going to come intervene between you and Bailey.

“Why?” Bailey chuckled. “Because those were your orders?”

You stepped forward, ready to give Bailey a piece of your mind when you felt a hand on your shoulder. You looked to the side to see Kirby, silently asking you to let it go. “Let’s all just take a breath,” she said, looking between you and Bailey.

“I got civilians dead because-”

“Because we haven’t got this guy,” Kirby snapped. She positioned herself in front of you, so she was now standing between you and Bailey. “So, why don’t we stop placing blame and catch this fucker.”

Bailey gave a little snarl but finally backed away. “I have a crime scene to work,” he mumbled as he turned and walked towards the store.

“When did you get the call?” You asked, your eyes tracking Bailey as he crouched down at the body of the store owner just inside the door.

“A thank you would suffice,” Kirby said when she turned around. The amused smirk on her face told you she wasn’t actually mad at you.

“Thank you,” you said sincerely anyway. “When did the call come in?”

“About twenty minutes ago. Someone saw Ghostface chasing after some people down the street,” Kirby looked back at the bodega. “Then several calls about shots fired came in a minute later.”

“Response was quick,” your eyes scanned all the cops working the scene. There was more than what would usually be considered necessary, but most of the officers were being used to hold back random people trying to get a look and the media.

“I was at the station.” Your eyes instantly snapped to Kirby. “I actually thought we might get here in time,” she let out a humorless chuckle. When she looked back at you, she furrowed her brow. “What?”

“Where was Bailey?” If Kirby was at the station, then there was no reason for Bailey to arrive as late as he did. All the other cops and Kirby arrived well before the detective who was supposed to be working the case, who claimed to care so much about the innocent lives being lost.

“I’m not sure,” Kirby shook her head. “Wait, you don’t actually think…” her voice got quieter with each word. “But you hit Ghostface.”

“Only in the chest,” your tone dropped to barely above a whisper. You didn’t know who to trust, you couldn’t risk anyone over hearing you. On top of that, just because you had your suspicions you didn’t have proof, you couldn’t be spreading rumors about Bailey if he wasn’t actually guilty, it could ruin his career. As much as you hated the guy you weren’t about to destroy a man’s career without evidence that he was dirty. “Whoever it was, was wearing Kevlar.”

Kirby followed your gaze and watched Bailey with the same kind of gaze as you. “They could have just seen the movies, learned to always wear a vest.” You nodded, that was likely, based on what little you heard it seemed like these psychos studied each other, trying to learn where the previous incarnation went wrong.

“Everything in me is telling me not to trust him,” you said.

“Better safe than sorry if you trust no one.” You looked at Kirby, watching as her eyes scanned the crowd, memorizing every face, just in case someone stood out or someone popped up again.

“Even you?” You raised an eyebrow.

You liked Kirby a lot more than Bailey. She’d done nothing but treat you with respect so far and you’d return the courtesy. At the end of the day though, you didn’t know her, you didn’t know any of them. Kirby hadn’t given you a reason to be suspicious of her but that didn’t mean she couldn’t possibly be involved. It was hell of a coincidence for Kirby to show up right after Ghostface attacked Sam, but she said she investigated Ghostface attacks, she knew Sam, they had a shared history, it was clear Kirby had a history with at least one of the previous Ghostface’s, like Sam and her friends did.

Kirby turned her head and looked at you, her eyes seemed to analyze you. She gave a little shrug. “Can never be too careful,” she said, nodding her head. “How much do you know about Ghostface, the attacks?”

You shrugged. “Not much,” you said. Of course, you knew the stories, everyone did, but you didn’t know the details. “I know the rumors whispered about Sam,” you looked across the way where Sam still stood with Tara.

“Well, I won’t say anything about Sam, that’s her story to tell.” You gave a ghost of a smile at that, you didn’t believe the rumors, you wanted to hear Sam’s story from herself. “But Ghostface is usually connected to the group of friends he’s going after. The first attacks were done by Billy Loomis and his best friend Stu Macher all to get back at Sidney Prescott, who Billy was dating.” You nodded, you were aware of that much of the story. “Me and my friends were attacked in 2011.” You furrowed your brow, you had been a freshman in high school, you probably heard people talking about the attacks in school but didn’t know any details.

You looked at Kirby when she didn’t immediately continue. She was clearly trying to remain composed but there were tears in her eyes, and rage underneath. “My best friend and the guy I liked were the ones behind the attacks. All because Jill wanted to be famous,” she shook her head and let out a humorless chuckle. “Of my friends, I was the only one to survive.”

You looked at Kirby in a new light, you understood now where all her pain and motivation came from. “I’m sorry,” you whispered. Those words wouldn’t do anything, but they were the only thing you could offer. It wasn’t easy being the only survivor, it was lonely, no one could quite understand it, you knew that all too well.

Kirby gave you a thankful smile. “I know why you didn’t finish the job,” she whispered. “But this kind of thing,” she shook her head. “It only ends in two ways, kill or be killed.”

You looked down, taking in Kirby’s words. You had done a lot of terrible things, things you never talked about. You did all of them for the greater good though, at least that’s what you told yourself, you were following orders, trying to stop someone bad from doing something worse. Killing Ghostface in self-defense was one thing but executing him when he was already down was another. It wasn’t like you hadn’t done it before, but those were always terrible people, terrorists, crime lords, people who did unspeakable things. You knew Ghostface wasn’t good but in your head, there was a separation, that being in New York, being home, it made things different, war was one thing, this was another altogether.

“Are you okay?” Kirby asked, bringing you out of your thoughts. You looked up to see Sam and Tara had approached.

“Now that we’re done with the endless questioning,” Sam grumbled.

“It’s just protocol,” Kirby gave her an apologetic smile.

“Are we free to go?”

“Of course.” Kirby looked back at you, “I just need your gun.” You let out a displeased sigh. “Protocol.”

“I know,” you said, still clearly displeased. You pulled out your gun, releasing the magazine and making sure there wasn’t one in the chamber before dropping it into the evidence bag Kirby held out.

You fired your gun, it was an active crime scene, and that meant your gun was evidence. Even though you didn’t kill anyone they still needed your gun to at least know which bullets were from you and which ones were from Ghostface, even though your 9mm was completely different than the shotgun Ghostface was using.

“Don’t worry, I will personally make sure the lab gets this,” Kirby said.

You watched her walk off. “Are you okay?” Sam asked, making you look at her. “Things with Bailey seemed tense.”

You rolled your eyes and looked around until you found Bailey across the way talking to one of the other officers. “Apparently he wasn’t satisfied with the way I handled things,” you said, glaring at Bailey.

“You saved our lives,” Sam said softly, you stopped glaring at Bailey to give Sam a grateful smile.

“Did you have a gun this whole time?” Tara asked, speaking for the first time since the attack happened. She was looking at you suspiciously, trying to appear strong with her arms crossed, but you could see the fear behind her eyes.

“Yes,” you answered honestly, you knew it would do no good to lie to Tara.

“Did you know?” she looked at her sister.

“Yes,” Sam said. Tara’s face morphed into one of hurt. “I thought it was better if no one knew, we don’t know who to trust.”

Tara clenched her jaw as she wordlessly nodded. “You could have told me.” Sam guiltily looked down as Tara stormed off.

You gently tapped Sam’s shoulder and offered her a small smile. She returned your smile and the two of you followed after Tara. You understood why Tara was upset, if the roles were reversed, you’d probably feel the same. On the other hand, the only reason you were able to get the upper hand on Ghostface was because no one else knew you had the gun on you.

