#i need to sleep for five years and then maybe i’ll be okay

[takemetodragonstone]

having the type of day where idk if i can make it until my doctor’s appointment in december to then be referred to a psychiatrist some time in 2025. like. i’m ideating suicide TODAY gurl not in 2025

[mysticlael]

Bat inco quotes

Roy, in Jason’s bed: Morning… how’d ya sleep last night? Jason, knocking Roy off: WHAT THE HELL?! Roy: Ow— Jason: What were you doing in my bed? You were supposed to sleep on the air mattress on the floor! Roy: I had a nightmare. Jason: You had a nightmare? What are you, five years old? Roy: Listen, I needed to feel comfortable and I was getting this perverse power dynamic vibe from me sleeping on the floor and you sleeping up there- Jason, in a royal accent: Why yes, how high and mighty I am up on my twin XL! Roy: That is not what I meant— Jason: Silence in the presence of your king, who sleeps a lofty twelve and a half inches above the ground! Roy: Listen, I’m not ashamed. I slept comfortably when I got up on your bed and I’m sure you did too. Jason: Yeah, okay- Roy: You know what? I wanna know. How’d you sleep last night? Jason: …That was the best I’ve slept in a while. Roy, gasping: The king slept comfortably with a peasant in his bed! Jason: I did not consent to this- Roy, dramatically: But my liege, our love is forbidden! Jason, on the phone: Hi, is this the front desk? Yeah, there’s a bed bug in my room and he’s five-foot-eleven, he’s got red hair- Roy: Ask them if they have one of those “Do Not Disturb” signs. I’ll put it on the door next time we… do it. Jason: Okay, I'ma go shower and wash all of the you off of me. Roy: Oh, maybe together we could— Jason: NO. Roy: Just to save water— Jason: No! You don’t even pay for the water! Roy: …Good point.

Steph: *Texts a selfie to the group chat* Hey besties!! Jason: *Texts a selfie clearly parodying Steph's* hey besties !!1! Steph: I literally hate you so much.

Dick, holding a box of Lunchables: Ah, I loved these when I was your age… fine dining. Damian: Fix yourself.

Tim: What did you guys get in your yearbook? Steph: 'Prettiest Smile' Dick: 'Nicest Personality' Jason: 'Most likely to start a bar fight' Cass: 'Least likely to start a bar fight, but most likely to win one'

Steph: Today at 7 am, Tim poured a Monster energy drink in their coffee, said "I'm going to die" and drank the whole thing. Dick: I watched Tim brew their coffee with Monster instead of water. Three cups in two hours. I think they ascended into the astral realm. Damian: The survivability of the human race never fails to amaze me.

Damian, carrying a box: What would you say if- if I, hypothetically, came home with 7 kittens one day? Bruce: … Bruce: What’s in the box? Damian: What woul- Bruce: Damian, what’s in the box? Damian: I think you know.

Bruce: Did you buy eggs like I asked? Damian: Even better! Bruce: What the fuck did you- Damian: *holding up a chicken* Her name is Fluffy.

Tim: What are we gonna do?! Jason: Blame you?

*Dick comes home absolutely drunk, undresses, and stands in Barbara’s bedroom.* Barbara: Dick, are you.. coming to bed? Dick: No thank you, I’m sure you’re lovely but I have a girlfriend. Dick: *Lies on the ground and falls asleep* Barbara: ...

Roy: sapnu puaS. Kori: What?? Jason: What language is that? Roy: Turn your phone 180 degrees. *Roy was removed from the groupchat*

Kon, admiring a sleeping Tim: You’re so cute. Tim, sleepily: I could beat your ass. Kon, lovingly: I know.

Duke: How do those little boys on XBOX parties always know what slur to call you? Tim: They're empaths.

Steph: We can bake these cookies at 400 degrees for 10 minutes or 4,000 degrees for 1 minute. Dick: No, that's not how you make cookies. Duke: FLOOR IT!! Jason: How about 4,000,000 degrees for 1 second?!? Damian: YOU'RE GONNA BURN THE HOUSE DOWN- Steph: I'M GONNA HARNESS THE POWER OF THE FUCKING SUN TO MAKE COOKIES! Tim: DO IT! Bruce: NO-

Tim, at Kon: Would you like to stay for dinner? Bernard, from the kitchen: Would you like to stay forever!?!

Damian: What the fuck is with english teachers and being like; "write a story about a deep and personal memory that impacted your life". Ma'am, if I do that you're going to send me to the counselor's office.

[inkdrinkerworld]

Maybe Spencer is having a bad BAD day, full on ptsd, and sunshine!reader is trying hard to cheer him up. It gets to a point where Spmcer just snaps and says something mean and starts a fight

Spencer can feel the bars around him. He feels trapped in his own mind because he can see that he isn’t in prison anymore, but his brain has been conjuring these vivid dreams of him being back and of Shaw sending men to beat him up.

Every night, the dreams end with Spencer never being found not guilty and him having to spend five years in prison and his eventual death from Shaw’s men.

He’s gasping and shaking and there’s a sweat spot on his sheets. He apologises every morning, you tell him it’s okay and that you’re here to talk. He never wants to talk about it and you never push.

He doesn’t sleep the rest of the night and it makes him irritable.

When he comes into work, you try not to internalise the way he brushes you out of his path as he beelines for the coffee pot.

“I already put your cup on your desk. With breakfast.” You try to temper your cheeriness when you notice the way his shoulders tense.

Spencer wants to be grateful, but all he can think is, ‘I can do it myself. I can take care of myself.’

He doesn’t say anything, not a quiet thanks, not even a half smile.

Your nerves are frayed immediately.

You don’t know what Spencer experienced in prison, he’s told you bits and pieces, the nicer parts of living in a 4 x 4.

Yet, you know the signs of PTSD and as the day drags on, you’re almost certain Spencer’s having a rough go of things.

He’s been snappy with Luke, nice with Penelope, and then flippant with you all over again. It’s hard not to feel like nothing you do is helping.

“We could go out to get lunch. From the place you like, the burger joint.” Spencer’s been slipping in and out of this conversation and the longer he hears your sweet voice, the more it sounds like chalk grating a blackboard.

At his silence, “Or we could order in? Whatever helps, Spence.”

Suddenly, his coffee cup is shattering in the wall behind your head and Spencer’s chest is racing. “Stop!” You feel hot tears prick behind your eyes at being yelled at; at work no less.

“It would help if you weren’t fucking hovering all the damn time. I can take care of myself, I don’t need your help. As a matter of fact, I don’t want your help. Go find someone else to be happy go lucky with, some of us can’t stand it.”

Your breath hitches, you’ve never heard Spencer speak with such venom. You reach a hand to your cheek pulling it away to find blood on your fingertips. Spencer must see it too because he’s on his feet, reaching for you as you step away from his outstretched hands.

You try to remind yourself that he’s just reeling, that he’s been having a rough couple of nights, that this will pass and that you don’t need to be mean to him too. “Fuck you Spencer.” The words are out of you before you can think about it much more. It’s honestly the nicest thing you could muster right now, embarrassment and defeat hot in your chest.

Emily and Matt rush in, finding Spencer tugging at his hair. Emily sighs as she sees the broken mug, Matt sighs as he notes your missing presence.

“Fucking stupid.” Spencer murmurs to himself, pushing back his chair, digging around in his desk for a first aid kit. “I’ll come back and clean it up,” no one is really listening. Emily will do this for him while he cleans up his other mess.

Spencer finds you in the bathroom with Penelope cleaning the little shards from your hair and cheek.

She glares at him and Spencer feels even worse; to top it off you don’t even look at him, just at his shoes.

“I’ll finish it, Garcia.” She stills, not knowing what to do. As she looks at you, you give her a little nod and she leaves, rubbing your back as she goes.

Spencer doesn’t approach you for some time, standing there like you’re the one who exploded and he’s waiting for another shout.

“I’m sorry,” he starts, taking up the tweezers Penelope left behind and reaching for your cheek. Spencer cradles your face gently as he picks the shards out. “I shouldn’t have thrown the mug, or said any of what I said.”

You don’t say anything, letting him continue. “You don’t hover, and I love that you’re always smiling and happy. It’s not an excuse but my dreams are really getting to me, but I shouldn’t have taken that out on you.”

You offer Spencer your other hand. You weigh your words, “No you shouldn’t have. I understand that some of what happened while you were in prison is too hard to talk about, but you need to talk to someone Spencer. You can’t just throw things and scream and then shut people out.”

He nods, “Luke recommended me to a psychiatrist for people suffering from PTSD, but I guess I felt like going would be me admitting that things there got to me.”

You sigh, “I’m not sure if I can do this if you’re going to shut me out and be violent like that.” At Spencer’s panicked eyes you continue. “I know you wouldn’t hurt me on purpose, but this unchecked shit is going to. Whether you mean for it to or not.”

Spencer opens the first aid kit and swipes at your cheek gently, grateful that it hadn’t been a deep cut. Still he knows the silver scar it’s going to leave will eat at him forever.

“I made an appointment for tomorrow at nine.” He mumbles, worry and dread eating at his stomach. “I know it might take a bit for you to trust me again-“

You roll your eyes, “I do trust you. I trust that you’ll go to therapy, use all the tools given to you and cue me in when things are too hard. I trust that you won’t do this again Spencer. I’m not going to punish you for having an off day.”

Tears spring to his eyes unconsciously, “You don’t want to leave? Because I’d understand if you wanted to.”

You kiss his wrist, “No I don’t want to. I know you’re going to get better, but if there’s a next time, Spencer I’m not staying.”

“There won’t be a next time, I swear.” He kisses right under your injured cheek, tender and soft.

[wonderjanga]

I May be a Kid but I’m not a Kid Kid.

When Billy’s secret identity was revealed, he started getting treated like a little kid. It really annoys him whenever these guys try to baby him.

Supes: “Billy, uhm… we were wondering if you would like to be moved to the Teen Titans.”

Marvel: “What…?” *sounds absolutely horrified at the thought of that* “Why?”

Supes: “You’d around kids your age.”

Marvel: *stares and blinks rapidly* “Are you saying you’re gonna demote me to the Teen Titans of all things? No offense.”

Supes: “Billy, it’s not a demotion.”

Marvel: “But it is. I’ve been on this team for what? Four years- almost five. You guys are acting like my age automatically means I can’t be a good hero anymore.”

Supes: “We’re not saying that. We just think it’d be good if you were on a team of heroes around your age.”

Marvel: “But you are. You’re literally all but saying it. I like those kids but not enough to want to be on a team with them.” *doesn’t know if he’d like listening to Robin’s condescension in more than small doses* “I prefer you guys. We’re still friends, aren’t we?”

Supes: “Of course!” *happy Billy is still somewhat comfortable around them*

Marvel: “Good.” *smiles* “Besides, I do hang out with kids around my age. Mary and I are the same age while Junior’s a year older than us.”

Supes: “He’s the oldest?”

This conversation got them to back off about kicking him off the team. That didn’t stop them from poking their stupid adult noses into other parts of Billy’s heroics though.

Marvel: *helping someone at like 2am because he patrols as much as he can*

Supes: “Captain! Whatcha doing up this late, champ?”

Marvel: *makes a face that being called champ, but doesn’t say anything about it* “Uh… patrolling? *finishes helping the person*

Supes: “Patrolling? It’s a little late- er early for that. Isn’t it?”

Marvel: “I guess…? I still have a couple more hours.”

Supes: “Shouldn’t you be turning in earlier?”

Marvel: “No…?”

Supes: “Aren’t you tired though? Kids need plenty of sleep.”

Marvel: *a little irked at being called a kid but brushes it off* “Stamina of Atlas, remember?”

Supes: “Oh.” *silence* “Well, maybe you could still turn in earlier?”

Marvel: *looks around for any hidden cameras* “No.”

Supes: “Oh okay…” *doesn’t really want to seem controlling so he just sulks while flying back to Metropolis*

Don’t worry, Superman trying to give him a curfew isn’t the only thing a nosy adult tried to do.

Marvel: “Mr. Batman Sir? Are the new long term mission signs up sheets out yet?”

Batman: “Ah, yes.” *hands him the sign up tablet* “There are three new ones.”

Marvel: “Great! Any potential overlaps?”

Batman: “Only these two.” *points to two missions*

Marvel: “How long would these two last?” *points to one of the overlapping missions and the one that doesn’t overlap*

Batman: “Together would be about a month and a half or longer.”

Marvel: “Cool.” *is about to sign up for them*

Batman: *remembers school exists* “And school?”

Marvel: *pauses so he can look at Bruce confused* “What about it?”

Batman: “If you sign up for these, you’ll miss at least a month or two. You’d be stuck catching up.”

Marvel: *laughs* “You say that if I actually go to school.”

Batman: “You don’t?”

Marvel: “No.”

Batman: “I see.” *takes the tablet away before Billy can sign* “Well, you’ll go now then.”

Marvel: *thinks he’s joking* “What?”

Batman: “I’ll enroll you in a school in Fawcett.”

Marvel: *stares for a solid minute* “Mr. Batman Sir, you’re not sending me to school.”

Batman: “Yes, I am. William-”

Marvel: “Don’t call me that.”

Batman: *sighs* “Billy, education is important. You shouldn’t put it off for heroics. Even Robin goes to school.”

Marvel: “Okay? I’m not a Robin though. And that only works because you guys patrol at night. If I go to school I’ll miss my day-patrol.”

Batman: “I’m sure there are plenty of other heroes in Fawcett who patrol during the day. Why not leave it to one of them?”

