#which could just be because he wanted all of it to go to Arthur for maximum poisoning effect

[arthurtaylorlester]

so like do you ever think about john doe

[radrobotz]

i think the tick has become something im genuinely the least normal about like its been a good while since something has constantly plagued my mind where im making up hours long essays and character studies in my head and planning out compilations nobody would give a fuck about like nobody is going to watch a compilation of reused tick gags/scenes/characters ranked from most to least series theyre referenced in nobody thinks like that

[merlins-strawberriesandroses]

I get what you mean op, but I always assumed Merlin said what he did during the disir episode because he was told Arthur living was the only successful way for magic to become legalized. And it was Arthur’s decision in the end to make. I know he died at the end, and probably that could’ve been prevented had either made a different choice sometime in S5, but I think condemn is maybe too active of a word for what happened, for various reasons. Not saying it was inevitable Arthur would die, but he was really prone to dying 😭 he’s still alive in s5 because of all that Merlin has done. I think in the end it's still Uther's mistake, and the fact that it didn't get rectified in time, that condemns Arthur as surely as it birthed him.

neither nimueh nor uther knew of the price for arthur's life but uther wanted him enough to risk it and ended up losing the love of his life. merlin didn't know the price for putting arthur's life over magic, but he wanted arthur to live badly enough to risk it and ended up losing him. the parallel is insane and it's always been over arthur's life. ygraine's life was the price for uther's mistake and arthur's life was the price for merlin's. uther and merlin both unknowingly condeming the people they love. I'm going insane if you haven't noticed.

[jamminvroomvroom]

as sick as it sounds, i loved you first. 2

LN x fem!leclerc reader

PART 2 OF 2 -> read part 1 linked HERE!

here we go again guys, you know the drill! follows directly on from part 1 because of the silly word count :(

warnings: warnings: 18+!! minors GO AWAY! smut, angst, fluff, kinda enemies to lovers? kinda? r is charles sister oop, miscommunication, both of them are down bad for eachother but they are also extremely dumb! breeding kink, size kink, pain kink (if u squint), unprotected p in v (don’t be silly!)

part 2: 6.1k words

8. i have you.

“you never told me why.” lando blurts.

the sun is setting outside, the pair of you sprawled out over your hotel bed. he’d been in your room for a few hours, tangled with you between the linen sheets. it’s thursday in brazil, and he’d made a beeline for your hotel room after media day wrapped up. he couldn’t explain the anxiety he felt, pooling thickly in the pit of his belly, but it subsided as soon as he saw your pretty face, peeking through the crack in your door.

he’d stayed after, a habit that had been developing of late, when you were both at home in monaco, but it was unusual on a race weekend. you’d pulled out your laptop to do some work, and chucked the remote at him, telling him to put something on netflix. he’d just smiled and obliged, more than willing to stay with you.

“told you ‘why’ what?” you look up from your laptop, confused.

“why you haven’t really been with anyone else.” his voice is small, scared he’s overstepping but he figures he’s seen you naked one too many times to get shy.

“oh.”

you stare off into the dim light of the room for a second, collecting your thoughts, reliving it all.

“you don’t need to tell me, sorry if that was weird-“

“no, uh, it’s fine. it’s a bit tragic really, embarrassing.” you start. “there was a guy, a couple of years ago. he was on my course at uni. he was perfect, flowers on my doorstep once a week, romantic dinners overlooking the harbour.” you reminisce, smiling sadly. “we went on a few dates and he was selling it all perfectly, it was like he was telling me everything i wanted to hear. i trusted him, so i slept with him. it was my first time.” your breath hitches. “next thing i know, he’s telling everyone that will listen that he’s best friends with charles leclerc and that he’s fucked an f1 drivers sister. and, you know, monaco is small. charles and arthur beat the shit out of him.” you laugh, but it doesn’t reach your eyes, which are now glossed over with fresh, stinging tears.

lando slides closer to you, tentatively wrapping an arm over your shoulder.

“it’s always been hard, you know? people trying to get close to me so that they could get close to charles. all my life, it’s been the same shit. i just wanted someone to want me for me, just once.”

you’re crying now, and lando wants to die for causing it.

“hey, ‘m so sorry, honey. i shouldn’t have asked.” he shushes you, pulling you close. he kisses the top of your head gently, and you snuggle further into him.

“no, it’s okay. wanted you to know. that’s why i like this. us.” it comes out just above a whisper.

“that’s why i like us too.” he murmurs. you look up at him, scanning his face.

“what’s your story? charles said something to me once about a bad breakup.” you ask softly. lando sighs.

“she wanted the lifestyle more than she wanted me.” he shrugs.

“i’m sorry.”

“don’t be. i’m better off.” i have you, he wants to add.

“i like the fact that we can’t hurt eachother that way.” you breathe, voicing the sentiment that you’ve both shared since the very first time you were together.

“i like it too, honey. more than you know.”

-

9. ache.

a weight lifts off of him in vegas.

brazil had been a shit show, one that he wanted to forget. one that left him awake for two days avoiding your calls, until you snapped him out of it by showing up at his place anyway, and giving him the best head of his fucking life. he’d slept like a damn baby after that.

he had a week off, after, which he spent in your bed more than his own, and then he was promptly off to nevada, awaiting your arrival a few days later and fixated on clawing something back after brazil, even if it was just pride.

well, that fixation didn’t amount to much, but at least you were there, somewhere, watching and waiting. charles is a wreck, though, storming away from parc ferme, which means you’ll be with him, instead of with lando. he feels selfish at the way it stings.

he’s exhausted when he leaves the track, dead on his feet in the elevator up to his room. he can’t bring himself to join max or george and celebrate. he’ll make it up to both of them another time. his phone buzzes in his pocket and he pulls it out, recognising your contact. he doesn’t even fight the smile that pulls at the corners of his mouth.

packed something special for you. you gonna come find out what?

he’s in love with you. has been for a while.

the attention you pay to him for himl, the way you tease him and laugh with him and let him lose himself in unravelling you. your quick wit, mesmerising eyes, the way you switch languages when he scrambles your brain and you can’t think hard enough to keep speaking english. he’s a goner, and he knows it.

he doesn’t bother replying, just makes a beeline for your room. he’s spent enough time in it already this weekend to make it there without much thought. you’d even left him a keycard, which he retrieves with nimble fingers from his wallet, letting himself into your suite.

he calls your name, rounding the corner and he could die right there, just at the sight of you.

you’re lamplit, knelt on the middle of your bed, wrapped in nothing but intricate, baby pink lace.

“my god.” he pants, jaw dropped. you’re ethereal, gorgeous, a delicate gift wrapped up just for him to open.

“do you like it?” your eyes are wide, daunted.

“what the fuck did i do to deserve you?” he stalks to the end of the bed, shrugging off his jacket, his hoodie, until he’s left in a white vest and team joggers. he kneels down at the foot of the bed, ready to crawl over you. “i love it.”

you flush, grinning sweetly as he crawls over you, pushing you back into the mattress.

“you did this all for me?” lando asks, stroking over a lacy bra strap.

“thought you deserved it.” you purr, but your facade slips for just a minute. “is this okay? never done this before.” you glance up at him with round, doe eyes that make him swallow hard, melting further into you.

“‘s perfect.” he promises. “you’re so perfect.”

lando kisses you softly, his warm skin pressing into yours. you moan quietly into his mouth, holding him close. he thumbs over the lace adorning your bust, stroking it. you squirm every time he brushes your skin.

“wanna be on top. wanna try it.” you pant into his mouth, watching closely as he groans, eyes fluttering as he imagines the sight.

“only if you keep this on.” he bargains, flipping the pair of you over.

you sit up on his lap, smoothing your hands over his chest as his find your hips. he steadies you, playing with the band of your panties, tracing over the pattern.

“can’t believe you did this all for me.” lando coos, taking the opportunity to take it all in, you, flustered and breathtaking, straddling him. dressed up all for him, all his.

“you deserve it.”

“do you think you’re ready for me? lemme see.” his hand skates between your thighs, pressing the pads of his fingers against the crotch of your underwear. he applies pressure against the wet patch that he feels, licking his lips. “were you thinking about me when you were getting all dressed up? thinking about how i’d touch you?”

“yeah,” you nod frantically, grinding down on his fingers. “wanted you all day but i wanted to be good for you.” you pout. you’re gonna kill him, he thinks.

“always good for me.” he applies more pressure, toying with your clit through the lace, the sensation making you quiver, bucking your hips.

“just want you inside of me, lando. i’m ready.” you plead, palming over his sweats. your hand travels further, finding his between your legs. you tug your underwear to the side, and he feels just how wet you are for him.

“you sure, baby?”

there he goes again. baby. your tummy twists.

“yeah, lan, i want it to hurt a little.” you sound so sweet for him and it shreds the rest of his self restraint.

lando sits up just enough to rip off his vest, taps your thigh so that you lift up for a second, long enough for him to shrug off his sweats. when he’s bare, he paws at your hips, helping you to adjust. your fingers wrap around his length and he jolts, mouth falling open as you swipe the head of him through your slit. you sink down, taking just the tip, but it feels like the first time all over again, the angle creating delicious pressure that burns through your pelvis. your eyes squeeze shut and he swirls his fingers over your sides.

“take it easy for me, love.” lando urges, looking up at you with concern.

“i like it. promise.” you choke out, eyes rolling back at the pleasure, the burn.

you continue to slide down on him, sinking further and further until you’re flush against his pelvis. you roll your hips experimentally, your clit brushing against the thatch of hair at his base and you squirm, sensitive.

“want me to help?” he asks through gritted teeth.

“wanna do this for you.” you pant, rocking your hips against his.

the angle is brutal, so intoxicatingly good, and you can already feel yourself leaking all over him. you build up a rhythm, slow and steady, watching the ripple of his abs everytime you sink back down on him, the way his curls fan over his forehead, the veins in his arms bulging as he grips at your waist tighter and tighter.

“you look so pretty, baby, taking me like this.” lando sighs, helping you pick up the pace. you cry out, leaning backwards, fingers gripping his firm thighs.

“it’s so good, you feel so good.” you whine, arching your back.

he’s entranced by the way your breasts bounce, fighting against the skimpy bra and he sinks his teeth into his plush bottom lip, eyeing you hungrily. one hand leaves your waist and travels to the cups of your bra, tugging so harshly that you hear the threads break. he frees your tits, watching in delight as they fall out of the lace confines.

“you’re so sexy, honey, look so beautiful. you’re all mine, aren’t you? this is all for me, right?” lando’s eyes roll back in his head when he feels the way you clamp down around him at his words. he’s gonna fill you up, he thinks, mark you as his from the inside out.

“yeah, lan, all yours.” you slur, fighting the urge to cum. “‘m all yours.”

he can see that you’re tiring, the ache setting in, so he pulls you forward, until you’re chest to chest, wrapped up his his thick arms.