The three of you walked back to the apartment without another incident. You noticed how Sam shoved her hands in the pockets of her jacket as you passed people, keeping her head down, probably hoping none of them recognized her. Three of you trekked up the various sets of stairs until you finally got back to the sister’s apartment.

“Where is everyone?” Sam asked as soon as she stepped through the door.

You came up behind her, peeking around her to see Ethan and Quinn were nowhere in sight. “Quinn is with a gentleman caller,” Mindy said, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Ethan left a little bit after you,” Chad said, not even bothering to look up as he mindless flipped through channels on the TV. “Said he had Econ.”

Sam rolled her eyes as she walked towards the kitchen, opening the refrigerator and pulling out a bottle of water. Tara flopped down in the chair next to the couch and you made your way to the far end of the couch, taking a seat next to Chad. A moment later Chad furrowed his brow and sat up straighter. You looked up to see he had stopped flipping through the channels and had stopped on the news. You furrowed your brow as well when you saw a picture of Sam pop up on the screen. Mindy plucked the remote out of Chad’s hand and turned up the volume.

“Ghostface is taking on New York,” the report said. “And the prime suspect seems to be Samantha Carpenter, daughter of the original Ghostface killer, Billy Loomis.” You looked to the side to see Sam standing in the doorway, her eyes filled with tears as she stared at the TV, trying to remain strong. “She is rumored to have setup her boyfriend, Richie Kirsch, in the killings last year.” Your ears instantly perked up at the name, it was the same name that popped up on Sam’s phone before the recent attack. “Right before killing him herself. Now-”

“Bullshit!” Chad snapped, aggressively pressing the power button. “They don’t know what the fuck they’re talking about.” He slammed down the remote on the coffee table.

Chad jumped up from the couch and stormed over to the dining table where Tara was sitting next to Sam, Mindy following close behind. You watched as Sam curled in on herself, trying to make herself as small as possible as Tara tried to comfort her. You couldn’t hear exactly what they were saying, and you didn’t feel right about eavesdropping, they deserved their privacy. You decided to focus on your feet, as Sam’s friends tried to comfort her. You tried not to let what the reporter said invade your mind, you learned a little more about Sam, but you didn’t want to take the media’s word for it. Sam wasn’t a suspect, they already got that wrong, she was the victim.

You heard loud banging coming from Quinn’s room but didn’t think much of it as everyone laughed it off, seeming to go on as if this was regular occurrence. Everyone’s phones, besides yours, went off, shifting the energy in the room. You slid next to Anika, looking over her shoulder as she opened a message on her phone, showing a picture of Quinn being stabbed by Ghostface.

Everyone shot to their feet, the yelling from Quinn’s room got louder then suddenly stopped. Everyone gathered in the middle of the living room as they stared at Quinn’s door, waiting to for what would happen next. Before you knew it the door flung open and Ghostface tossed Quinn’s body out, which landed on Anakin, sending her to the ground.

“Go!” you shouted, pointing at the front door.

Chad grabbed Tara and yanked her out the front door. When Mindy tried to follow Ghostface slashed her across the arm and sent her to the ground.

Anika pushed Quinn’s body off herself and pulled herself to her feet. Ghostface was right there though, grabbing her by the neck and slamming her into the wall. He raised his knife, twirling it back and forth as he got ready to stab Anika. Without thinking you rushed forward and tackled him to the ground before he could stab Anika.

You punched Ghostface in the face, ignoring the pain that radiated through your knuckles with each hit to the mask. You grabbed his hand that was holding the knife and slammed it on the ground until he dropped it. You pushed the knife away before trying to stand up. As soon as you started to get off Ghostface he swung his legs around, tripping you and sending you back to the floor. He scrambled away from you as he grabbed his knife again.

He jumped back to his feet and stood over you, tilting his head as he waved the knife back and forth. You smirked when you saw Sam come up from behind him and hit him on the back of the head with a wood block of some sort. When Ghostface stumbled forward you kicked out your foot, tripping him and sending him tumbling to the floor.

Sam held out a hand to you and as soon as you took it, she yanked you up. While Sam was helping you, Anika helped Mindy up, then Sam ushered the three of you into the bedroom. She ran across the room and into the bathroom to lock a door while you slammed the door closed as soon as you got inside. Everyone rushed around the room, knocking over furniture and using anything to try and barricade the doors.

“Danny?” Sam asked, furrowing her brow as she looked out the window. You followed her gaze to see her neighbor waving his arms out his window as he tried to get someone’s attention.

Sam opened the window. “Are you crazy?” she called out. You made your way next to her to see Danny pushing a ladder out of his window. You helped Sam grab the ladder and stabilize it so everyone could crawl across.

“Go,” you said, nodding at Sam.

Sam looked back at Mindy and Anika as they tried to hold the door closed as Ghostface attempted to shove his way in. “But-” she looked back at you.

“Go,” you ordered, your tone leaving no room for argument.

Sam reluctantly got on the ladder and began making her way across. You ran to Mindy and Anakin, falling into place right beside them as you helped hold the door. “Your turn,” you nodded at Anika.

Anika shook her head, there were tears streaming down her face. You looked at Mindy for a little help and when she looked back at the door you assured her you had it. Mindy grabbed Anika and dragged her over to the window. Anika’s crying only got louder as she convinced Mindy to go first. Once Mindy was out the window and making her way across Anika turned back to you.

“Go!” you ordered again. “Go,” you gestured with your hand. “I’ll be fine.”

With shaky hands Anika lifted herself out of the window and began making her way across the ladder. Almost as soon as you loosened your hold on the door Ghostface plowed through, sending you falling to the ground. You recovered almost instantly and jumped across the bed when you saw he was making his way for the window, to Anika.

You grabbed the curtains and wrapped them around Ghostface’s neck before he could get his hands on the ladder. You pulled the curtain tighter, feeling his body spasm and kicked as he clawed at the fabric, but you were stronger than him. You caught a glance out the window, seeing Anika be pulled to safety. It wasn’t until you had him so close that you were confident this Ghostface was one of the ones from the gym, not the one from the bodega.

Ghostface stopped pulling at the cloth, but a second later you felt a sharp pain in your thigh. You gritted your teeth, suppressing a scream as best as you could. You looked down to see a knife sticking out of your leg before Ghostface ripped it out. You let go of the curtain, releasing Ghostface as you brought a hand to the wound.

You tried to stand up as straight as you could, but blood was gushing between your fingers. Ghostface recovered quicker as he whipped around and swung his knife down. You raised your hand, making sure the knife only sliced your forearm.

Your hand shot out, catching Ghostface’s arm before he could bring the knife down again. You ignored the blood running down your arm, you didn’t have time to worry about stopping the bleeding. While your other hand was still pressing against the wound on your thigh, Ghostface took his free hand and punched you in the side, right where your stitches were.

You let go of his hand as you brought your hand to your side, surely having ripped your stitches again. You ignored the others yelling for you as Ghostface brought down his knife again, this time when you blocked his arm with yours and brought your knee up, nailing him in the stomach. While he was doubled over you brought your good leg up and kicked him square in the chest, sending him tumbling over the side of the bed.

As much as you wanted to finish the fight you knew you were in no condition to do so. You limped over to the window and climbed out onto the ladder. When you looked ahead you could see Sam and Danny gesturing at you to hurry. You crawled as best as you could with one good leg and one good arm, ignoring the way the blood dripped down your hand, making the ladder and your hand slippery with each movement.

“Hurry!” Sam yelled; her voice strained. You looked up to see her eyes wide and not focused on you but something behind you. You glanced over your shoulder to see Ghostface standing at the window. He impaled the knife in the windowsill before using both hands to grab the end of the ladder.