Marvel: “Because I don’t want to. I like saving people. The more heroes who are out in Fawcett, the less likely somebody might get glossed over and hurt because a hero wasn’t there in time to save them. I don’t wanna be the person that failed them just because I was busy with school or because I went to bed early… I say that last part because no matter what Supes thinks, he’s not subtle about wanting me to have a darn curfew.”

Batman: *stares in silence because he now feels a little bad and also empathizes with that “what if I’m not there mentality*

Marvel: *thinks that silence is Bruce still not understanding him* “Look, if you still don’t get what I’m trying to say, imagine if someone came into Gotham and tried pushing you out of the superhero business just because they thought you unfit to be hero. That’s how I feel in this situation. I don’t tell you guys how to your jobs, so why are you trying to tell me?” *reaches over to grab the tablet a sign up for the two missions he wanted to take*

Yeah… Batman started treating him normally after that. Supes also did because his superhearing caught the convo.

Then, there’s his relationship with Flash and GL. They’d taken to treating him like a little kid or nephew even though Billy doesn’t want that.

Marvel: “Could you guys uh- stop treating me like a kid?” *sounds disappointed them*

Flash: *somehow still feels dread at the disappointment even though, NO, this guy is younger than him, why does Barry still feel like he disappointed his dad?* “You are a kid though.”

Marvel: “Yeah, I know, but you didn’t used to do this before.”

GL: *also dislikes that he’s bothered by the Dad Disappointment™️ radiating off of Marvel* “That was before we knew you were a kid though.”

Marvel: “Yeah, well I don’t care. I don’t need you to act like this. I don’t want you to act like this. I want friends, not chaperones or parental figures or anything stupid like that. I don’t like that you’re treating me differently now.” *sounds bitter* “You guys seem to forget that I’ve been doing this since before most of you were even, excuse my language, sperm cells. And sure, there was suspendium, but I fought Nazis, commies, and my own villains on top of that, all without being treated like a defenseless little kid and I ended up just fine. So I don’t need any of you acting like I’m a stupid little baby.”

That shut them up. It didn’t make any of the relationships between Billy and them go back to normal though. Not completely anyways. At least it was somewhat better though.

By the way, Billy, throughout all of this, just sounds bitter about being treated like this. He misses his friends guys :(.

[aventurineswife]

Aventurine, in Reader’s bed: Morning… how’d ya sleep last night?

Reader, knocking Aventurine off: WHAT THE HELL?!

Aventurine: Ow—

Reader: What were you doing in my bed? You were supposed to sleep on the air mattress on the floor!

Aventurine: I had a nightmare.

Reader: You had a nightmare? What are you, five years old?

Aventurine: Listen, I needed to feel comfortable and I was getting this perverse power dynamic vibe from me sleeping on the floor and you sleeping up there-

Reader, in a royal accent: Why yes, how high and mighty I am up on my twin XL!

Aventurine: That is not what I meant—

Reader: Silence in the presence of your ruler, who sleeps a lofty twelve and a half inches above the ground!

Aventurine: Listen, I’m not ashamed. I slept comfortably when I got up on your bed and I’m sure you did too.

Reader: Yeah, okay-

Aventurine: You know what? I wanna know. How’d you sleep last night?

Reader: …That was the best I’ve slept in a while.

Aventurine, gasping: The ruler slept comfortably with a peasant in their bed!

Reader: I did not consent to this-

Aventurine, dramatically: But my liege, our love is forbidden!

Reader, on the phone: Hi, is this the front desk? Yeah, there’s a bed bug in my room and he’s five-foot-six, he’s got blonde hair.

Aventurine: Ask them if they have one of those “Do Not Disturb” signs. I’ll put it on the door next time we… do it.

Reader: Okay, I'ma go shower and wash all of the you off of me.

Aventurine: Oh, maybe together we could—

Reader: NO.

Aventurine: Just to save water—

Reader: No!

[dear-slim]

not your mama - m.m

Warnings: Swearing

Pairing: Eminem x fem!reader

Summary: Em needs a babysitter to stay the night with Hallie. 💜

A/N - I’m using ‘Em’ as his nickname coz it’s easier for my fingers to type tehe, also it’s old blonde Em from the 2000s 😘

@anjee0

Em didn’t know how he could’ve overlooked the fact that he was leaving a five year old Hallie by herself in his place for his concert, but he knew one thing. He needed a babysitter and he needed one fast. He would not leave his little girl alone for a night, never.

“Thank fuck,” he groaned as you rang the doorbell. Your finger had barely even grazed the doorbell before the door was swung open, a very stressed looking Em in baggy blue jeans and a white tank, his muscles flexing, his expression painted with stress.

“Thanks for doing this, I really need this,” he said as you nodded, not even able to get a ‘hi’ out as he led you into the lounge where a little girl was sitting on the sofa with some book on her lap. “Hi Hallie,” you smiled to her as she waved to you politely.

“Dinner’s in the fridge for her, help yourself to anything,” he said, listing off things he needed you to know, his eyes full of panic and the need to get out. “Sleep in the guest room, get her to bed by 9, and just keep her safe,” he said.

“I- okay, good luck with your show!” you said as he’d basically already left by the time you spoke. “Right, then,” you said, giving Hallie a little grin as she giggled, her hair in pigtails. Hallie was surprisingly cooperative the whole time, she didn’t make the whole situation a pain.

time skip - the next day

You were in the kitchen with Hallie sitting on the island, her legs dangling over the edge of the counter as you helped her pull on some cute, small little trainers. She was eating toast, her hair braided in a small litres braid over her shoulder.

You looked up as the door opened, a very tired Em giving you a weary smile as he walked in. “Did she behave?” he asked you, his smile flickering to his daughter as you nodded. “Daddy, look,” she said, “Y/N braided my hair,” she showed her dad the little braid.

“Wow,” he said, running a finger over the plait. He’d tried a bunch of times to learn how to braid, as Hallie loved it, but he couldn’t, it was just hard. “I’ll leave your payment on the side by the front door,” he said to you as Hallie looked between you and Em.

“Daddy,” Hallie said, “does Y/N have to leave now?”. You didn’t say anything - you and Hallie had bonded quite well, and in all honesty, you were quite dreading telling her you’d need to leave. “Yes, baby,” Em said as her face fell, and she put her toast back down onto the plate.

“Daddy, I don’t want her to go,” she said, her eyes wide as he sighed. “She has to, Hallie-,” Em was cut off by an indignant shriek from Hallie. “No! I don’t want her to go, I don’t want mama to go,” she said, her eyes widening as you paused doing the laces of her shoes.

“Hallie,” Em said, his voice cold all of a sudden, eyes narrowing slightly, “she’s not your mama, okay?” he said, his tone changing to one of slight annoyance. “It’s best you leave,” he said to you, his gaze not lifting from the counter as you nodded, stepping back from his daughter.

You grabbed your coat and shoes, pulling it on and not looking back - you didn’t want to make the situation anymore harder for Hallie. “Daddy, is she gonna come back?” Hallie asked, her voice somewhat demanding as she stayed in the kitchen with her father.

“Maybe…maybe next time I have a concert, okay?”.

[cheriip1e]

James, in Regulus’s bed: Morning… how’d ya sleep last night?

Regulus, knocking James off: WHAT THE HELL?!

James: Ow—

Regulus: What were you doing in my bed? You were supposed to sleep on the air mattress on the floor!

James: I had a nightmare.

Regulus: You had a nightmare? What are you, five years old?

James: Listen, I needed to feel comfortable and I was getting this perverse power dynamic vibe from me sleeping on the floor and you sleeping up there-

Regulus, in a royal accent: Why yes, how high and mighty I am up on my twin XL!

James: That is not what I meant—

Regulus: Silence in the presence of your king, who sleeps a lofty twelve and a half inches above the ground!

James: Listen, I’m not ashamed. I slept comfortably when I got up on your bed and I’m sure you did too.

Regulus: Yeah, okay-

James: You know what? I wanna know. How’d you sleep last night?

Regulus: …That was the best I’ve slept in a while.

James, gasping: The king slept comfortably with a peasant in his bed!

Regulus: I did not consent to this-

James, dramatically: But my liege, our love is forbidden!

Regulus, on the phone: Hi, is this the front desk? Yeah, there’s a bed bug in my room and he’s six-foot-one, he’s got red hair.

James: Ask them if they have one of those “Do Not Disturb” signs. I’ll put it on the door next time we… do it.

Regulus: Okay, I'ma go shower and wash all of the you off of me.

James: Oh, maybe together we could—

Regulus: NO.

James: Just to save water—

Regulus: No! You don’t even pay for the water!

James: …Good point.

Incorrect quotes!

[rad-batson]

Headcanons of Tim and Damian’s Love/Hate/But-Mostly-Begrudging-Love Relationship (They’re My Babies)

They will take EVERY opportunity to be a little bitch to one another

Tim: “Don’t get too close to me. You probably have rabies.” Damian: *actually bites him*

Damian tripped Tim once, which started an all out prank war that lasted several months. It only ended when Bruce walked into a glue trap and couldn’t reach his phone to call for help. But he couldn’t figure out who put it there so they were both grounded. (It was Tim.)

Tim teaches Damian to finish his vine references when Bruce tells them they need to “bond.” They proceed to try and speak in exclusively vine references and TikTok sounds during patrol. Bruce benches them for his own sanity.

Damian: “I’m not touching you” *gets pushed down the stairs*

Tim: “I’m not in your room” *gets hit in the face with a book*

Tim calls Damian short even tho he’s only like two inches taller for quite a bit of time (and Damian never hears the end of it after Tim’s growth spurt)

Family Game Night could go in one of two ways: they’re opponents and spend the whole night one-upping each other OR they team up and wipe the floor with everyone else’s pieces

Damian: “Just trust me.” Tim: *remembering that one time Damian tried to kill him* “Okay.”

Tim: “Don’t ask questions.” Damian: *recalling the multiple genocidal Tim variants* “Whatever.”

During one Wayne Gala, they make up this game called Freestyle Checkers where they choose guests as their “pieces” then subtly manipulate them into walking to their opponent’s side of the ballroom without talking to someone from the other team or they’re out. No one can know that they’re part of a game or their opponent wins by default.

Bruce is proud of them at first for being more sociable during galas until he realizes what’s going on and immediately loses five years from his lifespan.

Both have attempted to fake their deaths to get out of the same school project

They’re both notorious for stalking people to get information instead of just…ya know…asking like a normal person. So they’re bound to team up one day.

Like maybe it’s Bruce’s birthday soon and both are like “No, I’m getting him the better present,” but then they run into each other in the vents trying to find out what he wants and they end up trading secrets. Just brotherly things

Tim: “I need you to follow this guy for me. I think he’s our culprit.” Damian: “I would rather die than take orders from you.” Tim: “I’ll buy you that fancy oil painting kit you want.” Damian: *already changing into his Robin gear* “Where is he?”

Tim makes Damian play the dumb, helpless kid in all of their covert operations, which pisses Damian off until he gets so good at it that he uses it to his advantage and annoys the hell out of Tim when they’re paired up for public appearances

“God, he’s so annoying.” “Yeah, totally.” “What the fuck did you say about my brother?”

Damian is the only person who can get Tim to actually sleep for once. No one knows how he does it, but the strongest theory so far is blackmail

Tim “I’m ignoring Bruce’s instructions because they failed the vibe check” Drake and Damian “I can totally do this mission that requires four people on my own” Wayne teaming up behind Bruce’s back and immediately getting into deep shit but somehow making it out alive with the bad guys behind bars.

During one of said missions, they thought they were going to die and said “I love you” to one another. After they survived, they silently agreed to never mention it again.

Damian gifts Tim a new board that he designed for his birthday. It took weeks. Tim cries

[charliemwrites]

it is my borfday. I am now 20 whole years. So I ask: 1fur1 reaction to readers borfday? I have 1fur1 thoughts but they aren't ready yet... They're still cooking

Happy Borfday!!!!! Two decades 🎉🎉

Okay just for you, bean - I’ll make it a full part too, even. This is very fluffy up until the end when it gets just a hint of spice.

(No human boys in this one, sorry!)

You haven’t said a word about it all week - and why would you? You live alone with three dogs. It’s not like they care that it’s your birthday; or even understand what time is, really. (Except for dinner time of course.)

But the day of your birthday dawns, a little rainy. You let yourself sleep in a bit, mumbling five more minutes three times in a row when Ghost nudges impatiently at your cheek.

Eventually you do get up though, giving each of your boys a crooning “good morning” and laying kisses on their precious heads. You stumble to the kitchen to start your coffee, even pull out the fancy beans you reserve for special occasions. While it’s brewing, you start gearing up the boys for their morning potty. The precipitation is mostly mist right now, but you’d rather them not smell like wet dog.

You’re trying to belt a wiggly, impatient Johnny in when your phone rings. Huffing, you tap at the speaker icon and try to wrestle the stupid hood over his big-ass ears.

“Happy birthday, sweetheart!” your mom trills through the phone.

At the noise, Johnny thankfully goes still. You finish securing his raincoat and turn to Konig. Thankfully, he’s much more cooperative about getting dressed - even if he takes every opportunity to lick your face.

“Uh, thanks,” you answer. Honestly, you were hoping she’d forget.

“What are you doing today to celebrate? Going out with friends? Maybe a date…?”

You roll your eyes as you finish adjusting Konig’s (custom) raincoat.

“Definitely not. I was just gonna stay in, order some food, drink some wine…”

You haven’t even finished before your mother is protesting.

