#the wheels are turning everything makes sense oh no

[blossomarlia]

hi! i loved your drabble about james x reader after the party, it was so cute :) if requests are open, could i please ask for fem!reader who has a tricky relationship with her parents, and maybe she and james go for lunch or something aand it goes badly? just like him comforting her and telling her she's not in the wrong if that makes sense. no pressure!

hi, hope this is sort of what you wanted!

james potter x fem!reader

warnings: mentions of poor relationship with family, especially mother

Driving with James is almost never quiet. He’s always got something to say, or you have, or the two of you are listening to one of several CDs Remus burned your favourite songs into. James insists that you’re in the passenger seat, so you can choose the music more easily, so you can talk with your hands the way you do, so you can doze off after work. You once drove six hours together and it passed like thirty minutes, your conversation was so easy. 

Now, you stare out the window and pretend you haven’t been wiping away tears for the fifteen minutes since he pulled out of your family’s driveway. For his part, you don’t think James has noticed your upset; he’s been gripping the steering wheel with both hands and breathing so evenly that it must be intentional, clearly lost in his own thoughts. You hate this tension, hate that the discomfort and hurt of lunch has infested spaces beyond the dining table of your childhood home. 

It’s absurd, in hindsight, that you were so hopeful. You don’t know why it keeps happening, why you let it. You’d thought maybe with James there, with any stranger but especially one so bright and warm, they’d hold back. You were wrong. 

Things began pleasantly enough; after stressing about timing, you’d arrived ten minutes early and brought an apple pie James had helped you make this morning. Your mother enjoys reminding you that guests don’t get invited back if they don’t show how grateful they are for an invitation with some sort of gift. You wonder why it matters to you that being re-invited to your family home is so important, but it is. Even just as a guest. 

You’d helped in the kitchen while your father watched television. James tried to help, too, but was turned away. You’d felt the air shift as soon as you were alone with your mother. 

It’s nothing against you, not in the slightest! Only, young men like that aren’t often in it for the long term with girls like you.

You’d frowned, pretended not to know what she meant. It was only the same thing she’d said about both other boys you’d brought home.

You’re a nice girl, but what can you truly offer him? He’s good-looking, wealthy family, and you said he plays rugby? Sweetheart, you never want to be with somebody because they’re settling. That’s just my opinion.

The meal itself was worse. Despite your pleas, your family remarked on James’ family, their standing and their properties and how your father felt about James’ mother’s charity. Everything was said perfectly pleasantly, but you were humiliated. When it came time to criticise your shortcomings, you couldn’t muster a single protest, eager to redirect their scrutiny of your boyfriend to their usual commentary on you. Your hair, your clothing, your weight, your job, your flat- it didn’t end, not until you’d helped your mother wash up and James made a stiff excuse about needing to be back in London by five o’clock. 

You know you must’ve let him down terribly. With your friends, you’re never the type to take anything lying down, more sure of yourself and able to let banter slide off you like water. You feel as if you’ve tricked James, somehow, now that he’s seen the way you truly are: silent, unable to stand up for yourself. You’re embarrassed of yourself more than your family. Humiliated worse than you’ve ever been.

You sniff, and it must be the first James notices of your tears because he pulls over to the emergency lane immediately. “Oh, my girl,” He leans across the center console and gives you as nice of a hug as he can from a somewhat awkward position. 

“Sorry,” You say, crying properly now. It’s harder to hold back when you see the worry on his lovely features. “Sorry, I’m overreacting.”

“Not at all, angel,” He says immediately. He rubs his hands firmly up and down your sides. “I’m sorry, I should’ve paid more attention to how upset you are. They were horrible to you.”

“They were just-” You begin, but the excuse doesn’t come. You’re sure you had one ready to go, some explanation or justification for today. “I don’t think they’re trying to be hurtful. They’re my family, I love them.”

“I don’t care what they were trying to do,” James frowns, “It was awful, the way they spoke to you. I wish I’d said something more.”

You shake your head, feeling panic seizing your lungs even after you’ve left the house. During the meal, you’d felt nauseous the minute James spoke up- he’d only said that’s not fair over some half-true comment your mother made, but your heart seized as if he’d thrown a dish of food at her.

“No, it- I didn’t want it to become an argument. I asked you not to.”

More kindly than you feel you deserve, James doesn’t comment on your half-panicked texts to him under the lunch table. You hate the knowledge that they’ll exist there forever, that the next time he opens your contact he’ll be reminded of how feeble you’ve been. 

“Are they always that way?”

“I don’t know,” You sniff again, swiping under your nose. “I think- I think sometimes they’re better, but I don’t know. I wish I’d stood up for myself more when I was younger.”

“None of this is your fault,” James is quick to assure you. “It wasn’t your job to do that, they shouldn’t- I don’t understand how anyone can be so cruel to you. You’re so easy to be kind to.”

“They aren’t cruel, they’re just-”

“They are,” He insists, sympathy and regret lining his face. “I wish you’d stop accepting it, sweetheart.”

It stings, and James sees your reaction but you jump in before he can elaborate; “I’m sorry I didn’t stand up for myself. It must’ve been disappointing.”

He’s quiet for a moment, and when you glance up he’s pinching the bridge of his nose. You feel terrible- you know James didn’t mean it that way, and you’ve been unfair. He sighs. “I’m disappointed by the situation, not by you. Never by you. I hate that this is so normal for you, my darling, that’s all.”

He’s so lovely that you cry again, and James rubs your back as you do. He’s a dream; you’d imagined as a younger person that all the awful stress and pressure of your family meant you’d someday meet someone perfectly gentle and kind, and subsequently hated yourself for creating such an unlikely fairytale. You didn’t believe in people like James until you met and loved him, didn’t think you were the sort of person who attracted them. 

“We don’t need to visit them again,” James tells you quietly when you’ve calmed down a bit. “I don’t want you to think you have an obligation to them; if it doesn’t make you happy to be there, we’ll make excuses. Blame me- say I have chronic food poisoning, or something.”

“I think that’s called an allergy, Jamie,” You sniff, holding one of his hands in both of yours. You stare at the lines of his palm, though you can’t remember what each one is supposed to mean. “I-I want to be a good daughter.”

“You are a good daughter, better than they deserve,” He says. “But you’re the only person you’re going to spend your entire life with, the only one you really have to be around every day. It’s okay to put yourself first.”

“I can’t just never see them again.”

“No, I know that. That’s alright.” He swipes his thumbs gently over the soft skin under your eyes. “Just give yourself a break, yeah?” You take a shaky breath, nodding. “I love you.”

“And I love you, angel,” He smiles warmly. “As do many, many other people. My parents won’t stop hassling me about when I’m next bringing you over.”

You laugh wetly, more pleased than you want to reveal. “Really?”

“Yeah. You’re the only person who can rival Dad’s croquet skills, and he needs humbling.” You both laugh, now, and James cups your face in both hands as he kisses you. “My brave girl,” He says, still so close you feel the shape of the sentence against your skin. “I hope you know how loved you are.”

You don’t respond; you aren’t sure what you can say, and James understands either way. He threads his fingers through yours and squeezes as he moves back to sit in his seat. He doesn’t let go of your hand the whole way home.

[lexa-griffins]

Oh God someone stop me from creating a full backstory for a amnesia au that popped up into my head!!!!😩

[winterlico]

GORGEOUS ★ when they're feeling protective & possessive ｡

.🎠 ݁˖ ꒰ you look stunning in that dress ꒱ ──── ft. enhypen ( 엔하이픈 )

﹙ masterlist ﹚ fluff , mention kiss , slight possessive , jealousy ✿ 満足 ◦ aprox 950 wc ‼

feedbacks ୨୧ reblogs / a/n : thank you sm for 100 folls >ᴗ<

| LEE HEESEUNG ( 이희승 )

You stand in front of the mirror, adjusting the hem of your dress, making sure everything looks just right. It’s bold—a bit more daring than usual—and the way it hugs your body has you feeling confident. The neckline plunges just enough, and the hemline sits a little higher than you’d normally go for. You love the way it looks on you, and it’s not like you’re trying to cause a scene, but tonight you want to feel good.

You catch your reflection one last time before hearing Heeseung’s footsteps coming closer. Your heart skips, and you turn, expecting him to be all smiles and excitement, but as soon as his eyes land on you, his smile falters.

He doesn’t even speak, just stands there, his gaze moving from your face to your dress, back to your face again. His lips press into a thin line, and you can see the wheels turning in his head as his brows knit together, just a little.

You raise an eyebrow, trying to keep the situation light. “You like it?” you ask, spinning around playfully, watching for his reaction.

Heeseung stares at you for a second longer before finally responding. “Yeah… I like it a little too much,” he mutters, his voice low. There’s that edge again—the one you recognize when he’s trying to keep himself from saying too much, but still letting the words slip out.

You can’t help but tease him a little. “What’s wrong? You don’t think I look good?” You take a step closer, fluttering your eyelashes just to play with him. He doesn’t look amused. In fact, you could almost swear you see a hint of frustration flicker in his eyes.

“Good?” He scoffs lightly, but the intensity in his gaze doesn’t shift. “I think you look too good.” His tone has a playful challenge to it, but there’s no mistaking the possessiveness behind it.

You take a step back, feigning surprise. “Oh? Too good? You don’t think I’m allowed to wear something that makes me feel good?” You cross your arms, leaning against the vanity with a cheeky smile. “I thought you liked when I look this stunning. Isn’t that what you tell me all the time?”

He takes a couple of steps toward you, the space between you shrinking quickly. “Of course I like it, but I’m not about to let every guy in that party think they can stare at my girlfriend like she’s some kind of prize to be ogled.” His voice softens, but you hear the underlying edge, the protective growl. It’s like a switch flips, and suddenly, Heeseung’s all business.

You can’t help but laugh, and he eyes you carefully, like he’s trying to figure out if you’re joking or if you’re actually testing his patience. You take another step back, teasingly swinging your hips a little more than necessary, enjoying how it flusters him.

“Aw, come on, Hee. They’re just looking. You’re not actually going to start a scene, are you?” You throw him a playful wink, but you can see the gears turning in his head. He’s getting protective, and you’re enjoying pushing his buttons just a little.

He lets out a breath, clearly trying to hold back, but the possessiveness in his eyes doesn’t waver. “You don’t get it, do you?” He steps forward again, his voice soft but firm. “I don’t just want them looking at you—I don’t want them touching you, or even thinking about it. You’re mine, and I’ll be damned if I’m letting anyone forget that.”

You grin, clearly loving how riled up he’s getting, but you can’t help but soften, sensing the sincerity in his words. “You’re cute when you’re all jealous,” you tease, reaching out to take his hand, squeezing it gently.

His lips twitch upward, but his expression stays intense. “Jealous? You think this is jealousy?” He shakes his head slowly, though there’s a glimmer of amusement in his eyes now. “No, this is just me being… protective. And if you think I’m letting you go out there wearing something like this—” he motions at your dress with a soft, teasing smirk, “—you’ve got another thing coming.”

You laugh, your hands wrapping around his neck as you pull him close. “Fine, fine, Mr. Protective. You win. I won’t be the center of attention. But… you are going to keep me close, right?”

His arms wrap around you, and his lips press gently against your forehead. “Of course, always.” There’s still a bit of that fierce edge, but it softens as he pulls back to look at you. “Just remember, no one else is allowed to even think about getting close to you. Got it?”

You roll your eyes playfully but give him a wink. “You’re a bit much sometimes, you know that?”

He grins, shrugging as he pulls you towards the door. “You’re lucky you’ve got me then.”

And as the two of you walk out together, you can’t help but smile at the way Heeseung’s protective streak is wrapped in a mix of possessiveness and that playful affection he always has when it comes to you. Tonight, you might be wearing a dress that makes heads turn, but it’s clear who you're going home with.

| PARK JONGSEONG ( 박종성 )

You stand in front of the mirror, adjusting the straps of your dress, a little unsure but still confident. The deep neckline, the short hemline—it’s bold, but you like it. You want to feel good tonight. It’s a party, and you're ready to enjoy it.

But as you turn, you catch Jay standing in the doorway, watching you. His eyes narrow slightly, a mix of surprise and something else flickering in his gaze.

"That’s what you’re wearing?" His voice is calm, but there's an edge to it that you immediately recognize.

You turn to face him, still holding the hem of your dress. “Yeah, why? It’s cute, right?”

His jaw tightens as he steps closer, his gaze fixed on the fabric of the dress like it’s a personal challenge. He’s not looking at you with admiration—not yet, at least. There’s a flicker of something darker in his eyes.

“You look… amazing,” he starts, his voice low. "But that’s not the problem."

You feel a pang of confusion. “What do you mean?”

He crosses his arms over his chest, taking a slow breath, as if gathering his thoughts. “You’re mine, and I don’t like the thought of other people looking at you like that. It’s too much.”

You laugh, though it sounds a little nervous. “Jay, it’s just a party. I’ll be fine. People are just going to look. Who cares?”

Jay’s expression hardens, his eyes flicking from your exposed neckline to the way the fabric clings to your figure. There’s a quiet, simmering frustration in his gaze. “I care,” he mutters under his breath, his tone low and serious.

You bite your lip, sensing the shift in his mood. You’ve seen him protective before, but this? This feels different. His voice grows firmer, and his steps move toward you, closing the gap between you both. “You’re mine, and I don’t want anyone else seeing what’s mine in a way that I can’t control.”

You stare at him, realizing how intensely he’s staring at you. He’s not angry, but there’s a possessiveness to his tone that sends a shiver down your spine. “Jay, it’s just a dress…”

Jay reaches out, gently cupping your chin and lifting your face to meet his gaze. His thumb brushes over your lower lip, and his gaze softens just a fraction, though the intensity never fully fades. “I know. But that doesn’t mean I’m okay with it. Especially not tonight. Especially not when I know what it’ll do to people.”

You open your mouth to respond, but he places a finger gently on your lips, silencing you. His eyes are dark now, filled with something deeper—something that sends a pulse of heat through your body. “I don’t want you changing for anyone else. But for me? I need you to change.”

You hesitate, feeling the weight of his request hanging in the air. It’s not the first time he’s been protective, but the possessiveness in his words is unmistakable.

"Jay..." you start, but his hand moves from your chin to your waist, pulling you closer. He places a soft kiss on your forehead, his breath warm against your skin.

"Please," he murmurs, "For me? Just this once?"

His voice is low and tender now, and you can hear the quiet plea in his tone. A part of you wants to argue, to defend your choice of outfit. But another part of you can’t deny the way he’s looking at you, his eyes full of raw, unfiltered emotion—protectiveness, desire, possessiveness.

With a sigh, you nod, unable to resist him. “Okay, okay. I’ll change.”

Jay’s face softens, his grip loosening as he steps back. “Thank you,” he whispers, his voice still filled with that possessive edge.

You smile, though the tension still lingers in the air. “You’re something else, you know that?”

Jay grins, the possessiveness fading into a more familiar warmth. “I just want to make sure you’re safe. And that everyone knows you’re mine.”

| SIM JAEYUN ( 심재윤 )

The moment Jake walks into the room, his gaze immediately finds you in front of the mirror, adjusting the hem of the dress. He pauses for a second, his breath catching, eyes darkening as his heart skips a beat.

The dress you're wearing is beautiful, no doubt, but it’s also more revealing than he’s comfortable with. The deep neckline, the slit that shows just a little too much leg—it’s everything he’s always admired on you, but right now, in the quiet of your shared space before the chaos of the party, it’s making him feel something he can’t quite ignore.

You look up and catch his stare in the mirror, your smile faltering when you see the look in his eyes. The softness, usually so easy-going, is gone, replaced with a hard, unyielding expression. His jaw tightens as he takes another step into the room, the air suddenly feeling heavier.

“Jake?” you ask, a little confused, already sensing the shift in his demeanor.

He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he crosses the room, his gaze never leaving your body as though he’s studying every inch of it. He stops behind you, his reflection joining yours in the mirror. His hands move to your shoulders, his touch gentle but firm, as if trying to ground himself.

“Are you seriously wearing this to the party?” His voice is low, but there's a sharpness in it that catches you off guard.

You turn to face him, a slight frown on your face. “It’s just a dress, Jake. I thought it was cute.”

“You’re too cute,” he mutters, his eyes flickering down your body again, something dark and protective flickering in them. “It’s not that, it’s—" He cuts himself off, raking a hand through his hair, trying to calm the storm inside of him. "It’s just too much. This... too revealing for my liking.”

You laugh softly, taking a step back to give him some space, but the way his eyes follow you only makes you feel more exposed. “It’s just a party. I’ll be fine, Jake,” you say with a shrug, hoping to brush it off, but his hands on your shoulders tighten just slightly, stopping you from moving further.

“I don’t like it,” he admits, his voice barely a whisper now. “I don’t like anyone seeing you like this. You’re mine, and I want to keep you to myself. Don’t you think this is a little much for a party full of people?”

You blink, taken aback by how possessive and raw his words are. It’s not like him to get this worked up, but you can see how much it’s affecting him. The darkening of his gaze, the way his grip subtly tightens—it’s like he’s trying to hold onto something he’s afraid of losing.

“Jake,” you murmur, reaching up to touch his cheek, trying to soothe the tension between you two. “It’s just a party. I’m not going to flirt with anyone, okay? I’m with you.”

He looks down at you, the possessiveness still simmering in his expression, but it softens slightly at your words. He leans in, his forehead pressing against yours for a moment of quiet, as if to reassure himself.

“I don’t care,” he whispers. “I still don’t like it. You’re mine. I don’t want anyone else looking at you like they have a right to.”

You smile softly, the words tugging at something deep inside you. You can feel the weight of his protectiveness, the fierce way he’s watching out for you, and it’s both overwhelming and comforting.

With a soft chuckle, you step back just enough to meet his eyes. “Okay, okay. I’ll change into something else if it bothers you that much.”

Jake exhales, his body still tense as if he's trying to calm himself down. "You don’t have to change. Just… next time, maybe pick something a little less… exposed?" he says with a small, almost embarrassed smile, though there’s still a possessiveness in his gaze that doesn’t waver.

You laugh again, the tension easing between you two, and pull him into a tight hug. “Alright. I’ll keep that in mind. But no promises, Jake.”

He grumbles playfully against your neck, pressing a kiss to your skin. “I’ll make sure you don’t forget.”

As the moment passes, you both get ready to leave, the warmth of his arm wrapping around your waist as you head out the door. He might not admit it openly, but it’s clear he’s going to keep an eye on you the whole night, making sure no one else dares to look at you the way he does—like you're his.

| PARK SUNGHOON ( 박성훈 )

The moment you slip into the dress, you feel a mix of excitement and a twinge of doubt. It���s daring—exposing more skin than you’re used to—but you can't deny how stunning it looks. You turn to face Sunghoon, who's been unusually quiet as you finish getting ready. He stands in the doorway, arms crossed, his jaw set as his eyes slowly scan you from head to toe. The tension in the air thickens, and you can almost feel the weight of his unspoken thoughts before he says a word.

"Are you sure about this?" His voice is soft, but there's a trace of something darker lurking in the tone.

You look at him, meeting his eyes, and you can see the way his gaze flickers over your outfit, a silent assessment running through his mind. The dress you've chosen for the party is undoubtedly stunning—sleek, bold, with a daring cut that shows off more skin than usual.

You shrug lightly, trying to play it off. "Yeah, I think it’s fine. It’s just a party, right? I want to look good."

Sunghoon doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he walks toward you, his movements smooth but calculated. His eyes never leave you, his expression unreadable, and you feel the weight of his stare, like he’s trying to figure out if you’re really okay with this. His fingers reach out to adjust the hem of the dress, and his touch is gentle—almost too gentle.

“I just don’t like how much attention you're gonna get tonight.” He says it under his breath, but it’s loud enough for you to hear. The protectiveness in his tone is unmistakable, and you can feel the tension in the air.

You laugh nervously, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "Sunghoon, come on. It’s just a dress. It doesn’t mean anything.”

He steps closer, his jaw tightening. “It means something to me.” His voice drops an octave, the seriousness settling in. His gaze drifts down to your exposed shoulders, and you feel the heat of his gaze even though he’s silent. “You’re mine, and I’m not letting some strangers think they can look at you like that.”

You feel your heart race a little at his words, a mixture of affection and something else curling in your chest. His protectiveness is something you’ve always known, but there’s something more intense about it tonight. Something that makes you feel both safe and wanted.

You step toward him, reaching for his hand. “You know I only have eyes for you, right?”

His fingers curl around yours, and for a moment, you think he’s going to say something else, but then his expression softens just a fraction. He takes a deep breath, eyes meeting yours. “I know. But I still don’t want anyone looking at you like you're... theirs.”

You laugh, a little teasingly now. “Well, lucky for you, I’m yours.”

He pulls you closer, and his lips brush against your forehead in a quick, tender kiss. “Damn right you are.”

Before you can say anything else, he takes a step back, giving you a lingering look that’s part admiration, part something much deeper. He grabs his jacket from the back of the chair, sliding it over his shoulders with a determined look on his face.

“Let’s go, but if anyone steps out of line tonight, I’m not afraid to remind them who you belong to.” His smile is a little wicked, and you can't help but laugh. The way he looks at you—possessive, protective, but with a love that's all-consuming—makes your heart flutter.

And as the two of you head out the door to the party, you know one thing for sure: tonight, no one will be getting too close.

| KIM SUNOO ( 김선우 )

The sound of your heels clicking against the floor fills the room as you finish adjusting the straps of your dress, feeling the fabric stretch and settle against your body. It’s bold, a bit daring, and definitely not something you would usually wear, but you wanted to feel confident tonight.

The deep neckline and high slit were just the right mix of elegance and allure. However, as you catch your reflection, a feeling of doubt creeps in, and that’s when you hear his voice, low and almost apprehensive, coming from the doorway.

The sound of footsteps approaching pulls you out of your thoughts, and you turn around to see Sunoo standing in the doorway, his eyes scanning your outfit with an unreadable expression.

“Are you really wearing that?” His voice has an edge to it, though it’s soft. Almost like he’s trying to control it.

You raise an eyebrow, feeling a small knot of uncertainty. “What’s wrong with it?”

He steps closer, his gaze now darkening, though there’s a slight tension in his jaw. “It’s too revealing, don’t you think?”

A quiet chuckle escapes your lips as you cross your arms, trying to brush off the tightening feeling in your chest. “It’s just a party, Sunoo. It’s not like I’m doing this to get attention.”

His eyes soften slightly, but his arms fold across his chest, his stance protective, as if he's already anticipating something you haven’t yet seen.

“I know. But that doesn’t mean I’m okay with other people seeing you like that.” His words are calm, but there’s a flicker of possessiveness underneath, as if the idea of you in such a revealing dress doesn’t sit well with him.

You tilt your head, unable to resist teasing him. “What, are you jealous?”

Sunoo sighs, stepping closer until he’s right in front of you. His eyes lock with yours, and there’s a soft but undeniable intensity in his gaze. “I don’t get jealous, babe. I just want to make sure you're safe. I don’t want anyone looking at you like you're something to be ogled at. You’re not some decoration, you know?”

His voice is gentle, but the edge remains. You can see how much he cares. He doesn’t like the idea of other people seeing you in a way that feels too exposed, too vulnerable.

You sigh, stepping closer to him. “It’s just a dress, Sunoo. It doesn’t mean anything.”

He reaches for your hand, his fingers wrapping around yours in a tight grip. “It means something to me,” he admits, his voice quieter now, softer, like he’s trying to hold himself together.

“You mean something to me.”

You smile, reaching up to trace his jaw, feeling the heat of his skin beneath your fingers. “I know, Sunoo. I know you care.”

He gazes down at you, his protective instincts still very much there, but there’s a flicker of warmth that follows. “I’ll let you wear it, but I’m not going to let anyone make you feel uncomfortable tonight. Not even for a second. Understand?”

You laugh softly, feeling your heart flutter at his words. “Understood. I’ll keep you close, don’t worry.”

He pulls you in closer, resting his forehead against yours, his arms wrapped around you in a protective, almost possessive embrace.

“Good. Now, let’s go show them who you belong to,” he whispers, a playful glint in his eye, though his arms tighten a little more.

You chuckle, your heart swelling at the sweetness of it all, knowing that no matter what happens at the party, Sunoo will always have your back. And, in return, you’ll have his.

| YANG JUNGWON ( 양정원 )

The soft rustle of fabric fills the room as you slip into the dress, adjusting the fit one last time. It’s daring, far more than anything you’ve ever worn before, and you can’t help but feel a little nervous. The black fabric clings to your curves, and the neckline plunges just enough to make you wonder if it’s too much.

But tonight’s supposed to be carefree, right? Just a party with Jungwon’s friends. You glance at the clock—he’s probably waiting for you. But as you take one last look at yourself, you hear the door creak open. Jungwon’s voice breaks the silence, and you turn to find Jungwon standing in the doorway, eyes locked on you.