“i’ve got you, baby.” he swears, holding you close as he rolls his hips, fucking up into you.

it’s all too much like this, the constant pressure on your clit, the head of his cock tapping against your cervix, the thrumming of his heart, the cold sweat of his chest peaking your nipples. you let out a strangled cry of his name, and you see white, your nerve endings overstimulated and fried. all you can hear is his voice, pulling your through it and out the other side.

“did so good for me, baby, such a good girl. took it all so well, love.”

you’re limp on top of him, a dead weight curled around him like a life force. there’s nothing that could make him move you, and wouldn’t let you go unless you asked. you lay there in silence, your mixed release leaking out of you. your heart rate steadies, about as much as it can with him around, and you feel yourself blinking away sleep, exhausted. lando notices, of course he does.

“let’s clean up.” he suggests, sitting up carefully with you on his lap.

“carry me?” you request sleepily, a lazy smile painting your face.

“as you wish.” he jokes, bowing his head.

your legs wrap around his waist as he shuffles off of the bed, and he walks to the bathroom, setting you down on the marble sink top. he leans into the shower, adjusting the temperature and turning the water on. he lets it heat up and turns back to you. no words are exchanged as he peels your ruined panties off, as he unhooks your bra and drops its all onto the counter. he tugs you off of the side, guiding your under the stream of water, the warmth making you relax into him. he’s more than happy to prop you up.

“my legs ache.” you giggle, resting your cheek against his shoulder.

“was it worth it?”

“definitely.”

“good.”

he cleans you, massaging soap into your skin, and washing it off. you stay close while he does the same for himself, passing him different products as you clean up together. it’s quiet, nothing needs to be said, and you wonder if this is what life with him would be like. domestic and easy.

“stay.” you let yourself ask, croaking the request out into the silence. you’re both drying off, and he’s gathering he’s clothes.

“i thought you’d want me to go.” he looks like a deer in headlights. cute.*

“stay.” your repeat, and this time it sounds like a plea. he slides his boxers on.

“okay.”

he’s like a furnace under the covers and you can’t help but curl into his side, legs wrapping around eachothers. there’s no going back from this, you fear. he’s thinking the same thing. you kiss his chest as you fall asleep, just a quick press of your lips to his pec, but it makes him hot all over. if the lights were still on, you’d see him blushing. he returns the favour with careful peck to your hairline. you both nuzzle impossibly closer.

“has it ever been like that for you?” you whisper into the darkness. you hear the change in his breathing.

the question is loaded; have you ever felt like this before? was that just sex to you? what are we? what is this? do you want me how i want you?

“never.” it’s barely a whisper

you fall asleep with a smile on your face.

-

when you wake up, he stirs, bronzed arms tightening around you.

“go back to sleep.” he grumbles, pulling your back to his chest.

“i need to catch my flight.” you reply, turning around to face him.

you’re stunned when you see him smushed into the pillow, lips pouty, eye lashes fluttering to clear away sleep. he looks so pretty in the morning light, and you wish you’d asked him to stay the night sooner.

“just fly with me.” lando mutters. you freeze.

“lan, you know i can’t do that. what would that look like?”

“who cares?” he half shrugs behind you, and you wriggle away, sit up in bed.

“uh, me? i care, lando. i can’t be seen flying around with some other driver, do you know how much that would complicate things?”

“some other driver.” he huffs. that gets his attention, and he sits up. “what so we can sneak around, and you’ll let me fuck you, but being on an airplane together is crossing the line?” he grunts sarcastically. you narrow your eyes at him.

“don’t say it like that.” you scold.

“how should i say it, then? i thought maybe this meant something more to you.” he’s standing from the bed now, hurt thick in his voice, and you panic, reaching out for him, but he’s finding his clothes.

“it does! it does mean something to me but… lando, i can’t put charles in that position. i can’t put myself in that position.” you reason weakly, standing and rapidly moving towards him. you pull him to face you, holding onto his shoulders. “don’t go, please.” you whisper, cupping his cheek.

he stares down at you, dejected, a wounded animal, and pushes your hands off of him.

“i, uh. i care about you. a lot. too much, i think. i can’t go through this again, and you can’t hurt your brother. so…” he breathes shakily.

“so?” you plead, shaking your head. “don’t do this, we can…”

“i’m not gonna be ‘some other driver’, honey. ‘m sorry.”

“lando-“

“its okay. this was good while it lasted, and i know you’re gonna find what you’re looking for, without all of the, uh,” he gestures around blindly. “the complications.”

“don’t go.” you whisper, catching his hand. tears pool in the corners of your eyes, distorting him.

“go catch your flight.” he smiles sadly, finally dressed, and then he’s gone.

you stand frozen, taking stock of whatever the fuck just happened.

i care about you.

good while it lasted.

you’re gonna find what you’re looking for.

complications.

you choke out a sob, stumble backwards onto the foot of your bed when it hits you.

you’d already found what you were looking for, and now, he was gone.

-

you’re supposed to go straight to qatar with charles, but you beg him to get you a flight home instead.

he can hear that you’ve been crying, and tells you that he’ll kill anyone that you need him to. you promise it’s fine, through even more tears, tell him that you’ll fill him in when he’s got a minute to breathe.

the ticket lands in your inbox and you flee. you spend the twelve hour flight watching love actually, crying into a glass of wine, and wondering if you should get gracie abrams’ lyrics tattooed on your forehead.

i love you, i’m sorry would be quite fitting right about now.

when you land, you don’t even go home, making a beeline for alex and charles’ apartment instead. when alex lets you in, confused to see your face, leo does laps around your feet. you drop your bags and fall into her arms, sob until your throat is raw and your eyes are bloodshot.

“i fucked up.” you wail, breathing hard.

“lando?” she asks, tentative. she has a knowing look, and your eyes nearly fall out of your head.

“what? how did you-“

“well let’s just say that we saw the DM he sent you, and arthur was actually sat opposite me when you said you were with him.” she admits. you gasp.

“does charles… does he…?”

“oh, sweetie, charles knows nothing. although he did ask me what shoe size you wear after coming to your place a few weeks back. he said something about a pair of birkenstocks that looked huge compared to your other shoes, and i told him that was just the style.” she snorts, and you slap your hand over your forehead.

“oh, jesus.” you whine, hiding your face in your hands.

“wanna tell me what happened?”

“i don’t even know, he asked me to fly with him and then i said it would complicate things, that i couldn’t been seen with, quote on quote, ‘some other driver.’” you sigh.

“some other driver? oh, girl.”

“yep.”

“were you guys dating…? or?”

“no! lately things had been a bit more,” you pause, gathering your thoughts. “intimate? i don’t know. i definitely have feelings for him.”

alex looks at you sympathetically, strokes your knee soothingly.

“have you told him that?”

“no, i didn’t know how and now he’s done with me.” you wince, a fresh wave of tears pricking your eyes.

“maybe not, sweetie, maybe you if you told him how you felt, he’d understand. is charles what you’re worried about?”

“charles, the fans, all of it.” you whimper.

“the fans can be, well, intense, but take it from me, if lando’s worth it, none of that matters. is he worth it?”

you pause, weighing it all up. the way he’d been with you, so gentle and caring, considerate and interested in you. he’d made you feel safe and satisfied, and everytime you caught him looking at you, you felt that first initial spark all over again. you could laugh with him, push and tease and not just be charles leclerc’s little sister. you look forward to seeing him, feeling him, speaking to him. all of this together feels heavy, but you want to bear it.

“he is.” you whisper, looking at alex nervously. “oh, god, what do i do?”

“i think there’s a paddock pass with your name on it that you should make use of.” she tells you, wrapping you in a tight hug. “and if charles has a problem, tell him he has to go through me.”

-

10. pizza and pasta.

max fewtrell sips his coffee in the hotel lobby, waiting for keegan to join him. it’s hot in qatar, dry and bright, ornate.

his phone buzzes.

message request from: yourusername

HI SORRY ARE YOU IN QATAR????

he probably looks like a cartoon character, eyes bulging out of his skull.

another message comes through.

this sounds insane and i’m sorry that this is like, the first time we’ve ever spoken, but i need a huge favour. like a really really huge favour.

max scratches the back of his head, pulling a face at his phone. baffled wouldn’t even begin to cover how he feels.

he picks up his phone, and opens the messages.

-

lando over exerts himself keeping away from you. the sprint race had been a breeze compared to staying away, out of your reach. it hurts like hell, but it’s a necessary evil for both your sakes.

he wants to sleep, do nothing else but collapse onto his mattress, phone silenced and curtains drawn as tightly shut as they can go. he unlocks the door to his hotel room. the light flashes green, and he relaxes, finally. until, he doesn’t.

there’s a faint sound coming from down the short corridor that separates his front door from his sleeping area. it’s not max, he’s just left him outside his own hotel room, and it’s not keegan, either, for the same reason. he wonders if he has another stalker, braces himself and picks up the first thing he can find. a shoe. useless, he thinks.

lando creeps down the corridor, poised and ready, jumps out of his skin when you round the corner before he can get there. you yelp, bracing yourself against the wall.

“what the fuck, i thought you were a murderer!” lando huffs, throwing his head back.

somehow, the sight of you is worse than any murderer could ever be.

“putain! god, i’m so sorry! so sorry!” you squeak.

“how did you get in here?”

“funny story,” you tilt your head to the side, trying to look harmless. “max let me in.”

“verstappen?” lando asks, face twisting with confusion.

“no, idiot. fewtrell.” you reply, duh-like. “i can go, i know this is crazy and weird and a total violation, but i had to talk to you.” your voice softens and lando seems to finally relax. he’ll kill max later.

“this is batshit, actually, but i respect the grind.” lando shrugs. “what do you want?” he sounds harsher than intended, closed off, but you suppose you deserve it.

“i’m sorry about what happened last weekend.” you inhale shakily. “i… i care about you a lot, too, and i have done for a while but i was too scared to say it. i realised as soon as you left that i never ever wanna hurt you like that. never want you to feel like i don’t lo- care about you… like that.” you catch yourself, not ready to say certain words. he gets the gist.

“i don’t wanna be some hookup anymore. it was fine at first, when i thought that’s all i could have from you, but i know that it’s not. i want you.” lando states, his words poignant. “whatever pace you need, whatever you want from me, i wanna give it to you.”

the space between you dissipates.

“i saw you, you know, watching me from your garage all those months ago, like you were trying place me.” your voice is barely above a whisper. “admittedly, i kinda wanted to punch you for ruining that dress, but i also, really really secretly thought you were cute.”

“well, if we’re being honest, i really wanted to fuck you the first time i saw you.” he jokes crudely, and you slap his chest. “in my defence, i was blackout drunk.”

“asshole.” you mutter. you’re so close now that his nose bumps yours.

“i think you like it.” he whispers.

“yeah, i really do.”

your lips meet his urgently, homecoming. it’s been too long since you’ve had him in your hands, touched him and felt him breathe against you. the kiss is passionate, frantic, and you know you’re in love with him. you’re certain.