“No, no, no, you need to do something special! Not every day is your birthday.”

And thank fuck for that, you think, shaking your head.

“It’s not that big a deal,” you insist. The boys crowd as you lead the way to the back door and prop it open. They seem oddly reluctant to leave your side. You assume it’s the rain and shoo them off, your mother still on speaker.

“Well if you won’t do anything, I will.”

“Ma, you really don’t need to—“

“Dinner will be at 6:30. Don’t be late!”

And she hangs up. You groan, run a hand down your face. Well. At least it’s only dinner. You can still do the rest of your plans.

“Boys!” you call, noting that they’re mostly just congregating at the edge of the yard. They instantly return to your side, even Johnny - who has a tendency to make you chase him in the rain.

They each file inside, sit and behave while you remove their raincoats and hang them to dry. As usual, they follow and crowd while you make up your coffee. Add a bit of whiskey just for fun; you won’t need to drive for a while.

The boys climb onto the couch with you, happily arranging themselves in a warm circle. Konig at your back like a living pillow. Johnny on your right, head in your lap. Ghost just in front, pressed against your shins and warming your feet.

You settle in with a contented sigh and sip your coffee. Even put on a show you’ve been meaning to get to.

Midway through the episode, Ghost slips off the couch and slinks off. You notice in the back of your mind, but he tends to be the moodiest of your boys and figure he just wants some alone time.

When he comes back, you hum at him, kissing his muzzle as he takes your other side. As the next episode is loading, Johnny hops down.

“Biiiiig stretch,” you coo, grinning as his back legs extend. He wags, licks your hand in parting, and trots off. You hear the doggy door clatter, figure he didn’t do all his business after all.

About an hour later, the doorbell chimes. You jump, but… the boys are oddly quiet. Usually they’d be rioting that someone dares come to the door. This time, though alert, not so much as a growl.

Put off, you pad to the door and check the peephole. Just a delivery man with a… frankly monstrous bouquet.

You open the door, prepared to tell him that he’s made a mistake. But he says your name and address and tells you happy birthday, gently handing it over.

You blink as he saunters back to the truck, almost don’t notice Ghost standing sentinel right beside you.

“Huh,” you muse, finding him watching you. “Who d’you think ordered me flowers?”

He makes a little “ruff” noise. You snort and close the door. It’s a beautiful arrangement, you must admit. All your favorites. It even came in a vase!

You inhale the sweet scent and sigh, unable to keep from smiling. Usually you think flower arrangements are a bit silly, so expensive for something that will last so little time. But it’s been ages since you last got one and someone clearly put thought into it.

You offer each of the pups a sniff, laughing when Konig sneezes a bit. You set the vase on the kitchen counter where it won’t become a casualty of any enthusiastic tails and you’ll get to look at it regularly. Try to look for a card but there isn’t one.

Hopefully, whoever sent it will reveal themselves by asking if you like it.

You settle on the couch again with a lingering smile, scratching at Ghost’s ears when he presses his face against your shoulder.

Another hour passes in peace when there’s another knock at the door. Again, the dogs stay eerily quiet. This time, you’re greeted with a huge bag of items.

You unpack it on the couch, Johnny sitting by your knee. A new plush blanket, a pretty mug, a video game you’ve heard good things about, the next book on your reading list, your favorite candies, and even an expensive new pair of headphones (since Johnny ruined your last ones).

You let him sniff curiously at each item, amused by his involvement in your gift unwrapping.

“Wow,” you breathe, staring at your pile of gifts. “This is more than I’ve gotten in years. I don’t even know what to do with it all.”

You start by eating some of the candies. Johnny’s tail wags furiously the entire time, even when you remind him that candy is Not For Him.

At some point in all the craziness, Konig’s scurried off somewhere. Not surprising, you figure. All the guests must have made him shy. He’s not a fan of really anyone but you.

Eventually he returns, though, and you’re sure to welcome him back with praises and kisses before he climbs into his spot. You happily return to your show, scratching absently at your snuggly pack.

Just around noon, there’s one last knock at the door. Your favorite takeout place, including a box of the really good German pastries that you never let yourself get more than once every other week. Fresh baked too!

You hum happily as you eat, wishing you knew who to thank for it.

“I feel utterly spoiled,” you laugh as you save the rest of the pastries for later. “I definitely don’t deserve all this.”

A deep bark nearly startles you. Konig. He hardly ever makes a peep!

“Listen to you, baby!” you coo, wiggling your fingers to entice him closer. He comes to your side instantly, chin on your stomach, staring up at you with big mismatched eyes. “Such a lovely voice. Ich liebe dich, Herr Konig.”

He wags happily at you, a big, silly canine grin on his face. When you duck down to hug him, he leaves kisses all over your face and neck.

By evening, you’re in a good enough mood that you’re not completely dreading the visit to your parents’ house. You get dressed, kiss each of your boys goodbye, and leave.

It’s not… bad per se. Sure, your mom makes your sister’s favorite meal, and your dad doesn’t even realize why you’re there at first. Your sister’s husband also keeps making weird comments about you being single and your biological “clock” but—

Well, you’re just there for dinner. At least your mom made homemade cookies; a classic you’ve always enjoyed. But not even that is enough to make you stay longer than absolutely necessary, making your excuses that Konig still gets separation anxiety.

The drive home is long and you feel exhausted from putting on the “grateful daughter” song and dance. When you pull up to the house, though, you perk up when you see another package.

It’s a… basket? You carry it inside, too dark to see what it is on the porch. Immediately greeted by the boys, you don’t get a chance to look at it at first. But once you do…

It’s a self care basket, you think. A ridiculously nice bottle of wine, a bath bomb, body cream, sugar scrub… a bottle of the lube you always use. New lingerie. A toy. Not just any toy either. One you’ve been putting off buying because it’s close to a hundred pounds and you’ve got three big boys to feed.

At first you think it’s your ex but…. No. No, everything in this basket is things you’d pick for yourself. Things he never knew you well enough to buy. And he’s too cheap besides - and too much of a stuck up dick to ever dream of patronizing adult toys.

You hesitate over it. But….. well, you’ve already brought it inside. Doesn’t matter if you use any of it or not; and it’s stupid to let it go to waste.

So you feed the dogs and wander to your room.

And it. Is. Decadent.

You linger in the bathtub for way too long, giggling at the sparkles in the water, sipping wine and nibbling on German pastries. Even sacrificed one of the roses from the bouquet to let the petals float in the water. Start the first couple chapters of your birthday book, sigh and talk nonsense to your boys, all of them lingering in the doorway but behaving.

And when you finally get to bed, you run the battery out achieving your “birthday orgasms”. (Remain shockingly uninterrupted by any of the boys.)

Sometime before midnight your dream of gentle hands cleaning you up, pressing kisses everywhere. Voices whispering “love you” and “happy birthday”.

It’s the best one to date.

(Again, happy borfday!! I love you and I hope this was a good gift 💕)

Main Story | Konig pt.2 | Price pt.1

Masterlist

[vervainandspritz]

CRAWLING BACK TO YOU

Thomas Shelby x Reader

Word count: 4k

Warnings: drinking, swearing, feelings, friends to lovers trope kind of

Notes: Guys thanks for 400 follows love y'all

Was it possible to get used to a life so bizarrely unusual and different to find it… peaceful? Feeling her lungs fill out with fresh air when in reality every piece of clothing Y/N owned was sprinkled with ash of the wild flame that the Shelby family was?

People were scared of getting burned, naturally. Fading in and out of her life as soon as they'd find out she was associated with Peaky blinders.

At first it bothered her, oh, so much. That people didn't see a thing about her besides her association. Now, she was years into the strange peace she found in one of the most dangerous cities in Britain, with a gun settled in her hand so frequently it fit better than the several sets of leather gloves she owned.

A matter running so deep in her mind, she found herself touching it over and over, sometimes with a glimmer in her eyes.

…or like that day, sitting in the Garrison with her gaze fixated on a glass in her hand. Mentally fiddling with the churning in her stomach as his blue eyes filled her head all over again. The room was as loud as ever, accompanied by both men and women in questionable states of sobriety, laughs and conversations that didn't matter. Not one bit.

An upcoming weekend allowed people of Birmingham to loosen up, shake off the tension from the hard work they've been holding in their tired bones.

Nobody seemed to notice when the door swung open, allowing cold air of a Friday night to seep in. Nobody but her.

Footsteps echoed quietly, going unnoticed in the loud crowd but Y/N knew exactly who came in despite her eyes remaining on her glass of rum.

”Y/N, what do you think about him?” A voice came to her ears suddenly, a slight nudge to her side bringing her out of the weird state.

”Hmm?” She asked before quickly glancing at her friend, gaze looking for clues as to not show her disinterest. Emily rolled her eyes with a sigh, dramatically slumping her shoulders.

”Don’t tell me you just zoned out, again, after I just spent five minutes explaining the matter.” She raised her eyebrows while her blue eyes narrowed for a moment before she sighed again. ”Alright. You're lucky I can't be mad at you. What's wrong?” Y/N’s demeanour seemed to be a little different than usual, and knowing her for so long, Emily immediately picked on it.

Okay, maybe not immediately, she thought, but eventually she got there.

Y/N cleared her throat, a chuckle pushing past her lips before she pushed her glass away.

”Nothing really. I haven't eaten much today, and alcohol hit me harder than usual.” Came out of her mouth so smoothly, despite being just partially true.

”And it absolutely doesn't have anything to do with the pack of wolves you surround yourself with, does it?”

Just like that Y/N loosened up again, laughing at the way Emily always so easily joked about them so lightheartedly, as nobody else would dare. ”Speaking of the devil” she added with a smirk, glancing towards the door. ”Yours just appeared. Right on time as well, because I need to wrap it up and go home. Betty refuses to sleep when I'm not home.” Y/N sighed, feeling bad for not paying attention before Emily had to leave.

”Of course,” She nodded, ”Arthur will drive you home” Y/N said, as usual but Emily shook her head while making a funny face.

”Absolutely not! Send the younger one. Arthur can't seem to understand I'm married,” She rolled her eyes with a giggle as she nudged Y/N’s side. ”I’ll wait outside”

As the taller woman walked away, Y/N threw back the remaining liquor and took a deep breath before she got up, looking around.

Before she spotted the Shelby brothers, she felt a heavy gaze on her back which admittedly made things easier. Turning around, her eyes met Tommy's from the other side of the room. He was sober while she clearly already had a few, her gaze a bit softer around the edges. Making her way to their table, she took a deep breath once again.

”John,” Y/N greeted him first with a smile, “would you kindly drive Emily home tonight?” her speech came out a little smoother than usual, tension from her voice long gone which showed her state, already a bit softened by alcohol.

“I don't mind driving her,” Arthur abruptly interjected.

“No, no that's all right Art you're in no state to drive clearly.” She stated firmly with a hint of humour in her voice. His brows shot up.

”I just had ONE drink! Are you mad?” He asked pretentiously with a huff, making John laugh.

”Seems like you need to try harder, aye!” The younger brother chuckled before getting up and standing by Y/N.

”Sure thing, Darling, but you owe me a drink” He winked, making her roll her eyes playfully.

”Sure thing” She repeated, mockingly.

”Someone already had a few” Tommy interjected suddenly, a hint of teasing in his voice, but one only Y/N could pick up on.

”Oh, and you're here as well” She replied, her gaze meeting his once again with that mischievous glimmer. ”Found time to spend among us, Mr. Shelby?”

Thomas watched her for a moment before slowly but surely one corner of his lips twitched in sort of a smirk.

”Sit down before I kick you out of my pub, eh?” He patted the free space where John was sitting just a few moments ago.

And so she did, ignoring his comment while pouring herself a glass of whisky with a smirk. One thing that never changed between them were their verbal skirmishes. Ever since the young blue eyed boy chased her with a stick dipped in the mud, devilishly proud of himself while at it.

Arthur kept mumbling to himself about the unfairness of the situation, unserious as ever. Pouring himself another drink, he glanced at Y/N, feeling her amused look on him.

”Don’t need me as a driver, so let the man be, would you?” He threw in a snarky remark with a hint of amusement, to which she lifted her hands in the air in a gesture of surrender.

”Wouldn’t dare to tell you what to do, old man”

a smirk slowly spread on his face and so the game began all over again. Soon John came back along with other Blinders crowding the table as they drank, talked and had fun just like always while making sure everything in the pub was going just fine.

Y/N’s nonchalant, easygoing aura was strong as ever when Tommy's eyes drifted towards her every now and then. Time was passing by quickly when they had fun simultaneously drinking.

Nights like these were secretly meaningful to all the Shelby's, giving them space and time to forget for a little while about the heavy responsibilities and dangers of their day to day life. It was one of the instances where people could see Tommy slightly let his guard down as the alcohol affected his mind, causing him to behave more freely in a less controlled environment.

A lazy smile appeared on Y/N’s face as she chuckled listening to the colourful stories, obviously enhanced into dramatic details to be more entertaining. She liked seeing them like this, these fleeting moments of freedom making each of the men by the table turn into these young boys she used to know long years ago without the scarring of life they all carried nowadays.

Reaching for a pack of cigarettes sitting on the table, Y/N plucked one for Tommy, putting it into his hand out of habit without even thinking. One of those things she'd do even under the influence, with her better judgement clouded almost completely.

Without looking at her, Tommy put it between his lips, reaching for matches to light her cigarette before his own. The gestures were so natural nobody even noticed.

Putting the little box back on a table, Thomas let his hand fall down, landing on her thigh as his fingers began slowly stroking her soft skin mindlessly as he spoke to Isaiah across the table.