His lips part as if he’s about to say something but hesitates. For a brief moment, his gaze softens, but you can’t ignore the way his jaw tightens. The room falls into an uneasy silence as he steps forward, his usual calm demeanor replaced with something sharper.

“Are you gonna wear that?” His voice is quiet, but there's an edge to it, something protective and possessive that you haven’t heard in a while.

You raise an eyebrow, half-amused, half-nervous. “What’s wrong, Wonnie?”

His gaze flickers to the dress again, and you can practically feel the weight of his thoughts as they shift from concern to frustration. He runs a hand through his hair, clearly agitated. “It’s... a lot. Too revealing.”

You smile, though it's a little shaky, stepping closer to him. “Come on, love. It’s just a party. I want to have fun. You know I’m not doing this for anyone else.”

He doesn't seem convinced. Jungwon takes another step towards you, and you can sense the tension in his movements. His hand comes up, gently brushing over your arm, though it feels almost possessive, as if he’s making sure you’re still his.

“You know how people look at you, right?” His voice is lower now, almost a growl. “How they’ll look at you tonight. And I... I don’t like it.”

His gaze softens a little as he looks at your face, his voice taking on a quieter, more serious tone. “You’re mine, and I want to protect you.”

You can see the conflict in his eyes—on one hand, he wants you to feel confident and beautiful, but on the other, he’s struggling with the idea of anyone else seeing you the way he does. Jungwon’s always been calm, gentle even, but in moments like this, his protective side comes out in full force, and it’s overwhelming, yet undeniably endearing.

“I know you want to have fun,” he says, his voice softening, fingers tracing the fabric of your dress. “But I also don’t want you to be uncomfortable or feel like you’re being... ogled.”

His eyes darken just thinking about it. “It’s not fair to you.”

You step closer, placing your hands on his chest, trying to ease the tension you can feel radiating off of him. “I’m not uncomfortable. I promise. It’s just a dress, Jungwon.”

He exhales, still not fully convinced, but he seems to relax just a little when you look up at him, eyes soft and sincere. Jungwon’s hand brushes against your cheek, his thumb tracing your jawline gently. “Just... promise me you won’t let anyone get too close. Alright?”

You laugh softly, leaning into his touch. “I promise. Now, can we go to the party before you keep me locked up in here all night?”

He smirks, a little less tense but still not fully letting go of the feeling that he needs to guard you. “Fine, but if anyone dares to cross the line...”

You chuckle, kissing him on the cheek before pulling away. “I’m yours, Jungwon. Always.”

With a final glance at your dress, Jungwon nods, but his hand lingers on your waist, pulling you into a protective embrace as the two of you head out. And even though he's trying to let you be free, you know his heart is right there with you—holding you close, looking out for you, as always.

| NISHIMURA RIKI ( 西村 力 )

The sound of footsteps approaching from behind made you pause, the fabric of your dress swishing softly as you adjusted the final touches. The evening air was crisp outside, and your dress felt daring—perhaps a little too daring for what you had in mind.

The anticipation of the party was building, but when you turned around to face him, the look on Ni-ki’s face stopped you in your tracks. His eyes were locked on you, and there was something about the way he stood that made the room feel heavier. His lips were pressed in a tight line, and his brows furrowed slightly as if he was trying to process something.

“Are you seriously wearing that?” His voice, usually so smooth, carried an edge. It was a simple question, but the way he asked it made you feel like you were under scrutiny.

You turned to face him, giving him a playful smile. “What’s wrong with it? Don’t you think I look good?”

Ni-ki took a step toward you, his gaze not leaving your dress for a second. “You look… stunning,” he said, but his tone wasn’t entirely approving.

His eyes were filled with a mix of admiration and something else, something that made you feel both flattered and a little uneasy. “But that dress... it’s too much.”

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. “Too much? It’s just a party, and you know I want to look good. It’s not like I’m going to a club or anything.”

He stepped closer, his presence making the air around you heavier. His hand gently cupped your cheek, forcing you to meet his intense gaze.

“I don’t care if it’s a party. It’s not about that. It’s about other people seeing you like this.” His jaw tightened as he spoke, his possessiveness seeping through the words.

You swallowed, feeling the heat of his stare burn into you. You knew he was protective—Ni-ki had always been like that with you. But something about this moment, the way he was looking at you, made your stomach churn.

"Ni-ki," you said softly, your voice a little unsure. "I’m just going to have fun. It’s not like I’m trying to grab attention."

He shook his head, his hand moving from your cheek to your waist, pulling you gently towards him.

“It’s not about grabbing attention, princess,” he said, his voice low. “It’s about the fact that I don’t want anyone else looking at you the way I do.”

You felt your heart race at the intensity in his eyes. His protective nature had always been comforting, but now it felt a little different. He wasn’t just protective. He was possessive, in a way that made you feel both cared for and slightly trapped.

“I don’t want anyone to think they can get close to you," he added, his hand sliding around to your back, his fingers pressing gently against the zipper. "This dress… it’s too revealing. People will look, and I don’t want them to think they have a right to look at you like that.”

You reached up, brushing your fingers through his hair, a soft smile tugging at your lips despite the tension in the air. “I’m yours, Ni-ki. Only yours. No one else has a chance.”

His expression softened just slightly, but there was still that protective fire in his eyes. “I know,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“But sometimes, I need you to remember that too. You belong to me, and no one else is allowed to take that.”

With a sigh, you stepped back and grabbed the hem of your dress, pulling it down just a little. “Okay, okay. I’ll change it. I don’t want to cause trouble.”

Ni-ki relaxed at your words, nodding approvingly, though his eyes still held that possessive gleam.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice softening, though there was still an undercurrent of protectiveness in his tone. “Just… don’t wear anything like this again. Not when we’re around other people. You’re mine to protect.”

You smiled, letting him pull you back into his arms for one last hug before heading out. “I’ll remember that, Ni-ki.”

As you two walked toward the party, you felt the warmth of his hand tighten around yours, his protective gaze never leaving your side. In a way, it made you feel safe. And in another way, it made your heart race just a little faster.

[augustinewrites]

listen i know mc rides a motorcycle but my heart could not handle that

"i’m not getting on that thing."

sylus is still leaned against his bike, looking amused at your defiance. "for someone who fights wanderers for a living, you're oddly scared of a little ride."

"that's not a 'little ride', it's a two-wheeled death wish. i can't attend the emergency hunters meeting if i'm splattered across the highway."

he leans toward, that insufferably hot smirk still playing on his lips. "insulting my driving? that's not how you treat someone doing you a favour out of the kindness of their heart."

"oh please, everything with you is transactional."

something softens in his expression, a slight frown downturning his mouth as he murmurs, "not with you. never with you."

you turn away, afraid of the things you'll agree to if you subject yourself to that look any longer. the one that turns your resolve into liquid. "is that supposed to make me feel special?"

he only shrugs, avoiding your question entirely. "if you're not comfortable riding, i can drive back home and get my car. your call."

you watch him slide his helmet back on, throwing his leg over the bike. he flips the visor up, waiting for your answer.

"i'll just flag down a cab," you say, only delaying the inevitable.

he looks at you like you've gone insane. "you're going to cab through the city at rush hour?"

common sense eludes you, as it often does when sylus is around. as it does now, when you grab the second helmet he's holding out to you and don't question why he keeps a second one.

he lets you slip it on, then reaches out to fasten the strap under your chin. his gloved fingers brush the side of your throat, and you swear they linger.

"are you scared, sweetheart?" he asks, flipping your visor up so he can study your expression.

"no," you lie. "just...worried about how we're going to fit on this thing. where's the extra seat?"

sylus pats the ridiculously small space behind him, and you shake your head. "i'm going to fall off. where's the seat belt? where do i even hold on?"

"enough questions. you don't want to be late, right?" he slides your visor down before you can shoot off another protest, jerking his head toward the side to say come here. "put your foot on here, then kick over the way i did."

"oh god," you mutter, questioning why you chose to call him as you clamber onto the bike. you should have called zayne. you'd be sitting in a clean, air-conditioned car right now, with time to grab a sugary latte before your meeting.

sylus tuts when you place your hands on his shoulders. "i know you're not stupid, sweetheart."

"what are you— hey!" you panic as he grabs your right hand, sliding it down to his torso before doing the same on the other. he adjusts your arms with ease, tugging you close until your chest is pressed against his back. you're too stunned to argue because you can feel his abs through his leather jacket. how was that even possible?

"now listen," his voice is muffled by the helmet and the sound of your heartbeat ringing in your eyes. "you lean when i lean, alright?"

"that's hardly enough— sylus!" you scream when the bike slowly rolls forward.

"so you are scared," he laughs, you're surprised he can with how tightly you're gripping his torso.

"i'm not!" you argue, but your voice wavers and your grip tightens when he gives it a little more gas and the bike leans, turning into traffic. "shit, shit, shit. i regret this so much. can you please slow down?"

"we're already going slow," he tells you with another laugh, one that you feel rumbling against your chest. he reaches back, gripping your thigh. "any slower and we'll be hazards on the road."

"aren't we already?! keep your hands on the bike!"

your thighs clamp around the bike as he speeds up even more, and soon sylus is weaving through traffic with speed and ease. hesitantly, you crack one eye open. the cityscape feels more vivid this way, the neon lights blurring by you in a fantastic display. the longer sylus keeps you both off the pavement the more you start to enjoy this, anxiety unfurling as you realize this isn't as terrifying as you'd assumed.

it's exhilarating and freeing. reckless, definitely, but thrilling as he overtakes cars and steers the bike around corner after corner.

sylus pulls over slowing to a stop before turning around to look back at you. "having fun?"

you are. not that you'd ever admit that to him though.

"screw the meeting," you find yourself saying anyway, somehow tucking yourself a little closer, relaxing against him. "just keep driving."

you can hear the surprise in his voice. "you want to go on a joyride? where do you want to go?"

you gently knock your helmet against his, smiling. "anywhere you'll take me."

[heartysworld]

The third wheel // LN4

Lando Norris x Female Reader

In his attempts to make you feel less lonely, Lando ends up being the one who feels neglected.

W.C: 1.5k

Feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated! Feel free to send requests or other questions if you happen to have any! Enjoy!

MASTERLIST

You wake up to the soft sounds of Milo’s tiny yawns and the gentle rustling of the covers as you carefully slip out of bed. Blinking against the sunlight streaming through the curtains, you stretch and cradle the little furball close to you. The puppy that Lando got you for your birthday has been your constant companion, especially during those long weeks when he’s away racing and you're unable to join him.

Milo has filled a void in your life that you hadn’t fully realized was there. His playful antics and loyal presence have made Lando’s frequent absences more bearable. Today, though, Lando is finally home for the summer break, and you’re both excited to spend some quality time together.

You move around the bedroom, getting ready for the day. Milo follows you everywhere like a shadow, his tiny paws padding softly on the floor. You pick out a casual dress and head to the bathroom to freshen up. As you brush your hair, you glance at Milo in the mirror. He’s sitting obediently, watching you with his big, adoring eyes, his tail thumping against the floor.

“Are you ready for a walk, handsome?” you ask, smiling at him as you lean down to give him a loving scratch between his ears and earning a small lick of your wrist.

From the bedroom doorway, Lando’s voice chimes in. "Yeah, just about," he replies, his tone filled with warmth and excitement.

You laugh softly, realizing that Lando thinks you were talking to him. Turning around, you see him standing there, grinning at you. "I was actually talking to Milo," you say, giggling.

Lando’s smile falters slightly, but he quickly recovers and laughs along. “I see how it is.” he mutters playfully, though there's a hint of real disappointment in his eyes.

You walk over to him and give him a quick kiss. “Oh, come on, Lando. You know I love you too. Ready to go?”

The three of you step out into the sunlit streets of Monaco, Milo trotting happily between you. The morning air is fresh and crisp, and you can’t help but feel a sense of contentment. As you walk hand in hand with your boyfriend, you two chat about everything that’s happened while he was away.

“Did you see the photos I sent you from when we visited that new café?” you ask, looking up at him.

“Yeah, it looked amazing. We should go there together.” Lando replies, squeezing your hand.

You nod enthusiastically. “Definitely. They have the best pastries and even offer pup cups for pets!”

Milo tugs on his leash, eager to explore as the mention of his second favorite thing reaches his floppy ears. You laugh and let him lead the way for a bit. Every so often, he stops to sniff at something or chase a fluttering leaf, and you can’t resist bending down to pet him and tell him how cute he is.

Lando watches, a soft smile on his face, but you notice a hint of something else in his eyes. Is it jealousy? You brush the thought aside, focusing on enjoying the walk.

Later, you stop by a little café for a quick breakfast. You find a table outside, and while you and Lando sip your coffee and nibble on croissants, Milo sits at your feet, looking up at you expectantly.

“Do you think he wants some?” Lando asks, pointing to Milo.

You chuckle. “Probably. He’s always hungry.”

Lando tears off a small piece of his croissant and hands it to Milo, who gobbles it up with a wagging tail. “Good boy, Milo." Lando says, ruffling his fur.

As the day goes on, you visit a few shops, picking up some treats for Milo and a couple of things for the house. Everywhere you go, people stop to admire Milo and comment on how adorable he is while your worldwide famius boyfriend is waiting on the side. You beam with pride, feeling like a proud parent.

Back at home, you and Lando prepare dinner together. As you chop vegetables and he stirs the sauce, you talk about your plans for the rest of the summer break.

“I was thinking we could take a trip somewhere,” Lando suggests. “Maybe a weekend getaway?”

“That sounds perfect,” you agree, smiling at him. “Where do you have in mind?”

“Maybe the south of France? It’s not too far, and we could take Milo with us.”

You nod, your excitement growing. “I’d love that. Milo would too, I’m sure.”

As you finish preparing the meal, you notice Lando watching you with a thoughtful expression. “What’s on your mind, handsome?” you ask, setting the table.

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “You know, sometimes I feel like Milo is the man in this relationship,” he says with a half-smile.

You pause, looking up at him with a raised eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, he gets all your attention. I feel like I’m the one begging for it,” he admits, trying to sound light-hearted but clearly feeling a bit left out.

You laugh softly, walking over to him and wrapping your arms around his waist slowly making their way up to the base of his neck, something that you know makes Lando melt. “Lando, you’re always going to be my number one. Milo is just... well, he’s our little baby. It’s different.”

Lando chuckles, pulling you closer. “I guess I’ll have to get used to sharing you.”

The following race weekend, you’re at the Dutch Grand Prix accompaning Lando with Milo safely by your side. As Lando talks with some of his friends and fellow drivers, he shares his feelings about Milo taking over the house. They laugh, nodding in understanding.

“I know exactly what you mean,” says Carlos. “When we got our dog, I felt the same way. But trust me, it gets better. You just have to find a balance.”

Charles chimes in, “Yeah, and sometimes, it’s nice to have a little competition for their affection. Keeps things interesting.”

Lando grins, feeling a bit more reassured. The camaraderie with his friends helps ease his worries.

During the race, you and Milo cheer Lando on from the sidelines. Milo barks excitedly whenever Lando’s name is mentioned, and you can’t help but laugh at his enthusiasm.

After the race, Lando comes over, sweaty and tired but grinning from ear to ear. He scoops Milo up into his arms and gives you a kiss. “We did it!” he exclaims, pulling your body closer to his.

“You were amazing out there,” you say, beaming at him. “We’re so proud of you.”

That evening, back at the hotel, the three of you curl up on the couch. Milo is snuggled between you, his little head resting on Lando’s lap. You lean against Lando’s shoulder, feeling content and happy.

“You know,” Lando says softly, “I think Milo might be growing on me. He’s not so bad.”

You smile, reaching over to stroke Milo's fur. “See? We’re a perfect little family.”

Lando chuckles, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “Yeah, we are.”

As the night settles in, you all cuddle closer, enjoying the warmth and comfort of being together. In that moment, everything feels just right. The love and connection between you, Lando, and Milo create a perfect harmony, making every moment together special.

MASTERLIST

If you wish to be added to my upcoming taglist, please leave a comment!

[holyblonded]

chipotle bag | stargirl

pairings: vicky lopez x platonic!reader, alexia putellas x teen!reader

summary: you get a tattoo behind alexia’s back

warnings: mention of needles, implied illegal tattooing?

notes: this is based off a a real life experience 😭

“Are you sure about this?” Vicky asked as the two of you jogged behind the group during training, keeping your voices low to avoid being overheard. She looked at you with skepticism, her brows furrowed.

“So sure, man. I’ve begged Alexia, but she keeps saying no. Olga’s more open to it, but even she can’t change Ale’s mind,” you muttered, glancing ahead to where Alexia was leading the pack, her focus fully on the drills. “I’ve tried everything. Sweet-talking, pouting, even doing extra chores. Nothing works.”

Vicky sighed, shaking her head as she dodged a stray ball. “And you really think this plan of yours is going to work?”

“It has to,” you said, determination tightening your voice. “They’ve got date night tonight and are staying in Madrid. I’ll have the car all to myself. This is my only chance.”

Vicky rolled her eyes but a smile played on her lips. “Alright, what do you need me to do?”

Your face lit up with a mischievous grin. “Just be ready by seven. I’ll pick you up, and then we’ll get the supplies. After that, it’s game on.”

Vicky’s eyes widened, a laugh escaping her. “You? Driving? This might be my last day on earth. I didn’t know Alexia even let you near her car keys.”

You scoffed, feigning offense. “I’m a great driver!”

“Sure you are. Just last month, you almost took out the trash bins,” Vicky teased, dodging your playful shove. “This better be worth risking my life.”

“It will be,” you promised, a spark of excitement in your eyes. “You’ll see. It’s gonna be epic.”

“You’re so—” Vicky’s retort was cut off by the sharp blast of the coach’s whistle. “Enough chitchat! Let’s see some pace back there!”

Both of you straightened, picking up speed to catch up with the rest of the team. But the grin on your face didn’t fade, and neither did the anticipation bubbling in your chest.

The sound of your car’s engine hums low as you pull up in front of Vicky’s apartment. Vicky is already standing by the door, her excited energy almost radiating off her as she waves you down.

You roll the window down and lean over the passenger seat. “Ready to break some rules?”

Vicky grins, hopping into the car. “You bet I am. Let’s do this.”

As soon as she shuts the door, you floor it, the engine roaring to life, and the two of you take off, heading toward the tattoo parlor. You turn the music up loud, blasting a random playlist of 90s hits to set the vibe.

“So, uh, you have the address, right?” you ask, glancing at her.

She shrugs confidently. “Of course I do.” She pulls out her phone, tapping it a few times. “It’s just, uh, down the street… or wait, no. It’s like, off a weird little alley or something? Okay, yeah. Turn left after the second roundabout.”

You frown. “Vicky, I don’t think that makes any sense. There’s no second roundabout on this road.”

She waves a hand dismissively. “Just trust me. Turn left, then take the first right after the… uh… well, you’ll see.”

You’re already halfway through the intersection, trying to figure out where “the first right” even is. “Okay, you’re gonna have to be more specific. Are we looking for a big sign? Anything that looks like a tattoo place?”

Vicky squints at her phone. “Hmm, no, I don’t think so… Oh! Wait, maybe it’s on the street with the coffee shop that looks like it’s from the 80s?” She gestures vaguely out the window.

You glance at her, your grip tightening on the wheel. “Vicky, that coffee shop was four blocks back. What are you talking about?!”

Her eyes widen in a mild panic. “Okay, okay, don’t freak out. I know where it is! Just… keep driving straight. Maybe it’s on the next street? No, the one after that! Uh, no wait, I think I missed it. It’s fine, we just have to go back.”

You groan, hitting the turn signal for the third time. “We’re lost, Vicky.”

“No, we’re not!” She insists, trying to stay calm. “We just need to find the place. You’ll know it when you see it.”

“Is it next to a pharmacy? Is there like a… giant neon skull or something?” You’re about ready to pull over and Google it yourself when she shakes her head.

“No, no skulls. But I think there’s a place that sells leather jackets nearby? It’s kind of like… vintage-y.” She sounds less and less certain with each word.

You slam on the brakes, and she nearly hits the dashboard. “You think?! We’re literally driving around in circles.”

“I swear, I know the area,” she mutters, her eyes darting around, trying to spot any signs of the tattoo parlor.

“You don’t!” you exclaim. “Vicky, you’re killing me right now.”

“Okay! Okay! I got this,” she says, suddenly pulling out her phone again and tapping furiously. “I’m looking at the map, I just need to—”

“Do you know how to read a map?!” you ask, half-laughing at the absurdity of the situation.

“I’m an expert at Google Maps. Trust me!” Vicky declares, but then her phone starts buffering. “Wait, no. Why isn’t it loading? Why isn’t it loading—”

A few more circles around the block and a couple more near-misses with pedestrians later, you finally spot a familiar coffee shop on the corner. Vicky shrieks triumphantly. “THAT’S IT! THERE! It’s right past the alley!”

You make an abrupt turn down the alley, heart racing. You can’t believe you’re actually following Vicky’s instructions. The car bumps over uneven cobblestones, and you finally pull into a parking spot, nearly knocking over a trash can.

“Well,” you sigh, throwing the car into park. “At least we’re here.”

Vicky’s face lights up in victory. “See? Told you! We made it!”

You smirked and looked at your best friend, “Let’s go get my tattoo.”

You sit in the tattoo chair, nervously fiddling with the hem of your shirt, trying to keep your hands still. The buzzing of the needle fills the room, and you can feel your stomach flip with every faint pulse of electricity that hums in the air. You try not to look at it as the artist preps, but Vicky is already hovering over you, her face twisted into a mix of awe and disgust.

“Are you seriously doing this right now?” Vicky’s voice is high-pitched with disbelief, her hand clutched to her chest as she watches the needle touch your skin.

“Yep. Gotta represent,” you mutter, flashing her a grin. You’re trying to look casual, but your leg is already bouncing nervously.

The artist, a heavily tattooed guy with a sleeve of intricate designs and a steady hand, raises an eyebrow at your nervous fidgeting. “You alright, kid?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you say quickly, shifting in the chair, trying to act cool, “It’s just a tattoo. I’ve had worse.”

Vicky looks like she’s about to faint just from watching, her eyes wide and her hand gripping the edge of the chair like she’s preparing for a battle. “Nope. Nope, nope. I can’t. I can’t even watch this,” she says, turning her head and looking away dramatically.

“Oh, come on,” you laugh, trying to act like it’s no big deal, even though the needle is digging into your skin. “It’s not that bad.”

Vicky’s eyes snap back to you, but only because you let out a small, involuntary hiss of discomfort. “See?! You’re hurting already!”

“I’m not hurting,” you grumble, attempting to act all tough while your fingers dig into the chair’s armrest. “It’s just a little sting.”

The artist grins, clearly enjoying your internal struggle, as he starts outlining the numbers “113” on your wrist. It’s a big, bold move, representing your club and your country, but in this moment, you kind of wish you could be anywhere else. Maybe on a beach. Or in your bed, watching a movie, wrapped in blankets. Something comfortable.

Vicky snorts. “Little sting, huh? Your face is turning pale. You look like you’re gonna pass out.”

“I’m fine,” you insist, trying to give her a steady look. You grit your teeth, feeling the needle trace the curve of the “1” on your skin. It’s sharp. It’s… a lot sharper than you anticipated.

“Uh-huh, right,” Vicky scoffs, her eyes flitting between you and the artist like she’s watching a horror movie. “That’s why you’re squeezing the life out of the armrest. I swear I saw your eye twitch.”

Your whole body stiffens as the artist begins shading in the numbers, the buzzing filling the room again. It stings. A lot. You try to act like it doesn’t bother you, but then you let out a little yelp when he goes a little too deep into the shading.

“See?! Told you!” Vicky points at you, her fingers trembling as she gestures to your squirming body. “You’re going to need a break in a second. I just know it.”

“I do not need a break,” you insist, squeezing your eyes shut. “I’m… I’m fine.”

Vicky grins in that sarcastic way only she can. “Sure. Sure you are. I’m just waiting for you to start crying out in pain, like some kind of dramatic soap opera star. You know, when the tears fall and you scream ‘¡Ay, por favor!’—”

“Vicky,” you growl, “shut up. Please. I’m trying to be tough here.”

You feel your leg trembling. The artist leans over and starts on the cursive “Mi estrella brillante” beneath the numbers, and you have to hold back a whimper as he glides the needle over your skin. It’s definitely not getting easier. You swear, if you weren’t in public, you might just break out into a full-on sob.

Vicky, of course, is no help. She’s practically holding her nose now, scrunching her face like someone just hit her with a wave of terrible smells. “Why does it sound so squishy? Is that… is that the blood? Do tattoos make you bleed?”

“No,” you mutter, your voice barely above a whisper as the needle continues its maddening pattern. “That’s just… the ink. You know, the stuff that actually makes the tattoo. We’re good. This is fine.”

Vicky makes an exaggerated gagging sound and turns away, dramatically clutching her stomach. “I’m going to be sick, I swear. Someone hand me a bucket.”