You gritted your teeth; you were really starting to hate this guy. You continued to crawl, your grip tightening as Ghostface lifted the ladder, jostling it back and forth to try and get you to fall. You nearly lost your grip once, having to wrap your arm under the rungs and keep your body low so you didn’t go over the side.

You looked up, judging the distance from where you were to the window. You let out a shaky breath as you slowly loosened your grip, despite Ghostface still shaking the ladder with all his strength. You got into a crouch position and kicked off, ungracefully launching yourself off the ladder and at the window. You reached out, catching on the windowsill with one hand. You brought up your bloody hand, which instantly found the home of someone else’s. You looked up to see Sam holding onto you as Danny held your other hand and began to pull you up.

You made it through the window, instantly collapsing on the ground next to Danny. You looked back at him as he moved out from underneath you, his hands instantly going to your wounds to try and stop the bleeding. You couldn’t help but groan at the pressure. Sam helped drag you against the wall to prop you up. You let your head flop against the wall, you strained to stay conscious, focusing on Mindy’s voice as she called for an ambulance, and on Sam’s hands as they wrapped a scratchy cloth around your arm, trying to stop the bleeding.

Taglist: @thatshyboy1998 @artrizzler19 @btay3115 @acutenobody @godamnityess

@luvwanda @rqizzu @riyaexee @bella423

[sizzleissues]

Its May.

Okay so this is in the same AU I had last year its just changed and evolved while also being the exact same. Except now I have 15,000 words of it written, like 7,000 words of planning and lore and hours upon hours of research that I will be pointedly ignoring. Will be posting more stuff this month about the AU and my hopes and dreams for it

Also slight art improvement check? I’ll put their original mermaid designs below the cut.

It’s Marinette as a mermaid and … its not Adrien or Chat Noir but a third worse thing (Catwalker but in the purest manifestation of it being a curse and not who he wants to be) I will be making designs for mer!Ladybug, and mer!Adrien as its own thing later on.

Okay if you want to indulge me look below the cut

Old mermaid designs first. I am going to be talking about my design thoughts, thoughts and ramblings about this AU and what I’ve been up to. You have been warned

As you can see, some things have changed but neither design I hated, I just wanted to go further with it.

My brain is quite specific about mermaids and how I want them to generally look. I wanted to distinguish biological merfolk from transformed humans by having them being anatomically different. So Adrien has a vertical tail instead which is also way faster underwater. His transformation is quite distressing for him and very chaotic. Of course when he accepts it he’s not so raggedy.

Marinette similarly avoids her life as a mermaid by becoming human and I wanted her mermaid design to hint toward her fascination with humans. She wears a top she fashioned from human fabric she found in a sunken merchant vessel. In general all other merfolk either forgo clothes or wear things fashioned from materials available to them. There’s deep fear of humans and human things so even though human clothes are available to them (off dead bodies but…. Whatever) they choose to difference themselves as much as possible. The same taboos don’t exist for them and their bodies are already adapted from the temperature of their environment. Adrien has stray bits of netting and seaweed on him because he’s not exactly the best at controlling his speed and often crash’s through fishing nets and patches of seaweed resulting in stuff being caught on him.

A lot of their designs are still being worked but I’ve definitely pushed them the right direction!

On to the AU. You might have seem me cryptically talk about something I’m writing the past few weeks. This is because it’s been in my brain since last May and been on and off writing it since then. I decided I’d talk about it once May came back around but and then when I finished writing it, start posting sneak peaks and more spoilery art until it was fully edited and I felt confident in it to post with an aim for it to finish posting once May rolled around again. Oh god.

It’s set in the late 1700s in a fictional version of France that’s actually fragmented over a bunch of islands. I have done more fashion research than I ever thought I’d do and in the end we will still be taking creative license but know I do know what they actually wore! I ALSO did a butt tonne of research about sailing ships and turns out they are super complicated and now I know too much and yet too little still about them. It should be super fun and action packed if I can manage. Have some really good scenes already in my head I know you’ll love. We’re already three ships battle deep and I’ve only written four chapters. (It chills out for a bit after that)

This is entirely self-indulgent by the way. I’m writing this for me, you guys are just a bonus. I literally don’t care as long as it satiates my rabid need for the fic that only lives in my brain at the moment. Saying that, I do want to put my best foot forward.

The next thing I will be posting for this is their human forms and more blabblerings about that. For I am insane and all.

[storiesforallfandoms]

junker ~ beck oliver;victorious

word count: 2011

request?: no

description: after her car breaks down in front of the dreamy boy’s house, he helps her to fix it

pairing: beck oliver x female!reader

warnings: swearing, one mention of y/n

masterlist (one, two, three)

“No,” you said to yourself as your car began to slow. “No, no, no!”

You hit your steering wheel in frustration as the car came to a stop in the middle of the road.

This wasn’t the first time you had encountered issues with your shitty excuse for a car. It was definitely because the car was older than your parents. It was a miracle it even started in the first place, which, to be fair, it didn’t most of the time. You had no idea what your parents were thinking in buying you this hunk of junk to be your first car. They didn’t have to buy you a brand new sports car or anything, but they could’ve gotten you something from this decade at least.

You got out o the car to inspect what had happened. You opened the hood of the car and inspected inside. You couldn’t tell if anything was off because it all just looked the same to you. There was probably something, but you weren't exactly knowledgeable on cars.

You exclaimed in frustration and kicked the wheel, followed by a string of expletives as pain exploded from your toes.

“Car troubles?”

You turned to see a boy around your age stood at the end of a driveway.

“It just stopped,” you said. “I have no idea what’s wrong with it.”

You sighed, running a hand over your face as you realized how screwed you were. You were a few blocks away from home, so walking wasn’t necessarily off the table, but it would take you a while to get home. Not to mention you had no idea how you’d get the car back to your place, or off the road at all.

“Here, bring it into my driveway,” the boy said. “I’ll take a look at it.”

“How are we gonna get it into your driveway? It’s like...dead dead.”

He approached the car, taking a quick glance at the still open hood before reaching to close it. “Put it in neutral. I’ll push, you can steer.”

You weren’t sure if that sounded like a good idea - one person pushing a car on their own didn’t seem super doable - but you had no other choices. So, you got back into your car, waiting for him to get in place, then shifted the car into neutral. You started turning the wheel, shifting the car towards the driveway. It took a while, but eventually the two of you had managed to get the car into his driveway. You put it back in park as he came around to pop the hood again.

“I’m Beck, by the way,” he said as you got out of your car.

“(Y/N),” you responded. “Thanks for the help. I thought I was screwed.”

“Why are you driving a junker like this? It must be like, a century old.”

“My parents got it for me when I got my license. Something about wanting to get an older car as my first one until I learn responsibility, I guess?”

“So they gave you a rolling death trap?”

You scoffed. “Yeah, basically. I bet they’ll regret that now.”

Beck leaned in to get a better look at something. “When did they buy it?”

You shrugged. “A few weeks ago, I think.”

“Well, they’ll definitely regret however much money they wasted on this thing. It’s completely dead.”

Your eyes widened. “What?!”

Beck stood back up. “There’s not a single thing that works in this thing now. Engine is toast, battery zapped, starting motor gone. It’s a wonder this thing ever worked in the first place.”

You let out a long groan. As if your luck couldn’t get any worse. What were you supposed to do now without a car? You couldn’t go back to relying on your parents to drive you everywhere, and you certainly were not about to start taking the bus to school again.

“Do you have a phone?” Beck asked.

“It’s dead,” you said. “I was on my way home anyways, I thought I’d be fine.”

“Listen, mine is in my RV. You can use it to call your parents if you want.”