Her eyes drifted briefly on his face, grazing over his strong features and the way his lips remained formed in a relaxed smile as he spoke when suddenly another person got her attention.

A man in the background, about ten feet away from them, stood with a woman, kissing her cheek as she hugged him quickly before disappearing in the crowd.

His familiar features and cocky grin immediately sparked her interest, as she recognised Paul, a good friend of hers who happened to be delivering ingredients to her bakery everyday.

Seeing her, he moved closer before finally standing by the table.

“Evening, Y/N” He spoke up, nodding towards the men who quickly realized he was familiar with her, so not a bother. ”Care to go for a smoke with me?” He suggested, shoving his hands into the pockets of his coat. His light hair dishevelled, eyes shiny from the small amount of alcohol he had as well.

Tommy's hand remained on her thigh, only slipping away as she moved towards the exit.

”Lead the way” She responded, grabbing her coat as well as her eyes briefly met John's who was clearly having a good time tormenting her whenever a man would show any interest.

”See you tomorrow then, aye, Y/N?” John called after her with mischief in his voice followed by a chuckle from Arthur.

She just shook her head with amusement before they disappeared through the door.

Tommy straightened his back, reaching for another cigarette to light, nodding to Isaiah to pour another drink.

”Well..” John started off, clearing his throat, ”At least someone gets some action today” elbowing his brother to the side he laughed, reminding Arthur of the failure in pursuing Emily. One of many.

”Already told you to fuck off, didn't I?” He responded, rolling his eyes before shoving him back.

Tommy remained quiet, his mood taking a hit from Y/N’s abrupt exit with another fella. His emotions usually kept at bay, now strengthened by the alcohol, grew to an alarming size in his head.

Throwing back another glass of whisky he relaxed into the seat once again, barely listening to the conversation as he zoned out, consumed by his contradictory thoughts.

Not long after he decided enough was enough, raising from the seat slowly, letting his brothers know he'd be going back home as tomorrow he had business to attend, as usual. It took a moment for his eyes to regain focus as whisky affected him a bit more than usual, perhaps because once again he forgot to eat anything substantial throughout the day.

Saying his goodbyes Tommy pulled his cap onto his head, walking through the crowd as people parted, not wanting to disrespect the mobster.

Cold air of the night hit him as soon as the door swung open, his eyes getting used to the darkness fairly quickly as he gazed towards his vehicle, simultaneously searching for keys in his pocket.

Making his way to the car he squinted, trying to grasp the right key which was a bit of a challenge in his current state. Getting a hold of the right one, he suddenly dropped the keys hearing a familiar voice behind his back.

”You’re absolutely not driving in this state” Y/N said, grabbing his arm.

”Fuck!” Tommy groaned, eyeing the fallen item. He could barely see them, wiping his eyes he turned towards Y/N. ”I dropped my fucking keys” He informed her, as if she wasn't a witness to this situation.

His balance was slightly off as he narrowed his cloudy eyes, obviously blaming her for what just happened. His drunken state made Y/N unable to hold in a giggle as she rolled her eyes stepping closer. Bending over she grabbed them, choosing the right key as she opened the door on the driver's side, slipping into the seat.

He stood there, his brows raised in a question which she immediately answered.

“I told you. You're not driving. Get into the car before you'll have to walk.” Her voice was lighthearted as she held his gaze.

Thomas tilted his head to the side, the small hint of bitterness making it through his exterior.

”Don’t you have places to be?” He asked, obviously hinting at the man she left with, making Y/N roll her eyes once again on his dramatics.

”Tommy get in the car” She repeated, knowing there was no point in arguing with him over whatever In his current state.

He stood for another longer moment before finally sighing and making his way around to the other side, sitting on the passenger seat. Tilting his head back he let it rest, closing his eyes.

Y/N let her eyes linger on his face for a moment before taking a deep breath and starting the engine.

They didn't say a word throughout the whole drive, and only later she realized Tommy fell asleep. Parking the car she leaned closer, touching his shoulder.

”Come on, let's get inside” She whispered, watching as he slowly opened his eyes in an awfully adorable way.

She bit back the smile as he nodded, mumbling something before climbing out of the car.

She grabbed his arm wanting to help him walk, but he pulled it back, telling her he was perfectly capable of walking alone. Stubborn as always.

A couple minutes later she shed her coat, pulling his own off of him as well along with the cap, making him roll his eyes.

”You realize I'm not that drunk, eh?” He asked, seeing her behaviour.

”I’m not allowed to help, am I?” She shot back, grabbing his hand as she pulled him towards the stairs leading up to his bedroom. ”Oh, and by the way, no. I've got no places to be so I'm staying over.” She stated, completely unfazed and with enough attitude to make him laugh out loud.

”Good to know” He replied, letting her pull him along. Despite his stubbornness, they both knew it happened more times than they'd be able to count. Their relationship was so specific in ways other people wouldn't understand… and neither of them seemed to be ready to admit it.

Thomas was on the edge of bed, groaning as he took off his boots. Y/N walked across the room, opening the wardrobe as she found her own shelf.

He watched her as she pulled out his shirt and her shorts, knowing well she'd be sleeping in this set. Thomas realized he couldn't remember the time before she was in his life. Before the top shelf was hers, filled with pieces of clothing he never cared to move.

She moved around so confidently, knowing exactly where everything was. It brought him a weird sense of comfort, even though his face remained in a neutral expression as she looked back.

”Do you need help changing or are you perfectly capable of doing that too, Mr. Shelby?” She asked, matching his neutral expression along with a professional tone of voice, obviously teasing him.

He shook his head slightly, letting out a sigh as he finally smirked. Looking at her for a longer moment, Tommy let his eyes linger on her body before meeting her eyes again.

”Are you trying to take advantage of me, Dove?” He asked, his voice clearly lower and with intent as he gave her the smile, one he learned long ago worked on women ever since he was a boy.

Y/N chuckled, approaching him to the point where he had to tilt his head back so their eyes could meet. Leaning down to his level, she started unbuttoning his shirt.

”I wouldn't dare” Her voice was calm, even though she felt everything but calm seeing him looking at her like this. Unable to put up the walls that usually surrounded him when he was sober. The tension seemed to grow rapidly as she was halfway down, eyes focused on the task but Tommy's gaze had her face turn slightly red which was not visible in the dim light luckily.

Stepping back, she looked up at him.

”You take care of that, and I'm going to change. Try not to fall, eh?” She teased with a smirk, walking into the bathroom.

As soon as the door closed behind her, Y/N took a deep breath, leaning forward as she needed a moment. She was very aware of the tension surrounding them the whole night and as she stood in front of him, with his eyes gazing at her this way, it felt more dangerous than ever before despite the fact they were bordering on this line for years now.

Everything felt stronger lately and she was.. more anxious than anything.

Looking up she caught her reflection, silently grazing over her face and body before sighing deeply as she turned around, swiftly changing into his shirt and her shorts.

Returning to the room, she looked up to check whether he was sleeping and surprisingly, Tommy was laying on the bed, shirtless and wearing only his undergarments. His arm was draped over his head, eyes closed but the tension in his shoulders was visible. Y/N knew he wasn't sleeping, but she didn't want to risk anything more after today so she let him be, turning off the lights as she moved around the bed, slipping on the other side.

His bed was big, more than big enough for the two of them. Y/N and Tommy never had an issue sleeping together even back when they were teenagers, sharing a bed in his small room in Small Heath.

She covered herself with a blanket, facing away from him for a while, attempting to get comfortable but the silence was deafening. She heard him move and turn as well, looking for a position comfortable enough to sleep in. Minutes were passing and Y/N was still wide awake, unable to even close her eyes for longer than a moment with the amount of thoughts running through her head.

The clock was ticking, and she looked through the big window, moonlight seeping in through the blinds and she still yet to be comfortable enough to feel even remotely tired.

Eventually the frustration took over and she sighed with annoyance, slowly sitting up. Y/N desperately wanted to sleep, as it would be the easy way out. Making it to the morning and hoping the infatuation would pass or fade away into something more bearable, just like always.

The moon looked beautiful that night, she thought, as she heard him move in a different way this time. The mattress dipped closer and she felt him sitting right behind her, the warmth of his body contrasting to the coldness of her hands caused by anxiety.

Her heart started thumping wildly in her chest, the anticipation almost took much to handle, shivers running down her spine as his breath touched her skin.

Yet she didn't dare to look at him, stubbornly keeping her eyes fixated on the view while he moved closer.

After a longer moment his fingers grasped her chin, making her look at him. Tommy felt the stirring too, somewhere in his chest, and the desperation seemed completely impossible to escape.

Forcing her to look at him, he moved closer. His face seemed even more unreal that way, kissed by the moonlight in the middle of the night causing her to sigh weakly.

He didn't move either, not for a while as they watched, fixated like it was the very first time, even though they knew each other’s features by heart. From her chin his fingers moved to cup her cheek instead, feeling the subtle warmth of her skin.

Lost in the moment Y/N sighed, his face so close to her own she could see every detail. Every scar and freckle decorating his skin. Her lips parted slightly as she tried to catch a breath, but his presence and warmth felt so.. overwhelming in a way she couldn't describe. A warmth she grew to associate with safety while simultaneously feeling like she's gambling every time they're close.

His arms wrapped around her tighter, pulling her on his lap with one hand holding her hip while the other cupped her cheek so roughly. Delicate caresses of his calloused fingers feeling better than she cared to admit. She couldn't think properly while his firm chest was pressed against her soft bosom, his lips ghosting over her jaw.

”Y/N” He whispered, Tommy's hot breath against her skin making her shiver and her eyes fall shut.

She moved her hand on top of his, trying to ground herself. Chaotic snippets of moments and thoughts running through her puzzled mind as her core ached for his touch.

”Look at me” He spoke again, tilting her head down to look him in the eyes. His own were barely open, pupils blown out with need as he stared at her with something she couldn't really understand. Failing to keep herself at bay, Y/N slowly leaned down, their breaths mingling and noses touched. She could feel the ghost of his soft lips touching hers, but couldn't quite force herself to let him have her. Again.

“Why do you keep doing this?” She whispered breathlessly, her other hand grasping his shoulder so hard she thought he might bruise.

Thomas' breath hitched, and he stopped moving for a moment, frozen as he realized the sense of her question. His heart began racing but he kept holding her so close, panting against her lips as he tried to search for an answer in his mind, which now seemed to be.. empty.

Y/N squeezed her eyes painfully hard waiting for an answer that seemed to never come before letting go of his shoulder with a humourless chuckle. Pulling his hands away from her she raised from his lap, quickly fixing her blouse before grabbing her black coat from the chair.

”Y/N” He spoke up, his voice gravely with disappointment aimed nowhere but at himself. ”Y/N, don't go” Tommy tried to convince, attempting to grasp her wrist but she slipped easily, seemingly between his fingers.

Like she always did.