-

an hour later, you’re tucked into bed with him, a movie that you’re not paying attention to playing idly on the tv. pizza crusts lay on a plate, the leftovers of your impromptu dinner date.

you’ve covered your degree, how he got into racing, what you do for work, who you’re friends are, family dynamics.

you learn that his favourite colour actually is yellow, and he learns that you’re favourite drink is red wine. he prefers pizza, you prefer pasta. you like flat whites, and he doesn’t like coffee at all.

“after abu dhabi, i’ll take you on a real date. i promise.” he sounds excited as he says it, and you melt into his side.

“oh yeah?” you ask, looking up at him, your cheeks smushed against his shoulder. he tucks your hair behind your ear, thumb stroking your cheek tenderly. he just hums in response, gazing down at you.

“gonna talk to your brothers as well.” he murmurs, dipping down to peck your lips.

“not just yet.” you whisper. he furrows his eyebrows.

“why?” he doesn’t sound upset, maybe a little deflated.

“i wanna enjoy this a bit longer, at least go on a real date before, you know, they kill you.” you keep your tone serious, holding it together well. he bursts out laughing, squeezing you closer.

“and here i was worried that you were ashamed of me.” he’s grinning toothily, boyish and pure, and you kiss him again, deeper.

“never.” you coo.

-

11. daylight.

abu dhabi is a distant memory by the time you get back to monaco. you were happy for your brother and your boyfriend.

yeah, that’s what you get to call him now.

your first date had been effortless and yet so intricately perfect, lando planning it down to the last detail. flowers delivered to you the morning of, picking you up at the door, telling you just how beautiful you looked. your table had been waiting for you, candlelit, dressed immaculately. a bottle of red wine served as the centrepiece, your favourite kind. swoon.

he orders pizza, you order pasta. halfway through, you switch plates.

you wake up the next morning in his arms, content and satiated, still bare from the night before. your phone is buzzing, stirring your both out of your deep sleep. you ignore it.

“c’mere.” he begs, breath fanning out across your neck and you wriggle backwards, further into his arms. your naked skin moulds with his, and you can feel him, ready and waiting against the curve of your ass. he’s still half asleep, and so are you, but you spread your legs just enough for him to swipe himself through your folds and slip right in.

you groan at the stretch, he shushes you soothingly, clinging to your frame. everything is so warm and heightened.

“so ready for me.” he whispers, kissing over your shoulder, hips making the most minimal, languid thrusts that make you dizzy.

“want you like this every morning.” you purr, hiking your top leg up even further. he’s basically on top of you now, his body half covering yours.

lando drags your hips back to meet his, breathing heavily against the back of your neck.

“anytime you want me ‘m here. ‘m yours.” lando mutters, eyes rolling back in his head when you clench around him. lewd sounds are exchanged between your lazy bodies, so worked up, two powder kegs desperate to explode.

it happens in waves, powerful orgasms washing over your bodies like the sunlight through the curtains. it’s bright and warm and leaves you buzzing underneath him, electrified.

“good morning.” you smirk, rolling over to face him.

he’s already sunk back down into the mattress, a satisfied grin on his face, eyelashes dusting the tops of his cheeks where his eyes have fallen shut. he looks angelic, and if it wasn’t for his devious ways, you’d hail him a saint.

“very good morning, baby.” lando pants, scrubbing his hands over his face.

“you look so pretty.” you breathe, raking your nails through his hair. he groans, shivers of pleasure radiating through his scalp and down his back.

“not as pretty as you.” he surges forward, pinning you to the bed, the pair of you a hazy mess of limbs and laughter, so wrapped up in eachother. he’s peppering you with kisses, all over you face and your chest, further and further down your body.

round two is about to commence, and you’re more than excited, ready to welcome him back between your thighs, when you both here a loud, repetitive thud coming from faraway. lando pulls back, trying to pinpoint the sound.

“is that the door?” he says to himself. “sorry, baby. need to get that.” he frowns apologetically. you sigh, waving your hand in understanding, watching as he grabs a robe.

-

charles nearly chokes on air and fury when he gets the all caps message from arthur, followed by one from lorenzo, then his publicist.

arthur: HAVE YOU SEEN TWITTER? i don’t know if i should laugh or cry

enzo: be nice to her, don’t be a little bitch

publicist: Charles, we will need to address this news immediately and conclude whether the photos are out of context or not. Meeting scheduled on the shared calendar.

first question: what fucking photos? did someone catch him picking his nose in public?

second question: who does he need to be nice too?

third question: can he not go five fucking minutes without some impending media crisis?

he opens twitter and doesn’t need to look hard, because there on his screen is a picture taken the night before of his precious baby sister, and there is lando fucking norris with his tongue down her throat.

alex asks him where he’s going, watching him storm out keys in hand. he doesn’t respond with anything but a growl and a mutter of your name. alex’s eyes go wide, reached for her phone.

to: your number

girl he knows! idk how but he KNOWS!

for once in your life PICK UP THE PHONE

JESUS OKAY i just saw twitter…

OKAY im tracking charles location rn and looks like he’s near lando’s?

MISS LECLERC PLEASE! HELLO?????

it was nice knowing you babe.

-

you pick up your phone as lando leaves the room, scrolling absentmindedly through your notifications. your interest peaks, however, when you see about a million texts from alex, and even more missed call. in fact, you have literally thousands of notifications, and your blood runs cold.

you’d been so careful last night, surely it hadn’t leaked. your blood runs cold when you open your text chain with alex. the aggressive knocking on the door suddenly makes harrowing sense and you spring from the mattress just in time to hear the front door click.

“is she here?” you hear charles bellow, voice laced thickly with anger.

“uh… who?” lando tries, he really does, but he’s not a good liar. you wince, grabbing anything to cover your dignity: lando’s sweats and a t-shirt. you scramble out of the bedroom, sliding down the corridor from the sheer speed you’re moving at.

“fucking hell.” charles sighs, wincing at the sight of you. “of all the people on the planet, you pick my rival? you pick him?” charles barks at you. you close your eyes, focusing on your breathing as your chest constricts. “i told you. i specifically told you not to mess around with him, and c’mon, i don’t ask you for much.” charles throws his hands out in frustration.

“charles, listen to me,” you keep your voice calm and steady. “we’re not messing around, we… we’re together.” you confirm, watching his jaw tick.

“together? with him? do you know how many girls probably think they’re in a relationship with him? half of the portuguese modelling industry is linked to him.” charles laughs incredulously, disgusted. your eyes narrow, watching lando crumble into a million pieces in your peripheral.

“don’t you dare ruin this for me! and how can you come into his house and speak to him that way? my god, charles, you don’t get it, do you? i can never be happy with anyone because of you! everyone, everyone, uses me to get to you and, god, i finally found someone who cares about me and couldn’t give less of a shit about who you are and you don’t approve? shall i stay single and lonely and in your shadow forever? should i go for some greasy hedge fund legacy who wants to fuck any leclerc he can get his hands on? huh? i’m sorry if you don’t approve, truly, i am, but you will not have a say in this.”

charles stays silent, as does lando, the only sound in the hallway being your heavy breathing, a symptom of your monologue. you feel the ghost of lando’s touch on your waist, soothing you from your outburst, and you lean into his touch, looking up at him. his eyes are reassuring, the only source of comfort.

charles watches intently, the silent communication between you both, and it knocks him for six. ultimately, he wants you to be happy, but it begs the question: can lando make you happy? the way you truly deserve? he sighs, pinches the bridge of his nose, lets out a muttered string of expletives.

“will you look after her?” he stares daggers at lando, watches the way the brit straightens up.

“i will.” lando nods firmly, eyes sincere.

“and you won’t hurt her? you won’t fuck her around?” charles looks like he’s desperately pleading, but his voice is commanding, no margin for error.

“i promise.”

“and you’ll make her happy?”

“i’d do anything for her.”

your head snaps towards lando, the tears you’d been holding back finally breaking the dam. charles watches closely, steps backwards towards the door. there isn’t space for him here right now.

“okay. i- okay.” you watch the way charles backs down, and he finally meets your eyes again. “ma chére, je suis désolé.” he tells you solemnly. you nod, lips in a thin, hard line. you can feel lando nudge you forward.

“come here, loser.” you groan, opening your arms for your brother. charles meets you half way, squeezes you tight. he gently kisses your forehead and turns to leave, not before shooting lando a look that says ‘i’m watching you.’

you turn back to your newfound boyfriend, tears still falling, but you pay them no mind.

“well done, baby.” he affirms, thumbing away your tears.

“i love you, lando.” you whisper, threading your fingers into the curls at the nape of his neck. “thank you.” his eyes glaze over, total adoration swirling in the pools of green.

“so glad you said that because i absolutely love you too.” he laughs, hauling you in for a kiss. it’s a mess of tears and laughter and a weird sense of serenity.

“you might wanna call your publicist. pictures of last night leaked.” you mumble against his lips.

“at least we don’t have to sneak around anymore.” he shrugs. “i’ll call later. got things to do.” he picks you up effortlessly, throwing you over his shoulder. you squeal, and he teasingly slaps your ass.

you catch sight of the apartment as he walks you through it, and you think about the first time you saw it, under the cover of darkness, covert and clandestine.

you much prefer it in the light of day.

you prefer lando in the light of day, too.

yourusername and landonorris just posted on instagram:

liked by: francisca.cgomes, alexandrasaintmleux, oscarpiastri and others.

yourusername: oops!

comments on this post have been disabled.

-

thank god that’s over lmfao - thank you for reading!!

taglist

@boysthatgovroomvroom @welld0nebaku @thegirlinthefandoms @mcmuppet @japanesekel @vinvantae @ggaslyp1 @dr3lover @smiithys  @rachstash @infinitebells @fizzpopsnap101 @gaily19 @icecoldtires @mysticalnightenthusiast @thatchickwiththecamera @oyesmendes @disneydaydreameralways @canyouseethesainz @ferrarifwendvale @fcbformulaeri @tony-stank3 @maih23 @soleilgrec @carolineworld @anthonykatebridgerton @allywthsr @iamasimpingh0e @ophcelia @lovelynikol16 @coffeehurricanes @jennx03 @blueflorals @lqvesoph @sidcrosbyspuck @better-dead-than-smeg @buendiabebeta @pjofics @kovalcin @wintergilmore3 @for-writing-shit @youdontknowmeshh @im-an-overthinker @jule239 @darleneslane @jazzy722

[noisilyscreechingsong]

Image this:

Danny is sixteen. He just found out he is to become King, with a capital K, when he becomes a mature ghost, which is at least 20 years after his death. So he’s got time. Everything’s fine. Except for the Observants pushing his education. Tutors shoving information down his throat like he’s cramming for finals. Princess Dora, Pandora, Frostbite, and even Clockwork checking on him frequently and making a schedule for him to come visit their territories for little learning sessions. Fright Knight has been following his every move. And let’s not forget the other random ghosts he’s never even met before coming to ask for favors or to complain or just give him their problems in general and expect him to fix it.

He can’t even let his frustrations out! All his regular rogues avoid him now! Even Vlad doesn’t want to get involved, but that could be because he’s still bitter about not getting the crown like he wanted.

Good thing he knows a king that has probably been through the same thing.