You eyed the silver RV in the yard. “You live in there? When there’s...a house?”

He chuckled. “I prefer to be on my own. The RV was the only compromise my parents would come to. If you’d rather not come in, I understand. I can bring my phone out instead if it would make you more comfortable.”

You shook your head. “No, that’s okay. It’s starting to get dark, so it’s probably best if I wait inside instead of out here while it gets cold.”

Beck nodded for you to follow him into his trailer. It was a decent size, big enough for one person living there. It was also evident that a teenage boy lived there given the mess. Beck must’ve noticed, too, because he quickly started picking up dirty clothes and laundry from the floor, mumbling something about ignoring the mess. You quietly giggled to yourself.

Beck passed you his phone. You sat down on his couch and dialed your mom’s number first. It rang for a long time before an automated message told you she was away from the phone. You hung up and tried your dad’s number, only to have the same outcome. You rolled your eyes and hung up, handing the phone back to Beck.

“They must be busy,” you said. “God, this sucks. What am I going to do?”

Beck sat down next to you. He was close enough to you that you could feel his shoulder brushing against yours. You were suddenly very aware of your situation: alone in a trailer with a boy who was incredibly cute. A broke down car, no way to get home until your parents answered your calls. You shuffled awkwardly in your seat, looking down at your lap when looking into Beck’s eyes became too much.

“I could drive you home,” he offered. “Then, when your parents are home, you can tell them what happened and where the car is. Then they can decide if they want to come get it, or they can leave it here and I can salvage whatever parts I can from it.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “You think there’s anything salvageable from that car?”

“Well...the tires.”

You both laughed. You knew you should be getting home, but part of you also didn’t want to leave yet. Sure, you would still see Beck again whenever your parents decided to come get the car - if they decided to come get the car - but after that you may never see him again. He wasn’t familiar to you, and you were sure you’d remember someone like Beck at your school, so that meant he went to a different school. The likeliness of you two ever crossing paths again were incredibly slim.

But you also couldn’t just invite yourself into his place to stay for a while. You were still a stranger to him, and him to you technically. And you probably should get home so you could charge your phone, just so your parents didn’t start freaking out if they tried to call you and couldn’t get through.

So, you took Beck’s offer and followed him to his car. It was definitely a lot nicer than your old piece of junk. You were almost embarrassed that he had to see what you were driving before. The one silver lining to this whole situation was that your parents might actually buy you a good car after all of this.

You knew it was going to be a short ride to your house, so you had to make the most of it. You looked over at Beck and asked, “So, what school do you go to?”

“Hollywood Arts,” he responded.

“Oh! So that’s why I haven’t seen you around. You’re too busy becoming a big star.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, I guess so. Trying to, at least. I’m not a singer like most of the people who attend that school. I’m trying to become an actor after I graduate.”

“Hey, the world needs actors. That doesn’t sound like an impossible dream to achieve.”

He shrugged. You felt like the conversation was drifting away, and you desperately wanted it to keep going.

“I do appreciate what you did for me,” you said. “Most people in LA probably would’ve driven right past me and wished me luck.”

“I couldn’t let you just stay there stranded right in front of my place,” he said. “What kind of a guy would I be if I didn’t offer the pretty girl some help?”

Your face immediately burned at his compliment. You quickly looked away so he wouldn’t see how flustered you were.

“Still, I appreciate it,” you said. “And the ride home. I probably could’ve walked, come to think of it.”

“No way. I wasn’t going to let you walk when I have a perfectly good car that could’ve driven you home.”

“Don’t rub it in.”

He chuckled. You noticed the car slowing to a stop, and when you looked up you saw that you were in front of your house. You almost deflated with disappointment. Your time with Beck was finally, and unfortunately, coming to an end. There was no way you’d be able to see him again, you were sure of that. It was already pretty clear the both of you wouldn’t be running into each other at schooling events, unless you managed to make it out to a performance at Hollywood Arts that Beck just so happened to be starring in.

“This is me,” you said, trying to keep the sadness from your voice.

“So it is,” Beck said with a nod.

You looked down at your lap, trying to stall as much as possible. “Thank you for everything. I don’t know how I can repay you for all of this.”

“You don’t have to.”

“What if I wanted to? I mean, surely there’s something else I could do or give you as a way of saying thanks. Something more than that lump of junk that’s still sat in your driveway.”

He made a face. “No, that’s a terrible thank you gift actually.”

“Yeah, that’s why I’m saying I want to give you an actual thank you gift.”

He thought for a moment and you waited patiently for his answer. Finally, he looked back at you and said, “There is something you could give me.”

“What is it?”

“Your number.”

He was holding his phone out to you. You looked from his phone up to his face. You were almost sure this wasn’t real, that you were hallucinating that this was happening. But the longer it took for you to take Beck’s phone and put your number in it, the more his face was starting to show worry. As if you were about to turn him down.

“Yes!” you finally blurted. “I mean...yeah. Yeah, I can...I can do that.”

He seemed amused by your flusteredness. You quickly took his phone and typed in your name and number before handing it back to him.

“You better get your phone charged,” he said. “Otherwise, how am I supposed to try and plan a date with you?”

Oh, he smooth.

You wanted to say something back that was equally as smooth, but you were at a loss for words. Instead, you just nodded your head for a long time, like a crazy person, before finally saying goodbye for real and getting out of his car. You could feel him watching you as you walked up to your front door and let yourself in. He didn’t leave until the door closed behind you, and even then he waited for you to lock it and turn on the light over the door.

Once you were alone, you leaned back against the door and you couldn’t stop the wide smile that broke out across your face.

Okay, at least there were two silver linings to that stupid thing breaking down.

[shanastoryteller]

Happy Pride! Authors choice! 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍⚧️

a continuation of 1

Gus is going exactly eight miles over the speed limit when the sirens start.

This is Shawn’s fault, since he’s the one that had agreed to meet Gavin right before they were supposed to be at Henry’s. When he glances up to see the large, white cop heading towards him, he decides that if Shawn’s gotten him into this mess, he can get him out.

Shawn is very, very serious about keeping his work and personal life separate, but this is the one instance that he encourages Gus to break that barrier. If more major cities had a diverse police force, he wouldn’t feel like it was necessary quite so often. 

Unfortunately, since Shawn has yet to get the appropriate stationary, he’ll have to go back a generation with this trick.

“What’s this?” the officer says, staring at the back of his license.

“Oh, that’s my father in law’s old police business card,” he says. Shawn reaches out for it back when he does this, but Gus keeps his hands on ten and two. “Apologies, sir, I’ve been carrying that thing around for years. Can never be too careful, as I’m sure you know.”

His eyes flick to Gus’s hand and the gold band on his ring finger. “You’re Henry Spencer’s son-in-law?”

“Yes, sir,” he answers evenly. “I’m actually headed to his place now. You know how he is about punctuality.”

That gets him half a chuckle and the tension in his shoulders starts to ease, up until the officer asks, “I thought Henry had a son?”

It can be a delicate balance, weighing the potential racism against the potential homophobia, but this isn’t Gus’s first time doing this either. “Lots of people think that. It’s the unfortunate name choice.”

That gets him some more sounds of amusements, then his license is being handed back to him. “Tell Henry and the missus that old Kingfisher says hello.”

“Of course, thank you, sir,” Gus says, pleasant smile firmly in place until old Kingfisher is back in his car.

He carefully pulls back onto the road and stays five below the speed limit the rest of the way.

There’s a lack of rusted piece of junk motorcycle out front – Gus would prefer it if Shawn would just buy a decent bike, but he likes tinkering too much for that – and he wishes he was surprised. Henry’s grilling in the yard and he waves a hand in greeting as soon as he steps out. “Gus! What the hell are you driving?”