“Stop acting like you’re the one getting tattooed,” you snap, but you can’t help the small laugh that slips out.

“I don’t need a tattoo,” Vicky says, crossing her arms and tapping her foot. “I’ve got my own ways to show off my style. Like… my hair. Or my shoes. Or…”

You groan in frustration. “Why are you still talking?”

She smirks at your pained expression. “Because it’s fun to watch you suffer,” she says, leaning in closer to you like she’s watching some kind of dramatic slow-motion action scene. “You’re doing great, though. Keep pretending you’re tough. You’re almost there.”

“I’m tough,” you mumble, though you’re pretty sure you just made a weird, high-pitched noise when the needle hit a sensitive spot on your wrist.

After what feels like an eternity of needle-poking and you acting like it doesn’t bother you, the artist finally pulls away, revealing your finished tattoo. The numbers “11:13” are bold and clean, the cursive script of “mi estrella brillante” curling gently below, a tribute to Alexia and everything she’s meant to you. You blink at it for a moment, letting the reality sink in.

You look at Vicky, who’s still half-turned away, but peeking through her fingers. She gives you a thumbs-up. “Not bad, not bad. You didn’t pass out… though I was really hoping for that. Would’ve been hilarious.”

You flip her off weakly with the hand that’s now sporting the tattoo. “Yeah, well, you should try it sometime. You might survive it.”

“Uh-uh,” she shakes her head vehemently. “Not me. I’m gonna stick to my ear piercings, thank you very much.”

You roll your eyes, but a grin sneaks across your face. You’ve got the tattoo, the number, and the phrase that represents you, Alexia, and everything you’ve worked for.

The sun is just starting to rise, the warm glow filtering through the trees, but you’re already at the pharmacy, standing in front of the aftercare aisle like it’s a battlefield. You’re trying to focus on the lotions and creams, but the reality of having a tattoo is starting to hit. It feels weird—like, really weird. It’s not sore, but there’s something about it that feels… permanent. And a lot more real than you anticipated. You don’t think you can look at it much longer without getting a little too emotional, so you’re just going to grab the essentials and get out of here as quickly as possible.

You reach for a bottle of ointment, eyeing the label as you feel a pair of eyes on you. You glance to your left and freeze.

“Well, well, well,” Alba grins at you, leaning casually against the aisle like she’s been there for hours. “I knew I’d find you here.”

You panic for a second. “Alba, what are you—”

“Oh, please. You think I didn’t notice the whole ‘I’m sneaking out of the house in the middle of the night to get a tattoo’ vibe? Plus you accidentally butt dialed me yesterday,” she teases, eyes sparkling with mischief. “I might not be a tattoo expert, but I know what a sneak looks like. And you, Estrellita, are definitely a sneak.”

You try to act casual, but you’re pretty sure the constant fidgeting is giving it away. “It’s not that big a deal, Alba. I just wanted a tattoo to, uh, commemorate some things.”

Alba smirks. “Uh-huh. Sure. And you picked 11:13 because you just randomly picked numbers out of a hat, right?”

“Stop it,” you groan, but it’s too late. Alba is already snapping her fingers like she’s won a prize.

“You got the numbers AND the mi estrella brillante part, didn’t you?” She laughs, pulling the bottle of aftercare lotion from your hand and reading the label dramatically. “How adorable. You’re a walking tribute to Alexia. I love it.”

You groan, leaning against the shelves for support. “Why does this feel like such a big deal now that you’re here?”

“Because you’re a rebel now, Estrella,” she says, crossing her arms. “You’ve joined the dark side. You can’t just get a tattoo and then expect to go back to your regular life. You’re officially one of us now.”

“Ugh, you’re impossible,” you mutter, trying to turn away and grab some bandages, but Alba is quick, blocking your path with her body.

“Uh-uh, no way,” she says, grinning. “You’re not getting off that easy. I’m following you home, and I’m definitely gonna be there when you show it off to Alexia.”

“Please don’t,” you say quickly, your face going pale at the thought. “She’s already going to be mad at me for getting it in the first place. She’s going to lose her mind if she knows you were involved.”

“Too late,” Alba chirps, clearly pleased with herself. “I’m in this now. And there’s no way I’m missing this show.”

You take a deep breath and try to focus. “Fine. But just… please, don’t let her freak out too much, okay? Please. I don’t want her to flip.”

“Relax, Estrella. I’ve got your back,” Alba says, giving you a thumbs up as she grabs a bag of bandages and a bottle of ointment. “I’ll make sure she doesn’t throw a fit… or I’ll at least try.”

The two of you walk back to the house, Alba chatting about random things while you mentally prepare yourself for the inevitable explosion when Alexia finds out. You’re so focused on preparing for her reaction that you almost don’t realize when you walk through the door.

That is, until you hear the familiar sound of Alexia’s voice.

“¿Estrelleta?” she calls from the kitchen, and you freeze, eyes wide as your heart starts pounding.

“Hide it,” Alba whispers, pushing you toward the living room as she steps in front of you, blocking your arm from view.

“Alba, no,” you hiss, your stomach twisting in knots.

“Relax,” she whispers back, a mischievous grin playing on her face. “I’m gonna do some expert blocking. You’ll be fine.”

Alexia enters the room just then, her eyes flicking from you to Alba suspiciously. “What’s going on here?” she asks, arching a brow. “Why is she acting so weird?”

Alba steps in front of you with perfect timing, her body perfectly positioned so Alexia can’t see what you’re hiding. “Oh, nothing,” Alba says casually. “Just making sure Estrella is getting some proper care after her… uh, minor surgery.”

Alexia looks at her, confused. “Surgery? What are you talking about? Is everything okay with Estrella?”

“Yes, yes,” Alba says, acting like this is all perfectly normal. “Just… normal stuff. You know, you don’t have to worry about her.”

Alexia narrows her eyes. “What is she hiding behind you? Estrella, what’s going on?”

You instinctively move your arm behind your back, but Alba shifts so her body is blocking every angle. Every time Alexia takes a step forward, Alba steps with her, perfectly positioning herself so Alexia can’t get a good look at you.

Alexia, now thoroughly suspicious, moves closer. “Seriously. What is that about? What are you hiding?”

You keep shifting uncomfortably. “Nothing! Nothing, I swear!”

“Estrelleta,” Alexia says, her voice dropping to a more serious tone, “Stop hiding. What’s going on? Show me.”

Alba is still in full blocking mode. “You don’t need to see it,” she says, her voice overly casual. “It’s nothing. Just a little… thing. A secret thing. Nothing that should concern you.”

Olga enters the room just then, raising an eyebrow at the weird tension in the air. “What’s going on?”

Alexia takes a step forward, trying to peer around Alba. “I don’t like this. Estrelleta, why are you acting so weird?”

“Seriously,” Alba mutters under her breath, taking a step forward and blocking Alexia’s path once again. “It’s nothing, Alexia. Nothing to see here. Move along.”

But Alexia isn’t letting up. Her eyes narrow, suspicious. “Enough, Alba. Move. What are you two hiding from me?”

“Fine!” You finally snap, knowing you can’t keep this charade going forever. You pull your arm from behind your back, revealing the freshly inked “11:13” and “mi estrella brillante” in delicate cursive.

Alexia’s jaw drops, and Olga’s eyes widen. There’s a long, charged silence.

“What the hell? You got a tattoo?!” Alexia asks, her voice a mix of disbelief and frustration.

“I… um… yeah,” you mumble sheepishly, looking down at the tattoo as if it might vanish. “I thought it was a good way to… you know, commemorate everything.”

Alba immediately steps forward, clapping her hands. “You see? It’s not that big of a deal. It’s just a little ink. She’s not hurting anyone.”

Alexia glares at you. “You went and got a tattoo without telling me? After I told you no god knows how many times? Do you know how permanent this is?”

“I—I didn’t want you to upset you,” you say, voice shaking slightly as you try to explain yourself.

“This isn’t just a tattoo, Estrella. This is something that’s going to stay with you forever! Forever!” She takes a breath, clearly struggling to stay calm, but it’s not working. “Do you have any idea how much I worry about you already? And now this? Do you have any clue how scared I get when you do stuff like this? You’re sixteen! You shouldn’t be getting tattoos on a whim!”

There’s a long pause. Finally, Alexia takes a deep breath, calming herself, her voice softening. “You’re lucky I love you. Otherwise, you’d be in deep trouble right now.”

“I’m… I’m sorry?”

Olga just laughs, shaking her head. “Honestly, I’m impressed. It’s… a nice tattoo. I like it.”

“I’m still not over the fact that you went behind my back,” Alexia says, arms crossed.

“I didn’t want to get a lecture,” you mutter, feeling like you’re five years old again.

Alba shrugs, a playful glint in her eyes. “Hey, she’s her own person now. Let her live.”

Alexia sighs, glancing at your tattoo one last time. “Fine, but don’t think this is over.” She points at you. “We’re talking about this later.”

You nod meekly, knowing there’s no escaping the conversation that’s coming.

[incognit0slut]

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4

Behind Closed Doors 3

Despite your promise not to sneak behind the team again, you find yourself in a compromising position when you’re forced to ride in the same car as him.

Warnings: (18+, MDNI) Nipple/breast play, dry humping, semi public, dirty talk, and technically this isn’t car sex but everything happens in a car, there’s just no penetration. ~2.5k words (not proofread)

A/n: This wasn’t supposed to be in my WIP but… I blame him for looking so slutty in that shirt. Btw, this is shorter because I already have a lot on my plate but I really wanna squeeze this in, so enjoy! If you’ve been following since the first part, our kinky, slightly exhibitionist duo is back

You liked to think you had a good sense of self control when it came to your sex drive. In your past relationships, you were rarely the one to make the first move. It wasn't that you didn't enjoy sex—far from it, actually—but you didn't see it as the centerpiece of a relationship. Sex was enjoyable, yes, but it wasn’t everything.

At least, that's what you thought until now.

You recently reached a realization that three factors led you to reconsider this long-held belief, and unsurprisingly, they all revolved around Spencer Reid.

The first one was his choice of clothes. It seemed like he had woken up one day and decided that undoing the top buttons of his shirt was the new norm. It was as if he was taunting you, and it was working. The moment you saw him wearing that shirt this morning, all you could think about was dragging him into a storage room and have your dirty, nasty way with him.

The second thing was the way your heart raced when he accidentally brushed his hand against yours as you both reached for the car keys. Emily had asked you both to interview a key witness, and naturally, you assumed you’d be the one driving because Spencer rarely volunteered to take the wheel. But to your surprise, he insisted on driving.

It was strange. You wondered what had prompted this change, but you didn’t protest. In fact, you let him. Happily. Because this set the stage for what became the third significant moment that made you reconsider everything.

Him driving the damn car.

You found yourself unable to keep your eyes off him. The way his hands gripped the wheel, moving with effortless control that hinted at a confidence he rarely displayed. Your gaze traveled up his arm, noting the tension in his muscles, and the way his shirt tightened across his shoulders with each turn.

Then there was his face. Your gaze drifted to his jawline, appreciating the sharp angles and the way it tightened slightly when he was deep in concentration. You had to squeeze your thighs together because watching him drive was enough to make you wet.

It was highly inappropriate, of course. You were both on the job, and there was a witness to interview. So you forced yourself to stay professional. It wasn’t until after you finished, after you and Spencer had informed Emily of what you had found and given her the necessary details over the phone, that your ogling became more prominent on the drive back to the station.

And despite being subtle about it, Spencer seemed to know the effect he had on you.

“Is there something you want to say?” His voice was low, slightly amused, as he spared a quick glance in your direction before focusing back on the road.

You forced yourself to look away from his hands. “What do you mean?”

“You seem… distracted.”

You swallowed, trying to muster up an explanation that wouldn’t give away too much. “Just thinking about the case.”

The corners of his mouth twitched as if he were fighting back a smile. “Really? Because it looked more like you were deep in thought about something else.”

You felt a flush of warmth rise to your cheeks. “Well, maybe the case isn’t the only thing on my mind.”

“Oh? And what else were you thinking about?”

“I don’t know if you’d be interested.”

“Try me.”

You turned your body towards him. “It’s highly inappropriate.”

“Now you’ve really got my attention.”

You hesitated, feeling the car’s warmth envelope you, making the space seem smaller, more intimate. “Okay, but remember, you asked for it,” you said, taking a deep breath. “I was thinking about... how well you handle the steering wheel.”

Spencer laughed, a deep, genuine sound that filled the car. “Is that your way of saying you like my driving, or something more metaphorical?”

“Maybe a bit of both. I mean, a person’s driving does say a lot about them, doesn’t it?”

“It does,” he agreed. “And what does my driving say about me?”

“That you’re good with your hands.”

Spencer’s eyes met yours briefly, and you squeezed your thighs tighter.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he said finally, his voice low. There was a brief pause and you wondered whether you had gone too far, whether this wasn’t the right time or place to flirt so openly, but then he spoke again.

“And since we’re sharing, I was thinking about something a bit inappropriate too.”

Your breath hitched slightly. “Like what?”

“Like how it’s hard to focus on the road when you’re looking at me like that.”

“…how am I looking at you?”

He gripped the steering wheel a bit tighter. “Like you want me to pull over to the side of the road and kiss you.”

A silence fell between you, and for a moment, you could hardly breathe. You felt a flush of warmth spread through your body, and you bit your lip, considering his words.

“And what if I do?” You asked softly.

You noticed his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard, clearly fighting to maintain his composure.

“Then I’d have to find a quiet place for us.”

Your body responded immediately, a wave of heat coursing through you as your breath quickened. You could feel your pulse thrumming in your veins, an urgent, needy beat that matched the thoughts racing through your mind.

“Spence?”

“Yeah?”

“Pull over.”

For a moment, he didn’t move, his eyes searching yours. Then, without hesitation, he scanned the road for a safe spot. The anticipation was almost unbearable as you watched him steer the car onto a narrow, dark lane shielded by dense shrubs. The path seemed to swallow the sound of the engine as he drove further away from the main road.

The silence that followed was thick as he turned off the engine. You both stared at each other, acutely aware of what you were about to do, about the potential consequences, but everything blurred as you both moved at the same time.

Everything was fast, a rush of motion and emotion as Spencer leaned over the console. His lips met yours with an urgency that left no room for hesitation.

His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer, while you clung to his arm. He kissed you hungrily, desperately, as if trying to communicate every unspoken word through the press of his mouth against yours. The more he kissed you, the more you felt the heat between your thighs and you realized that, in fact, you really had no control over your sex drive.

You then opened your mouth, letting him sink his tongue into you, pressing your body against his. But he was too far away, and you needed more of his heat, more of him. So, you undid your seat belt and did the only thing that felt natural—you climbed onto his lap.

You both moaned when his cock finally pressed against your core, and he found your lips again, his hand cradling the back of your head while the other rested firmly on your hips, urging you to move. The movement was instinctive, a rhythm that was driven by desperation.

You felt his mouth kisses trail from your lips down to your neck, marking a trail of heat that had you burning for more. Your fingers found the buttons of your shirt, and before you could second guess yourself, you undid them one by one.

Spencer’s hands followed the path you created, tracing the newly exposed skin. His large palms moved along your ribs before they rested just beneath your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your hard nipples through the fabric of your bra. You gasped, your head falling back in sheer pleasure.

His lips found your neck again, kissing and nipping at the delicate skin. His fingers pulled down your bra, exposing your breasts, and when he quickly sucked on your sensitive nub without warning, you bucked your hips, a strangled moan escaping your lips.

His sound of pleasure vibrated against your skin when you moved your hips at a steady pace, the friction driving you both to new heights. You could feel the material of your underwear sticking between your wet folds, and you wished desperately that there was no barrier between you. But time was ticking, and you both knew you were on the clock.

This had to be enough.

Spencer pulled back slightly, your nipple stretching with him, your supple skin following his movements until he let go with a soft pop. He then turned his attention to your other breast, his tongue teasingly circling your hardened nipple before hungrily engulfing it in his mouth.

Your hands gripped onto his shoulders, your nails digging in slightly as you arched your back. You felt his hands roaming over your waist, holding you steady, grounding you even as you felt yourself spiraling higher into a state of pure ecstasy.

“Spence,” you breathed, your voice trembling with need. His response was to look up at you with those intense, brown eyes as he continued to suck on your nipple.

His mouth moved with deliberate precision, alternating between gentle licks and firm sucks, driving you completely insane. You could feel your control slipping, your body responding to his every touch, and you found yourself unable to think of anything but him. The way he made you feel, the way his touch ignited every nerve in your body.

You tangled your fingers in his hair, urging him on, lost in the overwhelming pleasure he was giving you. His lips left your breast, trailing kisses up your chest and neck until he reached your lips, capturing them in a searing kiss that left you breathless.

The taste of him, the feel of his body against yours, was everything you had been longing for.

“More,” you whispered against his lips, your voice a desperate plea.

“I know, I know,” he murmured back. “I got you.”

You shook your head, breathless. “I wanna feel you.”

He groaned. How he wanted that to happen, but you were both gone long enough and reality was beginning to intrude on your stolen moment.

“We can’t, not here,” he said, his voice strained with desire as he rested his forehead against yours. “We don’t have enough time.”

You bit your lip, trying to push back the disappointment. “I know, but I-I need you.”

“Soon,” he promised. “When we have more time, I’ll give you everything you need.”

Your hips moved faster. “Everything?”

He nodded, his eyes fluttering close when he felt you pressing harder on his cock. “Everything.”

“You’ll finally fuck me?”

His breath hitched at your bold words, his control slipping further.

“Say it. Say you’ll fuck me.”

His self-control wavered, the raw desire in your voice pushed him to the edge as his palms gripped your ass.

“Is that what you want? You want me to fuck you?”

You never thought there would be a time when you’d hear those words from him, and yet here you were, craving for more. You nodded and grinded against him, trying to find that delicious pressure on your clit.

“Yes,” you whispered, your voice laced with urgency. “I want you to fuck me hard.”

Spencer groaned, his breath hot against your neck as he leaned in closer. “Then imagine me inside you,” he murmured, his voice low and seductive. “Think about my cock sliding into you, filling you up completely.”

“F-Fuck,” you gasped, moving against him rhythmically. Who would’ve thought he’d be good at this?

“Imagine my hands gripping your hips, pulling you down onto me,” he continued, his breath warm against your neck. “You’d feel every inch, deep and perfect.”

Your heart pounded as his fantasy played out in your thoughts. “Yes,” you gasped, finding it hard to keep steady. “Please, keep going.”

“I’d set a rhythm that drives you crazy,” he murmured. “Fast, then slow, teasing you, drawing out every moan and gasp until you’re begging me not to stop.”

“Oh God…” you moaned. “Please…”

He continued, relentless and commanding. “And when you’re close, when you’re right on the edge, I’d look into your eyes, whisper how beautiful you are, how good you feel wrapped around me…”

“Spencer, I—”

“And then I’d thrust harder, deeper,” he cut off your words, his tone intense. He pressed a hand against your lower abdomen as if to illustrate his point. “I’d fill you completely, over and over, until all you can do is cling to me and take it.”

You were practically trembling now, his words and slight touches driving you wild.

“I’m so close,” you managed to breathe out, your movements becoming less rhythmic and more desperate. His hands went back to your hips. His grip tightened, steadying and encouraging your frantic movements as he felt his own orgasm nearing.

“Come with me,” he whispered, pressing himself closer to you.

His words, his grip, his presence overwhelmed you. You felt the buildup, almost unbearable, as if every nerve in your body focused on the impending release. Then, with a final, mutual push, you felt the wave break.

Pleasure surged through you, intense and all-consuming. His grip on your hips tightened, pulling you down as he drove himself up, his name spilling from your lips in a cry of release. You felt him tense, heard his own cry muffled against your skin, as he reached his climax with you.

Panting, you both slowed, the car filled with the sound of heavy breathing and the soft hum of the engine in the background. Spencer’s hands softened on your hips, caressing now, soothing the spots where his fingers had pressed.

You ran a hand through his thick hair. “Has anyone ever told you that you have a dirty mouth?”

His grin was both sheepish and proud as he met your gaze. “You’re actually the first person to hear it.”

Your eyebrows rose in surprise. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he confirmed, his hands carefully adjusting your clothes. “It seems you have a way of bringing out a side of me I didn’t know I had.”

You watched him, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. There was so much you wanted to say, so many feelings swirling inside you, but the words felt too fragile for the moment. Instead, you settled for the silence.

Spencer didn’t seem to mind. He tapped your hip gently, drawing your attention. “Come on, I think we need to drop by the hotel before we go back to the station.”

When he caught the startled look you sent him, he laughed.

“To change my pants. Nothing else.”

“…oh.”

“You sound disappointed.”

You blushed, caught off guard by his remark and your own reaction. “No, I just—” you started, then paused, searching for the right words. “I mean, yes, maybe a little.”

His smile widened, pleased by your response. “I’ll tell you what,” he began. “After we finish this case, after we fly back, let’s spend time together. Just you and me.”

Your hands pressed against his chest, feeling the warmth of him through his shirt. You wondered what it would be like to have him pressed against you with nothing between you, to feel the rhythm of his heartbeat directly under your palms.

The thought made you both nervous and excited at the same time.

“Really?”

He leaned in for a kiss. “Really.”

“You promise?”

He smiled against your lips.

“I promise.”

[lamefish]

yeahh…road head with gojo…

oh i have thoughts.

because road head with gojo goes one of two ways: you're fooling around in the back seat whilst ijichi or another 'not-paid-enough-for-this' driver pretends they can't hear him groaning as you take him to the base. making eye contact with the driver in the rear view mirror, goading them on to say anything as if they’re not wishing they were in his position just now.

or it’s the less-often times that he drives.

satoru often gets pent up before big events and meetings and the such, and having you by his side makes it none the easier for him to control himself.

“please, baby, i’m so hard it huuurts!” he whines, keeping his eyes on the road the best he can as he drives. “i can’t face the higher-ups like this! they’ll think i’m perverted.”

“you are perverted,” you reply shortly from the passenger seat. your tone doesn’t match the eager way you readjust your position and start working on fishing satoru’s cock from his bow-tight pants. “having me suck your dick while you’re driving. you’re filthy, toru.”

“guilty,” he drums his fingers against the steering wheel—it takes everything inside of him not to abandon his common sense and put his hands to better use by pushing your head down. “please.”

admittedly; he does close his eyes as you finally wrap your lips around his cock. and he does have to swerve to avoid the opposite lane of traffic but he rights himself in an instant and continues driving responsibly—just with the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat.

he’s a mess. it’s a miracle he’s still able to drive relatively safely with the way you’re sucking him—like you’re trying to milk him for all he has. god he loves you.

you have to edge him a little until he reaches a set of traffic lights, coming to a complete stop when it turns red just to squeeze his eyes shut and throw his head back in an ecstatic orgasm that wracks through the entirety of his body. he cums deep in your throat at such a speed that you hardly get a chance to taste his release on your tongue.

you pull off him with a messy smile and he rectifies your efforts by meeting you in a sloppy kiss of shared spit and the remnants of his release glossing the both of your lips.

until the car behind you starts honking, because the lights been green for a minute now. oops

[pucksandpower]

Used to be Mine

Oscar Piastri x Reader

Arthur Leclerc x ex!Reader

Summary: Oscar stole everything from Arthur … his hopes, his dreams, his family name, and you

Arthur slumps in the hard chair across from Jock Clear’s desk, the Ferrari Driver Academy director’s words echoing in his mind. “I’m very sorry Arthur, but we’ve decided not to renew your contract for next season. You’ll be released from the program at the end of this year.”

Arthur feels like he’s been punched in the gut. This can’t be happening. He’s poured his heart and soul into racing for Ferrari’s junior program for years. His dream has always been to follow in his older brother Charles’ footsteps and race for the Scuderia in Formula 1.

“But … why?” Arthur manages to choke out. “I know my results this season haven’t been that great but fifteenth in the F2 standings-”

Clear shakes his head solemnly. “Your pace and racecraft simply haven’t developed at the rate we need to see to justify keeping you in the program, Arthur. I know how hard you’ve worked, but there are other young talents coming up behind you showing greater potential.”

The word “potential” hits Arthur like a dagger. Ever since he was a kid, that’s what he’s heard over and over — unfavorable comparisons to Charles’ unlimited potential. He always knew his big brother was special behind the wheel, but he’d clung to the hope that he could make it to F1 through sheer hard work and determination if not raw talent.

Clearly that hope was misguided. Arthur feels the sting of failure wash over him.

“I … I understand,” he forces out, struggling not to break down in tears right there. “Thank you for the opportunity.”

He stands up shakily, the room spinning. He needs to get out of here.

The drive back to his family’s home in Monaco is a blur. Arthur’s mind races, years of sacrifice and struggle swirling in his head. Endless days and nights on the simulator. Grueling hours in the gym, pushing his body to its limits. Tormenting himself over endless data traces, looking for even a tenth of a second to gain an edge.