King Arthur of Atlantis. In other words, Aquaman.

Because Danny wasn’t technically king yet, crowned prince is probably the right title?, he couldn’t just call him up or send a letter asking to meet. So Danny decides to go give the man a visit himself.

Using process of elimination, he was able to find Atlantis after about two months of research and searching. He didn’t have a whole lot of free time, okay?

Turning invisible and flying through the water was a lot easier than he thought. Getting through the barrier was a piece of cake and the castle was obvious to find. What wasn’t obvious to find was the king himself. He wasn’t in the throne room, or his study, or the training grounds, or literally anywhere in the castle. He checked.

No. He finds the king playing some game with some kids in the underwater city.

It was surprising to find him there, especially after the etiquette lessons from Dora, but it gave Danny some hope that maybe he wouldn’t be miserable and burdened with paperwork and boring meetings when he becomes king.

Danny turns visible. They were still invested in the game but the guards noticed him. Spears were pointed at him in a second.

“Halt! State your business,” the guard demands.

The shout caused everyone in the area to stop and look, including the king.

Danny raises his hands in surrender.

“Uh, hi. Sorry to stop the game, I just wanted to talk- sorry, speak to King Arthur, if- if that’s okay? There wasn’t an address to mail to that I could find-“

“It’s okay,” the king interrupts. “Let’s go somewhere private to talk then. Do you have any weapons on you?”

Danny perks up at the opportunity to finally talk to him.

“Yes please! And no, no weapons, sir.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” the king replies with a smile. Danny smiles back widely.

“My king-“

The king holds up a hand to stop the guard’s worries.

When they finally arrive to the throne room of the palace King Arthur turns to Danny.

“Who are you?” He asks in a tone that was a bit more serious than it was before.

“Oh! Sorry. Hi. I’m Danny. Danny Phantom. It’s nice to meet you, King Arthur,” he answers quickly with a nervous smile.

The king nods, obviously thinking about something else as he watches Danny with guarded eyes.

“How can you breathe underwater if I may ask? I’m curious.”

“Well that’s easy, I’m not breathing.”

“You’re… not breathing,” the king repeats with skepticism.

“Yea,” Danny agrees freely. “I don’t have to breathe if I don’t want to. You know, because of the whole ghost thing.”

“Ghost?”

“Yea. Can turn invisible, walk through walls, fly- you know. Haven’t you ever seen a ghost before?”

Danny tries a bit of humor with a crooked smile, but it falls when he sees the contemplative expression on the king’s face.

“Wait, seriously? You’ve never seen a ghost?”

“I’m aware of a ghost named Deadman apart of Justice League Dark but he is invisible to everyone.”

“Really?! I didn’t know that! I need to go talk to him! Where can I find him?”

“Hold on there, guppy. Didn’t you want to talk about something?”

Danny is drawn back to the topic at hand.

“Right, okay, so I was recently told I was gonna be king in like twenty years, which is news to me, and now they are just throwing everything at me with all this information I don’t know what to do with and I’m getting complaints and requests and everyone is expecting so much from me when I’m literally sixteen years old! I don’t know what I’m doing with my life, whether I want to go to college or if I’ll even graduate high school, and they want me to solve territory disputes and create new laws and provide protection for those who want to go into the living plane. I just- I don’t know what I’m doing and the only king I could think of was you, so I guess I was wondering if you could, I don’t know, give me some advice or if I could shadow you for a bit to see what an actual king should do or act. I know it’s a lot to ask coming from someone you don’t even know, but I’m just a bit overwhelmed with everything and I don’t really know where to go from here and was hoping you would at least understand. My friends don’t get it and the other ghosts are kinda afraid of me now because of my title and they wouldn’t get it anyway…” he trails off awkwardly.

Arthur had never had this conversation before. He was honestly flattered and the kid looked genuine. Maybe he’d wait until one of the magic users okay-ed the young ‘ghost’ before revealing any information about himself.

He pulls out a device and throws it the kid. Danny dodges just to snatch it out of the air from reflex alone.

“That’s a communicator. I’ll send Deadman and Constantine your way and call when I get the okay. Where are you located?”

Danny’s toxic eyes were big and hopeful, shining brightly through the water.

“Thank you, sir! Amity Park, Illinois, the most haunted city in America!” He answers proudly.

The king just smiles.

[johnpriceslamb]

arthur morgan + back shots🙏

suggestive content under the cut. MDNI.

The headboard of the bed banged onto the thin, hotel wall.

A rough, calloused hand muffled your mouth as his other hand grabs a fist full of your hair— practically forcing your back to be arched.

After a long train robbery, with Micah pulling at his last straws and the amount of people he had to deal with, this was his reward. The anger within him diminished into a small ball once he heard your shy, meek request in going to a hotel from the gang to have a break. What he didn’t know, was that soft laced matching set which delicately rested on your perfect figure.

“Yeah? Yeah? Feel that, sweetheart?” The hand which held the fistful of your hair travels down to where his cock shaped into you too well- the bump forming in your stomach reappearing each time he thrusted deeper into your tight, velvety walls. He presses his fingers down, hearing your muffled gasps and cries.

You sobbed into his hand when his hips slammed into yours multiple times, which lead to his fingers coming back to hold your hair to pull you back further into his touch. The tip of his drooling member reaching places you’ve never thought existed, pre-cum spilling.

The walls were thin, but so was his restraint in fucking you till you couldn’t think.

“What a— ffuu— What a real good girl you are,” he leans a down to grunt in your ear, gently nipping it. You unconsciously tighten around him at the praise, which lead to him deliciously groaning right in your ears. That sound alone could make you cum.

The bristles of his stubble graze your skin which made you softly whine. He peers down to admire your sweaty, sticky body only to bite his lip hard once seeing your plump ass. His hand travels down to roughly grab it, watching it bounce as his dick slams into you.

“Hnnn..” He grunts lowly, a slow smirk forming on his face as he feels your walls tighten. You were so close, too close. Drool escapes your mouth as his pace became slower, yet the everlasting thrusts become so much more harder. You could feel every vein on his cock drag. Your nails claw at the bedsheets below you. Finally, his hand leaves your mouth to place on both your hips to allow him to practically re-arrange your guts.

Your sweet moans were echoing throughout the walls, he ushers you to be quiet but it was far too difficult considering how he was handling you.

“P—please..” You babble incoherently, long lashes dripping with tears from the pleasure he’s giving you. You don’t have to finish your sentence because he knew all too well of what you needed. His fingers come below to find that sensitive bundle of flesh which was in need of attention, rubbing figure 8’s on it.

Your tight walls spasm around him, hands clenching on the bedsheets tightly with your doe-y eyes rolling backing— his other hand frantically grabbing your chin to turn your head around so he could see the expression etched on your delicate face. A series of cum coats his cock like a white rimmed halo, from that alone was your spend.

“Darlin’,” He kisses your cheek, “Where do i—”

“Inside,” You softly whimper, “Please, fill me.”

Whatever his baby girl wanted, she got. A few more rough slams and his climax came quickly, dripping inside of you. It filled you to the brim. Hot, wet, and sticky.

With just a few last pumps, the movement of his hips stop. He doesn’t remove it, rather he buries himself deeper inside your sensitive little hole. Any movement from him etched out a tiny whine.

A sleepy smile formed on your face as you watch his burly figure come into your vision. He handles you so delicately afterwards, watching his soaked fingers from the prepping he did beforehand cup your face to place a small kiss on your lips.

“Needed that.” He mumbles lowly.

“You’re welcome..” You quietly whisper back.

A moment of silence occurs.

His cock hardens inside you again.

<3

[cressidagrey]

Such A Mystery - Part 11

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Colette Leclerc (Original Character)

Summary:

Max Verstappen fell in love at the ripe old age of 12 and never looked back.

Colette Leclerc really regrets posting that particular Taylor Swift Lyric to her private Instagram account, because it made George Russell go insane.  

The rest of the world has absolutely no idea that the Dutch Lion and Charles Leclerc’s twin sister have been a couple for 15 years and are expecting a baby. 

Warnings: 

Pregnancy, Mention of multiple miscarriages, Pregnancy complications, George Russell Bashing (he's probably really nice in real life but in this, he's the bad guy, sorry), Jos Verstappen, We have apparently now reached the time where I also bash Ferrari. I am sure they are super nice in real life too. They are not in this.

Author Notes: Huge thanks to @llirawolf for holding my hand through this. Chapter 11 of 12!

Chapter 11

His sister's screams were bloodcurdling.

Charles had known that birth was a painful, messy affair, that it was never easy, but actually hearing his sister’s very real, very painful screams from the room beyond was a truly eye-opening experience. He didn’t know how women could survive this, frankly.

Arthur looked green around the gills, not helped by the white bandage on his forehead…which apparently had been the result of him fainting and being taken down by the corner of a hospital bed. 

"I am never having kids," Arthur said, swallowing heavily.

"I am rethinking my family planning as well," Lorenzo said weakly. "I don't think I can stand seeing Charlotte go through that pain."

Arthur grimaced as another scream came ringing out from the room. “I think I am scheduling a vasectomy tomorrow,” he said faintly. “This absolutely confirms it as a good life decision for me.”

"I think that's the concussion talking," Charles tried to assure his brother, as another scream rang out.

On second thought…maybe Arthur was onto something.

And just at that moment, Colette's scream suddenly broke off. They froze—all of them.

Absolute silence rang through the room. Charles was afraid to even breathe. He had no idea what was happening on the other side of the door, and that terrified him. Everything had been going well so far, hadn't it?

And then a cry rang out.

A baby’s cry: shrill, a little indignant.

All three men let out their collective breaths in a sigh of pure relief.

The whole room was silent for a moment, as they processed the fact that their sister and her baby were alright.

“Oh, thank god,” Lorenzo said feebly. “I thought something awful had happened.”

“No kidding,” Arthur agreed. He sagged back against the wall behind him, his skin regaining a proper colour again, instead of the sickly green it had been moments before.

Charles leaned his head back against the wall, shutting his eyes for a brief second. It was over. Everything had gone alright. 

Colette and her baby were both going to be okay.

"We are uncles now," Arthur said suddenly.

A beat of surprise. And then:

“Oh god, we are, aren’t we?” Lorenzo said.

“We’re uncles,” Arthur repeated a slightly shell-shocked look on his face.

Charles couldn’t help it. A smile broke out over his face, a very real, utterly ridiculous one that he didn’t have the energy to hold back. “We are, aren’t we?” he repeated Enzo’s words.

“This is absolutely insane!” Arthur said, a grin creeping over his face. “We’re going to be the coolest uncles ever.”

“I thought kids are overrated?” Lorenzo pointed out wryly.

“The most overrated,” Arthur insisted. “But I’m going to spoil our niece or nephew absolutely rotten.”

It took a little while longer, but finally, the door opened, revealing Max. He looked…exhausted. Absolutely beat. There were dark circles under his eyes…but a look of relief was on his face like Charles had never seen on his friend before. And yet, Max was grinning.

Looking happier than ever.