If only Shawn was here right now, because he’d said the exact same thing when he’d pulled up in the blue Echo and he was still valiantly fighting against the very real truth that he and his father can be uncannily alike. “It’s a rental.”

Henry wrinkles his nose, but any further commentary is cut off by an obnoxiously loud engine as Shawn turns the corner and parks next to him, kicking down the stand and pulling off his helmet in one motion. He clocks the look on both their faces immediately and holds up a hand. “I know, I know, don’t be the moldy grape at the bottom of the bag about it. I’ll fix it this weekend. I’ve already put in the order for some of the parts.”

That’s sort of the truth. They’re going to the junkyard on Saturday so Shawn can play Frankenstein, but there are a couple things he buys new every time because one motorcycle accident due to a worn belt was one too many for Gus.

“Can’t you two just get a couple of normal cars?” Henry sighs.

“This is a normal car!” he protests, holding the gate for Shawn to walk ahead of him. He really hopes that he didn’t meet with the mayor in jeans and a flannel, but he also knows better. Shawn slaps his ass as he walks by, and he’s tempted to yank him back into a kiss, but Henry hasn’t seen them since he picked them up at the airport and he figures they can be on somewhat good behavior for at least one dinner.

“I have dubbed it the Blueberry,” Shawn says, using the same voice he does when giving stupid names to chess pieces.

Henry rolls his eyes even as he pulls Shawn down to ruffle his hair, causing him to yelp and pull away, even though the helmet had flattened it enough that he’s probably doing Shawn a favor.

It’s all normal and familiar and they eat dinner on the porch, the weather a welcome relief after the last couple of years on the East Coast. Gus is thinking about how nice it is to be back in Santa Barbara and how much happier Henry looks than when he was in Miami, and that’s probably only partly to he and Shawn moving back too, when Henry says, “What are you boys doing for work now? Gus, Shawn said something about you working on some sort of drug trial?”

Which is when he realizes that Shawn hasn’t told Henry why they’re back like he promised he would and Gus should have known that he would chicken out, but now he’s trapped at this table. He considers simply fleeing and locking Shawn out until he talks to his father. Henry’s seen him do worse.

There’s really no such thing as impressing the in-laws for him. Well, maybe with Madeline, but Henry knows him too well and has known him too long for there to be any of that. Shawn’s mother has too, technically, but he saw her a lot less than Henry.

“Yeah, he’s an executive at Middle Earth Pharmaceuticals,” Shawn says, as if Gus hasn’t frozen with the fork halfway to his mouth. Henry is frowning. It’s too late.

“It’s Central Coast Pharmaceuticals, Shawn,” he says, lowering his fork. Henry’s steak is his favorite and now he can’t even enjoy it because it’s a steak built on lies.

He shrugs. “I’ve heard it both ways. They want him to revamp their internal systems and rearrange some routes. Plus they’re hoping they can use his contacts to make more sales.”

That last part had been more implied than listed in his job duties, but he’s not wrong. “More or less.”

“Alright,” Henry says slowly, now aware that there’s something wrong but not having yet figured it out. He still has time to run. “What about you, Shawn? Surf instructor? Ballon animal operator? Sommelier?”

“Dad, please, you know I’d never cheat on Gus,” he answers. Gus can feel his knee bouncing underneath the table against his own, the only sign of his anxiety.

Gus clears his throat. “I know you know what a sommelier is, Shawn. You’ve worked at two different wineries.”

“Well, neither of them were French,” he says, as if that doesn’t prove that he knows exactly what it is.

Henry leans back in his seat, staring them down in a way that reminds him uncomfortably of their childhood. The line between Cop Henry and Dad Henry had always been thin and retirement hadn’t really done much to change that. Gus stares at the space over his head while Shawn continues eating with faux obliviousness. Finally, Henry says, “Alright, just tell me. It has to be better than Boston. I hated you working out there with those assholes.”

Gus slinks down in his seat.

Henry frowns before straightening. “You’re not working in Los Angeles again, are you? Shawn, you made enemies there, a lot of them, you can’t just waltz back in, and Karen isn’t there anymore-”

“It’s not Los Angeles,” Shawn interrupts.

His frown deepens. He knows if it was another stupid, casual job then Shawn would have told him already. “This isn’t like Argentina, is it?”

God, Argentina. That had sucked. It was supposed to be legit, and had been, up until Shawn had gotten involved in – well, Gus does his best not to think about it, since he’s not supposed to know anything about it. Neither is Henry. As far as they’re supposed to know, Shawn worked at an Argentinian winery for a year.

And he did! At least on paper.

“Nope,” Shawn says, popping his mouth on the last syllable.

“Alright, enough,” he says, “this is ridiculous, just tell me…” As he trails off, his eyes get wider. Gus doesn’t whimper, because he’s a grown man, and because of exposure. He’s nearly immune to Henry’s temper after all this time.

Nearly.

“Shawn!” he shouts. “You are not working at the SBPD!”

Gus stands abruptly, his chair screeching against the floor. Shawn reaches out to grab onto his shirt, but Gus hops back. “I’ll just get started on the dishes, shall I?”

“Traitor,” Shawn hisses, but Gus refuses to feel bad about this.

As much as he doesn’t want to be a widower, he knows better than to get in-between Shawn and his father.

[yncoreee]

OOPS. Minji X reader

Synopsis— you definitely did not expect to see your girlfriend in the parking lot of your work place.

Warnings .ᐟ established relationship, Pet names, Minji had a drivers license,oc,idol minji x non-idol female reader, FLUFF

꩜ — ⵌWord count 554

Y/n whined as she kept on following her best friend like a lost puppy. “Come on Sunhye, let me follow your car” She pleaded with puppy eyes.

“Hell no, you live so far! No way I’m going to drive you all the way to your house!” She exclaimed shaking her head as a no.

“Just go take the bus, it’s not gonna do you any harm” she added in an annoyed tone. Although she wasn’t actually annoyed. It was how they both act towards each other.

“You’re a meanie” y/n slightly pouted as she huffed folding her arms over her chest.

“I love me like that” sunhye smiled at y/n getting into her car, starting the engine. Y/n could only frown as the engine roared.

“If I were you, I’d get going earlier” Sunhye spoke before driving out of the parking lot.

Y/n kicked her feet on the ground. “Stupid. Just wait till I get my drivers license” she taunted with a smirk followed by a sigh. “I better start going as well”.

As y/n took a step forward, her phone vibrated in her pockets signaling she received a notification.

She furrowed her eyebrows and brought out her phone to check who she had received a message from. She smiled as she saw the person name.

Min🐻❤️<33

Look to your right🤭

Y/n eyebrows furrowed even more in confusion and curiosity as she inspected the area before her eyes locked with minji’s.

Y/n’s eyes widened in surprise as she immediately made her way over to minji who was holding a big bouquet of flower flashing her a bright smile,

The first thing she did was place a soft kiss on minji’s lips. But then she remembered she was an idol.

“What are you doing here? Don’t you know anybody could see you?! Dispatch could even be here! Oh my! Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?!!” Y/n scolded her as she looked around for signs of any person.

“Oops…😬” she spoke. “But I wanted to surprise my lovey and beautiful girlfriend” she pouted.

Y/n face palmed as she shook her head before looking at minji. She noticed minji was leaning against a car. “Whose car is this?!” She exclaimed, removing minji’s body from the car.

“You can’t just lean against someone else’s car, if anything happens I’m not gonna be there to support you” y/n scolded her once again.

“But baby this is my car” she said tugging onto y/n’s arm.