All for nothing. The harsh truth is he’ll never be good enough. No matter how hard he tries, the Leclerc name will always belong to Charles. Arthur will be forever known as his little brother, the one who couldn’t quite cut it.

He slams his fist against the steering wheel, angry tears now streaming down his face. Why did he ever think he could do this? Why didn’t he just pursue something, anything else with his life? He’s wasted years chasing an impossible dream, and now he has nothing to show for it.

His phone rings, almost slipping out of his trembling hands before he can answer. It’s you.

“Y/N ...” Arthur chokes out, trying and failing to hold back his sobs.

“Arthur? Oh my god, what’s wrong?” You ask, panic in your voice even through the tinny speaker. Of course you can sense something is desperately wrong. You’ve always been there for him, the one person who truly understands what he’s been going through.

Arthur can barely get the words out between ragged breaths. “The … the FDA ... they’re releasing me ... it’s over ...”

There’s stunned silence on the other end of the line.

“Arthur, I ...” You trail off, at an uncharacteristic loss for words. You know how much this has meant to him. How much of himself he’s given to this endeavor. “I’m coming over right now, okay? Don’t do anything stupid. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

You hang up before Arthur can respond. He’s not sure if that’s a good thing or not. Part of him wants to wallow in despair alone. But mostly he’s grateful you’re coming. He’s not sure he can handle this by himself right now.

Sure enough, you burst through the front door only a few minutes later. Arthur has collapsed on the couch, head in his hands as the tears continue to flow.

“Oh Arthur ...” You sit down beside him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pulling him into an embrace. He turns and buries his face in your shoulder, no longer trying to hold anything back as ragged sobs wrack his body.

You just hold him, making soft hushing sounds and stroking his hair. You’ve seen him distraught before — after tough losses or crashes. But never quite like this. This is the cry of someone whose dreams have been shattered.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Arthur’s sobs begin to subside into hitching breaths. You grab a tissue box from the end table and hand it to him.

“Thank you,” he mumbles, blowing his nose loudly. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I just … I don’t know what to do. What am I going to do now?”

You take his hand and give it a squeeze. “First, you’re going to breathe. This isn’t the end of the world, I promise. We’ll get through this.”

Arthur lets out a shaky exhale, trying to calm himself. You always have been the level-headed one. He leans back against the couch cushions, keeping your hand grasped tightly in his.

“I really thought I could make it, you know?” He says quietly. “I’ve given everything to this stupid dream ever since I was a kid. But I’ll never be good enough, will I? Not like Charles.”

You open your mouth to protest, but Arthur barrels on, unable to contain years of self-doubt and insecurity any longer.

“Don’t try to argue. We both know it’s true. Charles was always the special one. The one with the generational talent. I was just … there. Doing my best to keep up, but always a step behind no matter how hard I worked.”

You shake your head vehemently. “Arthur, that’s not true at all. You’re an incredible driver. Your work ethic and determination are-”

“Meaningless without the talent,” Arthur interrupts bitterly. “That’s all that matters in the end. And I don’t have it, not like Charles does. I’m just … normal. Ordinary. That’s why Ferrari has moved on.”

You move closer, taking Arthur’s face in your hands so he has to look you in the eye. “You listen to me, Arthur Leclerc. You are anything but ordinary, understand? You’ve accomplished more by the age of 23 than most people could dream of in their entire lives. Making it all the way to F2 and the Ferrari Driver Academy is incredible, no matter what happens next.”

Arthur tries to turn away, but you keep his gaze locked, your voice rising in intensity. “If you were ordinary, you wouldn’t have been able to push yourself so hard for so long. Ordinary people would have given up a long time ago. It’s your extraordinary drive and passion that have taken you this far.”

Tears are welling up in your eyes now. You can’t stand to see him diminishing himself like this.

“Besides,” you add, managing a small smile. “I may be biased, but I’ve always thought you were the most extraordinarily kind, caring, and hilarious person I know. That’s a kind of specialness in itself, you know.”

Arthur lets out a choked laugh, wiping at his eyes again. Leave it to you to know just what to say to raise his spirits, even a little. “You always have been weirdly good at these pep talks.”

“Well, someone has to keep your head from getting too big,” you quip back with a grin.

Arthur mock-gasps in feigned offense. “Why, you little ...”

He lunges at you, starting to mercilessly tickle your sides. You squeal with laughter, trying in vain to fight back as you quickly devolve into a giggling, flailing mess of limbs.

You’ve been reduced to teary hiccups when Arthur finally relents, allowing you both to catch your breath. He throws an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close.

“You’re the best,” he murmurs softly. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You rest your head against his shoulder contentedly. “Let’s just take things one day at a time for now, okay? We’ll figure out what’s next together, like we always have.”

Arthur nods, feeling a deep sense of gratitude and love for his girlfriend. No matter what curveballs life has thrown your way, you’ve always supported and uplifted each other. He knows that won’t change, even if his racing dreams don’t pan out.

“Together,” he echoes, giving your hand one more tight squeeze. Whatever the future holds, he can get through it with you by his side.

Maybe his path won’t lead to Formula 1 after all. Arthur feels a pang of sadness and disappointment at that realization. But as long as he has his family — has you — to lean on, he knows he’ll be okay. That love and support is what has always truly mattered most, not chasing some impossible dream.

“You know, we should see if Charles wants to come over later,” Arthur says, the hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “I haven’t roasted his abysmal fashion sense in way too long.”

You burst out laughing at that. Only Arthur could find his way back to laughing and joking so soon after having his world turned upside down. It’s just one of the many things you admire about him.

“Oh my god, yes please,” you reply once you’ve caught your breath. “His outfit at the last race was literally a crime against humanity. Someone needs to intervene before he traumatizes us all again.”

The two of you spend the next little while cheerfully trading escalating insults about his big brother’s admittedly questionable clothing choices. The mood has lightened considerably, at least for now.

Arthur knows the sting of his failure will return, the questions about what he should do next weighing heavily. But you’ll be there for those hard moments too, just like always. As long as he has you — his best friend, his other half — he can face any challenge life throws his way.

The uncertain road ahead is daunting. But Arthur meets it with determination burning in his eyes. If he couldn’t make it as a Formula 1 driver, he’ll simply have to find a new dream to chase. A new mountain to climb. Whatever it is, he knows you’ll be alongside him every step of the way.

***

Six Months Later

The roar of the engines fades as the cars return to the pits after qualifying. Arthur can’t tear his eyes away from the timing screens:

1. C. LECLERC

2. O. PIASTRI

A Leclerc front row lockout at their home race. Except one of them isn’t really a Leclerc at all.

“Nice one, Piastri-Leclerc!” One of the McLaren mechanics calls out as Oscar climbs from his car.

Arthur’s gut twists.

Oscar just grins and plays along. “Thanks, it’s all in the family name!”

A few of the Ferrari mechanics chuckle at that as Charles emerges from his own car, beaming. He pulls Oscar into a hug. “A Leclerc one-two in Monaco, who would have thought?”

“There’s just something about being a local,” Oscar laughs. “Thank you for giving me yet another home race.”

You appear then, throwing your arms around Oscar with a squeal. “My two favorite Leclercssss!”

Arthur has to look away, his face burning. He knows he has no right to be jealous. Oscar is one of his best friends. And you … you made your choice a long time ago.

“Arthur?” Fred Vasseur appears at his side. “You okay?”

Arthur forces a smile. “Yeah, all good. Just … focused.”

“No need to be so tense,” Fred squeezes his shoulder. “You did a great job in the sim this week. That data helped Charles and Carlos a ton.”

“Glad I could help,” Arthur says automatically.

But his gaze is drawn back to where you’re still hugging Oscar tightly. You look so happy, so carefree. It wasn’t that long ago that your smiles were for him.

“You know,” Fred says conversationally. “I’m getting a lot of questions about what you’ll decide to do next. Every time you’re in that sim or out on track-”

“I’m fine being test driver,” Arthur interrupts, maybe a little too brusque. “Really, I am.”

Fred studies him for a beat. “If you’re sure. Just saying, the doors are opening ...”

The team principal moves off then, leaving Arthur alone with his swirling emotions. He can’t get swept up in maybes about his future. Not when his past is standing right there, laughing at some joke Oscar made.

You’d think after all this time, the sight of you wouldn’t affect him so much. You broke his heart so thoroughly when you ended things, he didn’t think there were any pieces left to shatter. But here he is, a mess of jealousy and longing, just because you gave Oscar a hug.

“Arthur! There you are!”

He turns at the sound of your voice. You’re hurrying towards him, Oscar and Charles trailing behind with indulgent smiles.

“We’re going to get some dinner if you want to join?” You ask brightly.

He has to swallow hard before he can speak past the lump in his throat. “I … don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Of course it is!” You grab his arm, utterly oblivious to his discomfort. “We’re all friends here, right?”

“Some of you were a bit more than friends once upon a time,” Charles points out with a wicked grin.

You shove him playfully. “Oh shut up!”

Arthur feels like he’s being stabbed in the heart. Your break up turned his life upside down. Hearing you joke about it so casually now is excruciating.

“Seriously, Arthur,” Oscar cuts in. “Come celebrate with us. We promise not to get too crazy.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Arthur tries again, harsher this time.

You frown, tilting your head in confusion. “Why not? I thought we were all past the whole ex thing?”

“I am,” he lies through gritted teeth. “I just … have some stuff to work on for the race tomorrow.”

“Oh come on,” you wheedle, giving him that smile that used to make him melt. “Take a break! Live a little!”

Arthur can’t take much more of this. He needs to get out of here before he says something he’ll regret. Or worse, does something stupid like pull you into his arms and kiss you senseless.

“Seriously you guys, I’ve got work,” he says, forcing himself to take a step back from you. “I’ll … catch up with you later, okay?”

He doesn’t wait for a response, just turns on his heel and stalks away. He can’t bear to see the hurt, confused look on your face.

Why did he think this would be okay? That he could spend day after day around you and it wouldn’t still hurt? Every smile, every laugh, every touch you bestow on Charles and Oscar is like a white hot poker in his chest.

He thought he was over you. He really did. It’s been months since you ended things, months since you shattered what was left of his heart into a million pieces.

He’d been so shocked, so heartbroken, that all he could do was sit there numbly as you walked out of his apartment. When he finally found his voice, hours had passed, and you were long gone.

“But I love you,” he’d whispered into the empty room.

He’d been so sure you felt the same. That what you had was forever. But you made your choice, as simple as that. Arthur never came first.

And now, half a year later, here he is. Living out some twisted version of his dream … but only just. A test driver for Ferrari instead of a race driver like he always imagined. Like Charles, who had achieved everything they both wanted.

Arthur leans back against the wall of the cool, dark room he’s found himself in. It feels like the pain of your rejection is never going to stop haunting him. Like no matter how much time passes, it will never be enough to make up for losing you.

He squeezes his eyes shut, trying and failing to block out the memory of your face, your smile, your laugh. All the moments of pure joy you two had shared. The dreams you’d whispered to each other late at night, tangled in the sheets.

Is this his lot in life from now on? To watch you move on, all smiles and teasing jokes with Oscar and Charles? To see everyone welcoming Oscar into the family while Arthur is shut out in the cold?

He’s startled from his spiraling thoughts by a knock at the door. “Arthur? You in there?”

It’s Charles. Arthur flinches, swiping a hand over his eyes.

“Yeah, I’m here,” he calls back, grateful that his voice doesn’t shake.

There’s a pause. “Can I come in?”

Arthur considers sending his brother away. He’s in no state for a heart-to-heart right now.

But he can’t bring himself to refuse Charles. Not when they’ve been through so much together, from the karting tracks of their childhood to the highest levels of motorsport.

“Yeah, okay.”

The door opens and Charles slips inside. He stops short when he sees Arthur, brow furrowing in concern.

“Hey … you okay?”

Arthur can’t even find it in himself to fake it. He just shakes his head mutely.

“Is this about Y/N?” Charles asks gently.

And just like that, the dam breaks. Arthur squeezes his eyes shut again, but he can’t stop the tears from spilling over.

“I thought I was over her. I really did,” he chokes out. “But seeing her with Oscar … celebrating like that ...”

Strong arms wrap around him then, pulling him into a hug. Arthur goes boneless, sagging against his older brother as the sobs take over.

“Shh, I’ve got you,” Charles murmurs. “Let it out.”

Arthur does. He cries and cries, shoulders shaking, as months of pent-up heartache pour out of him. Charles just holds him through it, rubbing soothing circles across his back.

“I’m s-sorry,” Arthur finally gasps out. “I’m being so stupid ...”

“You’re not stupid,” Charles says firmly. “Love isn’t stupid, Arthur. Especially your first real heartbreak. That shit hurts like hell.”

Arthur lets out a watery chuckle, finally pulling back and swiping at his eyes. “How do you always know exactly what to say?”

“Well, I am the wise older brother,” Charles grins. Then he sobers, studying Arthur carefully. “Seriously though … you know Y/N loved you, right? What you two had was real.”

“I know.” Arthur shakes his head. “Doesn’t make it any easier seeing her move on so quickly.”

“She’s not over you either,” Charles says gently. “That’s why she keeps trying so hard to act like everything is normal between you two.”

Arthur scoffs. “Could’ve fooled me with all the cuddling up to Oscar out there.”

“Oh come on, you know that’s just a joke,” Charles says with a roll of his eyes. “Oscar is like family to us, same as you. That’s all it is.”

“Yeah? Well it didn’t look that way to me.”

“Arthur ...” Charles puts a hand on his shoulder. “I think you need to have an actual conversation with Y/N. Clear the air once and for all. This lingering stuff is only going to keep eating you up inside.”

“What if she really has moved on?” The thought is like a vise around Arthur’s heart. “What if she tells me she’s dating Oscar for real or something?”

“Then at least you’ll know,” Charles says simply. “It will hurt, yeah. But not knowing, constantly wondering … that’s so much worse. Trust me.”

Arthur is quiet for a long moment, turning Charles’ words over in his mind. Maybe his brother is right. Maybe it’s time to rip off the bandaid once and for all.

He nods slowly. “Okay. I’ll ... I’ll talk to her.”

“Good.” Charles pulls him in for another hug. “No matter what happens, you’ve got me, okay? We Leclercs need to stick together.”

Arthur manages a small smile at that, feeling just a bit lighter. “Yeah. We do.”

As he follows Charles out of the room, he catches sight of you across the paddock, laughing at something Oscar said. A familiar ache blooms in his chest.

But this time, he doesn’t run from it. This time, he’s going to face it head on. His heart may end up in even more pieces … or maybe, just maybe, it will finally start to mend.

Either way, at least he’ll know. No more lingering what ifs. Just the truth, whatever it may be.

He takes a deep, steadying breath, then starts making his way towards you.

***

Arthur’s steps falter as he rounds the corner of the McLaren garage. There you are with Oscar, bodies intertwined, lips locked in a heated kiss.

It feels like all the air has been sucked from Arthur’s lungs. He can’t breathe, can’t think. He just … freezes, rooted to the spot, watching in numb horror as the two of you make out shamelessly right there in the open.

This can’t be happening. It has to be some kind of twisted nightmare. But no matter how hard he blinks, the scene before him doesn’t change.

You and Oscar are really kissing. Properly sucking face like loved-up teenagers, hands roaming over each other greedily. Oscar has you backed up against the garage wall, bodies pressed flush together from chest to thigh.

Arthur feels like he’s going to be sick.

Finally, mercifully, you two break apart, foreheads pressed together as you both gasp for air. Arthur should look away, he knows he should, but he can’t seem to make himself move.

“So much for keeping it professional in the paddock, huh?” You murmur, voice husky.

Oscar lets out a breathless chuckle. “Who cares about professional? Not when I’ve got you all to myself for once.”

He leans in to kiss you again, but you put a hand on his chest, stopping him. “We should find somewhere more private if we’re gonna keep this up.”

“My driver’s room?” Oscar suggests, already palming at the small of your back.

You shiver, pushing up onto your tiptoes to brush your lips against his jaw. “Lead the way, Piastri-Leclerc.”

And just like that, you’re gone, disappearing into the depths of the McLaren garage, hands roaming and giggling like lovesick fools. Arthur watches until the door swings shut behind you, cutting off that haunting sound of your laughter.

Then he’s moving without conscious thought, staggering back around the corner and out of sight. His back hits the cool concrete wall with a thud, but he barely notices. Barely notices anything except the ragged, gasping breaths being torn from his lungs.

He doubles over, hands braced on his knees as he struggles not to vomit right there in the paddock. It feels like someone has driven a white hot poker straight through his chest. Like his heart is being crushed into a million pieces all over again.

Oscar and you … together? Actually dating? How … how could you do this to him? To yourself? Everything you two had built together, every future dream you had shared … tossed aside so easily?

Tears burn at the corners of Arthur’s eyes. He wants to scream, to punch a wall, to unleash the searing agony and fury ripping through him. But he can’t make a sound, throat locked up tight with unshed emotion.

He should have known, really. Should have seen this coming. It’s not like you and Oscar were hiding your connection. The loving looks, the inside jokes, that easy intimacy and affection … Arthur had just been too blinded by jealousy and heartbreak to see it.

But to find out like this? To literally walk in on you two wrapped around each other? It’s a whole new level of pain, lancing through him over and over. He’s always imagined that you would have the decency to at least tell him first if you moved on with someone new.

Unless this has been going on for a while already, hidden from him in plain sight. Every laugh, every hug, every teasing comment … was that all a lie to cover up your dirty secret with Oscar?

Arthur’s stomach churns violently again at the thought. He swallows hard, fighting back the nausea. He can’t lose it here, can’t draw any attention to himself. He needs to get it together, block out the image of you and Oscar swapping spit.

Easier said than done when his brain keeps unhelpfully replaying the way Oscar’s hands were roaming over you, groping at you like you belonged to him. And that laugh … god, that beautiful, carefree laughter that Arthur would know anywhere. A sound that used to make his heart soar whenever it was aimed at him.

Now it’s like a knife in his gut to hear you giggling that way with Oscar, no doubt blissed out after a hot and heavy make out session. Arthur’s jaw tightens, a muscle ticking furiously. He would give anything not to have walked in on that, not to have that sound burnt into his brain forever.

At least now he knows the truth. The humiliating, gut-wrenching truth that you’ve well and truly moved on from him. And with Oscar of all people, like the ultimate slap in the face.

What kind of cruel joke is this? Arthur wonders, still fighting to steady his ragged breaths. He loses the girl he wanted to spend forever with … only to have one of his mates swoop in and take her from him?

It’s not just you that Oscar has stolen either, Arthur realizes with a sickening jolt. It’s everything. With you on his arm, Oscar is welcomed into the family, called a Leclerc at their home race. Arthur’s own last name, treated like some kind of lighthearted joke while the real thing is ripped away from him.

Oscar even gets Monaco as a home race, just like the actual Leclercs who grew up here. All because of some dumb joke about Charles adopting him. Arthur had laughed along with it at the time, never imagining the underhanded truth.

Oscar Piastri has wormed his way into having everything Arthur wanted more than anything. The career, the family, the girl … all of it, just handed to him on a silver platter.

White hot fury flares in Arthur’s chest, momentarily burning through the heartbreak. How dare Oscar do this to him? How dare he make a mockery out of Arthur’s dreams, out of everything the name Leclerc stands for?

Arthur barely registers that he’s moving until his fist connects with the concrete wall with a sickening crunch. He lashes out again and again, pummeling the unforgiving surface over and over until-

“Arthur! Hey, whoa!”

Suddenly there are hands on him, strong and insistent. Arthur starts, accidentally slamming his abused knuckles into a firm chest as Charles appears, grabbing hold of his shoulders.

“Easy, easy! What the hell are you doing?” Charles meets his gaze, eyes wide with concern.

Arthur blinks dazedly, pain finally registering from his torn up, bleeding knuckles. “I … I didn’t ...”

“What happened?” Charles presses, lowering his voice when Arthur winces. “Did you get into it with someone? Talk to me, please.”

Arthur opens his mouth, fully intending to tell Charles everything. About walking in on your incriminating embrace with Oscar. About the way it felt like his entire world shattered all over again. How Oscar has stolen every single thing that should have been Arthur’s by birthright.

But when he tries to vocalize the words, to unleash the storm of emotions battering him from the inside out … nothing comes out. His throat remains locked up tight, breath wheezing harshly.

Charles is watching him, eyebrows knitted with worry. “You’re really freaking me out here. What’s going on?”

Arthur squeezes his eyes shut, shaking his head helplessly. He feels like he’s drowning, lost in a whirlpool of jealousy and despair that’s slowly suffocating him.

When he opens his eyes again, Charles is still waiting, patient and steady as always. Something in his brother’s calm, anchoring presence helps Arthur regain just a little bit of control. Enough to grit out a few words.

“Oscar. And Y/N.”

That’s all he can manage. But judging by the dawning comprehension on Charles’ face, it’s enough. The older Leclerc lets out a slow breath, gaze turning sympathetic.

“You saw them together,” he says, not a question.

Arthur nods jerkily, jaw locked.

For a long moment, Charles is silent. Taking it all in, no doubt. Then … “I’m so sorry, Arthur.”

Arthur’s breath hitches harshly before he can stop it.

“Hey, hey.” Charles pulls him into a tight hug, tucking Arthur’s head under his chin. “It’s gonna be okay. I’ve got you, little brother.”

Arthur stiffens for just a second before melting into the embrace, squeezing his eyes shut once more. He takes a shuddery breath against Charles’ shirt, then another, just trying to hold himself together.

“I’m here,” Charles murmurs, rubbing his back soothingly. “We’ll get through this together, yeah?”

Arthur doesn’t trust himself to speak, so he just nods against Charles’ shoulder. He clings to his brother like a lifeline, grateful beyond words that Charles is here to anchor him when it feels like his world is crumbling all over again.

He has no idea how long they stay like that, locked in that tight embrace. Long enough for the sharp edges of Arthur’s anguish to dull, at least a little. Long enough for his ragged breaths to even out into something closer to normal.

Finally, Charles gives him one last squeeze before gently pulling back, keeping a firm grip on Arthur’s shoulders.

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up,” he says, eyeing Arthur’s bloodied knuckles with a wince.

Arthur follows his gaze, grimacing at the sight. “Shit, I ...”

“It’s okay,” Charles says quickly, sliding an arm around Arthur’s back. “I’ve got you.”

He guides Arthur through the paddock, shielding him from view with his body. Arthur is grateful for the discretion — the last thing he needs right now is prying eyes and questions about his meltdown.

They make it back to the cool shadows of the Ferrari motorhome without incident. Charles sweeps them into one of the private rooms, locking the door securely behind them.

“There, just us,” he says, squeezing Arthur’s arm reassuringly. “Why don’t you sit down and tell me what happened?”

Arthur sinks down onto the worn sofa, feeling numb and drained. He stares at his mangled hands as Charles darts away, returning a moment later with a first aid kit and a damp cloth.

“This might sting,” Charles warns, taking Arthur’s hands with surprising gentleness.

Arthur barely flinches as his brother starts cleaning away the blood and grit from his torn skin. He’s retreated deep inside his own head, memories from that hellish scene on an endless loop.

You and Oscar, tangled together so intimately. The way you looked at each other, breathless with desire. The easy intimacy and obvious hunger in every heated caress.

Arthur squeezes his eyes shut, but it does nothing to block it out. He’s never going to be able to unsee that, he realizes with a sick lurch. It’s seared into his brain forever, a brand new source of unrelenting torment.

“Arthur?” Charles’ soft voice cuts through his spiraling thoughts. “What happened? Talk to me.”

Arthur blows out a shaky breath, forcing himself to meet his brother’s concerned gaze.

“I went to find Y/N,” he starts in a dull rasp. “To … to get some closure, I guess. Finally rip off the bandaid like you said.”

Charles nods in understanding, staying quiet to let Arthur continue at his own pace.

“But when I turned the corner of the McLaren garage ...” Arthur’s throat works convulsively, the memory surging back in vivid technicolor. “They were there. Making out like a couple of horny teenagers.”

He falls silent again, the words cutting off as a wave of fresh agony washes over him. God, the visual is never going to stop haunting him, is it?

“Oh, Arthur ...” Charles murmurs, squeezing his hands gently. “I’m so sorry.”

Arthur lets out a bitter huff. “Sorry? Don’t be sorry for me, Charles. Be sorry for yourself.”

Charles frowns in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“Oscar,” Arthur grits out, white-hot anger flaring once more. “He stole her from me, sure. But he also stole our name. He gets to be a Leclerc now, a mockery of our home streets. Just because you stupidly joked about adopting him.”

He surges to his feet, unable to stay still with all this wrath and hurt burning through him.

“Everything that was supposed to be mine, Charles!” He shouts, prowling the room like a caged animal. “The career, the family, the girl … Oscar has taken it all! With a few laughs and some dumb jokes!”

“Arthur, that’s not fair ...” Charles tries, but Arthur barrels right over him.