”Goodnight, Tommy”

~~~

The whole next day Y/N threw herself into a bunch of work, whether it was around the house or finishing up the new recipes she prepared to introduce in her bakery the upcoming week.

By the end of the day she was covered in flour, but her apartment was squeaky clean. Her hair was a complete mess when she saw herself in the mirror, making her chuckle. She was physically tired but mentally proud of herself for taking her mind off of the blue eyed man so successfully.

…and then her phone rang. It was late, way too late for any other person to call, so subconsciously she knew it was him. Silently cursing herself for it, she picked up.

”Hello?” Y/N asked nevertheless but she didn't hear anything else for a moment before he cleared his throat.

”Because I can't force myself to let you go” Thomas spoke up, his words a little blurred, gravelly with the weight of his confession. ”...and I'm tired of pretending. This needs to end.” A moment of silence seemed to stretch into eternity, but Tommy knew she was listening. He could hear her breathing. As Y/N finally found some words, wanting to respond, he hang up.

She stood there, frozen for a couple moments, holding the phone as if he was still on the other side. What are you talking about, she wanted to ask, but Y/N knew what he meant. Despite her asking yesterday, it intimidated her a little to hear it from him. They never confronted each other before, but.. her heart swelled with the emotion she was never able to express before.

Suddenly a loud knock on the door came to her ears, her heart froze still for a moment before she opened it.

His eyes were bright, raw and vulnerable as he held her eye contact.

“Can I come in?”

[coco-loco-nut]

High Flyer - Part Five

pairing: charles leclerc x reader

summary: the demands of motherhood and racing are a lot, but with the right support, anything is possible.

a/n: sorry this took FOREVER, I graduated in december and it’s been kinda crazy since

masterlist series masterlist requests open

—————————

A high pitched wail ring out, soon followed by another.

“I got them, go back to sleep,” Charles whispers. It’s his turn anyway.

“They’re probably hungry,” you groan, shifting in the bed to get up.

“You pumped earlier, I’ll warm some up and get them back to sleep. You have a race in the morning,” he insists.

“Ok, but wake me up if you need help,” you blink tiredly, watching your husband disappear to the next room over in your hotel suite. A glance at the baby monitor tells you that everything is okay as you drift back to sleep.

It’s been an adjustment for you and the team upon your return. Racing with newborns isn’t easy, especially since you are determined to be a present mother. You could barely handle being outside of Europe, so you and Charles decided that the whole family would be traveling.

“Charles, which one should Hervé wear?” you ask, holding two onesies - one a chili pattern and the other a horse pattern.

“The chili, it’ll make Carlos happy,” Charles says distractedly as he cuddles Gabriel who is sporting Ferrari red.

“Alright, aaaaaand baby two is ready,” you smile, picking up the giggling baby.

“Ready to head out?” Charles asks, grabbing the baby bag.

“Yep,” you double check you have everything on your way out of the room.

“My babies,” Arthur reaches out to steal Gabriel from Charles. He was able to get a seat at Haas for the year alongside Ollie. “He’s wearing the onesie I got him,” he coos, trying not to wake Gabriel up.

“Is he? We just grabbed red,” you glance at Gabriel, whose top reads ‘I have the best Uncle’. “Yeah, that would be you.”

It isn’t uncommon for the five of you to enter the paddock together, Arthur is really trying to go for brother of the year.

Carlos spots your small group and intercepts you. He shifts his weight awkwardly, clearly a little nervous.

“Could I steal Y/n for a minute?” he asks. He looks down at Hervé in your arms and cracks a smile. “My number one fan,” Carlos chuckles as you split off.

“It’s your home race, I thought you may want the support,” you look down as the baby in your arms who is looking back at you.

“Thank you, Hervé. When you want to kart and your mom isn’t letting you, just let Uncle Carlos know. I’ll give you all the tricks on how to beat her,” Carlos says, voice pitched slightly higher.

“I know you love the babies, but there is clearly something on your mind. What’s wrong?” you cut to the chase, you call it your mom instincts. You picked them up while watching over your grid kids -who have turned out to be amazing brothers.

“I’m leaving Ferrari at the end of the season. I wanted you to hear it from me first,” Carlos says carefully, observing every little muscle you move in reaction.

“Why?”

“Red Bull offered me a better contract. I really wanted to stay here as your teammate, but I just couldn’t refuse,” Carlos attempts to reassure you, but you can’t hide your disappointment.

“As long as you are happy,” you push down any sadness, feeling a bit guilty and selfish.

“Hey, maybe we will get Scuderia Leclerc,” Carlos suggests teasingly, stealing Hervé from you as he speaks.

“I am going to get an espresso, want one?” you ask Carlos as you step into the motorhome.

“No, I’ll get one after baby time,” he says, engrossed in playing with his godson.

You run into Fred, who is also waiting for a coffee. He shifts a little, more anxious than normal.

“Carlos told me he is leaving,” you break the ice, tension loosening.

“Yes, it was a shock at first, but he’s been very helpful in choosing a replacement,” Fred replies, making you curiouser. “As soon as the contract is signed you will be the first to know,” he pats your shoulder and walk away. You take the small cup and return to Carlos who is enthralled with Hervé.

“You know, babies are fun and all until you can’t give them back to their parents,” you smile a little bitterly. You love your kids, but there is something to be said for how hard it is to have a tiny human completely dependent on you.

“What did I do?” Carlos panics as Hervé starts crying.

“Nothing, nothing,” you say calmly, taking your son carefully into your arms. “He’s just hungry, excuse me.”

Carlos watches your eyes soften with affection, it’s like nothing he’s ever seen before. You seem like two different people. Ruthless and cruel as a driver, but warm and loving as a mother. He admires it. You disappear to your drivers room and he steals your untouched espresso.

“Someone’s hungry,” Charles looks amused as the way Hervé’s tiny hand grips your shirt.

“Won’t even let me drink an espresso,” you shakes your head adoringly. Charles locks the door behind you, Gabriel sleeping soundly in the pack and play.

“I don’t blame him, he has the twenty-four seven access that every man dreams of,” Charles jokes as you roll your eyes.

“You have the same access,” you lightly smack your husband’s arm. “Now, wake Gabi up to eat,” you sit down in the plush couch you added to the small space. Charles barely touches Gabi before he cries.

“Shh, it’s okay, your mama will feed you soon,” Charles whispers, sitting beside you and helping you set up.

“At least they are hungry at the right time,” you sigh, leaning against him. With the time on the clock, you should have just enough time to pump, nap, and make it to your pre-race duties. “I really couldn’t do this without you. You are the best support,” you feel your energy drain as you pay careful attention to the babies.

“Mon amour, not only would I do anything for you, I have responsibilities as the babies father too,” Charles kisses your cheek.

“I really don’t know what I would do without you, tu es l’amour de ma vie,” you turn to look at him, love filling your tired eyes. Charles repeats your words, leaning in to kiss you.

“Let me put them down,” Charles says when the twins start falling asleep. You fight the exhaustion setting in to pump so the babies can eat during the race. Charles doesn’t know how you can do it all, so he does his best to channel your strength when taking care of them during the races. As soon as the babies are sleeping, he turns to you and finds you mostly asleep. Charles sits back down on the couch, cuddling you as you drift off.

You wake up to your alarm, a blanket covering you as you lay on Charles.

“Feeling ready?” Charles asks, smoothing your hair.

“As I’ll ever be,” you yawn, nuzzling back into Charles’ side. He fights a laugh, holding you closer. “I don’t wanna get up,” you murmur.

“I know, but you have a strategy meeting then the drivers parade and the race. Plus, it’s the end of the triple header, we have a whole week to lay around the house,” Charles reminds you. He noticed how you struggle with balancing your time on race weekends, especially when it comes to napping. Your team has dealt with your crankiness and forgetfulness, so Charles does his best to help.

“We can sleep in,” you sigh happily.

“As long as the babies let us,”

“I can’t wait for them to grow up. And to think I thought about having more,” you pout, sitting up. A gentle knock sounds through the room.

“Y/n, meeting then workout in five,” Carlos reminds you. You begrudgingly get up from the couch, wishing race weekends were as easy as show up, get in, and drive. You’ve thought about retirement more so far this season than ever before in your career.

The strategy meeting, warm up, and drivers parade drags on, and you return to your drivers room to change.

“Enzo! When did you get in?” you hug your brother-in-law. You knew he was showing up to support Arthur, but you were unsure when he was arriving.

“About an hour ago. I had to come see my nephews and sister,” Enzo squeezes you as Charles gapes.

“What am I? Chopped liver?” Charles asks, affronted that his own brother disregarded him.

“Have you won world championships? Carry my nephews? No. Until you do so, Y/n is more important,” Lorenzo teases, as any good brother does.

“Enzo,” you lightly smack his shoulder. “Why don’t you and Charles go get a coffee while I change,” you suggest, waiting for them to leave before changing.

Sometimes you think that rookie you would be astounded by your pre race routine. Rather than keeping to yourself and clearing headspace, you spent time with your babies and Charles. Headphones on until the last possible minute has turned into talking to your team and Carlos.

“Is it too late to retire?” you joke to yourself, slightly annoyed as you change into your fireproofs.

“Please don’t,” you turn around, catching Charles unabashedly checking you out.

“Charles!” you gasp scandalously, pulling your race suit over your shoulders. You didn’t realize he returned without Lorenzo.

“Ma cherie,” he laughs, standing up and wrapping his arms around you.

“I have to go, I’ll see you in the garage?” you press a kiss to his lips, melting into his arms before bending down to put on your boots.

“Of course, drink some water on the way,” he says, handing you your water.

“See you soon,” you squeeze his hand, rushing to the garage for final checks and to bring the car out. Charles appears before you get into the car for warm up laps.

“Safe and sound, asleep in your room,” Charles shows you the baby monitor as you braid back your hair.

“Awww, soon they will be old enough to be in the garage,” you smile, heart swelling with unimaginable love. “Hopefully by then I have a few more championships,” you chuckle, finishing the braid and putting your ear monitors in.

“You can do it, I’ll be here after the anthem,” Charles says, helping you finish getting ready and into your car.

“I’ll be back,” your eyes crinkle as your flip your visor down. Charles backs up as your crew surrounds the car.

Your brain switches into go mode. You haven’t won this race yet, third on the podium is the closest you’ve gotten so your pole position is a welcome advantage.

Charles watches you battle, and when you have a healthy lead with fifteen laps left, he returns to your drivers room to feed the babies and bring them to the parc ferme. Arthur bought them little headphones to protect their ears right after they were born.

“Ready to see your mommy,” Lorenzo grabs Gabriel from Charles when he walks back into the garage after watching from Haas.

“You could always help feed and change them, you know,” Charles suggests, watching you push on your final lap.

“Hey, you’re the father. I’m just the uncle who gets to enjoy the baby time. Hopefully more next year,” Lorenze makes funny faces at Gabi who babbles and giggles.

“Next year?”

“Did I say next year? I meant next week,” Lorenzo brushes it off. “I love you, but if you spit up on my polo, you are going right back to your father. He isn’t as fun as I am,” Lorenzo warns Gabi. All he gets is a blank stare and gummy smile.

“She’s done it!” Charles cheers as you cross the line. Lorenzo and Charles are careful to make their way to the front. As soon as you see Charles and Lorenzo standing with the kids, you audibly squeal. Arthur rushes over from his car after weighing in to congratulate you. He finished in the points, but just outside the podium.

“Oh my god,” happy tears well in your eyes. “You don’t think I could bring them to the podium, do you?” you ask Arthur who just amusedly shakes his head.

“Marketing would love it though,” Arthur chuckles.

“Oh, let me go take off my helmet and weigh in,” you rush away, wanting to get back to your family as fast as possible.

“Great race!” Carlos pats your shoulder after you weigh in.

“Thanks, I gotta go see my babies,” you throw on your P1 hat and return to where your babies are being entertained by Fred and Arthur.

“Hand them here,” you extend your arms, joyful look momentarily turning deadly as you give the security a warning glance. You step against the barrier, leaning against Charles as Lorenzo takes a photo.

“Fantastic drive, mon amour,” Charles kisses your cheek. You are to distracted by the babies for a proper kiss.

“Family photo, get in Arthur and Lorenzo,” Fred cuts in.

“Oh, Maman will love this,” Arthur smiles.

“Hello, little ones! Who are the best grid babies,” you are surprised a little bit by Ollie’s baby talk behind you, but that goes away when you realize it’s him. “Interview time,” Ollie says, a twinge of sadness in his voice as you hand the babies back.

“That includes me, the media waits for no one,” Arthur shakes his head, leaving for the media pen.

“My first podium with my son,” you wrap an arm around Ollie as you head towards Hinchcliffe.

“I’m excited for the family dinner next week,” Ollie tells you. He’s said as much all week, well, all of your grid kids have.

“I love having my kids around. You don’t always have to wait for an invite,” you remind him. You have a guest room specifically for your grid kids.

“I know. I just don’t want to impose, or interfere with any chances of another sibling,” Ollie laughs as Carlos finishes his interview.

“Well, the next time I have another kid will be when I’m retired,” you shake your head, giving Ollie a little nudge forward.

Later in your driver’s room, Arthur and Lorenzo claim the couch, watching you and Charles clean and pack. You showered immediately after getting back to the room, sticky from champagne then fed the babies while Charles relaxed for a few minutes after he spend hours caring for them alone.

“I just wonder who Fred will get to replace Carlos. It will be weird not having him as my teammate,” you vent, taking shirts off hangers.

“Me,” Arthur reveals, causing both you and Charles to stop packing.

“Really?” your eyes widen, praying it isn’t a joke.

“Scuderia Leclerc is real! I haven’t told Maman yet, I am waiting to finalize the contract,” Arthur lets out a grunt as you and Charles practically tackle him.

“I’m so proud I could cry,”

“You are,” Arthur panics a little as tears roll down your cheeks. You swat away his hand, grabbing a tissue to dry your eyes.

“Stupid hormones,” you wave the tissue.

“You sure you aren’t pregnant again?” Lorenzo teases.

“You and Ollie both today,” you shake your head, composing yourself. “Not until I’m retired. It’s hard on Cha and I to raise the twins on the road,” you sit on the bench, busying your hands with folding.