Y/n’s eyes widened in shock. “What do you mean this is your car? tell me you got your drivers licenses” she asked with a bright smile.

“Yes I did” Minji flexed, smiling proudly. “Now I can come to pick you almost everyday at work” she added with a smirk.

Y/n glared at her crossing your arms over your chest. “No not almost everyday, I swear to God someone will still find out we’re dating”.

“But y/n—“ she spoke up but got cut off by you. “No buts” you interjected.

“Fine” she said with a sulky expression. “Let’s go home so we can watch a movie and cuddle all day” she yelled excitedly causing y/n to glare and shush her, as she entered into the passenger’s seat.

[miirohs]

all I want is you now [l.h.m]

pairing: Mob Boss!Lewis Hamilton x GN!Reader wc: 0.9k cw: n/a an: i wrote a majority of this the night before my learners license test EL EM AY OH and i passed btw! i need lewis hamilton in a way beyond the comprehension of the average man.... Also I’m super tired so if this isn’t coherent I’m sorry </3

It seemed like all you could breathe was the earthy smell of expensive cologne in Lewis’s office, twisting around you in an almost pervasive manner as you curled up against the armrest of the couch. 

He was still working on vacation, the sounds of pen scratching against paper quietly filling the air. The frame of his reading glasses glinting in the lamplight, washing the room over with an almost drowsy sort of atmosphere. 

You’d tried everything to stay awake. Only, the book you were reading seemed to further disengage you rather than keep you active, drooping slightly before jolting back to look around. The words blurred together, refusing to hold your attention for a moment more.

Lewis remained unengaged with you. You were sure if he had seen even a moment of drowsiness, he’d have kicked you out immediately, claiming that you needed your rest more than he did. 

Still, you couldn’t help but watch him, letting your stare linger for a few moments longer than you intended to.

"Enjoying the view?" Lewis finally spoke, voice low and raspy from a lack of use, continuing on without sparing you a glance. 

You felt a warmth creep up your neck, embarrassment registering in your brain moments later.

"I didn't mean to stare," you muttered indignantly, quickly lowering your gaze back down. The fright he gave you made your heart race, though you were sure that wasn’t the only reason.

“You’ve been doing it a lot for the last hour or two, clearly you didn’t think I’d notice. ‘S there something you want from me, baby?” he humored you, a teasing look in his eyes as he stared at you.

"I was just curious," you managed to blurt out, voice keening slightly towards the end. "It's just… interesting to watch. You always look so focused."

“You sure that’s all?” He questioned, cocking his head at you. He could read you, clear as day, and you let him piece you apart once again.

Lewis glanced at you, a thoughtful look gracing his face. "You know," he began, "that’s always been the thing with you." You blinked, taken aback by the sudden shift in stop. "What do you mean?" you asked cautiously.

“You won’t ask,” he said, leaning back in his chair, a playful grin on his face. "It’s like you’re afraid of me or something babe. Even if it kills you, you wouldn’t ask until I pester you for an answer, yeah?"

He leaned back in his chair, his eyes still locked onto yours, a playful glint in them. "Come here," he said softly, patting his thigh.

You hesitated for a moment, your heart skipping a beat as you replayed his words in your head, unsure if you had heard him correctly. The invitation was still clear as day in the way he looked at you, swallowing the doubt at the sound of his laughter.

"Come on," he coaxed, low and inviting. "I don't bite."

Slowly, you pushed yourself up from the couch, cringing internally as you awkwardly approached him. He left no room for hesitation, gently pulling you into his lap.

"See? Not so bad," he teased, his fingers tracing light patterns on your back.

You were pressed up against him, fingertips brushing against his back as you pressed your face into the crook of his neck. For a moment, the smell of his perfume disappeared from your senses, tracing the tattoos on the back of his neck and downward from memory, the feeling of soft cotton running against your fingertips.

"You're always so tense," he murmured, his hands moving in soothing circles on your back. "Just relax."

Your hands hit the small of his back, brushing up against metal hidden against his spine. He didn’t seem to mind as you pulled it out, pointing it to the opposing window before dropping your hands.

“That’s coming from you, Lew.” You said dolefully, pushing away from him to look him dead in the eyes. “How many times have you been out on doing god knows what in recent days instead… instead of being here? With me?” 

He only hummed quietly, a disappointment of sorts blooming in your chest when he responded a heartbeat later. “So that’s what you wanted to tell me, wasn’t it baby?” 

You could only stare at him juggling between what possible emotions you were going to feel next.

At the look on your face, he shook his head, slipping the gun away from your hands as he leaned in for a kiss.

Despite the anger and disappointment simmering inside of you, it only seemed to melt away at the feeling of the kiss, pressing into it.

He always tried to kiss it better, thought you weren’t entirely sure he knew what he was doing right now.

“Gotta tell me in your words what you want me to do to make it right, baby.” He said, slightly breathless as he looked at you, earnest in his attempt.

“Well, then could you drop this?” You grabbed the gun from his hands again, throwing it onto the desk as you grabbed him gently by the tie. “And please, please just come back to bed? I miss you.”

He didn’t seem phased by your demands, nodding along easily as if a puppet being pulled by strings.

“I can do that, yeah, ‘s there anything else you want from me though?” You leaned into him again, allowing him to press a kiss to your ear.

“No, I just want you to come back, just once.”  You replied, earning a nod from him as he pressed a question kiss to your neck.

You allowed it, holding one of his hands as he kissed down your neck, as if a silent promise to you, full of love.

[soleilnewspaper]

First tattoo

Synopsis: You’ve always wanted to get a tattoo but you are absolutely terrified of needles. Luckily you have not one but two boyfriends to talk you through it.

Pairing: poly!wolfstar x reader

Warnings: fear of needles, crying, comfort, suggestive themes (nothing is explicitly stated.)

Word count: 1.6k

AN: I’m still quite ill but I do plan to release more parts of my poly!Wolfstar series once I’m better. If you enjoy this, please do all the tumblr things; reblog, like and comment.

Dividers: @Strangergraphics

It’s a little embarrassing to be honest, how you, a grown adult still have a fear of needles. An intense one at that.

Most people grow out of their childhood fears. They’re replaced by the demands of adulthood instead. Bills, taxes, rent, food and countless other things that you have to deal with as an adult.

You still share all these concerns yourself, every other adult would. However, you unlike every other adult does not almost throw a tantrum at the doctor’s office you get blood tests.

Luckily in the wizardly world, a verse majority the medical field is built on magic. Something which could be viewed as both an advantage and disadvantage depending on who you ask.

Despite being in this world for over a decade and having attended Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Your muggle mother still feels more at ease when you have checkups at the family doctor.

Your intense fear hadn’t affected you greatly in your life, not untill recently anyway.

Sirius, one of your boyfriends officially got his tattoo license a few months back and the desire for him to give you one is growing by the day.

Remus, your other boyfriend, too has a few tattoos here and there. Not nearly as many as Sirius, and his are often hidden under sweaters and long pants.

Currently, he was in the process of acquiring a new tattoo. Remus lay back down on the leather seat, with his lower abdomen exposed. One of his trusty sweaters lifted to give Sirius the access he needs to work.

The cold air nips at his skin, and he arches his back slightly to make himself more comfortable. A task seemly easy, yet difficult for the tall lanky werewolf in such a small chair.

Straddling his hips, your other boyfriend smirks down at him as he works. His long black hair pulled into a makeshift ponytail in an attempt to be professional. You hardly see how keeping a level of professionesness is needed when he’s already straddling Remus as is.

You’ve been watching the interaction for a while now, sat in the same spot on the leather couch since they started. Happily multitasking between reading the book Remus burrowed you and watching the two while Sirius tattoos him. The only sounds leaving your lips for a while were a few giggles and smiles at the notes Remus had left in the margins for you.