“No? Well how about this — let’s see how funny those jokes are when Oscar decides he actually wants to be Charles Leclerc!” Arthur snarls. “He’ll take your career next, you watch! Take away everything that makes you special, everything that’s yours by right!”

“Arthur.” Charles is on his feet now, reaching out to grip Arthur’s shoulders firmly. “Listen to me. You need to calm down, okay? Oscar isn’t trying to take anything from us. He’s our friend!”

“How can you say that?” Arthur demands, anguish cracking through the rage. “Don’t you see what he’s done? What he’s taking from me?”

He’s breathing hard now, vision swimming as tears of mingled fury and heartbreak prick at his eyes.

“That was supposed to be my future, Charles,” he rasps. “Y/N and I … we had plans. Dreams of a life together.”

Arthur swipes angrily at the tear that escapes, blurring his vision. “Oscar doesn’t get to take that from me. He doesn’t get to make it all a mocking joke.”

“Arthur ...” Charles looks stricken now, shaking his head slowly. He pulls Arthur into another fierce hug, tucking the younger man’s head under his chin.

“I’m so sorry,” Charles murmurs, voice thick with emotion. “I’m so sorry he hurt you like this. You don’t deserve that … any of it.”

Arthur lets out a choked sob against his brother’s shirt, all of the fight abruptly draining from him. He’s just … tired. Wrung out and hollow, aching down to his very core.

“This wasn’t how it was supposed to go, Charles,” he whispers brokenly. “Oscar was my friend … how could he do this to me?”

Charles doesn’t seem to have any answers. He just holds Arthur tighter, rocking them gently from side to side as Arthur finally gives in to his emotions. He buries his face in Charles’ shoulder and weeps — for his shattered dreams, his shredded heart, and a future that now feels impossibly out of reach.

As the sobs gradually subside, a final bitter thought takes root in Arthur’s mind. If Oscar is going to steal away the girl Arthur loves, the family he was born into, and the future he had mapped out for himself ... then Arthur hopes to god the Monaco curse falls on Oscar just as harshly as it ever has for a Leclerc.

Maybe then Oscar will finally understand just how much he’s taken from Arthur. How many dreams and pieces of Arthur's very identity he’s carelessly crushed in his quest to make himself a Leclerc on everything but paper.

Arthur’s tears have dried, leaving his cheeks chafed and eyes swollen. But the hollow ache in his chest remains, throbbing in time with his ragged breaths. He stays huddled against Charles, taking what little solace he can from his brother’s presence.

It’s all he has left now. Oscar has snatched away everything else that ever mattered to Arthur. His future, his past, his home ... all of it, gone in a spiral of heated kisses and breathless laughter.

If the cost of having it all is the Monaco curse bearing down on him, then so be it. Arthur finds himself almost hoping Oscar gets everything he so greedily took, the consequences be damned. Maybe then, just maybe, he’ll finally understand an ounce of the anguish and heartbreak he’s inflicted on Arthur.

It’s a dark, vindictive thought, one that makes Arthur's gut twist with shame. But he’d too drained, too devastated to truly care. He just presses closer to Charles, craving the simple comfort of family as reality crushes him from all sides.

His dreams, his heart, his identity ... all stolen by a former friend turned ultimate betrayer. If the Monaco curse is all Arthur has left to cling to, then so be it.

[shanastoryteller]

The day his deal comes due, Sam goes missing.

Dean tells himself it’s nothing, that he’s gotten caught up in some research, some last ditch, hail mary nonsense and that he’s just turned his phone off and everything’s fine, that he wouldn’t do something stupid, that he wouldn’t break his promise.

He tells himself that for the first two minutes after he cracks his eyes open and sees the empty bed across from him, and the first time his call goes straight to voicemail, and not much after that. Sam’s broken his promises over things significantly less important to him than his brother’s life.

Dean is dressed and in the Impala five minutes later, heart thudding wildly in his chest. He calls Bobby, Ellen, everyone he can think of, but none of them have heard from Sam, none of them have eyes on him. Sam was with him last night, even if he boosted a car, there’s only so far he can get.

He keeps calling, keep searching, desperate to stop whatever he’s trying to do, to find him, to see his brother one last time before he’s dragged to hell. To make sure Sam is going to be okay after he’s dragged to hell. But the hours tick down, the sun sets, and he can’t find a trace of him. He’s so exhausted and heart sick that when he goes to call Sam again it takes him a long time to read the number on his phone, eyes swimming, the time not making any sense.

1:03

That’s not possible.

That’s not –

His phone rings, blocking out the time with Bobby’s name across the screen, and he answers it but his throat is too thick to say anything.

“Dean?” Bobby says tentatively. “Are you – I got an email from Sam. It just said, I mean, did–“

“What did it say, Bobby?” he asks, even though he’s sure he knows.

Bobby sucks in a breath at his voice, because he knows just as well as Dean that he should be screaming in hell right now, not answering his phone. “To take care of you.”

Dean drops the phone, hears Bobby still talking as he grips the wheel and presses his forehead against the back of his hands. This is what he’d been afraid of. This is why he hadn’t wanted to mess with the deal in first place. This is the one thing he’d begged Sam not to do.

It's easy to find a crossroad.

The demon is laughing at him when it shows up, wicked grin in a pretty face. “That didn’t take you long, boy.”

It’s a different demon than the one he delt with, obviously, but Dean figures they all know the same shit, since demons are a bunch of gossips. “This wasn’t the deal. My brother lives and I die.”

“You traded your soul for your brother’s life,” she corrects, so amused by all this that all he wants to do is kill her, to exorcise her, to make her scream. “Just like your father traded his for yours. There’s no reason Sammy can’t make his own trade. Man, but is your family fucked up. Maybe if you’d just settled down like little Sammy wanted, you wouldn’t all be bargaining for each other’s lives like haggling at a flea market.”

“Untrade it,” he snaps. “My soul for him alive, come on, no year, no waiting, you bring him back and take me to hell right now.”

She laughs in his face. “You don’t have anything to bargain with, boy.”

“My soul,” he repeats, “That’s what this is about, isn’t?”

“Oh, it’s what it’s all about,” she says. “But Sammy’s a clever boy. You know that, don’t you? He didn’t trade his soul for your life, he didn’t have to. You didn’t die. No, he traded it for your soul. Sorry, honey, but your credits been declined.”

At first he doesn’t understand. Sam traded his soul for Dean’s, exactly, so there’s no reason he can’t trade it right back. Then he gets it.

She sees the exact moment it clicks, the moment despair and horror sweep across his face too quickly for him to stop them. “That’s right. Little brother owns your soul now. For some reason he didn’t think you’d take proper care of it. You have it because that’s where he wants it, but no one will be making any deals with you, Dean Winchester. You can’t sell a soul you don’t own.”

“You can’t,” he has to clear his throat, “you can’t just come in and change things at the eleventh hour-”

“Eleventh hour?” she interrupts. “Sammy made his deal eleven months ago.”

His mouth is so dry he can’t speak.

“Isn’t it funny?” she asks, head cocked to the side. “All this time, the deal he’s been trying to get out of wasn’t yours, but his own. Maybe the two of you might have even managed it, except you just wouldn’t help, would you? Insisting that he not research, that he not look for a way out, and he spent so much time trying to convince you, coaxing you to talk about your feelings when he knew you were safe, all he because he thought it would make you feel better when he was gone, because he couldn’t tell you the truth and talk about how scared he was, so talking about your fear was as close as he could get.”

Dean’s going to be sick. “Don’t – please, please, I’ll give you anything-”

“You don’t have anything,” she says, gleeful. “You want to know why I agreed? The thing that made it just too delicious to refuse? Sammy’s down there, just starting in on an eternity of torture, and all he has to do get out of it is give up your soul. It’s his, after all, and he can put the original deal back in place any time he chooses. Just one moment of weakness on his end and his beloved big brother will be on the rack instead.” She sighs happily. “It’s almost as good as anything we’re doing to him down there, the knowledge that if he slips up for even a moment then it would all be for nothing. I couldn’t have found a way to twist the knife deeper if I tried.”

There’s vomit crawling its way up his throat and he has to swallow it down before he can speak. “I can’t – I’ll do whatever you want, please, there has to be something.”

She leans forward, cruelty and delight shining in her eyes. “The only thing you can do is what you’ve been telling your precious baby brother to do for the past year. Accept it. Move on. Live a good life so his sacrifice isn’t in vain.”

God. How can she – how can Sammy expect him to –

He’s doubling over, finally upchucking what little he’s ate today, and he’s dry heaving on the dirt when he hears the fading sound of her laughter.

This can’t be real. This has to be Hell, he has to be in it right now. He has to be.

[satxnsupreme666]

Love in the darkest hour: Agatha Harkness x fem!reader x Rio Vidal

Masterlist

Requested by: @perfectartisanwerewolf

Summary: During Agatha´s trial, you are the one that gets possessed, Rio and Agatha get protective of you but you end up getting hurt, your girlfriends feel guilty and all of the wicthes get worried about you.

Warnings: Reader gets hurt, mention of wounds, broken bones, angst and fluff,  I think that´s it (Oh, and English is not my first language but I still try hard to check my own grammar)

Word count:  6k+

Author’s notes: In this story Alice does not die.

Hello, this was a requested story, and I wanted to write it before posting the final old stories I wrote three years ago, sorry that I took three days to write this and that is not longer, but I will be honest, I divide my time between doing nothing at all or doing everything at the same time (that means writing, reading, listening to some music, playing something, watching a movie etc.)

I hope this is what you were waiting for @perfectartisanwerewolf ♥️

I hope you like it! ♥️

If you enjoy, could you comment, like or reblog? it would help a lot really ♥️

Taglist: @midnight-lestrange  @eliscannotdance

“We’re ok” Agatha announced after all of you had had to fly away from the Salem seven, it had been close, really close, all of you really needed to be more careful, you still were worried about those entities trying to get Agatha, she had told you that you didn’t need to worry about, but still, you didn’t want that something happened to Agatha.

“No, we’re not, the entire Halloween aisle’s outside waiting for us” Maybe Jenn was right, could they be really outside?

“Well it doesn’t look like they can get in, does it? All we have to do is complete the trial and continue on before they can get us” Her sentence seemed to calm everyone a little bit, Jenn seemed to relax a little.

“My spell book, I can’t find it!” The teen started to look inside his little bag.

“Where’d you have it last time?” Lilia tried to reason with him so he could think clearly.

“Flying on a broom” The teen sounded sad, so you went towards him and put your hand on his shoulder, you felt bad for him, you wanted to reassure him somehow.

“Forget about it, you can take the training wheels off” The older witch said to him still standing in front of the door.

The teen looked at you and Lilia with a sad expression.

“Hey it’s alright, Agatha’s right, you don’t need it, all of those spells that were on your notebook are also there inside your head, you know all of them, so don’t worry alright?” He seemed to understand because he quickly smiled at you and nodded.

Agatha saw the interaction with a smile on her face, she loved how you were be able to make everyone feel better; you knew how to cheer someone up, you could not only heal physical wounds, but also wounds that were not visible and that only hurt people emotionally.

You sensed someone watching you and turned to look at the direction where you sensed the gaze on you, Agatha was looking at you from her place, she was staring at you with so much love, she winked at you and smiled back at her.

“Look at you!” The teen suddenly said to you, you looked back at him and then at your clothes, noticing the style of the clothes that you were wearing, it was kind of like the ones in the slasher movies you liked to watch.

Looking back at the teen in front of you, you noticed his shirt and shorts as well, glancing back at the other witches you realized they were wearing the same clothing style, same thing that had happened during the last trials, you still wondered when would be your trial and what theme would it be, would it have a creepy vibe? With maybe a haunted house? Or maybe an abandoned house in the middle of a forest? A hill? You were excited to find out.

“You look like one of the teens from those eighties and nineties slasher movies” You had to tell him, if not you knew the idea would never leave your mind.

He took a glance at his clothes and then at the surroundings, he could not deny that you were right, all of you looked like one the main characters of a slasher movie set in the 80’s or 90’s, he remembered something so suddenly that he had to take you by your shoulders, you giggled before he even had the chance to say what had crossed his mind.

“Oh my god, y/n I have the perfect playlist for this!” You grinned and saw how he moved his hands to his sides, as if he was trying to find something, he pursed his lips and looked back at you.

“Right, I forgot, I don’t have my phone either” He sounded a little bit annoyed but smiled at the end anyway.

“You don’t even have pockets remember” you were right, he should have remembered that first.

Rio had heard your comment about the slasher movies and turned herself to look at him, she smirked and walked closer to the two of you.

When she saw you from behind, she noticed that you were wearing clothes that were similar to hers and her eyes looked you up and down, when she got closer to you, she passed her arms around your waist and pulled you closer to her, you instinctively rested your head against her chest.

The teen noticed the smirk on Rio’s face which only made him squirm, Rio scared him, her deadly stare made him grimace.

“Hey, she is right, you do look like a character in a slasher movie from the 80’s, you would be the first character to die at the start of the movie” She said to him while staring without blinking and on top of that, the smirk had never disappeared from her face.

You couldn’t help but giggle at her comment, slightly you patted her chest, the teen swallowed hard and blinked several times trying to laugh awkwardly.

“That is not something nice to say Vidal, don’t mess with him, you scare him” You said to her with a pout on your face.

“She does not scare me” The teen replied back, but Rio turned her head hastily at him and bit into the air, as if she was warning him that she could bite him, the teen jumped slightly.

“Maybe just a little” The dark-haired boy commented being wary of Rio.

“Don’t mind her” Was what you said to him while looking at him with a smile on your face.

“I think you would be one of the final boys that make it to the end of the movie” The boy in front of you seemed to think about it and nodded, he seemed convinced that he would actually be a final girl, and you didn’t doubt it, he smiled fondly at you, and Rio started to caress your back.

“Who would you think I’ would be in a slasher movie set on the 80’s sweetheart?” Rio asked you rising her right eyebrow.

You brought your hand to your chin and acted as if you were in deep thought, but of course, you already had your answer.

“You would be the killer, the killer everyone suspects but cannot actually prove it” You said out lout and the teen gasped.

“She is right, you would be the killer” You had not noticed that the other witches had walked towards you, they were already near you and were looking at you with small smiles on their faces.

Even if they did not trust Agatha at all, and were a little bit scared of Rio because of her antics, they find you really adorable.

In their minds they still could not comprehend how someone as sweet as you, who only used magic to heal people, was with the other two witches.

They still did not understand what a healing witch whose magic was as pure as the meaning of white lilies was doing with Agatha Harkness, former user of the darkhold and with Rio, the witch who did not care about anything and seemed to be so scary, the same woman who agreed on being a “psycho” with a big smile on her face.

Even if they did not comprehend it at all, they could see the way the two witches acted around you, and the way they treated you, they were soft with you, you were the only one that could see and had the privilege to see that side of them, you felt really lucky.

Rio turned her head back at the teen and tilted her head slightly.

“If I was the killer, you would be my first victim, you would not even make it to the second act” Your girlfriend said as if she was just saying facts.

“That is not right Rio, I am pretty sure he would be one of the few that actually makes it to the end” Rio cackled and you tilted your head to give her a disapproving look.

“Ah, fine, he would make it to the end” This deep down made the teen jump internally, it made him feel excited that she had admitted that.

Rio gave you a playful pat on your shoulder.

“Let me look for Agatha, we don’t want her to cause more trouble do we?” She winked at you and left your side.

Alice then came to stand next to the teen, with a curious look on her face.

“Who would I be in a slasher movie?” She inquired looking excited to know your answer.

Examining her carefully you came to the only conclusion that seemed accurate for Alice.

“I think you would be the main character, the protagonist who is tortured and stalked by the killer, because she was the only one who escaped, you would be one of the original final girls, the final girl who fights back, like Laurie Strode on Halloween” Her eyebrows were risen and nodded her head in understanding.

“Yeah, she is totally right, you would be a total badass” The teen agreed with you. Alice beamed with happiness and pressed her hands together.

“You heard that?” Alice asked glancing at Jenn and Lilia.

“I am not really a fan of horror movies, so I really don’t know what you are talking about” Explained Jenn and Lilia nodded her head in a way of showing she felt the same.

Smiling at them you started to explain everything “It’s fine, basically, the horror or slasher movies tend to have a series of “rules” that characterize them, one thing for the slasher movies is for example, that there is a killer-“

“Sometimes there are two killers” The teen quickly said.

“Or sometime yes there are two killers, who usually start their murder spree killing different characters, and the final girl is the character who makes it to the end of the movie and defeats the villain” You finished your explanation.

“Who do you think Agatha would be?” The teen inquired.

“I would say that because of her personality traits she would be the killer that no one suspects of, I mean she is smart, charming” The four of them nodded in agreement.

“And who would you be?” The boy asked you again.

“I would be the character who dies at the start” You simply said, and they all started to discuss that in fact that would not be true.

“I think you would be the character that everyone is attached to, like the character who is friends with everyone and who also everyone tries to protect, you know? also I can see how you would be close to the final girl and you would get extra protection” The teen said and put a finger on his chin, looking at you, analyzing you, you only smiled at him and shook your head.

“Is this how people really looked at the time? I mean, the clothing style, the vibe, all of it?” You wondered out loud and jumped when you felt someone hugging you from behind, you felt the arms of Rio pulling you closer to her.

“Yes, people actually dressed up like this” Agatha said behind you, and all of you turned to look at her, she had kind of a disheveled look, he hair up in a ponytail and the oversized purple shirt fitted her amazingly.

“Whose trial is this?” Asked the teen while looking up at the ceiling.

Rio looked at the window in front of you and you did the same thing, the blood moon could be perfectly seen since your position.

“Agatha’s” answered the witch holding you from behind, you were a little bit worried, so you turned your head to look at Agatha, she saw your worried expression and gave you a reassuring smile, it was a tad scary for her, but with you and Rio there by her side, she knew the trial would be easily passed, or at least, that’s what she hoped.

Hearing Lilia’s explanation about the blood money and the believe of a misconception she mentioned, everyone turned around to look at their beeping watches in their wrists.

“The road wants us to Ouija” The teen showed all of you the board, and everyone started to gather closer, then he proceeded to read the rules.

“Number two, do not speak over each other” And all the witches began to speak over each other, clearly not realizing what they were doing.

Rio and you heard clearly when Agatha demanded to be shown the rules to see if it actually said that and you couldn’t help but share an amused look with her,

Rio shook her head smiling and sticking her tongue out a little, you tried to hide your laugh but you couldn’t, Agatha realized who was laughing and she looked at you, you were next to her left and Rio was next to you.

“What?” Agatha asked with feigned innocence, and you just shrugged your shoulders.

“What is so funny doll?” Agatha asked again and came closer to you to caress your hair, you unconsciously leant into her touch, and let her guide you to rest your head on her chest.

“I love the way you look in those clothes” She commented dangerously close to your ear witch a husky voice.

“Not the time for that” You replied amused, you had to focus on passing the trial.

“Shall we start?” Agatha seemed to tense and you saw the way she started to swallow, it was obvious that she was nervous, the teen sat on the floor and the other witches started to do the same forming a circle.

“Hey, are you alright?” You asked her while she squeezed your hands, you felt the way she pulled you closer to her, and you happily leant into her touch.

“I will be alright, don’t worry” She said to you in a whisper.

“Rio and I are here for you, you know?” You replied back at her and she nodded with a smile in her face.

“I know, thank you, I love you so much” Agatha said near your ear and she pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Let’s get started” She said, you did not notice the way Agatha nodded at Rio, Rio understood and Agatha took your hand one more time to hand you to Rio, Agatha gave you one last squeeze and Rio took your hand in hers, the brown-eyed woman smiled reassuringly at Agatha and put her arm around your waist, she pushed you slightly and placed you next to her right, while Agatha sat next to you as well, leaving you in the middle of the two of them.

Everyone on the room put their hands on the board and waited for Agatha to start, when her hands got separated from the board you really got scared and quickly turned your head to look at Rio, she saw your worried expression and quickly mouthed a “Don´t worry” and smiled slightly at you.

“She´s scared” Commented Rio while you sighed in relief, for a moment you had thought your girlfriend had been possessed, Rio then patted the sit ordering Agatha to come and sit again.

“Do not do that, it was funny, but you got her scared” Rio said to Agatha and nodding towards you, while the blue-eyed woman sat back next to you and she gave you a shy smile.

“Sorry love, I thought it was funny” The older witch commented with an apologetical look.

Sighing you just shook your head and slightly bumped your shoulders against her.

“It alright, I just do not want anything to happen to you” Rio then looked back at her and nodded, she felt the same even if she found her little joke funny.

“Alright” The blue-eyed woman proceeded to place her hands on the board and everyone did the same, you were not going to lie, feeling the board moving so hard and faster made your heart beat in fear, you never had played it and it actually made you feel scared, but you knew you had to do it in order to pass the trial.

“Punish Agatha” Was what the board said and you quickly felt yourself getting tense, but before someone could actually understand what was happening you heard Agatha yelling at everyone to stop it and you were not sure what or how it happened but Agatha got her hands off the board and you panicked.

The scream that was all over the place, was so loud and it pierced you ears.

You saw her getting to the floor and she covered her ears just as everyone else did, but you were still worried of what could happen to your girlfriend since it was her trial, so you uncovered you ears not caring if the loud sound made your ears hurt and went to kneel next to Agatha to check if she was fine and did not have any type of physical wounds.

Agatha noticed your face contorted in pain, but her heart melted when she realized you were checking her to make sure she was not hurt, out of instinct she uncover her ears and made sure your ears were covered using her own hands, even in the middle of the chaos she still managed to show you how much she cared for you.

You were so lost in her eyes that you did not even notice when things calmed down, the scream could not be heard anymore and the things flying around the room were already scattered all over the floor.

“Is it over?” Your eyes stared to examine the room and the witches around you, getting closer and closer, what happened?

“Sorry y/n, but it seems like in order to pass this trial we have to punish Agatha” Jenn was looking right at Agatha, her gaze not darting somewhere else.

“There has to be another way” The teen said out loud and you agreed with him.

“Wait no! You cannot just decide that you are going to hurt her” You said to the three witches in front of you, your pleading eyes started to get glossy, they could not actually think that this was their way out right? Even if the ghost or whatever was wanted that, there had to be another way.

The teen looked horrified about what could happen, it was clearly they were not thinking clearly and with Rio walking faster towards the two of you, he panicked as well.

“I am sorry but you have to move” Jenn said with what you thought maybe, just maybe was guilty.

Alice was unsure, they were not actually going to do something to Agatha right? She looked at Lilia who had the same unsure look on her face.

Your pleading eyes with tears about to be shed made them feel unsure on what to do, they knew that you loved her and you would not be able to do anything to her, but what if that was what the ghost wanted them to do?

Before they got the time to get closer to you Rio appeared in front of the two of you and got her knife out of wherever she hid it, you were always amazed because whenever you saw her getting something out of her pockets or her clothes, you never really understood where she hid all of the things she carried with her.

“No one is touching Agatha, nor y/n” She said with a firm tone.

Agatha caressed your back and nodded at you, she gave you a reassuring smile and squeezed your hand.

“It´s alright, don´t worry, nothing is going to happen to me, ok” She pressed her forehead against you and you nodded, Agatha then stood up and came up behind Rio.

“Listen, we can talk about it and see what other options we have, let´s not get wild” She said trying to be reasonable, but then a sound was heard from your spot, and everyone turned to where the sound had come from.

“Where is she?” The teen asked with his eyes wide open, the witches started to turn themselves around looking for you.

“Sweetheart? Where are you?” Agatha asked out loud, and everyone started to move to different directions trying to see if they could catch a glimpse of where were you.

“We have to find her! She was right there and the next second she was not, how is that even possible?”  Your girlfriend Agatha started to panic, it was something weird when it came to her, being panicked was not a state she was used to, but when it come to you or Rio, she could not help but worry more than anything.

“Hey, look at me, we are going to find her, she could not have gotten too far” Rio reassured her and Agatha nodded, she was right, you could not have gotten too far.

They all gasped in unison when the lights went out.

“Hey, we were not going to actually hurt your girlfriend Agatha, just come out wherever you are” The potions which announced while she examined the room.

The teen started to look for something that they could use to get some light, and when he found a lamp, he looked pleased, now it would be easier to look for you.

“Hey, does anyone hear that” Lilia inquired and the teen felt something that had touched his shoulder, he visibly tensed and pointed the lamp towards the ceiling.

The scream that came after seeing you was inevitable, the other witches looked up as well and started to scream as well.

“Oh my god, what happened to her?” Jenn screamed and walked back until she hit one of the walls.

“Agatha get her out of the ceiling!” Alice yelled at her.

“I would if I had my powers!” Agatha yelled back; her face was full of worry.

“She is going to get hurt” Lillia declared while covering her mouth with her hand.

What they were not waiting, was that you jumped from the ceiling, landing with a hard thud against the floor.

“Is she hurt? Someone please check her!” Alice yelled again

“She is not y/n” The teen screamed when suddenly your body got up from the fall and started to contort your body, he squirmed and crawled back to try to protect himself from what he was seeing in front him.