“Maman is going to start bothering you about children soon too,” Charles turns the attention back to Arthur. Lorenzo nods in agreement, happy to put Arthur in the hot seat.

“I’m too young,” Arthur defends himself as you stifle a laugh.

“You aren’t much younger than me. Charles, Enzo, can you get Arthur and I a water and a snack? The race was brutal,” you ask. With a nod, Charles heads out to the main hospitality area to get a couple bottles. Lorenzo seems suspicious, but follows anyway.

“You’ve thought about retiring,” Arthur states like it’s common knowledge. Sure there have been rumors, but they are from untrustworthy sources.

“It’s crossed my mind. I wasn’t lying, it would be much easier to stay home and raise the twins. But I want them to see me race and win. On the other hand, I don’t want to race so long that I can’t have another,” you frown, leaning back against the wall.

“I get it. You could always take time off again. It isn’t unheard of to come out of retirement. Not that you have to right now, but in five years maybe,” Arthur suggests.

“I’ve never seen myself anywhere other than Ferrari. The chances of them bringing me back on again are so small,”

“Even if you go to Williams, you’d at least be racing,” Arthur points out.

“Michael returned and went to Mercedes. Fernando retired for a few years, twice. A couple years off in the future does sound nice. Especially if I return before a rookie takes my number,” you consider the possibilities.

“Well, it isn’t happening yet, no point in dwelling on it,” Arthur stands up and helps you pack.

“Dwelling on what?” Charles asks, handing you a water bottle. Lorenzo follows with a plate of snacks.

“What our names will look like when shortened,” you smoothly lie.

“I’m sure they will do the same thing as they did before,” Charles goes along with it. You and Arthur snack while Lorenzo and Charles pack.

“Let’s get back to the hotel before the kids wake up,” you say as you zip up your bag. Arthur grabs the diaper bag and one car seat as Charles grabs another bag and the other car seat.

“No partying tonight?” Kimi asks, running into you as you leave Ferrari.

“No, I leave that to you young people. I’m too old for that, unless I’ve won a championship,” you shake your head. Who would’ve thought that you’d turn into a homebody.

“You aren’t that old, you are what? 26?” Kimi asks.

“Oh honey, try 29. Go have fun, we will see you soon,” you send him off to where other drivers are waiting - plus Fernando. The guy is almost 50 and parties like the rookies. He retired twice and still came back to drive again.

“You could party too,” Lorenzo tells Arthur. Arthur just shakes his head, adjusting the weight of the bag.

“No, I am looking forward to a soft bed and greasy food,” Arthur declares, mind anywhere but partying until late.

“Dinner with Maman on Monday, don’t forget,” Lorenzo reminds your small group before getting into his car.

The rest of the night is a blur, getting dinner, feeding the babies, getting them to sleep. Charles collapses into the bed beside you after showering.

“Arthur and I were talking about me retiring,” you say into the darkness, causing Charles to wake up from his drowsy state.

“What? Why?”

“Well, I want the kids to remember me racing, and I also want to maybe have a little girl but without returning immediately. I won’t do it immediately, I need a couple more championships under my belt,” you explain quietly. Charles wraps an arm around you, rubbing small circles onto your arm and resting his head on your shoulder.

“I understand. It’s your choice when it happens, and if you decide down the road that you don’t want another baby then i will support that too,” Charles replies sleepily. “You deserve to enjoy your job for as long as possible while also having the life you want.”

“You are thinking about me being pregnant again, aren’t you?” a grin creeps onto your face, reaching to run a hand through his hair.

“Maybe. I can’t help it, you just look so sexy all the time,” Charles shifts so he can get a better look at you in the dark.

“I can and will say the same thing about you. You know, it’s never too early to start practicing,” your hand curls slightly in his hair as you pull him down to kiss you.

And practice you do. Many, many, many times over the next four years.

“Arthur! Have you seen Gabi?” you ask, hoping you don’t have to run around the paddock looking for your toddler. Hervé is his daddy’s boy, always stuck to Charles, but Gabi is your runner.

“No, but Kimi was just here not long ago,” Arthur pops out of his drivers room.

“Him and his uncles, what am I going to do with him?” you rest your head against the wall.

“Relax, one of your grid kids will return him. Just enjoy your last race,” Arthur smiles, excited for your retirement surprise after the race.

“Relax? When have I ever done that?” you fight a smile. The past few years have been great. You rewon your title and kept it, now you are fighting for your fifth.

“Are you worried that I’ll take your championship?” Arthur has been on your heels all year, and while you are proud, a little breathing room in the championship would be nice.

“No,” you don’t sound convincing at all.

“Good, fear me,” Arthur dodges your attempt to hit his arm.

“Y/n, I cannot believe you sent a spy,” you turn around to see Gabi hanging off of Toto, who doesn’t look or sound mad despite his words.

“Mr. Wolff, I am so sorry,” you rush to grab your son, who is just laughing despite your frantic apologies.

“Don’t be, it’s just like when Jack was little. I just couldn’t let Kimi bring him to our strategy meeting,” Toto chuckles. Your boy really does have the paddock wrapped around his finger.

“Wanna play with my new toy?” Arthur asks Gabi, code for the zippers on his backpack. Arthur follows Gabi into his drivers room.

“You will be missed around here. You know that, don’t you?” Toto asks, seeing the young racer hungry for a seat. He tried to sign you back then but the stakeholders were against it.

“Well, I would hope so, I’ve been around for a long time,” you joke in an attempt to not tear up. Since you announced your retirement the fan tributes and statements from other drivers have made you an emotional wreck.

“I know this isn’t the end for you, you have the spirit of a true racer and not one ready to permanently retire. Now, I know that all you know is Ferrari, but it would be a shame to never see you drive again. Let’s talk over the winter break,” Toto says before leaving. Any thoughts of crying turns to joy sparking inside you.

You lean back against the wall, taking in the details of the motorhome.

“Don’t start reminiscing now, you haven’t even retired yet,” a familiar voice pulls you out of your trance.

“Seb! What are you doing here?” you gasp, pushing off the wall to give your former teammate a hug.

“Well, I had to come watch you race one last time,” Seb looks at you proudly. “You are still my eager young teammate, hungry for a podium.”

“Sure, old man. You are just mad we have the same amount of title. Tell it to me straight, how bad is retirement?”

“Oh, seeing your children grow up erases any pain of not racing,” Seb reassures you.

“Right,”

“It’s okay to miss it, you’ve spent your whole life racing,” you look around the hallway and drag Seb into your driver room.

“I want to return to racing,” you admit like it’s a scandal.

“Does Ferrari know that?” Seb asks, worried about the possibility of you returning.

“Yes, but Fred hasn’t said anything about a space being open in the future,” you frown.

“Ferrari isn’t everything. Plenty of us retired with another team,”

“But Ferrari are the only ones who supported me and took a chance on me,”

“That’s not true. Plenty of teams considered giving you offers,”

“But they didn’t.”

“Y/n, if you even give an inkling to the press that you want to return, teams will reach out. Trust me,”

“Well, Toto did just say something that sounded suspiciously close to an offer,”

“Then negotiate. Surprise the world and come back,” Seb encourages you. Before he left Ferrari, he promised he would always be in your corner. The same promise you’ve given to anyone you’ve driven with, except for Arthur. He’s a special case, you don’t want to make him think you are the reason for thing he achieved himself.

“Thanks Seb, you always know what to say,” you exhale a deep breath. “Why are you really here?”

“Ferrari is throwing you a surprise retirement party after the race. They invited former teammates and drivers you were close to,” Seb reveals, you knew there would be a party anyway.

“So you don’t care about my championship? How rude,” you tease as he heads to the door.

“Yeah yeah, go train and get ready for the race,” Seb leaves you alone, hoping you don’t stay in your head.

“Oh, let’s train in your room today!” your trainer blocks you from entering your usual training spot.

“Okay,” you try to peer around him, but get corralled away from the room.

Once you return to your room, you find Charles playing on the floor with Hervé and Gabi.

“Everyone is acting strange today, even Arthur,” you sigh, getting ready for your final meeting in the garage before the installation lap.

“They think you don’t know about the party. I’m going to miss this view,” Charles watches you pull on your fireproofs and race suit.

“These are coming home with me, don’t worry,” you wink. Charles stands up so he can do your hair.

“I’m so proud of everything you’ve accomplished,” Charles whispers, hugging you from behind after he ties off the braid.

“I wouldn’t be here without you,” You wrap your arms around his, leaning into him.

“Mama, up,” Hervé reaches up at you, his sleepy blue eyes fighting a nap. You pull away from Charles, leaning down to pick him up. A quick knock sounds through the room before your door opens.

“Ready to head to the garage?” Arthur asks. It hits him that the next time you will all be like this, you won’t be his teammate.

“Yeah,” you shift Hervé’s weight, ready to hand him off to Charles before Arthur stops you.

“Let’s bring them with us, they won’t be a bother,” Arthur suggests. Charles follows behind you, the backpack full of kid essentials. Gabi holds your hand, having chosen to walk beside you.

When you get to the garage, the crew starts applauding and you lose it. Tears stream down your face as you look around.

“I promised myself that I wouldn’t cry. I love you all so much, you are the best team I could ask for. Today’s drive is for all of you,” you thank them, letting go of Gabi’s hand to wipe the tears away. Arthur wraps an arm around your shoulders, giving you a side hug.

“Alright boys, let’s let mommy work,” Charles says quietly, taking the boys out of the garage. You put on your headset, trying to get back into the zone.

“You have been and will continue to hear this a lot this weekend, but thank you for everything you’ve done for the Scuderia. You have created a legacy of excellence and your name will be remembered forever by the Tifosi and Ferrari,” Fred starts the meeting. You mouth a simple thank you as the strategists and engineers take over. Arthur grabs your hand and gives it a quick squeeze. You squeeze back before letting go, letting him know you are okay.

After the meeting you take extra time to talk with your team and thank them, making a mental note to add a handwritten note for them on this year’s Christmas card. You and Arthur do some final warm ups, getting your reflexes up to speed before you get into the car.

“One last installation lap,” you tell Charles, a bittersweet smile on your face. You get your earpieces in, watching Charles hand your gloves to the boys.

“You two wanna help Mommy get ready?” Charles asks, still not sure how much they can hear with the headphones on.

“Yeah!” they reply in unison. Twin telepathy has to be real. You pull your balaclava on and put the helmet on before holding your hands out. Charles helps each of them put a glove on.

“Y/n! Time to head out,” one of your engineers tells you.

“I’ll see you after the lap?” you ask Charles, knowing the answer. He kisses the top of the helmet, sending you on your way.

The world fades away on your lap, it’s just you, the car, and the track. There’s no thoughts of retirement or the championship, it’s like you are one with the car. You relay the necessary information to the team before getting out. Normally you’d take the umbrella and head right back to the garage, but today you don’t mind hanging around and enjoying the excitement. Kimi, Ollie, Jack, and Oscar come find you.

“When I first met you guys, you were lanky boys. Now look at you, all grown up,” you tell them. Their thin frames bulked with muscle, no longer the young adults you took under your wing. Each of them designed special helmets with little tributes to you. Ollie’s has a mama bear and a cub, Kimi has a phrase in Italian, Oscar has your racing number on his helmet, and Jack has a grandma emoji on his.

“Promise you’ll visit often?” Kimi asks, a little scared to lose you and your advice.

“Of course. I will miss my boys. I may not be here every weekend, but you all are always welcome in my home. We will still have dinners,” you promise, extending an arm in an invitation for a group hug. Ollie launches himself into you, Kimi following right after.

“I’ll take care of them,” Oscar promises, having adopted more rookies of his own.

“I know you will,” you smile, watching them tear off one by one to do their pre race rituals.

“Thank you for being the best grid grandma,” Jack thanks you.

“I’ll send you cookies,” you promise before turning to Ollie. “There’s no one else I’d rather take my seat,” you tell Ollie, especially proud of him. He was the first person you suggested to Fred.

“I’ll honor you with it,” Ollie promises before leaving you alone again.

“Do you have a moment for our F1 TV viewers?” Will Buxton asks. It’s rare to get a driver interview at this point of a race day, so you indulge him.

“I suppose so,” you adjust the umbrella so it blocks more of the sun.

“What is going through your mind today?” Will starts, asking the question that every reporter wants to know.

“A lot. There are so many memories and things I’m grateful for, I just want to take it all in. A lot has changed since I first stepped foot in the paddock. I think I’ve spend most of my day trying not to cry at all the tributes and thoughtful things everyone has to say. It just means so much to me that my kids have had the chance to see me drive as well,” you try to articulate the whirlwind of things you feel.

“I think it’s safe to say you’ve cemented yourself in F1 history. Any thoughts for the fans watching here and at home?”

“Thank you, for your support and criticism. I know driver dominance is hard to watch as fans. Four, hopefully five, championships later, I’m just grateful to have had the chance to drive. I don’t think this is the last you will see of me, maybe I’ll try rally or something,” you joke.

“Well, I can say for all of us that we are excited to see what you do next. Thank you for your time and congratulations on your retirement,” Will says before the camera cuts. “I can’t say this live, but I certainly hope you retire as Champion of the World. Keep an eye on your phone, we are looking for guest commentators next season,” Will tells you. You thank him before heading back to the garage.

For once, the celebrity guests are former Ferrari drivers and personnel. It’s nice spending the bit of time before the anthem reconnecting. Hell, even Max returned. He retired the year after you came back from pregnancy, holding to the statement that he would retire earlier than fans would expect.

“Good luck, Mommy,” Hervé hugs you before you leave the garage, kissing your cheek.

“Thank you, baby,” you hug him tightly. Gabi is currently talking Arthur’s ear off, well as much as he can for a four year old.

“Give Mommy a good luck hug, Gabi,” you tell him. He rushes over to hug you. Charles stops talking to Arthur to wish you luck. You stand up, Gabi hugging you leg.

“Good luck, show them why you are a four time world champion,” Charles kisses you. Arthur gags across the garage.

“Thank you,” you whisper against his lips.