“Max,” Charles said, a little hoarsely. He wanted to ask how they were, he wanted to ask about the baby, he wanted to ask if Coco was alright. But all he could get out was Max’s name, his voice too thick.

"Come meet your niece," Max said simply.

He said the word ‘niece’ like it was the best thing in the world, and it made Charles smile. He straightened up, following Max into the room, Arthur and Lorenzo trailing behind him.

Coco was curled up in her bed, her hair messy, her face pale, but she was smiling, a weak little smile tinged with exhaustion but so very, very happy. And cradled against her chest was the baby, wrapped snugly in a little pink blanket.

Charles just sort of stopped dead in the midst of the room. Seeing his sister with her baby in her arms… it was like his brain had stopped functioning in the space of a moment.

All three brothers were silent for a long moment, just taking in the sight of them.

Charles felt a lump rise in his throat,and swallowed heavily.

Lorenzo was biting his lip, trying to keep the tears from welling up in his eyes. And Arthur was absolutely silent, all of the usual sass gone from his expression.

It was a moment that seemed to stretch on forever, as they all just stood awkwardly at the edge of the bed, just looking.

Finally, Coco looked up at them, and her smile widened faintly. “Well?” she asked. "Cha, don’t you want to hold your niece?"

His heart skipped, and he managed to pull himself forward so he could sit down on the bed next to her. “I get to hold her?” he asked, just to be certain.

"Of course, you do," Coco told him softly. "Here you go."

Charles could hardly believe it as Colette gently eased the baby into his arms, carefully supporting her head. And suddenly he was holding her, his niece, this brand new little life, in all of her tiny, delicate, vulnerable little glory, bundled up in a soft pink blanket.

"She's perfect," he said softly, swallowing. 

She was so…fragile, in his hands. He hadn’t expected her to be that small, somehow. Charles smiled faintly, running his fingers gently over her hair. Her eyes were closed, and one tiny fist was poking out of the blanket.  

"Does she have a name yet?" he asked his sister. 

"I get to pick," Colette told him with a grin. "Given that Max named the cats after Monaco's nightlife."

Charles had to admit that was a fair point.

“What, you aren’t going to let Max name your daughter La Rascasse?” he teased Coco who just rolled her eyes.  "What have you come up with?" he asked curiously, tearing his eyes away from his niece to look at his sister.

"If she was a boy, I would have named him Emilian Hervé after Papa," Colette said softly. "Sadly that doesn't work for a girl."

Charles smiled faintly at the mention of their father. Their father would have doted on this baby, he was certain. He would have spoiled her absolutely rotten.

"So I figured… somebody else needed to give their name for her," Coco continued. "I hope you don't mind."

"Of course, I don't mind," Charles assured her at once. Why should he? "Whose name did you use?" he wondered. 

"Yours, you idiot, Cha," Coco told him, her voice soft. "Charlene Victoria Verstappen. We'll call her Charlie for short."

"Oh my god," Max's sister breathed somewhere behind him. "You.."

But Charles could only stare at his sister…could only feel the lump rise in his throat again. He swallowed hard. “You named her after me?” he asked with a waver in his voice, feeling like his heart might just explode in his chest.

"Of course, I did," Colette said softly. "You're my twin brother, why wouldn't I name my baby girl after you?"

Charles couldn't find any words to answer that with. He couldn't find any words at all. His eyes stung, and he couldn't look at her for fear he might cry. He looked down at the baby. His…god, his niece that was named after him.  

He gently ran his fingers over her hair again, marvelling at her tiny, perfect little body. "Hello, Charlie," he said softly, his voice a little choked.

The baby didn't even stir, and Charles smiled, shifting slightly to support her more securely. He couldn't believe that his sister had done this, that she had named her baby girl after him. It made his heart feel like it was fit to burst straight out of his chest, made him try to blink back tears and fail horribly. 

"Congratulations, you've made Charles cry," Lorenzo said from somewhere behind him, sounding a little choked himself.

Charles let out a noise that was half-laughing, half-crying as his brothers joined him at his side. "Shut up," he said, his voice rough with emotion.

"Not a chance," Arthur said as he squeezed in next to him to get a better look at the baby. Lorenzo joined him, peering down at the baby in Charles' arms with a strangely soft expression on his face.

"You gave her my name too," Victoria said weakly. Charles looked up at Max’s sister, not knowing what to say. It had sounded so obvious, so natural to hear Colette say it, that Charles had completely forgotten that Victoria shared the same name.

But she did. 

"A sibling for each of us," Colette said simply. "Sorry, Enzo, Arthur. Maybe next time.”

“Nah, Arthurelle is a horrible name,” Arthur responded. “Totally see why you went for Charlene.” 

Colette laughed, but it was a very weak, exhausted laugh. Charles couldn’t blame her. She must be absolutely wrung out.

And still as he looked at her...as her eyes met his, he could feel how happy his sister. How utterly in love she was with her daughter. How this was everything Colette had ever wanted, and it was right there. 

"I am never driving you to the hospital again though, just so you know," Arthur said. “That cost me at least 30 years of my life.”

"But you did so well," Colette teased their younger brother. "Thank you for that, ma petite puce."

Arthur grimaced faintly, but he looked too tired and happy to actually bite back. Charles smiled faintly at all of them in turn.

Charles‘ eyes snagged on their mother.

"Well, Grand-Mère," he teased her. "How does it feel?"

For a long moment, their mother simply looked at the baby in Charles’ arms with an unreadable expression on her face. And then her expression slowly shifted into a smile. A true smile. A happy, proud Grandma smile.

“Your father would be so proud of you all.” 

[shanastoryteller]

Happy Fall Season 🍁🍂🌻 !!! I’d love to see your take on a Merlin role reversal! 🥰

Hunith had never wanted to be queen, but once she gave birth to Balinor's son, there wasn't much choice in it.

Balinor sits as king, the lord of the dragon lords, and Merlin will one day inherit his title. She was just a village girl and the dirty traveling soldier had a nice smile and kind eyes so she'd lain with him.

If she'd known that he was king, she would not have presumed.

~

Merlin is strolling down the street, arguing with Will, when he trips over his own feet, knocks into a fruit stands, sends all the apples sprawling across the ground, and takes another step directly onto one of those apples only to end face first into a stone wall. "Ow."

The stone wall moves, which isn't unheard of in their kingdom, but then it talks, which is new. "Oh the Goddess above."

Hands settle on his shoulders, pushing him back and he looks up dazed to see that the stone wall is actually a blonde man with the brightest blue eyes he's ever seen. He's got broad shoulders and a chest firm enough that Merlin thinks his nose might be broke and Goddess above is right.

He's looking over Merlin's shoulder. "Are you going to clean this up?"

He turns, seeing the irate stall owner and the apples that are fucking everywhere as well as Will laughing his ass off and being no help whatsoever. "Oh, no! I'm sorry, let me just-"

Merlin holds out his hands, trying to remember the correct education, but the stall owner goes pale and starts waving his hands. "No, no, it's okay, please don't-"

The man smacks his hand down and grabs the back of his neck, giving him a rough shake as if he were a misbehaving kitten. "You a precision caster? Otherwise, knock it off. You're more likely to explode them then gather them that way."

He's sort of the exact opposite of a precision caster. He lets the spell go and sees the way the stall owner sighs in relief. "Oh. Right."

~

The man's name is Arthur, he's one of the peasants that have been recruited into being a solider in the war against Camelot, and he's here at the palace to receive the standard training along with the rest of the would be soldiers.

His father won't let him on the battlefield, even though that's where his magic is best, and he can't help but feel vaguely guilty that Arthur's been pulled from his family to fight in a war that Merlin thinks would end a hell of a lot faster if his father wasn't so protective.

It's that guilt that has Merlin forgoing his place at the high table with his mother to wander down to the lower tables at dinner that night to try and thank Arthur for helping him clean up all the apples, something he hadn't been able to do before Will was dragging him away.

He's not expecting it when one of the soldiers leaps to their feet and pulls out a dagger on him, one that has to be cursed against enchantments because none of the spells to pull it form his hands that several people at the high table cast do any good at all.

Merlin's just feeling the bite of it into his throat, frantically trying to think of a spell to get him out of this, when a carving knife goes whizzing past his face and embeds itself into his assailant's skull.

Merlin jumps away, shaking, to see Arthur standing there and cool and unbothered, hand outstretched as if he's about to cast a spell. But he's not, it's like that because he'd grabbed the knife from the venison on the table and killed that man before he could kill Merlin.

"You just make friends wherever you go, don't you?" Arthur asks.

Then everyone's moving forward, pulling him away, and Arthur along with him. His expression turns murderous, like he's wishing he had another knife as he's manhandled across the room.

His mother pat his face and clucks at his neck and then thanks Arthur for saving her son.

Arthur had bowed at Hunith but then frozen. He's looking at Merlin with dismay, which isn't exactly new for him but he's not sure why he's getting that look from Arthur now of all times. "You're Prince Merlin? You?"

"Uh," he says, then shrugs helplessly. "Yes?"

He really doesn't think Arthur's opinion of him is improved when Hunith assigns him to be Merlin's personal servant. It should be a reprieve, getting to work in the palace rather than the battlefield, but the tight look on Arthur's face doesn't ease.

[that-nerd-who-writes-fanfiction]

I’m not usually one for miscommunication as a trope but hear me out:

Arthur thinks he and Merlin are together because Merlin says shit like “you’re my destiny” and “two sides of the same coin” fairly often.

He even looks fond or proud whenever he calls Arthur a prat, and pet names never suited them. He considered it once but it just felt weird. “Idiot.” Changed to “Idiot <3” when they finally got together and that suits them much better than Darling or Babe or whatever else.

And it’s not like he doesn’t say romantic stuff back, all: “you’re the bravest man I ever met.” Or “you’re the best friend I have and I couldn’t bare to lose you”

Meanwhile, Merlin pinpoints the same moment Arthur believed they started dating as when Arthur started acting more affectionate and Merlin’s crush got dialled up to 11.

Arthur doesn’t seem to mind, so he pushes his luck occasionally and will hug Arthur after a long day or will lean on him if they’re eating together on a hunting trip. Merlin absolutely cherishes these moments, but he’s secretly wishing they meant as much to Arthur as they do to him. (Spoiler alert: they do.)

So they must be together, Merlin just can’t be bothered with titles and with everything that happened, Agravane and Morgana betraying him, it would be ideal to wait for an announcement of their relationship.

He gifts Merlin clothes, new boots, will leave flowers in his chambers and asked for the cook to make more of Merlin’s favourites so he can steal food from Arthur’s plate because he claims it tastes better when it isn’t his food.

Arthur gave Merlin his mother’s sigil, for crying out loud. They’re obviously together.

And even better, (you can pry demi or ace Arthur from my cold dead hands) they don’t even need to be intimate beyond the occasional hug or soft gestures like Merlin brushing the hair from his face before Arthur goes to sleep at night and Arthur doing the same whenever they’re not in the castle and sleeping next to each other. He was worried at first, but Merlin never expected it, which Arthur just takes as: “And how stupid to worry? who knows him better than Merlin? Of course he would already know Arthur didn’t feel comfortable with that sort of stuff.”