“She is possessed for real” The teen was horrified, the look you had on your face was clearly not something he was expecting, he just hoped that neither of you would get hurt.

“Someone needs to grab her!” Someone in the back yelled, but due to everyone screaming the teen did not even recognize whose voice it was.

“No! wait, she could get hurt! No one is touching her!” Rio glanced menacingly.

“Then how can we help her?!” Agatha asked desperately, she came to place herself next to Rio, the two of them wanted to actually try and do something, maybe catch you and bring you to the center, but the way your body was contorting made them afraid that they could hurt you more.

“Oh my god guys, why are her bones sounding like that?” The teen screamed out of fear at the sound of your cracking bones, you were getting too close to him when suddenly your body for some seconds went limp and crashed against the floor, they were going to go and help you but after only some seconds your body stood up again crashing against the wall, Lilia was quick to get the power back and in a blink of an eye, you disappear again.

“Where is she? Where is she?” Rio looked several times around the room trying to see if you were again on the ceiling.

Before the withes could have more time to look for you, they saw something that looked like white fog forming in front of the stairs.

“That is a ghost, I hate ghosts” Rio said completely angered, Agatha was next to her looking at it with her brows furrowed, where had you gone?

What Agatha saw next made her gasp; her mother had materialized in front of them.

“Mother?” Agatha asked not believing what her eyes were watching.

A sound caught their attention and they looked up to see what was going upstairs, there you were, Agatha sighed in relief but after the worry could be gone, it took over her again, you were trying to stand up, grabbing your left arm with your right hand, you were crying, your sobs were loud enough for them to hear.

“What did you do to her?” Rio asked angrily taking a step forward, and Agatha did the same.

“You have to keep walking the witches´ road without her” The ghost of Evanora Harkness said to them.

Everyone gasped in shock.

“No way, we are not leaving her with you, she comes with us” Agatha said with a firm tone, never hesitating.

“Leave this girl with me, then you will be free to go” The ghost replied.

Lilia, Alice, Jenn and the teen looked at each other, they were not going to leave you there with her, and if they also needed to fight a ghost even if they did not how, they would do it.

“Taking one of the people I love the most?” Agatha laughed bitterly at the thought.

“There is no way we are leaving her with you!” Rio replied back at the ghost with a threatening tone in her voice.

“We are not letting her stay with her, you hear me? She is going to leave with us Agatha” Rio assured the blue-eyed woman.

“It is your time to pay for what you have done, you were born evil, you should not have a chance at love, I repeat, leave her with me, and you can go” Agatha clenched her jaw, Rio who was next to her was fuming, even if they wanted to do something, what could they do against a ghost?

You were crying, your whole body in pain, you were sure you were going to have bruises, you could not even lift your arm and you wondered if maybe it had been broken.

You heard everything Evanora said to her, that she was evil, but that was not true, Agatha was not evil, she was a misunderstood witch who did not have anyone to back her up and show her to control her powers, and even if you were in pain you would let your girlfriend know that her mother was not right.

“Do not listen to her Agatha, we know you are not evil, you are worthy of love” You managed to say between sobs, Agatha did not have time to answer to you, because her mother spoke again.

“I will not repeat myself” The ghost announced.

Agatha could not help the tears falling from her face, it was all her fault you were in pain, her own fault that you had been possessed by her mother, she was being punished for al the things she had done in the past, seeing you in so much pain was breaking he heart, Rio was so mad, it infuriated her seeing you and Agatha both in pain.

Before they could do something else, the ghost disappeared and they watch the way your body started to contort again, you came crawling down the stairs, the witches watched in horror.

“Leave her alone” The witch with the red strands on her hair pushed the teen, Agatha and Rio to the side, all of them saw Alice throwing her powers at you.

“Don´t hurt her!” Agatha shouted ready to go and push Alice away from you, but the teen and Rio stopped her, and watched they way your body return to your normal form, the paleness leaving your skin, and the white fog dissipated.

After some minutes Alice stopped, and you felt to the floor with a loud thud, you quickly started to groan in pain, trying to get up from the floor.

Agatha and Rio ran towards you to help you stand up.

“It hurts so much” You said to them still crying, Agatha could not take in how much pain you were, she did not want to hurt you more, but they needed to check your body.

“I know sweetheart, we know it hurt but we have to touch you to check your body alright?” Rio whispered to you in a reassuring way, it pained her too much too see you suffering.

They tried to help you stand up, but the pain in your body was too much, Agatha could see the bruises forming on your legs and on your arms, and seeing the way your arm had taken a really weird position, she knew it was broken.

“Baby, can you tell us where it hurts?” You heard Rio asking you, her voice sounded a little bit shaky.

“My arm, is what hurts the most” Yous said between sobs, you wanted the pain to stop, but you knew that even healing yourself was going to hurt a lot.

“I think… I think I can try to heal it but, but I am scared, it is going to hurt so much” Agatha turned her head to look at Rio, she closed her eyes, your sobs made her so hard to maintain a hard façade as always.

“Listen, we are here with you, we are not letting you go, you can take my hand and squeeze it as hard as you want, alright?” Agatha said before pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

Rio placed herself next to Agatha, the blue-eyed woman placed you on her lap, and Rio put her hands on your back, caressing you up and down.

The witches standing in front of you, could not also take the sight, the teen had to look away, he could not stand seeing you crying from pain, and the way your arm was positioned, made him feel uneasy.

Lilia was holding Alice´s hand, watching with glossy eyes, they could not believe that you were the one that had got hurt, Jenn wanted to do something to help you ease the pain, but nothing came to her mind.

 You clung to Agatha´s shirt, and focused hard on the pain you were feeling, Rio never stopped running her hands up and down on your back, trying to soothe you and waiting the pain would stop.

“Everything will be alright, you are going to be fine, we love you so much” Agatha said into your ear, you were trembling and she hated so much that she could not anything.

After several minutes of sobbing harder, you felt you arm getting back to its normal position, your magic had worked, the powers accommodating the bones, putting them in their normal place, Agatha was caressing your legs with her free hands and noticed the bruises disappearing.

With one final breath, you felt yourself relaxing, the pain going away completely, and when Agatha and Rio were sure you were not hurting anymore, a door opened, all of you looked at it.

“We passed the trial” The teen said out loud, they were relieved you had stopped crying, but felt immensely guilty for not have been able to do anything to help you somehow.

 “We have to go sweetheart” She squeezed your shoulders lovingly, and the two of your grilfriends helped you to stand up.

Agatha quickly pulled you closer to her, her left hand on your waist, Rio put her hand on your shoulders, afraid of letting you walk alone.

They started to walk towards the door to get ready to leave and go back to the road.

“Alice” Agatha called for her when she started to walk in front of you, she turned quickly to look at you and to the other two witches in front of her.

“Thank you, for saving her” Agatha said with a soft look on her face, it was sincere, Agatha sounded sincere for the first time since the have arrived at the road, and smiled at her.

“It is alright, you do not have to thank me, I really wish I had done more” Alice gave the three of you an apologetically smile.

“You saved me” You replied at her.

“It was more than enough, Alice” Agatha let her know, Rio gave her a nod and the shorter witch smiled, it was a big smile, she turned herself around and started to walk back towards the door.

The three of you were the last standing in the room right in front of the door that would take you back to the road.

Agatha made you stop and you looked at her, with a frown on your face.

“Listen, I, I am sorry, it was my fault, because of me, because of what I have done in the past, you got hurt, and, none of us could do something to actually help you, I feel so-“ You abruptly interrupted her.

“Don´t blame yourself please, it was not your fault, please stop blaming yourself” You wiped her tears out of her face before talking again.

“I would never blame you for anything, I am fine, we are fine, we passed the trial, I am happy nothing happened to you” Before you could continue speaking, you felt her arm wrapping you in a hug, she passed her arms around your waist and you heard her cry, she loved you with her entire heart, and she could not stop blaming herself, what if something worse had happened to you?

Rio went to place herself next to Agatha and started to caress her back before looking at you.

“Hey, it´s alright, I would never, really never, let anyone hurt any of you, I would break the rules for you, so you can rest assure Agatha, that I won´t let anything else happen to her, alright?” Rio knew what to say, because you felt Agatha getting relaxed and she sighed.

“We are going to keep an eye on you, we are going to make sure noting else happens to you, we swear” Agatha commented while looking into your eyes, and Rio nodded quickly.

Smiling at them, the three of you started to walk again, ready to face whatever would be next, Agatha and Rio let you in first, and it made you laugh, you were not sure what was going to happen, or if something really worst was waiting for you outside, but what you were sure, was that with the two of your girlfriends taking care of you, you would be fine, and that was alright, you knew that if anything happened, Rio and Agatha would be there for you, ready to fight against anything that would even just threaten you, so you smiled pulled yourself closer to them when you stepped outside of that place, Agatha came next to you and again she pressed her hand on your waist, and Rio put her hand on your shoulder, they started to guide you to the group that was waiting for you in the middle of the road, and you smiled, you were going to be alright, no matter what.

When you got closer to the group, they heard the leaves been stepped on by someone and they quickly turned their head to look at you, they all had smiles on their faces.

You saw the way the teen turned his body completely towards you and he opened his arms, the closer you got the more you noticed his puffy eyes, when you arrived in front of him, you quickly opened your arms as well and let him engulf you in a hug.

“Thank god you are fine” He said while the two of you slightly swung due to the teen moving to the sides, you giggled and separated yourself to look at him.

“I am fine because Alice saved me” You replied to him and realized all of the witches had come closer and were standing really close to you and the teen hugging you.

You looked to your left to see Alice wiping quickly one tear that was running down her face, and tried to act as if she did not want to cry, she quickly cleared her throat and saw how Lilia and Jenn were smiling at her, Lilia put her hand on Alice´s shoulder and caressed it lovingly.

You chuckled and walked closer to Alice until you were standing next to her, she looked up from the floor to look at you and she shrugged her shoulders.

“No big deal, it was what anyone else would have done, so we´re cool-“ Before she could continue talking you hugged her, your arms around her shoulders.

“Thank you so much Alice, you really are a protection witch, please never doubt that, you are amazing” Your words had touched her heart and she hugged you more, she nodded and when you looked back at her face you noticed she had left the tears ran freely down her face.

“Thank you y/n” Alice replied back at you.

“I am sorry I, I just let you there, in pain, I, I should have done something else, try to look for something to ease the pain but-“ You quickly took Jenn´s hands on yours, you knew she was not really keen on physical contact so you tried to respect that about her.

“It´s alright, you don´t have to be sorry, it was something that was out of your hands, I am grateful that you were able to save him and stop the bleeding, and that´s more than enough, thank you about that, we did not have the time to thank you for that” You said to her smiling, Jenn nodded and caressed the back of your hand.

“Can I get a hug? Everyone seems to love your hugs, I wonder what is so special about them” You nodded laughing and got yourself close to her to hug her, she always smelled amazingly, her perfume seemed to never actually leave her.

“Oh darling, I am so happy you are fine, I cannot imagine what Agatha and Rio would have ended up doing if something happened to you” Lilia pulled you closer to her after you separated yourself from Jenn, and you let her hug you while caressing your back, Lilia then took your hands in hers, and looked straight into your eyes.

“You are so important to everyone, do not ever let yourself think you do not matter alright?” She said to you with a firm tone, yet it was soft at the same time, you could only nod and your eyes filled with tears.

Agatha and Rio looked at the scene in front of them, and Agatha could only think that no one was going to let you get hurt, if for any reason Rio and her were not able to actually protect you, they knew they still had a coven that would do anything to try and protect you as well.

“It looks that you will have to start being kinder to them” Rio said to her with a smirk but she actually meant it.

“Shut up” Agatha said while pushing her slightly in a playful way.

“But you are right, we are a coven after all” Agatha commented while the two of them got close to you and placed each one of them to your sides, both of their hands on your waist.

“We still have to keep on walking, let´s go” Agatha caressed your back again, and while everyone nodded and continued to walk, you couldn’t help the smile on your face from getting bigger, maybe this would be the time for Agatha to start trusting in others, apart from only trusting in you and Rio, but you would still have a lot of time In which you would be able to help Agatha with that, right now, you still had a road to face, and you had never felt so safe and ready to face whatever that would appear.

After all, you had your girlfriends to take care of you, and a whole coven that now, looked after each other.

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

hiii i love ur fics idk if ur requests are on rn but can u do a short drabble of the tiktok trend where the guy hasn't ask his gf to be his valentines day so she "put him on sale" as a joke ofc but she's like

BF FOR SALE ($3.50)

- amazing cook

-crusty feet

- will buy anything u want

any character is fine but i would love katsuki or shoto!!

LMFAOOOO this is for sure the funniest ask ive gotten yet😭😭😭 this is so cute !! and very long overdue I apologize writer block devil was rlly kickin my ass😞 valentines been over but yk i had to write this ! i was rlly hesitating between writing for shoto or katsuki and then i realized i could write for BOTH OF THEM!! and so i did ! i tried honoring your request as best i could, hope you like it <3 !

no pronouns mentioned, pure tooth rotting nasty fluff, use of petnames (my love for shoto and sweets, babe and idiot (lol) for katsuki), katsuki is an asshat but when isn’t he, shy katsuki, shoto is a bit of an airhead, kissing, biting, reader is petty asl lol, lemme know if i missed something else !

todoroki shoto ♥︎

“yn, my love.”

“yes, shoto ?”

the corners of shoto’s mouth pull into a tiny frown at the usage of his first name. no baby, no hun, not even sho. just shoto.

“did i do something to upset you ?” he asks carefully from his spot at the foot of your dorm bed he seems to be stuck at, he can’t bring himself to move until he knows if you’re actually mad at him, and he has an inkling you are.

you look up at him for no longer than a second then look back down at your phone screen “what makes you think that ?” you question back nonchalantly.

“you posted something on your tiktok account..” shoto doesn’t have a clue how to have this conversation with you and it makes him a little nervous, he regrets not going to izuku for advice after all.

“mhmmmm~” you hum, urging him to continue knowing damn well you know what he’s going to say. you wanted to hear him say it himself.

you know shoto’s had no previous relationships before you so these type of things probably don’t mean as much to him as they do to you, but doesn’t everyone want their boyfriends to ask them to be their valentine ? you sure do, and your boyfriend hadn’t asked you to be his yet, so as petty as you know you were being at the time you posted the tiktok he’s no doubt here for right now.

shoto feels like a criminal on trial desperately trying to plead his case with you being the judge. tentatively, he asks “ you said you were..putting me up for sale ?”

immediately it’s like a switch had been flipped. you place your phone down onto your bed next to you, shoto wishes he could take your phone’s place. you cross your leg over the other and bring your hands together like a super villain revealing their master plan “yes. yes i did.”

“oh.”

silence. nothing.

shoto tried—he’s trying. he’s trying so insanely hard to make sense of everything that is you but he simply can’t. he breaks eye contact to think of more to ask but his attention is quickly pulled back to you when he hears you whine.

“uuuuughhh shotoooo~” you moan, throwing your head back against the headboard. “you’re not supposed to say ‘oh’ !” you’re face changes from grumpy to deadpan as you lower your voice slightly to try and mimic him. on any other day this would’ve made him laugh but he’s beyond lost at this point. he clears his throat before speaking again.

“ i don’t know what i’m supposed to say—or what i did for you to want to sell me.” he thinks “and for 3 dollars at that.”

you let out a laugh when you process his words and shoto’s shoulders magically feel lighter at the sound. carefully, he slides a little closer to the side of your bed so he can stand at your bedside. little by little. you pretend you don't notice.

"it's what you deserve for not askin' me to be your valentine."

the secret’s finally out and you get to see how the cog wheels in his head are starting to turn in real time, it has you holding back a giggle when he looks up at you like a deer in headlights.

“is that..why you were mad ?” you nod, humming out a playful mhmm

“ya really hurt my feelings you know ? to think my own boyfriend wouldn’t ask me” you clench your fist over your heart and fake sob dramatically.

shoto huffs out a laugh, relieved to see you’re not actually mad, and goes to sit down on your bed. he tentatively reaches for your hand and squeezes it twice when you let him hold it. before bringing it up to his lips and placing a sweet little kiss to it. it feels as if pop rocks are going off inside of you.

“ i’m sorry for not asking you to be my valentine.” he apologizes, his thumb absentmindedly rubbing your hand “ i was thinking i should’ve, but i didn’t want you to think it was weird since we’re already dating.” his thumb goes to run over your fingers “ i was worried me being too intense would scare you off.” he mumbles.

your eyebrows furrow, you lean towards him to make him look at you “ you wouldn’t scare me off, who told you that ?”

“kaminari. he said ‘coming on too strong scares away the babes.’ ” shoto quotes

you sigh. of course it was that bigmouth portable charger filling his head with this stuff.

you pull your hand out of his grasp and he looks up to protest but you grab his face in your hands before he can say anything, you can practically see him start melting at the contact as he blinks at you slowly, he reminds you of a cat.

“sho” you purr, rubbing his cheeks “ rule number one is never ever listening to kaminari’s dating advice. most of the time it is very wrong.” you explain.

shoto presses his mouth to the palm of your hand “yeah, i’m starting to regret that now.” he speaks into it, you snort. he leans in closer to press a sweet kiss to your lips and you reciprocate, pressing a few more kisses on his lips for good measure “ i’m really sorry for not asking you.” he says in between pecks. you hum in response to him placing even more kisses all around your face. “s’okay. i’m also kinda sorry for putting you up for sale.” you say, running your fingers through his hair while he places kisses on your shoulder.

he lifts his head up to look at you then, an eyebrow raised with an amused expression on his face “kinda sorry ?” he asks.

you nod “mhm. kinda sorry.”

he chuckles to himself, then gets up so he can climb into bed next to you. when he’s positioned how he likes it, with his head in your lap while you comb through his hair with your fingers, he sighs peacefully “well, it wasn’t all bad. i’m glad you think i’m a good cook.”

“what about the crusty feet ?”

“i’m choosing to ignore that part.” shoto smirks lightly to himself when he hears you laugh at his joke, clearly proud of himself for it. “and i will buy you anything you want, to make it up to you.”

“i don’t need you to buy me anything, sho” you roll your eyes with a lovesick smile “ all you gotta do is ask.”

he blinks up at you, looks off the the side as if he’s deep in thought, and suddenly gets off your lap to sit right in front of you. you never think you’ll get over how pretty your boyfriend is and being reminded of it with how close he is to you makes you flustered. he leans in to kiss you passionately and you don’t know if it’s the love he pours into it or the lack of air that has you so dizzy, you don’t dwell on it.

when he pulls away he’s looking at you like you hung up the stars in the sky and he simply, almost shyly smiles at you and asks.

“ will you be my valentine ?”

bakugou katsuki ♥︎

you did not expect katsuki to come barging into your dorm room five minutes after you’d posted your tiktok. the loud sound of someone banging on your door and proceeding to let themselves in seconds later causes you to let out a squeak.

in comes katsuki, phone tightly clutched in his hand and the moment his eyes zeroed on you he’s like a bull charging at a red flag. he stands right in front of you, angry frown on display before he shoves his phone in your face.

“explain this. now.” he growls, you have to hold back a laugh, keeping your face as calm as possible you look between him, his screen then back at your phone.

“what’s confusing about it ? i thought i was being pretty straight forward.”

his eye twitches. “why the hell did you put me up for sale ?! and for three dollars and fifty fuckin’ cents ?!” he exclaims, you can’t help the snort that bursts out of you, though katsuki doesn’t look as amused as you are.

“explain.” he deadpans.

“i think you can figure it out.” you shrug back.

he mutters insults to himself that you can’t catch “well obviously fuckin’ not, cus I wouldn’t be askin’ you if i did.” you simply shrug and look back at your phone. “i wrote it in the caption.”

it takes him a second to process then he’s tapping his password and opening the clock app at super sonic speed. his eyebrows furrow and you see him tapping away at his phone. his eyes widen when he reads your caption and he looks down at you with a mix of desperation and disbelief.

“you’re mad cus I didn’t ask you to be my valentine ?” your bratty huff and turn to the side as you shrug again is all the answer he needs. he looks at you for about 5 seconds longer then sighs.

he sits down on your bed and keeps staring. katsuki bakugou hates a lot of things and one of those things is you ignoring him. a warm hand on your ankle startles you and you can’t even ask him what he’s doing before your being yanked towards him. you squeal, almost missing the smirk on his face or the huff of laughter at your reaction. almost though, so you glare at him. katsuki looms over you until your noses almost touch, then you turn away with a huff. he chuckles, pressing his lips to your neck.

“ yer such a baby, y’know that ?” he mumbles, smirking against you neck. you huff but make no effort to shrug him off “ no i’m not, jerk. is it so wrong for me to want my boyfriend to ask me to be his valentine’s ?” you grumble, trying to ignore the feel of his warm lips against your skin, it’s not working so well for you.

“s’not what i’m sayin, sweets” he nips at your earlobe “‘m sayin’ ya coulda just told me ‘stead of bein’ a baby about it.” you can’t tell if this is his way of trying to apologize. either way, you don’t want to give in just yet.

“i’m not supposed to tell you to ask me to be your valentine’s katsuki, that’s not the point~ !” you huff petulantly. you feel a but childish but, c’mon ! it’s a given to have your boyfriend as your valentine and it wouldn’t hurt your demon spawn of a boyfriend to be a little but romantic once in a while.

he playfully rolls his eyes at you “see, what’d i tell you? big baby.” leaning forward he nips at your nose making you groan and trying to push him away with your palm. katsuki being the powerhouse that he is, doesn’t budge. “ i didn’t think to ask ya cus you’re already mine. so why should i need to ask something that’s a given ?”

your heart beats faster at his words and katsuki takes his chance when he feels you loosing up more and more. suddenly he’s got your wrists in his grip, holding them above you and looking down at you with that sickeningly handsome smirk. you’re almost there, he can practically feel it.

“i—i’m..still mad at you” you stutter out weakly, your defenses are down.

“yeah ?” he taunts.

“yeah. apologize.”

he scoffs, rolling his eyes lightheartedly “why should i apologize ? you said my fuckin’ feet stink.”

“ ah, ah, ah.” you tut “don’t put words in my mouth, i said your feet were crusty.”

“yeah, thanks babe. that makes it so much better.” he sasses, you laugh “and i complimented you ! i said you were an amazing cook !”

“yeah but that ain’t a compliment, ‘ts a fact.” he says matter of factly, you’re eyes threaten to get stuck at the back of your skull with how hard you roll them and he snickers.

he dives in and steals a kiss, and then another one when you don’t stop him. when he pulls away to catch his breath, ready to steal another kiss you stop him by placing your hand on his chest. he looks down at you questioningly and you give him a raised brow in response. he groans.

“fine. m’sorry” he concedes quietly

“foooorrr ?” you urge.

he narrows his eyes at you as if saying “don’t push it” but swallows his words down “ for not askin’ you to be my valentine’s or whatever the fuck” he shoves his now hot face into your neck and mumbles “now quit bein’ all pissed at me.”

you’re happy enough with that, so you wrap your arms around his neck, one of your hands creeping up his nape and into his hair. he sighs contentedly, clearly enjoying the attention you’re giving him.

“thank you. i’m also sorry for saying you have crusty feet.” hearing him scoff at the accusation makes you giggle “and for putting you up for sale.” he hums, happy with your apology.

“..kinda.”

“oi.” he warns. you giggle in response continuing your ministrations in his hair.

“you still haven’t asked me so..” you trail off. he lifts his head up to look at you with a blond eyebrow raised.

“ does this valentine shit really matter that much to you ?” he asks.

you respond immediately “yes.” nodding aggressively to make your point.

he sighs, shaking his head. he looks at you, then looks off to the side in embarrassment, he can be so cute when he wants to be. steeling his nerves he looks you straight in the eyes. fearless with fierce red cheeks and all.

“b-be my valentine, idiot..”

[brummiereader]

Binding Love (Part One/ Dark!Tommy)

Summary: After a morning of negotiations between lawyers, the day goes wasted when Tommy takes it upon himself to interfere in court proceedings. With your muddled intentions made clear, and your husband's declarations of love forcefully made known, a blazing row erupts between you both in the bustling streets of Birmingham. Will you ever be free from your husband's restraints? Do you even want to be?

Warnings: Dark!Tommy, language, violence, psychological mind games, controlling behaviour, toxic relationship, manipulative behaviour, psychological abuse, mutual pining, angst.

Word Count: 5K

Authors Note: For the purpose of depicting the manipulative behaviour of Tommy in the first part of this chapter, I've taken it upon myself to have radios become a common feature in cars before they were. We'll pick back up from the first scene again in the last chapter. The song playing on the car radio is called "Release Me" by Engelbert Humperdinck.

[Masterlist] [Trailer] [Main Masterlist]

" Please release me, let me go. For I don't love you, anymore..." the sound of your husband's humming voice accompanied by the taunting song and a sharp turn of the cars rumbling wheels on the gritted ground, jolted you from the daze your tired body had drifted into.