“Alright love birds, I don’t want a fine for being late,” Arthur calls to you. You begrudgingly step away, waving goodbye to the twins. You and Arthur share the umbrella as you stand on the track.

“Don’t give me the win, I want to fight for it like I have every year,” you say quietly, knowing Arthur would sacrifice his title to let you go out a champion.

“Wasn’t planning on it. The only way I will back down if if given team orders,” Arthur tells you.

“Don’t listen to that, unless we would crash,” you insist. Just because you are retiring doesn’t mean you should get hand outs, unless it’s in the form of money.

“It’s been an honor getting to drive with you as my teammate. I never thought you would be my sister, or teammate, or best friend, but here we are. Thank you,” Arthur hugs you when you get to your cars, your final front row lockout.

“Thank you for being the best little brother, and a great teammate. Love you, Thur,” you hug him back. Fighting any tears that threaten to spill.

“Don’t cry, you’ll be back in a few years. I just know it,” Arthur reassures you as he pulls away.

“And you will be world champion, just not this year,” you grin, heading to your car to get your helmet on and get into the car. Before you climb in, you look around at the crew. “Thank you all, I wouldn’t be successful without your hard work,” you tell them, your sincere tone adding to their motivation.

You climb in, instantly entering race mode. All sentimental emotions leaving as you focus on the race. Time ticks away and it’s just you and the car, waiting for the green light on the formation lap. You’ve done thousands of laps, and it’s time to add 58 more.

The team watches as you drive effortlessly, defending and attacking like it’s your second nature. And an hour and a half later, you cross the finish line one last time for Ferrari as a champion.

“Y/n Leclerc, once again, you are Champion of the World. Thank you for everything you have done for us at Ferrari, it’s been an honor being your race engineer,” your engineer tells you as you cross the line.

“We did it,” you fight the tears, trying to focus on the track. “Thank you everyone, for all the hours, hard work, and late nights that you’ve put in. We’ve spent so much time together and I will remember this forever. This championship is all for you. Thank you Tifosi for all your support, through the ups and downs you were there. Forza Ferrari Sempre,” you say before turning the radio off, driving a little slower on your cool down lap than you normally would.

You don’t jump out immediately after parking the car. You sit a few extra seconds, taking your time removing the steering wheel and seat belt. When you stand on top of the car, the crowd roars.

“You did it!” Arthur cheers, hugging you as soon as you get out of the car.

“Let’s go see the team,” you pat his back. Running to the sea of red one last time.

It’s hard to imagine what will come next in those moments of pure joy.

You and Charles spend the next year enjoying being parents, and you do hop into the commentary booth for a few weekends. Toto reaches out, extending a contract offer whenever you are ready to take it. You talk when you attend races to cheer on your grid kids and Arthur. And following your own footsteps, you reveal your pregnancy to the public the next year - a healthy baby girl named Emilia Vittoria who is spoiled by her racing family.

Carlos is the second person to take Hervé and Gabi karting, you gifted them their own for their fifth birthday. Arthur had the honor of being the first since you were pregnant at the time.

After being away for four years, you rejoin the grid beside Kimi, racing for another four years before retiring for the last time. You don’t win another WDC, but you get to enjoy it while it lasted and retire happy.

[plistommy]

Steve was looking more pissed off as ever with his hands on hips and scowl on his too-pretty face as he looked down at Eddie, who was nervous and embarrassed as hell because, well…

He had forgotten their first anniversary.

They had been together a year.

A whole year and Eddie’s dumbass has forgotten about it as he had been too busy planning on a new DnD campaign with the other members of the club instead of being here with his boyfriend who had waited for him to show up, apparently, for five fucking hours with Eddie’s favorite dinner.

Fuck.

Eddie felt like the worst boyfriend ever.

But, he still tried to lighten up the mood and grinned nervously up at Steve who was not breaking his stance.

”Look… I’m really sorry, baby—”

”Don’t you baby me!” Steve snapped and wrapped his arms over his chest, pout pulling into his pretty mouth.

”You’re sleeping on the couch tonight.”

Eddie’s eyes widened a little and he awkwardly looked around ”But… this is my house.”

Maybe he shouldn’t have said that.

Steve huffed annoyingly and stomped to Eddie’s bedroom, leaving Eddie to sit on the living room’s couch, but before Eddie could really do anything, Steve was coming back with his green duffle bag and went to put on his shoes that were tidily set next to the front door.

”Fine. I’ll go to Robs. The food is cold, but I bet if you warm it up it isn’t half bad. There’s some ice cream too, chocolate and sprinkles on the top shelf. I know you like them…”

Steve and his caring side will be the death of Eddie. Even when the younger boy was mad at him, he still cared.

Before Steve could open the door, Eddie jumped from the couch and ran to him. He wrapped his hand around Steve’s wrist and pulled it back from the handle.

”Please, don’t go. Look, I’m really sorry, Steve. I am. I fucked this up,” Eddie took both of Steve’s hands to his, hating how the other boy wasn’t catching his eyes. ”Please, forgive me? I’ll do anything, baby.”

Finally, Steve turned those big brown eyes to his and gave a small nod, making his hair flop to his eyes which made Eddie push them back.

”Yeah?” Eddie said softly and Steve nodded again.

He dropped his duffle bag to the floor and let Eddie embrace him as the older boy wrapped his arms around Steve’s waist.

Steve breathed in the other’s scent, relaxing a little even if he was still a little upset.

”Okay, look,” He started, making Eddie pull away a little so he could see Steve’s face.

”It… it isn’t that serious. It’s only our first anniversary, but I just… I really wanted this to be special because I really really like you, Eddie and I love what we have and I just—”

”Hey, hey, Steve. It’s okay.” Eddie caressed Steve’s cheeks. ”You don’t need to apologize. I’m the one who fucked up. I should’ve known.”

Steve bit his bottom lip and leaned into the other’s touch.

”I love you. I will make it up for you, ’kay? If it takes me years of hard work I’ll do it. If it… if it means I can’t play anymore I’ll do it for you.”

That made Steve snort as he wrapped his arms around Eddie’s shoulders and fuck did it make Eddie happy when he finally felt the other’s touch on him.

”Like you’d be able to keep your hands off your ’sweetheart’.” And that made Eddie chuckle a little too.

”For you, anything.”

Steve gave him a soft smile and let Eddie kiss him.

”Fine. I’ll accept, you butthead.”

Eddie grinned as he led Steve to the couch, pulling the boy onto his lap as Steve giggled.

They made out for a while, Eddie doing all the things he knew to get the other laugh. Tickling his feet, the spot behind his ear that was unusually sensitive and squeezing that amazing ass when Steve wiggled on top of him.

When they both calmed down, now lying on the small couch with their legs tangled, Steve grinned.

”Hm, maybe for a start of this ’big’ journey of forgiveness, you could… fuck me? It could make me a little less mad.”

Eddie felt heat pooling into his dick right away.

”Thought you wanted me on the couch?” He teased and Steve rolled his eyes as he smacked softly the other’s grinning face.

”Do not tempt me. Again.”

[formylovetodaryldixon]

"A whole new world." Daryl Dixon Imagine.

(Not my gif!)

For Daryl, it still feels like living in a whole new world with his daughter by his side, but in the hour that he is left alone with Marley, Daryl proves he is the best dad ever.

A/N: Lately I live to create scenarios with Daryl as a dad♥ This is just a short imagine but I hope you like it. If you want to read other stories with dad!Daryl, here are two: "My everything." and "For life." Thanks!

Marley Rose Dixon is five weeks old.

She is so tiny compared to her father, who for those weeks had done nothing but lay on the living room couch with her on top of him, wrapped in a comfortable blanket and on his chest while Daryl patted or rubbed her back gently, earning little sounds like a light laugh or a warm sigh before she fell fast asleep. Daryl had already held Judith when she was born, but there was something particular about holding Marley, like being in a new world, with an almost overwhelming feeling to feel his own daughter that close, protected as only he could do it, being as gentle and loving with her as his parents never were with him.

And when Alexandria fell into a deep sleep during the night, just like now, Daryl took some time after his wife fed Marley, laying her on his chest so she could feel his warmth, one hand behind his head while the other caressed her back.

It was routine, part of his daily life, and he loved the idea of ​​doing it, waiting patiently for his turn to hold her. But when light knocks are heard on the front door, Daryl opens his eyes as he notices that he was starting to fall asleep as well.

“I'll go.” You say softly, walking out of the kitchen and into the living room. “You look way too comfortable right now and I wouldn’t want to make you move your ass off the couch.”

You’re joking with him and he knows it, but Daryl scoffs as he crosses his feet over the armrest of the couch just to show you how comfortable he really is.

“I’m takin' care of our daughter, woman. This ain't a vacation, y'know?”

You chuckle before opening the door, and while it’s still a surprise that someone knocks considering it’s already late, that only mean one thing. Your neighbor is on the other side, a young woman who lives with her 8–year–old son.

“Hi, Elena, is everything okay?”

“Hey, (Y/N), sorry to bother you at this hour…” She tries to smile, though the worry on her face is evident, so you wave your hand indicating that everything is okay. “Ryan has been sick for a few hours now, and I thought he would get better if he rested, but he’s actually gotten worse and I was wondering if you could please check on him.”

Your smile falters slightly, because that would be the first time you’d leave your daughter alone with her father.

“Yeah, sure, of course I will. Let me talk to Daryl for a moment and I’ll come over to your house, okay?”

She nods and thanks you before heading back into her house, but when you close the door and turn around, Daryl is already looking at you, noticing your insecurity in a blink.

“Ya want a goodbye kiss? If ya want one ya can come closer, 'cause Marley and I will be fine without ya.” He looks at his daughter, as if she’s really going to answer him. “Ain’t that true, sweetie? We don’ need mommy watchin' us all day. Daddy can take care of everythin'.”

You trust him, completely, but your motherly instincts lead you to worry anyway.

“Okay. I don’t think I’ll be long, but there’s hot water for the milk in case she gets hungry. You know how to do it so it won’t be a problem.”

He scoffs.

“I know damn well how to do it.”

“And I just changed her diaper so I don’t think you will need to do it for a while.”

“Okay.”

“And if she starts crying maybe it’s because—”

He looks at you seriously but with affection.

“Woman, jus’ go, daddy can take care of it.” At least his confidence is reassuring, almost, but you know they’ll be okay. So, with a long sigh, you grab your cardigan from the single couch, your keys from the table near the door, and walk out of the house, leaving him alone in the company of his daughter’s soft breathing. “S' jus' ya and me, angel, so please don’ make daddy worry too much. I don’ want mommy to think I can’t take care of ma own daughter.”

Marley stirs slightly, letting out a small sigh, then falling into a deep sleep. For a moment, Daryl closes his eyes again and the house falls into a deep, warm sleep too, far from terror and danger, but the feeling is short–lived when after a while she starts to whine, first making soft sounds that Daryl tries to soothe as he continues to pat her back, making sounds that would calm her. For a few seconds, Marley does calm down, but the next her eyes squeeze shut tighter, and she cries for a little longer, a little louder this time.

Slowly, Daryl sits down on the couch, his hands supporting Marley’s body on her blanket.

“Okay, angel, I think we’re hungry again.”

He gets up from the couch with his daughter in his arms, gently rocking her on his way to the kitchen. The only light in the house comes from the lamp in the living room, but the moonlight shines through the open window blinds and lights his way as Daryl prepares the milk with an expert hand: pouring the water into the bottle, opening the formula, and so on. Marley continues crying, but not so loud to make her dad worry, and when within a few minutes the bottle has cooled under the sink’s stream of water, Daryl comes back into the living room, setting the milk on the table in front of him to nestle Marley against his arm.

Her blue eyes are open now, scanning the place, but the moment she catches her father’s gaze as he looks back at her, her crying subsides.

“Whatcha doin' up so late, lil’ miss?” Daryl smiles, taking the bottle and bringing it to her mouth. The second Marley feels it against her lips, they part to start drinking the milk, her crying fading quickly. “That’s it, sweetheart. Ya need to drink all the milk so ya can grow big and strong. Mommy’s a lil' short but us Dixons are tall, so I’m countin' on ya to get that from yer daddy.”

After a while and even though Marley’s eyes begin to droop as the milk runs out, Daryl continues to smile at her until her eyelids finally close again, the bottle still in her mouth. Daryl pulls it away from her and places it back on the table before standing up, settling Marley against his chest before pacing around the room, patting her back with a gentle touch. Marley's head is under his chin, and Daryl only has to tilt his head slightly down to rest it against his daughter, keeping her warm against him.

“Ya know, baby?” He says softly, his voice low so as not to disturb her sleep, but eager to share this story with her, even if she doesn’t hear or remember it. “When mommy found out she was pregnant, she was so scared. Mommy has always been a very, very brave person, but at that moment, daddy could see the terror in 'er eyes. Even though I don’ want to, one day I’ll have to show ya the new world we live in now, but despite that, I told yer mommy I wanted to have ya. The idea of ​​havin' a family of ma own never crossed ma mind 'til I met yer mommy: she came into ma life to remind me to stop existin' and start livin', but the moment I knew ya were in mommy’s womb I felt a new kind of happiness, somethin' I thought I had no right to feel. Daddy loves ya, ma lil’ angel, daddy loved ya since he knew ya existed, and daddy will love ya for the rest of his life. I jus’ hope ya love me too…”

Those last words leave his lips in an even lower voice, almost inaudible, but it’s a wish Daryl has dreamed of ever since he found out he was having a baby.

He places a kiss on Marley’s head, before heading upstairs.

Once in the bedroom, the light coming through the closed window with the curtains open fights against the darkness, light that draws a perfect square over the center of the bed, the place where Daryl leaves his daughter, as soft as he never thought he could be, covering her with her blanket before lying down next to her, on his right side and with his arm under his head to admire her as he has been doing since she was born.