Then one day, a delegation comes to Camelot and one of the foreign knights is flirting with Merlin. Arthur sees, and he doesn’t usually feel any need to act on his jealousy because he trusts Merlin, but this knight isn’t flirting in the way Gwaine does that’s just part of who he is, and Merlin looks uncomfortable. So he calls Merlin over to him, starts acting like a prat, and keeps Merlin “busy” all night by keeping his goblet full or usual servants duties.

Then later, Merlin thanks Arthur but says he doesn’t need to worry and he can handle himself. Arthur, finally relaxing after being ready to start a fight for the past three hours, pulls Merlin into a hug and kisses his forehead, because let the medieval gays be soft sometimes. He whispers something like, “I know you don’t like talking about it, and that you’ve said you don’t need a title, but you shouldn’t have to handle everything on your own.”

Merlin pulls back, looking shocked and confused. Then they actually have to talk about everything.

Merlin’s just fine with actually dating the guy he’s got a massive crush on and now he’s more willing to instigate hugs and affection. (Arthur just thought Merlin wasn’t going to push him to not make him uncomfortable but secretly wishes that he would instigate more) They end up sleeping in the same bed in Camelot too, because cuddles and softness, something Arthur wanted for a while but didn’t know how to ask for.

Basically all the problems in the relationship that Arthur was worried about but kinda felt “it’s already more than I could hope for” so didn’t want to bring up get worked out naturally and Merlin, who was previously worried about his friendship getting ruined if they changed the dynamic too much, is shocked by how little actually changed now that they’re together. He just gets to hold Arthur’s hand, can be less subtle about stealing from his dinner, gets to relax and gets an Arthur that’s more clingy and soft now that Merlin knows he’s allowed to reciprocate affection.

They still tease each other, they’re still two idiots sharing a braincell that they occasionally give to Leon to babysit, they’re just more open about being in love now. (More open to each other, anyway. Literally everyone else in Camelot knew long before they did)

Bonus points if they’ve been talking about their relationship and having the important conversation with each other the entire time, just without actually talking about it. Merlin asking why Arthur suddenly changed how affectionate he is and Arthur saying he thought he was allowed. Merlin’s just like “cool, as long as you’re okay. I’m glad you’re feeling more comfortable and relaxed.” And glad there’s no love spells or anything sinister going on. Arthur says he doesn’t like Merlin flirting with Gwaine, even if he doesn’t mean it, and Merlin agrees to stop if it makes him uncomfortable. He doesn’t think too much into it, just thinks Arthur doesn’t like the casual flirting and believes that relationships are important so casual stuff isn’t super comfortable. Merlin is still friends with Gwaine, just makes less jokes about going home with or marrying him.

Like, they’re having entire conversations and maintaining a fully functional healthy relationship, they’re just fucking idiots at the same time.

[witherby]

I really want to see Littlest Wayne having more interactions with the justice league, especially Hal! That bit of him getting emotional after the baby says his name was adorable 😭

You don't have to tell me twice. Get ready to get a lot of uncles and aunts 🤭 featuring more Bruce x Hal because I'm shameless

Slightly spoilerly warning: ⚠️ Emetophobia ⚠️

The Littlest Wayne: Meet the Team

Masterlist is Here!

"Oh! No. No, I don't — I'm good, actually. No thanks."

Clark gives Hal a curious look, but doesn't try to pass you over to him after that initial rejection. He smiles down at you and goes back to gently tracing the tip of his finger up and down the bridge of your nose. Your eyes droop almost immediately, then you're asleep a minute later.

"They're beautiful, Bruce," Diana says, clapping a hand against his back. Bruce, to his credit, barely stumbles.

"No names in costume," he says.

"You literally brought us your infant child to coo at," Barry chimes in, cracking open a bag of chips. "They're in a Cookie Monster onesie. I think we can let it slide just the once."

"Hnn," Bruce mutters. He lets the edges of his cape fall over his chest, cloaking his limbs and torso until he looks like one, solid shape. "Only the once."

Barry grins, zipping past him to stand in front of Clark and gush over your snoozing form. Oliver held you for a minute when Bruce first showed up to introduce you to the team, then Dinah stole you from him and peppered kisses all over your face until you were squealing with laughter. J'onn carefully held you how he was instructed and told everyone you were thinking about how colorful they each looked. Arthur jokingly asked if Bruce wanted him to baptize you. Arthur swiftly lost his baby privileges. Then Diana held you kind of like someone weighing a ham, nodded once, called you "phenomenal," and handed you off to Clark, where you currently remain.

It was a little curious to see Hal so vehemently refuse to hold you when, as far as Bruce can see, he hasn't taken his eyes off you the whole time you've been in the Watchtower. Even more curiously, before Clark did that little nose trick to get you to sleep, you'd been staring right back at him.

Bruce could go Full Investigation Mode on this, but he understands that it might be a bit much to do to someone he's only been seeing for, like, ten weeks. They haven't even talked about labels yet.

So he does a small guilt trip instead.

Just a small one. Microscopic, really.

Completely harmless.

When he holds out his arms for you, Clark reluctantly surrenders, and you snuggle up to your father with a soft huff. Bruce delicately thumbs over your cheek, taking a moment to admire you, then carries you over to Hal and puts his very harmless plan into motion.

"It's a shame you hate my baby."

Hal looks like he got shot. Guilt Trip Plan: 6/10, too traumatizing. Refine for future use.

"I'm kidding," Bruce says, trying to cushion the blow. "Calm down."

"Jesus, Spooky," Hal mutters, rubbing his temples, "do you ever just ask normal questions outright?"

"Of course I do," Bruce says. "Last night, when we were both free, I asked you if you were interested in having se—"

"Okay!" He waves his hands, glancing at you with panicked eyes, which Bruce finds absurd. You're barely old enough to comprehend the fact that you have a body, let alone the ability to start processing language. You don't even know your name. You do kind of recognize Bruce's voice, but mainly when he's changing or feeding you, and only by his tone. It's all just senseless noise for you, otherwise, stimuli you allow to wash over you without putting conscious thought to it.

Bruce sighs and takes a smaller step closer to Hal. Hal takes a step back.

"I'm very curious about where this is coming from," Bruce says, choosing to be blunt. "You're fantastic with children, in and out of costume."

He takes another step forward. Hal takes another step back.

"Yeah, sure — kids and stuff — not babies," Hal says. "Kids can walk and talk and aren't...y'know, breakable."

"The baby isn't made of glass, Lantern."

One step forward. One step back.

"I know that! But they're also, y'know...just there. Kids are just tiny people. Babies are babies."

One step forward. One step back.

"I feel obligated to inform you that babies are also classified as people. They have social security numbers, birth certificates —"

One step forward. One step back.

"You know what I meant, don't get smart with me."

"I'm trying to know what you mean, actually. It's not like you don't want to hold them, I can see in your face that you do. The question is why you won't."

One step forward. One step back.

"Bruce, I need you to turn that gorgeous detective brain off for ten seconds and realize how intense you're being. I'm literally being backed into a corner."

Bruce stops walking. Hal can't walk back anymore because he's flush against the wall. Oops.

He acquiesces with a step back and turns his focus back on you. Your eyes are twitching under the lids. He wonders what you're dreaming about.

"This child is mine," Bruce says quietly. "I'm not asking you to step up and play stepfather, Hal, but this is a package deal. Them, and my boys. If that's too much...if that's a deal breaker —"

"Oh," Hal says, "no. Hey, no, of course it isn't! I'm not like that, B, I'm just — I've never — ugh."

He wills the domino mask away so he can rub his eyes, groaning, then shakes his head.

"They always puke!"

Bruce pauses. Thinks. Comes up empty. "Elaborate."

"Babies! Every time I hold a baby, they vomit on me. It's like some horrible magic trick or something, but I swear to you, I've never held a baby and it be able to keep its formula down."

Hal looks very distressed as he admits this, gesturing emphatically to get his point across. Bruce finds it endearing.

"Babies are the most adorable things on the planet. You think I don't wanna take them from you and snuggle up on the couch all day? I do! But they're gonna hurl about it!"

"Okay."

"I swear I'm not lyi— okay?"

"Okay," Bruce says. "I don't want you to get puked on, and I don't want to clean up more baby vomit than I have to. It stains absolutely everything it touches. It's a nightmare." He shifts his weight, rocking you slowly when you start to fuss. Is it a bad dream, or do you feel stuffy in the onesie? He'll take you home and get you down in the crib, soon. "But that's good to know. We'll figure something out."

"We will?" Hal says. "You aren't upset?"

"No. In fact, thank you for admitting it. I would have been pissed if you made my baby spit up and didn't warn me ahead of time."

Hal snorts. Bruce cracks a small smile, looking back down at your sleeping form. You seem to be settling again.

"So you'll have to wait a little longer to say hi to uncle Hal," he murmurs. "That's fine."

"Sorry for eavesdropping, but if he's Uncle Hal, can I be Uncle Clark?" The Kryptonian asks, almost shyly as he floats over. "Also, I didn't make the baby spit up. Can I hold 'em again?"

"We get to be uncles?? Hell yesssss," Barry says, pumping his fist.

"I will be the most impressive uncle among you," Diana declares, cracking her knuckles. "How do we battle for such a title?"

"You're an Auntie, Di."

"Then I will be the most impressive auntie among you."

"I think we're all just gonna let you have that one. You win."

Diana smiles, triumphant.

[wondersinwaynemanor]

let's pretend that this is the right timeline because what if Dick becomes Batman at the same time when Wally becomes The Flash?

let's also say that this is just like the Justice League animated series wherein the League members don't know each member's identities (except of course Bruce, he knows everybody).

how funny would it be if Dick and Wally are together and the rest of the League are confused because all of a sudden Batman and Flash are close like super close? i mean they have witnessed how Flash gets intimidated by Batman. now, that's not the case anymore.

during a meeting:

Hal, leaning to John during a League meeting, whispers: I'm not losing my mind, right?

John, whispers back: I think I know what you mean.

Hal: Why is Flash making heart eyes to Bats????

John: I know??? Flash doesn't even look him in the eyes before.

Hal: That's so odd, dude.

Batman glances at the two Green Lanterns which makes them shut up.

meanwhile, across the table, Martian Manhunter has a light smile on his lips and Superman covers his laugh with a cough.

-

at the cafeteria:

Ollie: Hey, Dinah. Have you noticed something unusual between Batman and Flash lately?

Dinah: It is quite unusual, huh? I was talking to Hawkgirl the other day and she said she saw Flash bridal carry Bats.

Ollie: What the actual fu-

Flash, approaches the couple's table with a big bowl of nachos on his hand: Hey, guys! Mind if I sit with you?

Ollie and Dinah give a knowing look at each other. a conversation they definitely will finish later.

-

during in an another planet mission:

Batman, after announcing everyone's partners for the mission:... And lastly, I will pair up with Flash in today's mission.