"Tommy...Tommy!" you began to frantically cry into the darkness, faced once again with the horrors sleep had dulled for you. A slither of light beaming through a crack in the rear headlights, the salty air of sand and kelp your only comfort to stop your racing heart from plunging you into complete obscurity.

"Tommy please! I'm...I'm sorry! I was scared...you were scaring me!" Your stifled breath wept with desperation as you begged for mercy before panic took over, and you succumbed to the tight enclosure.

Losing track of the countless halting stops, the speeding turns as Tommy's foot pressed down onto the pedal with determination. You had given up on trying to route your husband's destination and fallen into a weary haze of slumber. But with Tommy's clear attempt to awaken you, and bless his lonely thoughts with the beauty of your strangled cries, he had also awoken the searing panic within you once again.

How many hours had it been...fuck, how many hours had it been?! How much air was left?!, your frightened mind scrambled to make sense of the amount of time that had passed through the music loudly confusing any tangible answer you could come to.

" I can't breathe...Oh my god, I...I can't breathe!" your chest heaved in a frenzy, relenting to the alarming situation you had distanced yourself from as your hands searched to ground your body before you let what was left of your sanity slip into the terror your husband was hellbent on inflicting on you.

" Tommy! I...I can't breathe!" your hand flew to your chest as adrenaline coursed through the blood pumping furiously throughout your body. Every muscle reacting in a torturous plea for you to flee the inescapable.

" Maybe you should stop screaming, sweetheart" Tommy's voice rose above the music as a wicked smirk etched on the corner of his curling lips. His arm resting casually on the open window with a lit cigarette perched between his fingers as one would on a leisurely Sunday drive in the country.

" You bastard!" you snapped forgetting yourself, throwing the warranted insult his way as a low chuckle obnoxiously echoed back to you in response.

" And to think I put a cushion in there for you" he teased, if only to spur on the enticing game of cat and mouse he had become the sole player of.

" Don't say I don't do anything nice for you, eh?" a slither of irritation seethed at the end of his tongue for the chaos he blamed you for. For the cascade of selfish decisions you had made he blamed on the day's events.

How could you have done this to him, after all...no. After everything he'd lovingly done for you to keep you away from those that wanted to ruin what you shared.

" I hate you...I fucking hate you! I never loved you Tommy, just like your fucking song! I don't love you! Are you listening?! " your screams continued as you thrashed your limbs against the walls. Desperately trying to garner a reaction out of him as your lungs heaved for the stolen air, panic had snatched from them.

And a reaction you got, but one you'd be thankful to not have witnessed when Tommy shifted in his seat, loosening the collar of his shirt from the restricting pang of anger bobbing in his throat. His jaw clenching into a grating sound of teeth grinding on top of one another as the blue of his eyes eclipsed with a foreboding shade of coal at the lies you had spoken to scorch him. Lies he knew were only said to fool yourself into believing, rather than succumbing to the truth that your doting husband was, and always would be, the only man you would ever love.

You were just...tired. A knock to the head would make anyone confused, Tommy told the distasteful burn that had settled on his chest as the calloused pads of his fingers turned the volume up to drown out any more unwarranted admissions that would have him act out on the sting you had pierced him with.

"I'm warning you, eh? You hear me? One more fucking word Y/N, I dare you!" Tommy's voice loudly ordered with a shuddering tone of control as his eyes narrowed in on the road in front of him. His leather gloves snapping with a crisp creak under his curling fingers as they tightly grasped around the steering wheel. Tethering on the idea of stopping the car to an abrupt halt and dealing with you by hand.

Wiping the tears from your eyes, your trembling bottom lip steadied itself from any further statements you'd be a fool to make as the toying melody lulled your weeping body back into hopelessness. Your eyes drifting to the narrow rays of the sun fading with each passing minute.

Hovering your fingers over the dusting of light, you began to quietly mouth the tormenting lyrics of the song Tommy had chosen to accompany your long drive into the unknown as you let your body sink into itself.

Feeling a strangled cry build in your throat, one last frustrated thrash of your elbow against the side of the car boot had a flash of light searing into the darkness, causing your head to turn from the glaring brightness of the outside world now beaming into your enclosure.

" Shit, shit..." your head turned in a panic to see the back headlight gone, your pent-up hopelessness now your saviour.

Whipping your head back to the sound of your husband's toying lips whistling in tune to the song, your heart pounded rapidly against your chest as you waited for him to acknowledge his taillight skimming across the road. But when no reaction came, you tempted fate and slipped your arm through the open gap, frantically waving your hand in hopes somebody would see.

Hearing the rumbling sound of a car approaching, you pushed your arm further through the shards of glass as you desperately tried to alert its drivers' attention.

" No, no, no..." you cried, pulling away to see the car disappear into the fading sun, hurtling all despair back to you in a strangled muffle of cries.

Readying yourself for the burning sting once again, you pushed your bloody hand back into the sharp teeth of your only escape, forcing it through until your shoulder met the door of your prison one last time.

And that's when you felt it. The lock that had kept you captive for countless hours in the dark.

In for a penny, in for a..., your teeth bit down onto your wobbling bottom lip, dried with a layer of blood from the dripping gash on your forehead.

Steadying your heavy breaths from backing out, you pushed your thumb down onto the chrome button, committing to your escape and the horrors you would face if your husband caught you.

With a subtle click, the door effortlessly popped open as you pulled yourself up with shaky hands, throwing the weight of your body out onto the road without care to any car approaching or injury you'd likely sustain as Tommy's foot slammed on the breaks to a screeching halt.

" Now just where do you think you're going..." Tommy's eyes narrowed, the rolled cylinder of tobacco resting between his plump lips puffing a cloud of smoke with each quiet breathy observation as he flicked the wing mirror with his finger to see the reflection of you scrambling to your feet.

" Help! Somebody!" You screamed in horror as you ran barefoot along the gritted ground. Only a thin slip covering your modesty, Tommy hadn't given you a chance to conceal with his unexpected appearance that morning.

"Shit" Tommy huffed throwing the door open, discarding the burnt cigarette from his mouth as he bolted after your sprinting feet.

" C'mon darling, don't make a scene!" you heard his gravelly voice call after you as you dared to look back to see him chasing towards you with a malicious smile of amusement toying on the corners of his lips.

With no sign of life but the two of you on the long winding road, you took your chances in the bushy hedgerow, heading down the dangerous coastal path with screams of terror as Tommy stayed hot on your heels behind you.

But your frantic escape and pleas for help would go unheard among the thrashing sound of waves, leaving only the echos of the melody coming from Tommy's abandoned car in the middle of the lone country road, and the ticking of its blinkers counting the moments down until he caught you.

"Please release me, let me go. For I don't love you anymore. To waste our lives would be a sin..."

One month earlier...

"Shit, I'm sorry. I don't..I don't have any change" your cheeks reddened with embarrassment as your fingers fumbled with the small, empty purse. Not a single shilling nestled within its velvety padding. Not a single penny to your name.

"My husband wi..." you stopped yourself, feeling a fool to have even referred to him as such, that you were going to rely on him to settle your fare, knowing full well he'd find enjoyment paying on your behalf with the proceedings set to take place in a moment's time.

" S'alright, Mrs Shelby. On the house" the taxi driver nodded to you in the rear mirror with a bushy bearded smile. For he was not foolish enough to follow in suit with your slipping tongue and make the wife of the leader of the Peaky Blinders pay a sum so trivial it could see him costing a finger his profession deemed vital.

" Thank you, Jeffery. But after today I'll no longer be, Mrs Shelby" you stated, opening the car door to a gust of autumn air nipping at your cheeks, your heels stepping onto the cobbled street, that paved your way to the grand building where a judge would decide on your future.

Strutting into the towering structure, you held your head high as your heels loudly echoed along the marble floors. But as you pushed through the heavy court doors, your mustered confidence took a sudden blow when the room turned to face you and the man that would reside over your divorce proceedings, scolded you like a child in front of a class of their peers.

" You're late, Mrs Shelby" he looked past the rims of his glasses as your pace slowed in a desperate attempt to muffle your poor choice of shoes and the unwarranted attention it garnered.

"I'm sorry your honor" you apologised, shamed in front of everyone as you hurried past the set of blue eyes following your every step. His piercing stare roaming over your body from head to toe, to every curve your fitted dress accentuated. His head leaning into your musky perfume filled with notes of amber and vanilla that drifted past him in a gentle greeting as you took your seat next to your solicitor. The intoxicating smell enough to cause a breathy exhale of repressed want from his throat. Tommy.

Feeling the intent stare of your husband boring into your heated cheek, you whipped your head up from the documents between your painted nails to see Tommy leant back in his chair, admiring your choice of outfit from between the men of law that separated you. Why did he have to look at you that way? He was doing it on fucking purpose.

Snapping your eyes away, a screeching sound of a chair scraped along the floor, followed by the heavy footsteps of your husband approaching.

" Darling" he greeted, taking the opportunity to approach you and the tray of refreshments stood feet from your desk as the fumbling Judge lay out your weighty file in front of him with the help of his assistant.

"Tommy" you replied, eyes fixed on the documents in front of you, trying your upmost to shield yourself from the pull of his daily dose of sweet-talking.

Scoffing a chuckle, Tommy raised the glass tumbler of water to his grinning lips. Amused by the cold shoulder you were adamant on giving him.

"Quite the entrance. Was that little show all for me..." You suddenly felt the heat of his body next to you, his distinct cologne of tobacco intertwined with whiskey and soot filling your senses. "...eh?" he perched himself on the edge of your desk as he leant into your ear, his fiery breath sending a ripple of goosebumps down your neck as the beginnings of a cocky smile curled against your skin.

" No" you firmly stated, feeling the remaining surges of embarrassment making laps in your stomach as you raised your eyes to see the smug smirk of enjoyment plastered across his face. Did you do it for him? Were you still seeking his attention, his approval after all this time, after everything that had happened?

" You sure, sweetheart?" his brows knitted together, mischief twinkling in the corners of his creased eyes as his hand reached under the table, roaming under your dress until his fingers met the clasps of your garter and unclipped one.

"Hmm, such a tease" he chuckled to himself, feeling the sting of your hand slapping his fingers away. Toying with your emotions and the agreed boundaries he was unwilling to follow once again.

Whether it be to purposely play with you or sheer refusal to admit he was the one that had pushed you to this point. Tommy didn't care. For your husband would never abide by anyone, let alone follow life's rules that weren't from the beat of his own drum.

" Be seated everyone" the Judge ordered, bringing your racing heart down to a manageable speed as Tommy scooted off the wooden table onto two feet, adjusting his suit before reluctantly playing along to the six-month temper tantrum he believed you was having.

As the dreary morning of papers being sent back and forth between lawyers, of decisions over the custody of your shared child continued. Tommy made it his sole mission to find an issue with every suggestion raised. Addressing only you throughout the entire ordeal as his generously paid lawyer, buried his head in his hands with frustration.

" Mr Shelby" the Judge's voice rose above Tommy's interruptions as he wiped the bead of sweat that had settled on his temple. A huff of defeat in response to the insult that he, a man of his position, couldn't keep his courtroom and its sole troublemaker under control.

" Two Sundays out of the month, Y/N? I won't allow it, understood? Sunday is family time and we'll spend it together, whether you like it or not" Tommy rolled his shoulders, straightening the lapels of his suit jacket as the Judge desperately tried to bring order to the room.

"Why don't we go back home and end this fucking circus, eh? I'll make love to you, we'll take Elsie out for an afternoon with the horses..." Tommy trailed off into a tangent of things he'd rather be doing than sitting in the stuffy room he was currently forced to be in with a wigged man telling him what he could and couldn't do with his family.

"Mr Shelby, I beseech you" the Judge removed his glasses, peering at your husband's lawyer to keep control of his client.

" You really want to do this, eh? To our daughter? Y/N? Y/N?!" the last of Tommy's patience quickly evaporated as you snapped your head away from his bellowing voice to the window beside you, tears spilling over your cheeks.

" Mr Shelby!" The magistrate slammed his hammer down onto its wooden pillow as an exasperated sigh at the tiresome morning loudly left his throat.

Ignoring the resonating boom of the wooden hammer, Tommy rested his arm on the back of his lawyer's chair as he leaned in. Whispering his orders into his ear as his scorching stare stayed fixed on you.

Daring to challenge the piercing pair of eyes burning into you, you raised your head as your husband's lawyer approached the bench with his orders.

Gaze drifting up from his clenched fists, you were met with nothing but anger. Anger at your refusal to bring an end to the whole charade, for your unwillingness to let him back into your martial bed over a paddy he believed would fizzle out within a week's time. How had things gotten to this point? Or more precisely, what had your dear husband done to push you to this point?

" Proceedings are postponed until further notice" the Judge's damning words shocked you out of your husband's hold on your every thought as your eyes darted to your lawyer.

" All rise" the portly guard beside him announced as those present dispersed from the room, leaving you with darting eyes scanning the empty rows of chairs until they settled on Tommy, and the satisfied smirk he was maliciously sending your way.

"What did you do? Tommy! What did you do?!" you shouted, storming over to him as he rose from his seat. Unbothered by your fit of rage and the role he played in its sudden appearance.

"You're so angry all the time, darling" he replied, dismissing your questions as his hands snaked over your waist, playfully pouting down at your widening eyes as if the entire ordeal was nothing but a small spat between a married couple.

"You might wanna get that checked love, can't be good for you, now can it?" He continued to rile you up after getting his way as you pushed him off you, feeling fooled by your lawyers guarantee that not even your husband could bring a halt to court proceedings after the lengthy battle you had already fought to get this point.

Tears settling between your lashes, you shook your head in disbelief at another delay to your freedom as you ran from the courtroom and your husband calling your name.

" Y/N!" Tommy's voice bellowed into the chilly blue sky as he followed after your hurried steps down to the bustling main road of Birmingham's town center.

"Hey!" He grabbed hold of your hips, spinning you around to face him and the tears streaming down your reddened cheeks.

"Hey..." he hushed your cries as you clutched your arms around your body from the bitter breeze of winter slowly rolling in.

"Here" he pulled his black overcoat from his shoulders, wrapping it around your trembling body, you shrugged off the moment it's warmth enveloped you.

No matter what he did, you wouldn't let him in. Why wouldn't you fucking let him back in?!, Tommy thought to himself, throwing his coat on the hood of his car. Oblivious or rather, ignorant to how he had toyed with you moments earlier.

" Why are you doing this, Tommy? We agreed to this. You agreed to this!" a sigh of defeat had your head turning in frustration to the cobbled ground below you. A stream of tears following in tow.

"Forced my hand more like" his huffy response snapped back as he fished in his suit jacket for a cigarette.

Eyes cast down, Tommy's stare darted between your tear-ridden cheeks and the morning dash of men and women hurrying to their places of work as you both stood in silence.

"Hey, look at me" he cupped your chin, turning your head to face him as he shuffled from foot to foot with a breathy exhale. "We'll deal with this in private, alright?" his brows raised, only to be welcomed with your rolling eyes of skepticism on what the word private actually meant to your husband whose idea of a fair deal was only if he was the one making all the deciding factors.

"Y/N?" he waited on your answer, softly brushing a lock of hair from your cheek when his eyes caught the sight of a police car sat guzzling gas on the opposite side of the road, and the prick inside he'd learnt had been hounding you for months on the whereabouts of his colleague.

Jaw tightening, Tommy watched as the detective gave a two-finger salute before turning the wheels of his car into the road and driving off with a pleased smirk. A clear provocation to rile up the notorious gangster on a day he knew Tommy's reputable temper could see him snap given the right push, in the right direction.

" Y/N?" his attention flew back to you as he cupped your cheeks in his hands. " I don't want this" he held your gaze as the end of his cigarette sizzled inches from your cold cheeks.

" I love you" his stare intensified as he wet his lips, his hands reinforcing his words with a stern shake to your face. " I can't lose you. If you want me to change...fuck, I'll change, alright?"

" For god's sake Tommy, that's not...not what I want from you" You felt a surge of disappointment plummet to the bottom of your stomach at the empty promises you had heard countless times before. Hoping that for once, just once, he'd say something that could reassure you enough to put a stop to the yearning you had to reconcile without a shit load of regret following shortly after it.

"I was just keeping you safe, darling" his hands dropped to your arms, tenderly rubbing them within his palms.

" Is that what you want me to do? Pull back my men? Is that what this is all about, eh?" He continued with his refusal to acknowledge the lengths he'd gone to keep control over every waking moment of your day.

" You've given up on us, haven't you?" Tommy huffed at your silence and the reaction it had on his grating need to have your undivided attention at all times.

"Just know this is all on you, eh? Our daughters' parent's separated because of you. Great fucking example you're showing her, darling. Well done" Tommy shook his head, viscously switching his mood back to his bitter brooding over your lack of response, and the expected answer you were unwilling to give.

Your silence being enough to make clear where you stood on the matter, you turned to leave as his hurtful words settled in your chest. Burrowing down to your heart, to the pang of guilt you felt for the stress you was putting your six-year-old daughter through.

"Where are you going?" He stopped you from taking another step as he grabbed hold of your arm.

" Into town" you attempted to shrug off his grip as you watched the barrage of questions form behind his eyes.

" You need some money?" He slipped his burning cigarette between his lips as he pulled out a bundle of cash, flicking through the notes.

" No" you huffed, folding your arms away from him as a wave of embarrassment that you didn't have the money for a taxi fare, let alone a trip into town without your husband giving you your weekly pocket money, scorched you with humiliation.

" Why not?" Tommy's brow furrowed as he threw his cigarette to the ground. " Y/N, why not?" His question turned into an urgent demand to know what had you needing to walk into the city for something he could get one of his men to fetch for you.

Fuck sake, you sighed to yourself, feeling the familiar tone of interrogation seeping though his questions. You just wanted space, space away from the house you still found yourself sharing with him, from the constant reminder of happy memories spent together, from him, from him and his fucking need to know your whereabouts every hour of every second of the day.

"You have someone else paying for this outing into town, is that why you don't need my money, eh? Tommy's paranoia started to turn it's ugly head into an onslaught of never-ending questions.

"Going on another fucking date, hm? Like you did with that pig" his grip tightened, releasing his pent-up anger out on your reddening arms as he glared at you with eyes burning with enough fury to heat your face.

" It's was a friendly dinner..." You sighed with frustration at his inability to stop himself before he pushed you further away with words intended to hurt.

" You meeting someone, Y/N? You fucking somebody, eh?" His voice rose, letting go of the little self-restraint he still possessed as he abruptly pulled you into his body.

" Why you doing this to me, hm?" His voice suddenly softened into desperate pleas anyone would think was an end to his anger. But his tight hold on your body as his cheek pressed against yours, the sound of his gritted teeth grinding together against your ear, enough to tell you otherwise that his fury was seconds away from bubbling over.

" Tommy stop...enough!" You managed to push him away as you turned to leave, refusing to withstand another second of the man that had replaced your once doting husband.

" You won't get rid of me that easily, darling! I won't let it happen!" His voice bellowed into the soot filled air, garnering the attention of those within ear shot. "You marry a Shelby, you stay married! You hear me?! You stay, fucking married!"

" Fuck!" His hands slammed against the door of his car as his lawyer nervously approached, announcing his presence with the clearing of his throat.

" What?!" Tommy's head snapped back to the fumbling man with a file of papers requiring his attention.

" See that those get lost" Tommy's demeanor quickly simmered, keeping the only document that held any interest before piling the rest into the arms of his lawyer.

Sinking into the driver's seat, his true intentions, written in the words of his solicitor, found their way into the glove box as one of his men slid into the passenger's side.

" What's the plan boss?'" the peaked soldier questioned, his voice drowning out into a distant muffle of unintelligible words as Tommy's eyes followed you walking along the cobbled path. His fingers hovering over the ignition, ready to leave when you turned back to look at him with locks of hair dancing in front of your eyes, cheeks rosy red from the chill that had settled over the foggy city. The sight twisting an unbearable urge within him to have you walk back to him, to have you back in his arms.

Were you coming back to him?, Tommy waited, a breath of anticipation catching in his throat as you stood from afar before the ends of your dress turned with a gust of wind, pushing you around the corner out of sight.

" Boss?" The peaky asked, waiting for his orders as his hand rested on the handle of the door.

" Follow her"

" Fuck..." you stifled the steady flow of tears trickling down your cheeks as you darted into a narrow bricked path behind a row of shops. A face as famous as yours was, and would always be a topic of conversation, even more so with a set of tears covering it.

How had it come to this? Was it after the birth of your daughter? No, no, before then? When you was dating?", you plagued yourself with the same frequency of questions your husband tired you with.

No matter how many questions your weary thoughts tormented you with, the truth was, you couldn't pinpoint when your marriage fell apart. It had happened slowly, small changes gone unnoticed. And then, in true Tommy fashion, accelerated to a point where the ignored had become glaringly obvious.

Yet still, wrenching pangs of yearning had you feeling like you couldn't live without him as long sleepless nights dragged on. The heat of his body absent from under the sheets of your martial bed. He was all you had ever known. And he knew it. He knew it.

"You'll pay privy to his crimes when I finally get him, Mrs Shelby. You and your daughter" a voice snatched you from the beckoning memories of your husband's arm wrapped tightly around your waist.

" Leave me alone" your eyes snapped up as you blinked your tears away, pulling yourself from the detective that had tracked you down for a second time that week.

" You're making a mistake" he caught your arm, forcing you to face his insistent inquiries into your husband.

"For the last time, I don't know anything. Now let me go" you echoed the countless responses you had already given.

One dinner had landed you not only at the brunt end of Tommy's raging anger, that you had dared to entertain someone of the opposite sex that was neither blood nor bound to you by marriage, but the watchful eye of your date's colleague, adamant on finding what he believed would be his partner's dead body, murdered at the hands of your husband after a fit of jealousy.

" I can offer you protection, away from him. All you have to do..." He slipped his details into your hand before you abruptly put an end to his concerns for your safety.

" I said, leave me alone" you pulled his hand off you, tired of being man-handled, of being expected to appease every living fucking creature of the opposite sex.

"You'll be next, Mrs Shelby. Mark my words!" He shouted to you as you drifted back into the bustling streets, his words leaving a harrowing sense of dread tightening around your throat as you shoved his card within the warmth of your pocket.

" Tommy doesn't share his toys!" The last of his warnings rang back to you as you leaned against a lonely lamp post, steadying the weight of your body against its metal frame when the world you were trying to flee from appeared in the corner of your eyes in the form of a peaked cap soldier watching from afar.

In sickness and in health, until death do us part. Would you ever be free from the binding love that had chained you together? Or would fate echo the words of your shared vows spoken on your wedding day?

Next Part

Tag list: @peakyswritings @justrainandcoffee @garrison-girl-08 @meadows5 @lavender-haze-01

@strangeobsessed @ttae-yong @lemonwithstupidity @lindsay00000 @mischievouslittlecreature

@jbrownta @lau219

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Squeak Clean 2

Warnings: non/dubcon and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Steve Rogers

Summary: You start work as a maid but you’re not prepared for the mess your client brings with him. (maid AU – plus!reader)

Note: yeah…

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You’re about done. You just need to take the trash out to the bin and pack up the last of your things. As you wind the cord around your vacuum, a throat clears and draws your head around. You crane to see Steve watching you from the doorway to the kitchen. 

“Oh, just finishing up,” you say as you hook the cord to secure it and stand. 

“No problem. I was actually gonna ask if you wanted a snack,” he says, lifting his arm to lean his elbow on the doorway. You stop yourself from frame your hips, letting that knot in your lower back linger. 

A snack? You hesitate. You’re not bothered by your size or the assumptions people make about it. Still, you can’t help but be reminded of the extra cushion. You’re sure he didn’t mean it that way but it’s not really necessary for him to feed you. You bring your hands forward to fold them against your stomach. 

His eyes follow the movement and he blanches. His cheeks tinge pink and he blinks furiously, “wait, I only—I'm just being... nice. Sarah Rogers raised me right, you know? Not right to have someone in the house and not offer.” 

“It’s fine. I’m not a guest. I’m a cleaner,” you assure him and turn to grab the vacuum, dragging the wheels lightly off the carpet. 

“Sorry, if--” 

“No need. I’m not offended. Not hungry either.” You roll the vacuum to the front doorway and cross the room again. You approach him and slow, waiting for him to get out of the way, signalling with your eyes that you need to get past. “Excuse me.” 

“Oh, uh, yeah,” he drops his arm but brings it back up to comb his golden hair. “How about water?” 

“I keep a bottle in my kit.” You assure him as you search out the bucket.  

He stands awkwardly by the door as you heave it up and carry it through to the front room. You put it with the vacuum and return one last time to the kitchen. You open the bin with the pedal but before you can uncurl the edges of the liner, Steve is right there. 

“Here, it’s pretty full. I’ll take care of it.” 