Daryl's hand is significantly larger than Marley's, but he uses his finger to caress his daughter's, her hand slightly closed, smiling at the contact with her soft, warm skin. For him, it is still surprising to see that she’s really there with him, so close and so little. Marley has a small nose, and sometimes she looks like her mom, and sometimes like him. His family often jokes with him, wondering if she will inherit her dad's personality, that explosive temper that they used to make fun of fondly, but that everyone knew he had only used to protect himself from pain. Because everyone knew well that behind that, Daryl was a born leader, a good brother and an uncle, and especially a good husband and now a good father, and yes, he was also intimidating with his silence, but a very protective and loyal person, willing to give his life for his family.

It takes Daryl a moment to close his eyes, but he’s always alert, though the walls of his home are a kind of protection. He’d always been a light sleeper (except since Marley was born, because at that moment Daryl truly felt what it was like to be deprived of that resource), but the moment you walk up the stairs on your way to the bedroom, he can feel you despite the silence that accompanies you.

Daryl rubs his eye with his fist, raising himself up on his arm just as you enter the room.

“Everythin' okay with Ryan, sweetheart?” He asks quietly, in that deep, husky voice.

You nod as you walk over to your side of the bed, sitting on the edge to watch Marley.

“Yeah, it looks like he caught some kind of bug from eating something his mom forbade him to eat, but I gave him some medicine and Ryan will be fine: just that the nausea is pretty annoying, especially in the middle of the night.”

Daryl chuckles.

“It reminds me when ya were pregnant with Marley. Ya kinda hated me for it.”

You smile a little, it’s late but you’re still in the mood to joke with him.

“I kind of still do, but oh well…”

Daryl scoffs before laying back down, head over his arm.

“Shut up. Ya love me.”

You chuckle.

“Of course I love you, silly, if I didn’t I would never have let you get me pregnant.”

Daryl smirks, mischievous.

“I told ya it was a good idea to do it without a condom. We made a very cute baby.”

You squint.

“Yeah. But don’t think that’s going to happen again.”

With that, you get back up to change into something more comfortable before you go to sleep, at least for a little while before Marley wakes up again. Silently, and though you don’t notice until you get back to bed, too immersed in constant tiredness, Daryl follows you with his gaze all the way, admiring your body and your beauty until his eyes meet yours.

“When can I make love to ya again?”

You laugh softly as you lay down on the other side of Marley.

“I think in a few more days we’ll be fine.” You adjust the pillow under your head, rubbing your eye with your fist as sleep begins to overcome you. But before you drift off into a light slumber, you use the energy in your body to look your husband in the eyes. “This is the first time you’ve been left totally alone with her, and you did a great job, daddy, I knew you could do it. I am very proud of you.”

Daryl smiles slightly as he too begins to fight off sleep, but his chest is filled with pride.

“Thanks, peach.”

[robindraconis]

Bilbo, in Thorin’s bed: Morning… how’d ya sleep last night? Thorin, knocking Bilbo off: WHAT THE HELL?! Bilbo: Ow— Thorin: What were you doing in my bed? You were supposed to sleep on the air mattress on the floor! Bilbo: I had a nightmare. Thorin: You had a nightmare? What are you, five years old? Bilbo: Listen, I needed to feel comfortable and I was getting this perverse power dynamic vibe from me sleeping on the floor and you sleeping up there- Thorin, in a royal accent: Why yes, how high and mighty I am up on my twin XL! Bilbo: That is not what I meant— Thorin: Silence in the presence of your king, who sleeps a lofty twelve and a half inches above the ground! Bilbo: Listen, I’m not ashamed. I slept comfortably when I got up on your bed and I’m sure you did too. Thorin: Yeah, okay- Bilbo: You know what? I wanna know. How’d you sleep last night? Thorin: …That was the best I’ve slept in a while. Bilbo, gasping: The king slept comfortably with a peasant in his bed! Thorin: I did not consent to this- Bilbo, dramatically: But my liege, our love is forbidden! Thorin, on the phone: Hi, is this the front desk? Yeah, there’s a bed bug in my room and he’s(edit)3 foot 5, he’s got red hair. Bilbo: Ask them if they have one of those “Do Not Disturb” signs. I’ll put it on the door next time we… do it. Thorin: Okay, I'ma go shower and wash all of the you off of me. Bilbo: Oh, maybe together we could— Thorin: NO. Bilbo: Just to save water— Thorin: No! You don’t even pay for the water! Bilbo: …Good point.

[sturniololuvz]

could you do one where marylou needs help getting 2-3 year old sister to sleep and matt steps in, getting her tired and then tucking her in all the good stuff lol

yessss!

“Matt to the Rescue”

Sturniolos x sister

Warnings: none

The Sturniolo house was always a little loud, a little chaotic, and full of love. But tonight? Tonight was just exhausting.

MaryLou let out a tired sigh, rubbing her temples as she paced back and forth outside Y/N’s nursery. At two years old, her youngest was proving to be impossible to put to sleep. Every time she thought Y/N was finally dozing off, the toddler would suddenly sit up, wide awake and ready to play.

She peeked inside the room, where Y/N was sitting in her crib, babbling to herself and tossing her stuffed animals onto the floor. It was already past bedtime, and nothing—lullabies, rocking, stories—was working.

Defeated, she walked down the hall toward the living room, where her three eighteen-year-old sons were sprawled out on the couch, half-watching a random movie.

“Guys,” she sighed, hands on her hips. “One of you has to help me. Y/N will not go to sleep.”

Chris groaned dramatically, throwing his head back. “Mom, just let her stay up. Maybe she’s nocturnal.”

Nick chuckled. “Yeah, or maybe she just thrives on making your life harder.”

MaryLou shot them both a look, but before she could argue, Matt sat up and stretched. “I got it, Mom.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You sure?”

“Yeah,” he said, already getting to his feet. “I’ll get her tired.”

Chris snorted. “Good luck, bro. She’s built different.”

Matt just smirked. “Watch and learn.”

With that, he walked off toward Y/N’s room, rolling his shoulders like he was preparing for battle.

When he opened the door, Y/N perked up immediately.

“Matty!” she squealed, bouncing on the mattress.

Matt leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. “You do know it’s bedtime, right?”

Y/N grinned at him like he’d just said the funniest thing in the world. “No!”

He chuckled. “Okay, fair. But what if we made bedtime fun?”

Y/N tilted her head, intrigued. “How?”

Matt stepped into the room and scooped her up, spinning her around. “We gotta tire you out first.”

Y/N let out a delighted giggle as he tossed her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He carried her into the hallway, where Nick and Chris turned to watch the chaos unfold.

“Is this your master plan?” Chris asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yup,” Matt said, plopping Y/N onto the floor. “We’re gonna have a dance party.”

Y/N gasped. “Dance?”

“Yeah, but only for five minutes,” Matt said, squatting down to her level. “Then we gotta go to sleep. Deal?”

Y/N considered this very serious offer before nodding. “Deal!”

Matt pulled out his phone and blasted a song, immediately starting to wiggle his arms in the worst dance moves possible. Y/N erupted into giggles and started mimicking him, her little legs bouncing as she twirled around.

Nick laughed from the couch. “Dude, you look ridiculous.”

“Yeah, well, she’s having fun,” Matt shot back, continuing his ridiculous dance routine.

For the next few minutes, Y/N jumped, spun, and clapped to the beat, her giggles filling the house. By the time the song ended, she was worn out, panting and stumbling slightly.

Matt grinned. “Alright, sleepyhead, time for bed.”

Y/N yawned dramatically. “Nooo…”

“Yeahhh,” he teased, scooping her up again. She rested her head against his shoulder, her little arms draped around his neck.

As he carried her back into her room, she mumbled sleepily, “Matty, stay?”

His heart melted.

“Of course, bug,” he whispered, gently laying her in her crib and tucking her in. He grabbed her favorite stuffed bunny and placed it beside her.

She blinked up at him, eyes barely staying open. “Sing?”

Matt chuckled softly. “You really know how to get what you want, huh?”

But he stayed. And he sang.

A soft, quiet melody—nothing fancy, just something to soothe her.

Before he even finished, Y/N’s tiny hand went slack against his arm, her breathing slow and even.

Matt smiled, brushing a stray curl from her forehead before standing up and tiptoeing out of the room.

As he shut the door, he turned to see MaryLou standing there, watching with a warm smile.

“You’re really good with her,” she whispered.

Matt shrugged. “She’s my baby sister. Someone’s gotta keep her in check.”

MaryLou kissed his cheek. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

He smirked. “Told you I had it under control.”

Chris, who had been watching from the couch, scoffed. “Okay, yeah, but at what cost? That was exhausting just to witness.”

Nick grinned. “You are kinda like the baby whisperer, though.”

Matt just smiled to himself as he sat back down. He wouldn’t admit it, but spending time with Y/N like that? It meant everything.

And, if she asked him to do it all over again tomorrow night?

Yeah, he’d do it in a heartbeat.

[amongemeraldclouds]

Things I’ll Never Say

Why say things out loud when you can write them all down in a journal? No need to inconvenience everyone else with silly declarations of love that’s only guaranteed to break your heart. So what happens when your enemy - of all people - finds it?

Lorenzo Berkshire x Reader

“Is it that, or is it because you’re in love with me?”

Thanks to @thatdammchickennugget for the prompt. Here's my official entry for the Hogmarch challenge, prompt one. 1k words.

Author’s note: The way I screamed when this idea came to mind! Journaling is such a big part of my life, I’ll take any and every chance I can to incorporate it to my stories.

Indented text are journal entries.

Warning: Cursing, no use of y/n, slight angst but it’s kinda cute. Fluff express coming through!

✿ Masterlist

“Stop copying my notes!” I hiss at Lorenzo, moving my arm to cover my parchment.

“Come on, I missed class today. I need to catch up,” he says, tugging at the arm of my sweater.

“Go ask your friends,” I retort, moving my arm away from his grasp.

“You know they’re not in that class, just you,” he insists.

“Oh we’re not friends,” I deadpan.

“It won’t take long,” he tries again.

“If you weren’t busy sleeping around with everyone, Berkshire. You would have made it to class this morning.”

 He leans in to my ear and whispers, “I’ll make it worth your while.”

I grab the nearest hardbound book and swing it in his direction. Thwack! It strikes his shoulder.

The librarian looks at us sternly. “Your final warning was just given five minutes ago. No noise in the library!” She points her finger to the exit, “You two, out!”

“Great. Thanks for that, Berkshire. Good luck with your notes.” My face gets hot with embarrassment as I gather my things and rush off to the exit.

Enzo spots a black leather bound journal in the area you just vacated. He takes it with him as he exits the library. She’s always writing in this notebook. I’m sure she won’t mind if I take a peek, I’ll give it back to her anyway.

He damn well knew you would mind. When he reaches a quiet corner of the hallway, he proceeds to turn the cover anyway.

I know, I know. I’m not supposed to like Lorenzo Berkshire. Why the fuck did I just draw a heart over the “i”! That’s it. I’m losing my mind! I can’t be caught liking the boy who spewed the word mudblood in my direction our first year. Like it’s my fault I was born into my family. And screw him okay, muggles are awesome. I can break my own heart with my misguided affections, but I’d rather die before I ever let him break my heart. So before I check myself into a mental asylum, I need to just say this somewhere. Anywhere. A last ditch effort to save my sanity.

He’s the intrusive thought I love to entertain in my head.

As a dare, he took off his shirt at the party. My toes curled. I pretended not to notice him.

I heard him laughing with his friends. I love the way it lit up his face.

I saw him enter his dorm hand in hand with a girl. I never wish to be her, another one night stand. Once would never be enough. 

I nearly kissed him again.

He helped me pick up the pile of books I dropped at the library. He seemed kind and concerned. Ha! Who am I kidding?

I count down the hours until I see him again.

Maybe in another lifetime it wouldn’t matter: bloodlines, social status, and hierarchies. So unnecessary.

I noticed the veins in his arm at quidditch practice. I tried not to bite my lip. What must it be like to be wrapped in those arms?

And there he was again with his stupid hair breaking my stupid heart.

Enzo hears determined footsteps approaching and he shuts the journal, hiding it behind him.

“Fine, Berkshire,” I sigh when I reach him. “Here, take my notes,” I say, handing it out to him.

He quirks an eyebrow.

“Weren’t you so desperate to get them earlier?” I fold my arms. “I will not be part of the reason you fail in class.” I point at him, “you and your dumb ass can very well do it yourself. I have more important things to worry about.”

“Is it that, or is it because you’re in love with me?”

My brain short circuits, the fire freezing in my veins. How the hell does he know?

He smirks, pulling out a familiar black journal. My eyes widen.

“On second thought,” I say, stepping back. “It doesn’t matter,” I turn around and walk away. “Fail class for all I care.”

I’m yanked back when I feel Enzo’s grip on my wrist. “Wait.”

My heart thumps in my chest. Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit. He knows!

“I’m sorry,” he says. What? I turn back, my confused expression directed at him.

“That I called you a mudblood,” he explains. “I was a dumb ass when we were younger.”

“Finally, we agree on something,” I state, trying to mask the tremble in my voice.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know you back then and I was prejudiced. Over the years, I enjoyed watching your passion for magic and studying. How you light up when you talk to your friends about a book you just read. And how you’re always the first to volunteer when someone needs help. You have this fire and warmth in you and I just need to be around it all the time. I’m reduced to being a moth to your flame and I don’t mind it at all.”

I blink, speechless.

He takes a step forward, voice softening. “Why do you think I tease you all the time?”

“Well how the fuck was I supposed to know?” The anger not quite there in my voice.

“I just wanted a chance to talk to you and I thought you hated me.” He brushes the hair from my face and cups my face. “Clearly, I was wrong.”

I roll my eyes, “Oh no, I do hate you.” I falter, “but maybe I kind of, just sort of, like you too.”

He grins. “It seems there are things we need to talk about. Will you go on a date with me?”

My heart stutters. “You already know my answer.”

He laughs, “stubborn as always. I’ll take that as a yes.” He pulls me in for a hug. 

Oh. Being wrapped in his strong arms is even better than I imagined. I rest my head on his shoulder when a thought occurs to me.

“You’re sure this is not just some elaborate ploy for me to keep giving you my notes?”

He sighs, “of course not, just enjoy this moment."

He moves his mouth to my ear, "But if you do, I solemnly swear I will make it worth your while.”

I don't hit him this time.

✿ Masterlist

A/N: For those who get the Avril Lavigne title reference, here's a tight hug for you! ♡

I may or may not have also had a place where I wrote down love confessions for someone I couldn’t have. Some of those may or may not have been included in the journal entries.

Two fics published in one day? Who is she?