Feeling a sudden sense of boldness, you put down the book on the table next to you. Neither one of the boys look up, far too engrossed in their own business.

Your shared doc martens press against the floor as you walk over to the two. Pulling up the closest available chair in order to sit next to Sirius who is still focused on Remus.

Upon seeing you, a warm smile immediately finds Remus’s face. “Did you already finish the book, dove?” He asked while stretching his arms above his head leaving more of his torso exposed. The mere act sends chills through your body.

“Or maybe you just wanted to watch.” Sirius’s eyes remained on Remus’s lower torso to avoid messing up. “Hmm, dollface.” He mumbled with a tone that made you practically hear the smirk you knew was on his face.

“Well, nothin’ wrong with that.” Remus extended his arm towards you, his fingers finding your smaller one’s.

“I want one.” You stated in a high pitched sound. Causing both boys to look at you.

“Hmm, what’s that, darling?” Remus hummed his eyes closed as he felt Sirius lit the needle from his skin to stop and look at you.

“A tattoo.” Once the words left your mouth, both your boyfriends turned to fully face you. Trying to see if you were just pulling their leg or not. After they had deduced that you were serious about this, they finally spoke.

“You sure you’re up for it, bunny?” Remus cooed, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. Both of them knowing how much you hate needles or sharp objects in general.

A few moments of thinking, and you promptly nodded your head to indicate your answer.

“Come on, Rem, she’s tougher than she looks.” The dark haired boy exchanged a look with the sandy brunette one.

“Fine, but only if you are completely sure. I don’t want you to do something your regret or that will make you feel uncomfortable or worse, scared.” Remus sat up to get a better look at you, resting on his elbows.

For months now, you’d watched Sirius tattoo people in this chair. Hell, you’d even seen your shared boyfriend be given a few by Sirius. Yet, you couldn’t stop the nerves pulsing through your veins when Sirius cleaned the needle.

On your left side, sat on a very uncomfortable bar stool was your second boyfriend. Remus rubbed small circles on the palms of your hands with his fingers in soothing motions.

Sirius walked over to the two of you, and took a seat in front of you. The needle right there in his hands. Staring at you. You tried to be brave, really you did.

Only a mere few minutes into the tattoo session and you broke. The second you felt the needle dig deeper into your skin, it was over.

Tears pulled in your irises and you dug your nails deep within Remus’s palms. You tried to keep the tears at bay, but when your boyfriend pressed the needle a little more. You became a flood gate.

Your tears quickly turned into sobs, and your breath began to hitch. Hearing you, Sirius immediately took away the needle laying it down on the nearby table.

Remus stood up from his stool to get a better look at you. Towering over you, he lifted your chin with the tip of his index finger. His beautiful honey brown staring down at you.

“Hey, hey, hey, dove, talk to us.” He cooed, his heart breaking at the sight of your tears. Sirius exchanging a look with him.

Sirius sat down on the chair next to squishing you slightly until he found a comfortable position. Once he did, he began to lightly stroke your check. “Why didn’t you say something, darling?”

“I-I-I-did-didn’t-wa-want-“ Before you could manage to get out your sentence already feeling like a child and hating it.

“Shh, deep breathes, baby.” Remus cooed once again. Pulling you to his chest. Your tears began to flow into his sweater.

Sirius moved to hug you from behind, the boys finding a way to sandwich you into a hug. Despite their awkward positions. With Remus standing and Sirius squished into the chair next to you.

“I want this.” You lay your head on Remus’s torso, looking up at him. Finding nothing but love in his eyes.

“You sure, dove, because it-“

“I do, really, I do.”

“Dollface, you know you don’t have to do it just because we have them.” Sirius stroked the back of your hair in an attempt to soothe you.

“That’s not why I’m doing this.”

A long sigh escaped Remus’s lips before he cupped your face with his large hands. “Well, then we’re goin’ need to find a way to make this work, huh?”

You simply hooded in return, your tears beginning to dry up replaced by a smile.

Remus and Sirius continued to console you untill you had reached a sense of relief. Which didn’t take long with both boys by your side.

Later, clearing the place out. You finally got your tattoo.

The city lights of London shone through the thin blinds of Sirius’s tattoo shop. He had sent the rest of his clients and staff home. Leaving only the three of you. It made it easier for you, when there weren’t too many people surrounding you.

Towards the back of the shop, the three of you found your way to Sirius’s office. The place was organised chaos as he liked to call it.

You lay back on the red leather couch, with your chosen tattoo area exposed. Remus sat right next to you. His arm draped around your shoulder, pulling you closer to squeeze you every now and then. Sirius remained focused the entire time but he exchanged looks with Moony as a silent ask for how you were doing. Stopping a few times when you had given him any kind of indication that you were in pain.

“Sorry for being a big baby, earlier.” Your voice was muffed in Remus’s sweater.

“Pardon?” Remus smirked, leaning closer to you knowing full well he heard you.

“Don’t you dare make me repeat it.” You sent death daggers at him. Which only caused him to pull you closer.

“Alright, love, I’d say you’re good to go.” Sirius turned off the tattoo machine and placed it back in its home. Removing the gloves from his hands and letting his hair loose.

“Wait, what, just like that?” You were shocked that hours had gone by and you hadn’t even noticed.

“Guess you just needed the right setting.” Remus spoke gently tucking a stray piece of hair away from your face.

“More like I needed your undivided attention.” You snickered.

“Please, we all know you have us wrapped around your fingers.” Sirius fell back onto the leather couch with a this. “Beautiful. Gorgeous. Hot.” He said in between kisses.

“Please tell me you aren’t still talking about my fingers.”

“What do you think?” Sirius smirked down at you. Whilst Remus threw his head back against the couch.

“I think you’re both going have to call in sick to work tomorrow.” You said in a low seductive tone while dragging your fingers up Sirius’s neck.

“What will you have us do, love?” Remus breath was felt against your ear.

“I think you know.”

[robinsno1lesbian]

Ok ok last one for tonight I promise (maybe🤭) but I’m thinking about car sex with Robin

Driving the highway home and you’re getting all needy with Robins hand on your thigh so you pull it down further, under your skirt to your panties. She gives a lil groan at how wet you are and then decides to pull off on the next scenic outlook.

She parks away from any other cars and grabs your neck to kiss you, whispering “couldn’t wait till we got home? My needy girl”

Let’s go if you only to climb into the middle seat in the back and beckons you after her. You follow eagerly as she undoes her belt and zipper. Y’all makeout for a hot minute, you grinding on her strap before she finally pulls it out of her pants and pushes your panties to the side so you can ride her. And you do, bouncing up and down on her lap, Robin’s hands lazily holding onto your hips until she decides to take your top and bra off so she can watch your tits bounce with you, taking turns sucking on each pert nipple as you work her strap to find your release🥵

OK IM DONE NOW I SWEAR (this one got long oops)

𝐢’𝐯𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐚 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 ᭝ ᨳଓ ՟

-r.b. x reader

summary: the car ride back home with your girlfriend turns into something more…(lesbian sex in the back of her car) (1.7k)

warnings: SMUT!! (mdni), semi-public sex/car sex, strap-ons (reader receiving), nipple play, dirty talk, pet names (baby, good girl), praise kink, for the sake of this fic robin does have a license!

a/n: @maladaptive-day-dreams i finally wrote this! this has been in my inbox for a hot minute (6 months?) so it was about time! as always i couldn’t be arsed to beta read lmao

perhaps you should’ve seen it coming from the moment her hand first landed on your thigh. robin’s eyes had been on the road ahead, one hand holding the wheel, delicate fingers drumming to the rhythm of whatever tape she’d put on whilst the other found its way onto your skin.

or maybe long before, when you’d been by the lake where you’d spent the day, and she couldn’t keep her eyes off of you the entire time, tracing the shape of your outline with her hungry gaze.

she probably would’ve gone down on you right then and there if she had the chance.

now, with the sun setting outside and the two of you being the only people in the car, she’s making good use of it. you feel the cold metal of her rings against the warm flesh of your inner thigh, where she’s tracing circles upon it.