You back up if only to get space. You don’t like how easily he crowds you. You can’t tell if he underestimates his own size or yours. 

“That’s what you hire me to do,” you say. 

“Sure, but it’s one thing,” he lifts the bag out and ties it. 

“Right,” you agree. “I suppose then, I’m done for the day.” 

He lowers the bag to hang from his hand. He smiles at you. “You did a great job.” 

You arch a brow, “thanks.” You’re not sure if it’s normal. Zuli said you wouldn’t have to deal with small talk, well, she was wrong. Figures she’d lie. She never really stops talking. Maybe she should take this one. “I’m going to go.” 

He nods, almost as if he’s disappointed. “I’ll walk you out.” 

“Sure,” you shrug. 

You spin and stride away. You haul up the bucket and latch onto the vacuum. He comes closer again and before you can dodge him, he has a hold of your kit. You want so badly to rip it away. Didn’t he pay for a cleaner? Why is he trying to do everything himself? 

You don’t react. You push it all down and head for the door. You put your shoes on and grab your sweater. You head outside and he follows you. You have to keep from running to your car. The weight of the vacuum helps slow you. 

You open the trunk and lift in the vacuum. Not quick enough. He puts the trash bag on the curb and comes up to place the kit in the trunk first. He then lifts the vacuum and angles it into the car. You suck in a sigh. 

It must be something programmed into him. He is a hero, after all. He can’t just sit back and let others do the dirty work. Even to a lowly cleaner, he needs to be a saviour. 

“Thanks,” you mutter again. 

“No, thank you,” he takes a step back and searches around, “uh, drive safe.” 

“Mhm,” you nod again. “I’ll try.” 

You turn and walk up the driver’s side. You feel him watching you. You’re not the most socially graceful creature on earth. Graceful in fact is not a trait you possess in any manner. Blunt would be a better descriptor. 

You get in the car and shut the door. It doesn’t help cool the heat on the nape of your neck. You buckle your seat belt and glance in the rearview mirror. He’s still there behind you. Watching.  

You want to assume there’s some logic behind his strange behaviour. He must not be used to having people in his space. If it was you, you’d rather just clean your own place than let someone else poke around. You’re sure you have a lot less to hide than Captain America. 

You turn the engine. The rumble seems to jolt him into action. He moves away and grabs the trash bag. You flip your signal on and check your blind spot. You try to see around the cars behind you. 

You peek over again as Steve nears the bins against the brick of the townhouse. He pauses as he drops it inside and waves at you with another grin. You wonder if he rehearses that suburban hero act. It can’t be real. 

You pull out and shake your head. A job isn’t supposed to be enjoyable and rarely is it easy. You can tell already that while the work itself isn’t complicated, dealing with your client will be anything but simple. 

[amiableness]

not a request per se but something i started thinking about when you said you were bringing back dad!james. i feel bad for Henry’s mom because being a mom at 20 sounds so hard. i’m 20 right now and i can’t imagine taking care of a child. i want her to get a happy ending but i’m also thinking about her running into james and darling with henry, being the family she couldn’t give them. i feel like that would sting, like even if she is content with her life and doesn’t regret her decision to leave it would still hurt that her fears about y/n and james came true after she left. i can’t imagine having a baby with a man who’s been secretly (even subconsciously) in love with another woman. like i hope that henry’s mom can eventually be on good terms with james and y/n and even be apart of henry’s life, even if it isn’t in a parental capacity

also hi elina! hope you’re doing well and taking care of yourself

hugs and kisses- m

Dad!James Potter x Bsf!Reader ☼ 776 words

my darling m! i picked this request next bc i saw it was from you! series masterlist ; main masterlist

“I think we’ve gotten everything.” You mutter to yourself as you review the shopping list, noting the blend of your handwriting and James’s. It’s a small detail, but it still makes your heart skip a beat. Though it’s only been a few months since you and James started dating, the sense of being a family feels natural. It might seem quick to some, but with you and James, it simply feels right.

“We forgot biscuits.” You glance over at Henry, who is gripping your hand tightly and nodding enthusiastically as if what he’s just said is sheer brilliance.

“Did we? I didn’t see that written down.” You hum, peering into the trolley filled with groceries, sorting through the items mentally.

“Daddy probably forgot,” Henry chimes in, sending you a cheeky grin. “He forgets them a lot.”

You laugh softly at Henry’s comment about James, the warmth of his words brightening your mood. “We’ll get them,”you agree, your voice playful. “But only as a treat for your lunches. I can’t believe you start your first year of school next week.” 

There’s a squeak of wheels, and you turn your head, curious about the sound. To your surprise, you’re met with the wide-eyed gaze of a woman about your age, staring at you with a look of disbelief. Your stomach knots as you realize who she is: James’s ex and Henry’s mum.

“Hi.” You say, the word feeling awkward as soon as it leaves your lips. You immediately wish you could take it back, knowing there’s a good chance she might not want to engage with you right now. Her eyes dart between you and Henry, and she seems momentarily at a loss, opening and closing her mouth as if searching for the right thing to say.

“Um, hi.” She finally responds, shifting uncomfortably on her feet. Her gaze is filled with a mix of curiosity and hesitation.

“Mummy, who is that?” Henry asks, tugging insistently at your hand to get your attention. His innocent question hangs in the air as you look down at him, your heart sinking at the uncomfortable tension.

Glancing back up at her, you open your mouth to respond, but the words seem to elude you, leaving you in an awkward silence.

“I’m just an old friend,” She speaks up, sending you a quick glance. “I went to school with your mum and dad.”

Henry looks up at her with wide eyes, absorbing her words. “Oh,” he replies, his curiosity momentarily satisfied.

“How is—” She clears her throat, her eyes briefly filled with a hint of regret as she glances back down at Henry. “How is James?” 

To distract Henry, you hand him your phone, and his face lights up with excitement at the chance of playing a game. You didn’t let him play games on your phone very often.

“He’s good,” You smile softly. “He’s a bit emotional. Henry starts school next week.”

“Oh.” She murmurs, her voice soft and tinged with a note of hesitation. For a moment, you brace yourself, worried she might become upset. But then she continues, her eyes meeting yours with an earnest look. “Listen, I know I have no right to say this anymore, but I want to thank you. For doing what I couldn’t and bringing happiness to both of them.”

She takes a deep breath, her gaze flickering to Henry, who is absorbed in the game on your phone. “It’s obvious you’re doing an amazing job,” she says, her smile carrying a mix of sadness and sincerity. “I don’t even need to see James to know he’s happier than he’s ever been. All he’s ever wanted is you.”

She offers you a soft, understanding smile, and you swallow hard, fighting back tears. “I don’t even know what to say,”you admit, your voice trembling slightly.

“You don’t have to say anything,” she says, her voice thick with emotion. “I know James and I didn’t part on the best terms, and I said things I shouldn’t have. But I want you to know that I’m truly glad he has you, even though I didn’t feel that way at the time.” She offers a tearful smile, her eyes glistening. “You make a beautiful family.”

You barely manage to choke out a response, wishing her the best, before she turns and walks away down the aisle. Left standing there in shock, you feel Henry’s curious gaze on you. He looks up as he hears your soft sniffle.

“Are you sad, mummy?” He asks, his voice filled with concern.

“No, sweetheart,” you reply, managing a gentle smile. “I’m alright. Let’s go find some biscuits for you.”

please consider reblogging or leaving a comment! it keeps me motivated to write! 💌

[liberty-barnes]

you will not always want to shatter

Arthur Leclerc x Female!Reader

Part 2

Summary: When Arthur has a bad day, an unexpected person makes everything a little better. (When retelling this story to his brothers, many things will be left out) 

Warnings: mentions of workplace bullying (in the sense of people being dicks to Arthur cause he's not Charles), hurt/comfort, mentions of mature themes for like 2 lines, texts

Word Count: 3.6k words

Estimated Reading Time: 16 minutes

A/N: "A man is never as hot as when he's depressed." -Miah, 2025

Sebastian Vettel cameo because I love him. Also, reader is connected to the world of motorsports but I won't tell you how because where's the fun in that? You'll have to read to find out ;)

Title from Shelby Leigh's book girl made of glass

Masterlists | Formula One RI Masterlist | Taglist

Why do bad things happen to good people?

Or, more accurately in this instant, why do good things happen to bad people making the good people suffer because the bad people are fucking di–

A knock on his car window brought him out of his self-pity spiral, making him raise his head from the steering wheel. Only to come face to face with a stranger, which… what?

Because he has no survival instincts (Lorenzo would probably yell at him for it when Arthur told him this story later), he rolled down the window.

“Um, hi?”

The stranger smiled. Later on, when retelling this to Lorenzo, he’d say she smiled in a cheery way, not a psychopathic way. Or a creepy serial killer way. Just in a normal, friendly way.

“Tough day?”

Arthur squinted, taking in her cheery smile, kind eyes, and graphic t-shirt with the quote “women are born to serve men”... with a man’s head on platter. Okay, so maybe keep that detail out of the retelling. But one thing was true, she looked… familiar.

“Sorry, do I know you?”

She pursed her lips.

“I don’t know, do you watch a lot of porn? Try imagining me with my top off, see if it rings any bells.”

He spluttered, feeling his face grow hot. There’s no way. There’s actually no way he came across a porn actress and recognised her. He doesn’t even watch it that often, and his memory’s not that good, so how–

A snort stopped his panicking.

“Heavens, you should see your face! Calm down, pretty boy. I’m your neighbour, flat directly in front of yours.”

When retelling this story to Lorenzo, he would definitely keep this out. He glared at her, seeing the cheeky smirk still on her face.

“That wasn’t funny.”

“It was a little funny.”

He sighed and leaned his head against the headrest, eyes suddenly growing heavy.

“I’m sorry I didn’t recognise you, I probably haven’t been the most cordial neighbour, but I travel a lot for work and–”

She cut him off with a gentle smile.

“I know, don’t worry about that. This is Monaco, in case you’ve forgotten. I know who you are, Arthur Leclerc.”

Right, he should’ve thought of that.

“Oh, I’m sorry, did you want a picture?”

She rolled her eyes.

“I’m surprised you fit into that helmet of yours with how big your head is. No, Arthur, I don’t want a picture. I came here to see if you were okay cause you were banging your head on the steering wheel so hard I was afraid you’d give yourself a concussion. I can’t let you die, the whole nation would be in shambles.”

He felt a small smile creep in.

“How thoughtful, very patriotic.”

“I know, right? Now come on, get out of the car, I was gonna bake cookies so you can come in and have some.”

He straightened up in his seat.

“Oh, that’s okay, I don’t mean to be a bother–”

“Out of the car Arthur, don’t make me count to three.”

For the record, he got out of the car because he wanted to, not because she told him to. Although, the bright smile on her face was a nice reward.

“Don’t forget to lock the car.”

—

“Um… What is that?”

She hummed noncommittally, setting her shopping bag on the kitchen counter. 

“What’s what?”

He pointed at the four-legged thing sniffing at his shoes.

“This thing, it’s getting close to me, is it gonna bite me?”

She finally turned around, only to laugh softly.

“She is my cat. Her name’s Circe. Don’t worry, she won’t bite you, she’s a sweetheart.”

As if to prove her point, she picked the cat up and nuzzled it to her face, making soft cooing noises.

“Gonna make friends with the neighbour, Ceecee? Think he needs some good cuddles to get rid of the bad day he had.”

The cat simply purred and licked at her nose, bumping their heads together over and over again.

“Go sit on the couch, Arthur, come on. You can put your jacket on that hanger, shoes go next to the door.”

He did as told. Mostly because he didn’t see the point in arguing, a little because she seemed particularly pleased whenever he did as she said.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

“I didn’t throw it.”

He rolled his eyes, coming to sit on the surprisingly comfortable couch. It felt like a cloud. He could definitely fall asleep here.

“That’s not what I meant. Can you tell me your name?”

She moved over to him, cat still in her hands.

“I can, but what’s the fun in that?”

She set the cat down on his lap and he held his breath, waiting for it to attack.

“If you don’t tell me I don’t know what to call you, also, I’m really more of a dog person.”

The cat moved around a bit and lifted her paws one after the other, like she was trying to test whether or not his lap was an acceptable resting place.

“Everyone’s a cat person, even if they say they aren’t.”

“Are you quoting Sebastian Vettel but comparing your cat to Ferrari?”

She shrugged.

“It’s a good quote, also, she likes you.”

The cat had her front paws on his chest, raising herself up until she could reach his lips with her nose. It felt a little like she was sniffing at them. Then she rubbed her cheek against his jaw, once, twice, and a third time, before curling up into a ball on his lap, purring away.

“Oh… That’s kind of nice…”

The vibrations were quite soothing. He hesitantly brought his hand to her fur, a mix of orange, black, and brown, with a couple white spots here and there.

“She’s so soft…”

Circe flipped onto her back, curled into a C shape, front paws in the air, giving him full access to her belly. When he caressed it, hesitantly again, the purring got even louder.

“Try under her chin, it’s her favourite spot.”

He did as told once again, taking one finger and running it back and forth under her chin, seeing Circe’s eyes flutter and her whole body going lax.

Despite having been privy to Max and Charles’ conversations over the years, particularly the Dogs Vs. Cat Debacle that starts up again every other week, Arthur has never understood Max’s love for the creatures. 

He most certainly does now.

When telling this story to Charles, he’ll leave out that part. Arthur was a patient man but even he didn’t have the strength to reassure his brother that Leo was cuter and fluffier for the hour it would take Charles to stop feeling betrayed. Especially because he’s not sure he’d be very convincing.

Five minutes with this cat and she had him wrapped around her finger. He’d be worried if he wasn’t having such a good time.

“So, wanna tell me what had you contemplating death by steering wheel?”

It seemed that while he’d been letting Circe work her magic on him, he’d failed to notice the woman moving towards the kitchen. She stood in front of the kitchen island, ingredients spread all around her (which, how long was he distracted?), and with her eyes focused on a battered old notebook. The open plan of her kitchen and living room meant they were able to communicate perfectly fine, and suddenly, he wished they couldn’t.

“Oh, um, you know… Nothing important, really, just me being dumb…”

He kept his eyes on the cat, soothingly running his hands over the soft fur of her stomach once again.

“Arthur…”

He hummed.

“Arthur, look at me.”

It’s crazy how following her instructions became almost automatic to him not even thirty minutes after they’d first met. He should look into that. Maybe she was a witch.

“Anything that makes you feel bad is important, your feelings are important, and I want to listen to them even if it’s because of something you deem dumb. But for what it’s worth, I highly doubt it will be.”

He kept his eyes on her, searching them for any trace of insincerity, but found nothing but honesty and empathy.

“Do you understand, angel?”

He felt his cheeks flush at the casual pet name, but nodded nonetheless.

“Words, Arthur.”

“Yes. I understand.”

Maybe he wouldn’t tell this story to either of his brothers at all because having to explain why his voice broke and he felt breathless was not something he felt prepared to deal with.

But the soft smile on her face really was making him forget how to breathe.

“Good. Now tell me what’s wrong, yeah? It’ll make you feel better.”

“You don’t have to listen to me, I don’t wanna bother you, you’re doing enough as is.”

She stopped, lifting her eyes to him, bag of sugar held in the air as she was preparing to measure it.

“You said it again.”

She squinted her eyes.

“Said what?”

“Bother. Before it was burden. And apologising for not being a better neighbour. Someone made you feel like you’re not enough, while also being too much at the same time. A subpar human and major annoyance. Am I right?”

He shrugged his shoulders, hoping she wouldn’t make him answer the question. But she seemed to sense his discomfort, because she didn’t ask him to speak this time.

“Well, whoever it is, they’re wrong. You’re not a burden, Arthur. Listening to you would be my pleasure, even if it’s for some petty thing. Get it off your chest. I promise I won’t judge or think you’re too much to handle.”

He looked at Circe, who had taken to licking his hand repeatedly. He felt flattered to be let into such a sanctuary, and to be blessed with such a wonderful creature’s attention.

“I had a promo event this weekend. I don’t know how much you’re aware of how things work in motorsports, but basically, even though I don’t drive for them directly, I’m still a part of Ferrari’s team. I help develop the cars, and occasionally do these little events for fans or other people in the business. Just regular media stuff.”

Even though she wasn’t looking at him, focusing on making the cookies, he could tell she was paying close attention to his every word.

“So, I was supposed to spend a weekend in Maranello, mostly doing sim work, but then I had a meet and greet with some fans. The sim work didn’t go great, I was paired up with another driver who’s just… young and arrogant, to be honest. He kept trying to undermine me in front of everyone, but it didn’t seem to have worked very well. I was… truthfully I was a bit angry, because he got such a great opportunity, and he was just using it to try and pretend he was smarter than everyone, like he knew everything, trying to get ahead at others’ expense.”

This time, when she tapped the egg on the counter’s edge to crack the shell, it shattered completely from the force she put behind it.

She blinked.

“Oopsie.”

She didn’t look the least bit sorry.

“Continue.”

“Right… Well, um, he was still with me when we went to meet the fans, and it was going pretty decently. We were signing a bunch of things, taking pictures, saying little fun facts about the factory, just the usual. And then he noticed that one of the fans had a picture of my brother on her phone case.”

She hummed.

“Lorenzo? Yeah, I can see why, he’s quite handsome.”

He let out a breathy laugh, feeling himself relax slightly at her attempt to lighten the mood.

“Unfortunately, the general population much prefers Charles. But yeah, she had a picture of him on his phone case and the guy pointed it out. He said ‘I  hope you’re not too disappointed to have to see Arthur instead. He’s like the Wish version of Charles, cause you just wish he was his brother’.”

He heard her inhale sharply but didn’t remove his eyes from Circe’s fur.

“I laughed it off, you know, pretended it was a funny joke between friends, but… I don’t know, it’s stupid. It’s not like he was wrong, he just said what everyone else was thinking.”

It seemed like all it took was one blink of his eyes, but suddenly she was standing in front of him. She took his head in her hands, framing it and forcing him to look her in the eyes.

“You listen to me and you listen carefully, Arthur Leclerc. You are not a burden, a disappointment, second-best, or a stand-in for your brother. You’re an amazing person and an accomplished racer in your own right, and if someone can’t see that, then it’s on them. That guy was a dick and I’m half-tempted to drive down to Maranello myself so he can see what happens when someone talks back.”

He felt the tears he’d been keeping at bay for the past two days finally start to fall, watching her eyes flicker between his.

“You’re not just Charles Leclerc’s brother. You’re Arthur Leclerc. You’re you. And the world’s a better place with you in it, do you understand?”

And that was apparently all it took to make him start sobbing like a child.

“Oh, angel, come here…”

He barely processed Circe jumping off his lap when the woman sat on the couch, pulling him on top of her. She laid him down on his side, with his back to the backrest, and laid down next to him, resting his head on her chest. Her arms were around his head and shoulders, one leg pulled up over his body, and he could feel her pull down the heavy blanket so it could cover their bodies. He was completely enveloped by her and he’d never felt so…

Safe.

He put his arms around her waist and hugged her tighter, cried harder, so hard his breathing was coming out in short bursts, making him feel like he was almost choking on his tears.

“Shh, there you go, baby, let it all out, I’m right here. Try to breathe for me, yeah? It’s all gonna be okay.”

He couldn’t say how long he stayed there like that, cradled in her arms, feeling her run her fingers through his hair and whisper soothing words into his ear. She never told him to stop crying, just kept reassuring him that she was here, to just let it all out, that she’d take care of him.

When the tears finally dried up, his face felt hot and wet. There was a low pounding in his skull, and his breathing still felt a little bit laboured, but he felt lighter, in a way.

“There you go. Does that feel better, darling?”

He nodded slowly, struggling to keep his eyes open. 

“Good, let me go grab some things and I’ll be right back, okay?”

It felt like a herculean effort, to have to let her go, but he still did it, staring listlessly in front of him until she came back, kneeling in front of the couch.

“Close your eyes for me, angel.”

He didn’t question it, just let them close and sighed at the feeling of a damp washcloth being gently rubbed over his face, wiping away the tears (and most likely snot, too). 

“There you go, baby, you did so good.”

He opened his eyes again to see her set down the washcloth and pick up a glass of water.

“Think you can get up and drink this for me?”

She ended up sitting back on the couch, holding him up with one arm while the other helped him get the glass to his mouth. He drank it all, per her request, and felt his eyes wanting to close again. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

He heard the empty glass being put down before he felt her arms around him again.

“Nothing’s wrong with you, darling, your body’s just tired. How long has it been since you slept or ate properly?”

He shrugged his shoulders. Truthfully, he couldn’t remember.

“And judging by what I heard, you probably drove all the way from Maranello this morning, no?”

He nodded.

“Wanted to get home.”

“I know you did, lovely, but you’re exhausted. You had a very tiring weekend that, if I remember correctly, came right after a double-header, and even if it made you feel better, all this crying was most likely the breaking point. You need to let your body and your mind rest.”

He felt his breathing start to even out as she ran her fingers through his hair again.

“Just sleep, angel, I’ll look after you.”

That voice was certainly hard to resist.

“Just for five minutes…”

He told himself he would just rest his eyes.

Five minutes, nothing more.

The last thing he heard was her voice, softly singing a lullaby in a language he didn’t know.

—-—

Despite who her father was, (Y/n) had never been the type to stay quiet. Quite the opposite, she couldn’t stop talking to save her life. She was loud and unapologetic in her expressiveness, never one to simply seethe in quiet anger.

But now, holding a sleeping Arthur to her chest, she felt the rage building up under the surface, silent and dangerous. She wanted to track down the guy who dared say such cruel things.

She forced herself to keep breathing, to stay calm. Arthur was asleep and he needed the rest, it would be counter-productive to wake him up because she couldn’t keep a lid on her emotions.

She spent a good ten minutes sat on the couch, running her fingers through the soft strands of his hair, staring blankly ahead as her mind filled with images of the countless cruelties she could inflict on the boy who’d dared to hurt someone as precious as Arthur. 

Once she was sure he was as deep into sleep as she could send him, she carefully got up, resting his head against a pillow, and tucked him in with the weighted blanket she had on the couch. Circe didn’t waste time in joining him, starting up a soothing purr to keep him calm in sleep.

She picked up her phone and sent a text, not needing to wait long for an answer to come.

Satisfied that Sebastian would handle it, she got to work on finishing up her cookies. After all, Arthur would be hungry when he woke up. 

Maybe she’d make them dinner too.

—-—

Arthur woke up slowly, feeling the world slowly filter back in through his senses. He was warm and relaxed, lying on something soft. His neighbour’s couch, he belatedly remembered. Circe was curled up against his chest, purring up a storm, the vibrations soothing against his tired body. Music played at a low volume in the background, and upon opening his eyes, he saw a record player spinning. The room was dimly lit, the only light coming from a string of fairy lights hung up on the cornice, and a few candles lit here and there. The house smelled divine.

“Hey there, angel, how you feeling?”

His neighbour walked towards him slowly, a bowl in each hand, and set them down on the coffee table. There were spoons and water already laid there as well.

“Okay, thank you.”

She knelt in front of him, pushing his hair away from his forehead, and he felt his eyes flutter as he leaned into the touch.

“That’s good, how’s your head? You’re feeling a bit warm.”

“Still hurts little bit from all the crying but mostly okay.”

She took her hand away and he opened his eyes.

“Well, I made some chicken noodle soup to hopefully help you feel better, and afterwards we have warm cookies for dessert, sounds good?”

She was an angel, he was certain of it.

They ate while watching Barbie in The Nutcracker, practically glued to one another. Arthur wasn’t ashamed to admit he ate faster just so he could cuddle up to her better, way past the point of embarrassment or hesitation. If she didn’t want him to be this clingy she shouldn’t have broken his brain. Besides, she didn’t really seem to mind.

The cookies were honestly the best thing he’s ever put in his mouth, and he almost cried after the first bite. He didn’t count how many he had, but she kept handing him more, so he had to eat them.

It was only when he got a text from Lorenzo asking if he got home alright that he saw the time.

“Shit, it’s past midnight. I have to call my brother.”

He pouted, not wanting to leave, and she just smiled at him.

“Wanna come have breakfast tomorrow morning? There’s a bakery a couple blocks down that makes really good croissants, and we can just spend the day watching movies.”

Was it to early to say he was in love?

“Okay.”

He didn’t hesitate, and the smile he got in return could’ve powered a village.

Halfway to his door, right across hers, he turned back.

“You never told me your name.”

She smiled at him with a mischievous glint in her eye.

“You’re a smart boy, you’ll figure it out.”

And the door was closed.

He stood there for a good five minutes, staring at the wreath she had hung up, until he remembered to check the name under her doorbell.

(Y/n) Räikkönen

His brother’s ringtone echoed around the hallway and he picked up the call immediately.

“Lorenzo, you will not believe who I just met.”

And that's it for my first F1 fic, hope you liked it! Ngl I got very attached to Circe and now I want another cat so that Sunny can have company.

Don't forgot to comment and reblog, asks and DMs are always open!

-Love, Miah <3