Flash grins widely, that has Arthur thinking his cheeks might be hurting after that.

Arthur: Yeah, yeah. At this point, we already know, Bats!

the Green Lanterns, along with Captain Marvel and Booster Gold, snicker at his comment.

Batman ignores Arthur's comment and the rest of the members scatter to their assigned locations.

Victor, who was paired with Arthur: Was gonna give that comment too.

Arthur: It's like they are inseparable all of a sudden.

Victor, shakes his head: Well, I have seen weirder things.

-

in the meeting hall:

Wonder Woman, pulls Batman in the corner of the room: Okay, that's enough. You are truly ignoring me. What is going on with you lately?

Batman: Did the rest of the League put you up to this?

Wonder Woman, has her hands on her hips: They didn't need to. So, tell me. And don't you ever lie to me, I can see right through you, Batman.

Batman, sighs: It's hard for me to explain. I can't-I can't tell you right now.

Wonder Woman: Hera! Now, Bru-Batman.

before Batman responses, the door of the meeting hall opens and in comes Robin with his katana. the conversations between the League members come to a stop as they stare at the young hero.

Robin, glances at everyone, before approaching Flash: I need help with an important matter.

Flash, smiles and ruffles Robin's hair, as if that's second nature: Of course, little dude.

Hal, stands up from his seat: THAT'S IT! Can somebody tell me what the hell is going on????

Ollie, stands up with him: Are we in another dimension that I don't know about?????

Dinah pulls Ollie down by his arm to make him sit again.

the rest of the League members start to converse against each other.

Superman, floats a bit from his seat: Why don't we all settle down? There's nothing to be alarmed about.

Robin, shakes his head: Tt. Absolute fools.

by the time Bruce and Barry are back:

-

Bruce, pinches the bridge of his nose: Chum, you could at least be discreet with Wally.

Dick: It's not my fault, B! I swear I was going to explain to Aunt Diana then Dami entered the room.

Damian: Tt. Don't blame me, Grayson. Why don't you lecture West on how to be more responsible? He left me on read when I asked help for my Science project.

Dick, sighs: And what about Timmy? He could have helped.

Damian: I don't want anything to do with Drake.

Bruce massages his temples as he feels a headache coming up.

-

Barry: Wally!!!!

Wally, zooms right in front of Barry: I couldn't help it, okay?? Dick is just irresistible.

Iris giggles as she prepares the table for dinner.

Barry, sighs: That's alright. I'll talk to Bats on how we can explain it to the team.

Wally, grins and sits down by the table: It was hard not to laugh at them. They were so confused.

Barry, chuckles: I'm sure Hal's expression was the funniest.

Wally, laughs: You have no idea, Uncle Barry.

[mythicalmaven]

Gotta Be You - Charles Leclerc (ONE)

Let's go for a new series! <3 I always love writing friends/enemies to lovers, so that's what this is, yet again lol😂❤️ For my inspiration I got to give lots of credit to @vroomvro0mferrari, because her series Vexing Vacation gave me lots of inspo for the shared vacation thingie!

masterlist | promptlist ↳pairing: charles leclerc x female!gasly!reader ↳word count: 6,3K ↳warnings: not much yet honestly, arguing, tension maybe ↳side info: friends to enemies to lovers, semi slow burn? (not really slowburn, but it has build up until the actual lovers things unfold), the reader is Pierre's younger sister, reader is Arthur LeClerc's childhood best friend, Charles is her former crush, Charles is a jealous ass sometimes, age gap between reader and Charles (5 years, 22 and 27) ↳summary: In which you go on a shared holiday with both your and your brother's friend group, forced to be confronted with your former teenage crush Charles LeClerc yet again. The only problem is? You can't stand him nowadays, until you suddenly can.

Arthur’s apartment was as chaotic as ever, half-packed bags and discarded jackets strewn across the floor. You threw yourself onto the couch with a dramatic groan, your face buried in a pillow.

“I regret this already,” you whined, the words muffled against the soft fabric.

Arthur’s laugh carried from the doorway. “You’ve been here two minutes, and you’re already complaining? Impressive.”

Rolling onto your back, you shot him a glare. “I can’t believe I let you talk me into this. A whole month of dealing with your insufferable brother? I must’ve been out of my mind.”

Arthur leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed and grinning like the Cheshire cat. “You’ll survive. There are enough people going to keep you distracted. Plus, you get to spend a whole month with me. What more could you possibly want?”

“Maybe a holiday without Charles,” you shot back, only half-joking.

Arthur smirked. “Come on, he’s not that bad. Okay, maybe he’s a bit… a lot.”

"Arthur... I can't think of one thing that's not annoying about your brother" You raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to dig his own grave further.

The Monegasque chuckled and rolled his eyes "Nuh uh! I do remember very vividly how you were gushing about, and I quote 'astonishingly hot' my brother looked in that suit during christmas"

You huffed and coughed, throwing the pillow that was under your head towards Arthur "First of all that was 2 years ago" you said, rolling onto your back, staring up at the ceiling “Besides, the only thing worse than Charles, is Charles knowing he’s handsome. He’s insufferable, and he’s fully aware of it. That smirk of his? Pure evil.”

Arthur snorted. “Yeah, he definitely knows. But let’s be honest, you’re not wrong. The guy could probably charm his way out of murder if he tried.”

You groaned again, flopping back onto the couch. “Can't I just stay here, and watch the house? Doesn't your fake plant need a plant sitter, to fake water it?" you joked.

Arthur plopped down beside you, his grin softening slightly. “You’ll be fine. I’ll protect you. I’ll even create a no-Charles zone if it helps.”

You laughed despite yourself, shoving his shoulder. “You’re an idiot.”

“An idiot you’re lucky to have,” he replied with a wink.

You smiled at him, rolling your eyes once again. He was true, you were lucky to have him, but you also weren't so lucky with who his brother was.

“But you have to admit,” Arthur continued, “you kind of love how much he gets under your skin. You wouldn’t have this much energy to complain if you didn’t care.”

Your gaze softened as you looked at him, and for a moment, your mind wandered back to where it all started. You and Arthur had been inseparable since you were kids.

The first time you met Arthur, you were eight years old, tagging along with Pierre to one of his karting races. Arthur, ten at the time, had been sitting on a crate, furiously tinkering with his kart while Charles shouted something from across the paddock. He looked up as you approached, his face smeared with grease, and grinned like he’d known you forever.

“Hi! I’m Arthur!” he announced, shoving his hand out for you to shake.

From that moment on, you were glued to his side. Arthur became your partner in crime, the one you told all your secrets to, and the brother you never asked for but somehow desperately needed.

Of course, being best friends with Arthur meant spending time around Charles, too.

You were fifteen when it happened—when you realized you had a crush on the unattainable Charles Leclerc. He was nineteen then, fully immersed in his F1 career and everything that came with it. He had this effortless charm, a confidence that made it impossible to look away.

You knew it was silly, that he’d never see you as anything more than Arthur’s kid best friend. But the crush lingered, stubborn and unrelenting.

By the time you were sixteen, you and Charles had started spending more time together, moments where the age gap didn’t feel so insurmountable. He’d joke with you, tease you about your karting attempts, and you couldn’t help but think… maybe. Maybe if you were older, it could be something.

“Maybe if you were older,” he’d said once, his voice light but his words heavy. “But you’re Pierre’s little sister, and Arthur would kill me. Besides, you’re like family.”

The words stung, but deep down, you understood. And then there was that night when you were eighteen—too many drinks, a shared laugh, and the moment you almost kissed. But it was over before it began, cut short by the sound of someone calling Charles’ name.

You never talked about it, burying the memory alongside the growing ache in your chest.

When you were eighteen, you finally let it go. You and Charles were just friends, so it seemed. You started dating other guys, convinced that the feelings you had for Charles were a thing of the past, which they seemed to be. But that was when Charles started to change.

He became distant, colder. His teasing shifted into something sharper, tinged with something you couldn’t quite understand. You started arguing more, getting annoyed by the weirdest little things. The playful insults and your arguments became the foundation of your relationship—barbed words masking unresolved tension.

Now, years later, it was all just… frustrating. You didn’t understand him, and you didn’t want to. Yet you both couldn't seem to let it each other be. Even though you were now respectively 21 and 26, you both had this childish need to keep pushing each others buttons.

The sound of the doorbell snapped you out of your thoughts. Arthur jumped up, grinning. “Showtime. Come on, let’s get this circus started.”

You followed him to the door, your heart sinking as soon as it swung open. There he was—Charles Leclerc, the devil himself, smirk firmly in place. Beside him stood Pierre and Kika, both smiling warmly.

“Great,” you muttered under your breath. “Let the torture begin.”

Pierre and Kika made their way in, following Arthur to the living room, leaving you standing there alone with Charles.

Charles’s eyes flicked to you, his smirk widening. “Miss me already?”

You rolled your eyes at the Monegasque driver, scoffing "I’d miss you more if you came with a mute button."

Before Charles had the chance to reply to your comment, Dennis Hauger appeared behind Charles, greeting both of you with a smirk. Saved by the bell

"HAUG!" you exclaimed happily, making your way over to him, embracing him.

Dennis returned the hug immediately, settling his arms around your waist "Hi there, frenchie" he chuckled back at you, using of his standard nickname for you.

You tucked your head in the crook of his neck "You just saved me from the devil, thanks" you whispered jokingly to him, low enough for Charles to not hear.

What you didn't notice tho, was the way Charles clenched his jaw at the sight in front of him, or the way he immediately made his way out of the hallway, trying to get away from the interaction in front of him. It was jealousy, pure jealousy. Something he was trying to deny with all his willpower.

⁺⋆⁺₊⁺⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⁺⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⁺ ⋆⁺

The house had been buzzing with activity for the past hour as everyone settled into their rooms. Most of the group had scrambled to claim their ideal space as soon as they walked in, leaving you and Kika to handle the grocery run. You didn’t mind—there wasn’t a room you particularly wanted, and you figured Arthur would sort it out for you while you were gone.

When you returned and put everything away, you made your way to the living room, where Arthur was lounging on the couch next to Dennis. You perched on the armrest beside him, your hands on your hips.

Arthur didn’t even look at you before sighing dramatically. “I’m sorry in advance,” he muttered, sounding uncharacteristically guilty.

You raised an eyebrow. “I haven’t even said anything yet, and you’re already apologizing. That’s reassuring.”

Arthur finally glanced up, a smirk creeping onto his face. “You weren’t going to ask me about your room for the month?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, catching the teasing tone in his voice. “Okay, and if I was? I already told you I don’t care which room I get. I’m not picky.”

Dennis snorted from his seat. “Oh, you’ll care soon enough.”

Confused, you glanced between them, their smirks only growing. “What are you two on about? Just tell me where the room is, and I’ll figure it out myself.”

Arthur shrugged, clearly enjoying himself. “Upstairs. There are two bedrooms on that floor. Yours is the one on the right.”

“Thanks,” you said, pushing off the armrest. “Honestly, boys, it can’t be that bad.”