“you’re so pretty, you know?” she rasps, eyes still on the road. you let out a shuddered breath, your legs parting further on their own accord. robin’s gaze darts towards them momentarily and her tongue flicks out to wet her lips at the sight.

still, she seems to be keeping her teasing at a low for now. her fingers don’t reach any further up your leg, they just linger so close yet so far from where you want her.

instead of whining for her to touch you some more, you take matters into your own hands: reaching for her fingers, you pull them under your skirt so that she can feel the heat radiating from your center herself.

you catch her eyes widening when she sucks in a breath at the feeling of your wetness coating her fingertips, no panties or any other barrier in her way.

“fuck” robin mutters. you grind against her instinctively (and to tease her some more), hips rutting back and forth on her leather seat to rub yourself against her index- and middle finger.

“baby” she croaks. by now, her gaze is constantly darting from the road and back at you. it’s a sight robin wouldn’t want to miss out on: your head thrown back and your hand tightening around her wrist as you use her to get off like this.

“fuck it” she finally says, pulling off on the next scenic outlook you guys pass. by the time she parks the car the sun has pretty much set and even though there’s no one else around, you’re grateful for the extra coverage of the night.

the second the engine is off, she grabs you by the neck and kisses you hungrily.

“couldn’t even wait till we get home?” she murmurs as she removes the hand from underneath your skirt and pulls her fingers apart. your wetness is evident on each digit. “my needy girl”

you can’t help but whine, earning yourself a pleased grin from robin.

“backseat” she commands. “now”

immediately, you’re crawling into the backseat of her car. it’s awkward and you’re but stumbling over the other’s limbs but she makes up with kisses to your mouth and laughter you taste right from the source and muffle with your own lips.

once she’s sitting on the middle seat, legs spread slightly, and you’re lingering above her with one leg on either side of her thighs, you understand why she was so stubborn about not joining you in the lake earlier. why she insisted on keeping the denim shorts on, instead of undressing into beach wear like the rest of you: you can feel the bulge of her strap nudging your center.

“didn’t have time to pack this morning” she explains with a toothy grin. “didn’t know how else to get this to your house without anyone noticing”

you lean down to kiss her once more. “get it out” you murmur against her lips, your own hands already reaching for her belt. she helps you undo it, skilled fingers pulling it off before unzipping her pants. your mouth practically waters when she kicks them off, leaving her in nothing but a pair of boxer shorts, the bulge even more evident now.

robin pulls your weight down so that you’re straddling it, the silicone cock pressing against you through the fabric of her underwear. she runs her hands up your back, pulls up your top and discards it quickly.

“smooth” you grin against her lips, fingers fumbling with the buttons of your skirt.

“no” robin shakes her head and removes your hands. “leave it on”

you raise a brow at her and tilt your head.

“it’s so hot” she admits under her breath.

she does have a point, you figure. riding her in the back of her car in your mini skirt without any panties on is hot. so instead of protesting, you go back to kissing her.

your hips start grinding against the toy without you even noticing. only when robin puts one hand to your hip and the other up your skirt once more, you become aware of your desperate rutting.

“robbie” you whine. she hushes you, running her index through your wetness before pushing two fingers into your heat. your eyes roll back immediately.

“robbie please” you find yourself babbling as she scissors and parts those two fingers inside you, making sure you’re nice and open for her. “i’m ready. i can take it. please”

“mhm i know” she hums against the crook of your neck, where she’s sucking marks you’ll probably have to cover up for the next couple of weeks. “that’s my girl”

the praise goes straight to your center and you feel the vibrations of her low chuckle when you flutter around her.

finally, she seems to have enough of the teasing too. she leans back against the seat enough for her to pull the strap free from her boxers, using what’s left of your wetness to coat it and lube it up.

you watch as she pumps her fist along its length for a moment before she finally lets go, leaving the toy glistening with your arousal.

“come on” robin says, guiding you to linger right above it. “sit”

and you do. your breath comes out ragged when you lower yourself down onto her cock, feeling it push into you inch by inch until she’s pushed it in as far as it’ll go and your bodies are nestled together.

“good?” she whispers, forehead pressed against yours while her eyes are watching where her cock as slid into your body.

“mhm” you tell her with a firm nod of your head.

“ready to move?” her hands hold onto your hips, rings digging into the skin as the toy presses against your walls just right. you can feel her everywhere and for a moment you wish she could feel you too; around her, sucking her into your wetness hungrily. the stretch of it is all consuming, it makes your lashes flutter and you feel embarrassingly close already.

you nod again.

“alright baby, come on” robin instructs. “ride me”

you do as you’re told, put your hands down on her shoulders as you lift your weight up before slamming it right back down. the feeling of her cock against your g spot has you seeing stars immediately and you find yourself moaning in relief.

robin meets your thrusts, lifts her hips a little reach time you drop back onto the strap so it hits all the right spots. you’re bouncing on it in no time, the sounds of it sliding into you echoing through the small space of her car.

“holy shit, baby” robin grunts from beneath you, watching you through heavy lidded eyes. your grip around her shoulders tightens as you try to move faster, chase that heavenly height of cumming around the toy.

she reaches out as you keep riding her, hungry to have just a little more of you. she fumbles with the clasps of your bra. it takes her a moment, especially with the constant movement, but eventually she manages to take it off.

your breasts are right in front of her face like this and her mouth is on them immediately, kissing and sucking on your pebbled nipples as they bounce for her.

your orgasm is building quickly now. you’d been close from rubbing yourself raw against her hand already, but with her strap buried inside you to the hilt and her lips sucking on your chest for dear life, pleasure takes over entirely.

“robin” you cry. “robin, baby- i’m so close”

“yeah?” she rasps teasingly, one hand reaching between your thighs to rub your clit in slow circles.

“yeah” you nod, both eyes closed as you lose yourself in the feeling.

her nose brushes over your chest as she breathlessly watches your thighs shaking for her.

“don’t stop” you beg, regardless of the fact that you know she won’t. “don’t fucking stop baby, fuck. feels so good”

a harsh press of robin’s fingers against your clit and her hushed words of “cum for me. be a good girl and cum for me” is what sends you over the edge.

“fuckfuckfuck” is all you manage, over and over again like your only prayer. it’s all you can say before your orgasm rips through you. the force of it would’ve pushed the strap right out of you it wasn’t for her hands holding you down against her to guide you through it. your hips are moving back and forth, whines and moans spilling from your throat.

“holy shit” robin mutters beneath you. “holy fucking shit, baby”

your body goes slack and you fall against her, whilst her cock is still inside you. she soothes you immediately, wrapping her arms around you as she whispers sweet praise against your temple.

“you did so good baby. fuck. so, so good”

the two of you stay like this for a while, enough for you to catch your breath and ground yourself. just enough for you to find your top and pull it on and for robin to zip her jeans up before the two of you spot headlights in the rear view mirror.

„shit!“ robin exclaims, immediately climbing back to the front, her belt dangling loosely from her jeans. „shit shit shit!“

you laugh as the engine howls to life and she drives off before anyone can catch the steamy windows of her car.