As you walked away, you heard Arthur mutter behind you, “Sweet, innocent girl.”

The comment made you roll your eyes, but you brushed it off. Surely they were just being dramatic. When you reached the room, you stepped inside and surveyed the space. It was far from bad—it was actually quite nice. The room was spacious, with large windows that let in plenty of light. You noticed a set of balcony doors and walked over to them, opening them to find a stunning view of the beach. The balcony extended to the next room, but that wasn’t anything that bothered you.

Everything about the room seemed perfect. What were they even talking about?

Feeling satisfied, you turned your attention to the rest of the space, spotting a door near the wardrobe. It must lead to the bathroom. Curious, you opened it, stepping inside—and froze in your tracks.

There, in the middle of the bathroom, stood Charles, unpacking his toiletries into the cabinet. His back was to you, but the sight of him was enough to make your stomach drop. You quickly scanned the room and spotted another door on the opposite wall, clearly leading to his bedroom.

Oh. That’s what they meant.

“No way. This is not happening,” you huffed, throwing your hands in the air.

Charles turned at the sound of your voice, his expression shifting from surprise to irritation. “What are you doing here?” he snapped.

"About to murder either you, or the idiot that came up with the clever idea to put me in a room next to most insufferable person on mother earth" you snapped back at him.

Charles felt slightly hurt at your insult, he knew he caused this himself, but he figured that trying to get over you was easier when you hated him than when you were your way too sweet self.

Charles rolled his eyes, going back to his unpacking. "Might as well consider killing Joris then, because up until you came barging in, I thought he would be staying in that room" he said, rolling his eyes, mindlessly continuing to unpack his stuff

You crossed your arms, glaring at his nonchalant attitude. “Well, congratulations on your little upgrade. This arrangement is absolutely not happening. I’m switching rooms.”

“Good luck with that,” Charles muttered. “But if you’re planning to kill Joris, I’d like to watch.”

You ignored his sarcasm, muttering curses under your breath as you stormed out of the bathroom and downstairs into the kitchen. Your frustration was boiling over as you barged in, startling the group gathered around the table. Pierre, Kika, Arthur, Dennis, and Joris all looked up at you in varying states of confusion.

“Joris,” you snapped, pointing a finger at him. “I will kill you.”

Joris blinked, holding his hands up in defense. “What did I do?”

“Apparently you figured it was a good idea to take the last decent room, and left me with the one upstairs,” you hissed. “Which, by the way, shares a bathroom with Charles.”

Arthur burst into laughter, nearly doubling over. “You just figured that out? Oh, this is gold.”

Joris’ confused expression turned sheepish. “Okay, wait. I didn’t know that if I didn’t take the upstairs room, you’d end up with it. I thought the downstairs one was just the last one left.”

“And you didn’t think about who would be upstairs with Charles?” you snapped, your tone laced with sarcasm.

Joris shrugged, an amused grin tugging at his lips. “I mean... I thought you’d appreciate the proximity to him.”

You groaned, turning to Pierre, who was clearly trying to stifle his laughter. “Pierre, switch rooms with me. Please.”

Pierre leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “Yeah, no. That’s not happening. Kika and I have a nice setup downstairs, and I’m not about to share a bathroom with anyone. We need our privacy.”

“I need privacy too!” you argued, your voice rising in frustration.

“It’s different,” Pierre said, shooting you a pointed look. “Couples need privacy for... other things.”

“Ew. Stop. I don’t want to know,” you groaned, covering your ears dramatically.

You spun around to Arthur, narrowing your eyes. “You. Switch with me.”

Arthur raised his hands, laughing. “No can do. Charles would murder me. I snore too loud, and he’s all about his beauty sleep. He’d kick me out within a day.”

Your gaze shifted to Dennis, who immediately held up his hands. “Don’t even think about it. I’ve got the best room in the house—big bed, balcony, bubble bath. I’m not giving that up.”

You groaned loudly, throwing your head back. “You’re all useless.”

He leaned back smugly, grinning as if he’d just won the lottery. Then, as if to soften the blow, he added, “Well, I would’ve offered to let you stay in my room with me, but I think that would be the cause of my death.” His eyes flicked pointedly to your brother.

“Fair point,” Pierre said flatly, without missing a beat.

You rolled your eyes, exasperated. “No, that’s off-limits. But sharing a bathroom—with connecting doors—with the one guy you’ve always said was ‘off-limits’ is somehow not an issue? You’re a hypocritical ass.”

Pierre shrugged, a smug grin tugging at his lips. “First of all, sleeping in someone’s bed is completely different than sharing a bathroom,” he countered, folding his arms.

“And second,” he added with a knowing look, “the only reason I ever said that was because you had a little teenage crush on my best friend. And let’s be honest, at the time, he was way too old for you. But...” He trailed off, chuckling to himself. “I guess sticking to that would make me a bit of a hypocrite, considering I’m dating one of your friends now, and our age gap is even bigger.”

You groaned loudly, knowing you couldn’t win this side of the argument. “Whatever,” you muttered, crossing your arms. “That doesn’t change the fact that you know he’s the one person I want to avoid the most. You know I hate him,” you complained. “I can’t even stand the idea of his existence, let alone sharing a goddamn bathroom with him.”

“Relax,” Pierre said with a smirk. “It’s just a bathroom. There’s a lock on the door. You’ll survive.”

“Exactly,” came Charles’ voice from behind you. You spun around to find him leaning against the doorway, his arms crossed and an infuriatingly smug look on his face. “It’s not like sharing a bathroom means we’re obligated to shower together.”

“Oh, don’t tempt me,” you snapped. “It might be worth it just to drown you.”

The group erupted in laughter, and Charles rolled his eyes. “You’re acting like a child. Just knock before you go in. Problem solved.”

You glared at him, furious “Why are you even meddling, you weren't even part of this conversation, are you just lurking around waiting to butt in on conversations?” you snapped.

Charles smirked, clearly enjoying your frustration. “Not my fault you’re loud enough to hear from every other room,” he replied, his tone light but with an edge of sarcasm.

Your hands balled into fists at your sides as you shot him a glare. “God, you’re insufferable.”

“And yet, here we are,” he quipped, unfazed by your fury.

You sighed loudly "See, this is what I mean, this is what y'all are burdening me with" you complained, glaring at him once more, your frustration bubbling over. “You’re the last person I’d ever want to share a bathroom with.”

Charles smirked, stepping further into the kitchen, inching closer to you, until he was close enough to whisper in your ear. “Good thing it’s not up to you, then.”

Your hands balled into fists at your sides as you shot him a glare, your voice sharp and dripping with annoyance. “Fuck you, Charles.”

He raised an eyebrow, his smirk growing wider as he tilted his head slightly, feigning innocence. “Tempting,” he drawled, his voice low and teasing, “but I don’t think you could handle it.”

Pierre clapped his hands together, interrupting the argument. “Alright, enough. Give it a try for a few days. If it’s really that bad, we’ll figure something out. But I doubt it’ll be the end of the world.”

You huffed, crossing your arms. “Fine. But if I end up committing a murder, just know it’s on all of you.”

⁺⋆⁺₊⁺⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⁺⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⁺ ⋆⁺

After the heated argument downstairs, you stormed up the stairs to your designated bedroom, Arthur trailing behind you with his ever-present smug smirk. His long strides brought him into the room before you could even process your frustration fully. He flopped unceremoniously onto your bed, bouncing slightly as he sprawled out, his arms behind his head like he didn’t have a care in the world.

Meanwhile, you busied yourself with unpacking your suitcase, each item you placed in the wardrobe an outlet for your simmering annoyance. The rhythmic sound of hangers sliding against the bar was oddly soothing—until you caught Arthur watching you with that infuriating grin plastered across his face.

"What?" you snapped, not even turning to face him.

Arthur’s eyes twinkled with mischief. "Oh, nothing. Just waiting for you to protest again"

You rolled your eyes so hard it almost hurt. Before you could even begin to voice your frustration, Arthur sat up, one hand raised in mock surrender. "Nope! Let me stop you right there. This wasn’t just on me.”

Without thinking, you grabbed a pair of joggers from your suitcase and lobbed them at him. The fabric smacked him square in the face with a satisfying thwack.

“Merde!” he exclaimed, his laughter spilling out as he dramatically tossed the joggers aside. “Violence is not the answer, you know.”

“Neither is being useless,” you shot back, crossing your arms. "Arthur, you could have at least tried something! Anything would have been better than this.”

He leaned back against the headboard, folding his arms as if settling in for a long discussion. “Trust me, I did. But there wasn’t much to work with. Your brother doesn’t want to switch because—well, come on, you know why. He’s here with his girlfriend, and honestly, he made a fair point.”

You made a disgusted face, wrinkling your nose. “Fair point or not, it still sucks for me.”

Arthur shrugged nonchalantly. “And then there’s Joris. He’s obviously got a thing for Gigi, and guess what? Gigi sleeps downstairs. Perfect excuse for him to ‘accidentally’ run into her more often.”

“Gross,” you muttered, shoving another shirt into the wardrobe.

Arthur grinned, clearly enjoying your irritation. “And let’s be real: Inès and Gigi met Charles today. Can you imagine how awkward it’d be for either of them to share a bathroom with him? What if they walk in each other accidentally. That’s like… social torture. At least you’ve known him for years.”

You spun around, throwing your hands in the air. “I’M UNCOMFORTABLE TOO, ARTHUR!”

“Yeah, but that’s just you two being… you two,” he quipped, gesturing vaguely between you. “It’s a highly unlogical—”

“Illogical,” you corrected sharply.

“Whatever.” He waved a hand dismissively. “It’s an illogical issue between the two of you. At least you know him well enough to, I don’t know, coexist?”

You exhaled sharply, knowing he wasn’t entirely wrong but unwilling to admit it. “Fine. But Dennis? He’s my friend! He could have helped me out instead of hogging the nicest room in the house.”

Arthur snorted. “You know Dennis and Paul! I’m pretty sure they're just quietly rooting for some ‘enemies to lovers’ drama between you and Charles. Probably think it’s entertaining"

You stared at him in disbelief, heat rising to your cheeks. “Oh my God. Why do you all think this is some slow-burn romance novel? I’m not in love with him anymore. That was just a stupid teenage crush!”

Arthur grinned wider, clearly delighted. “Sure, sure. But that doesn’t mean you two don’t have… something.”

“Ugh!” You grabbed a pillow and launched it at him, but he easily dodged, laughing as he slid off the bed to avoid further projectiles.

“Relax, I’m just saying what everyone’s thinking,” he teased, leaning casually against the wall. “And for the record, I would have swapped with you. But Charles would kill me. You know how I snore, and—let’s be real—we’ve already lived together long enough. He’d probably prefer sharing a bathroom with you than enduring that again.”

You groaned, rubbing your temples. “I just don’t get it. He hates me just as much as I hate him. Why would he rather share with me than you?”

Arthur raised an eyebrow, his knowing smirk returning. “Oh, I have my theories. But I’m staying out of it.”

“That’s not helpful,” you muttered, exasperated.

Arthur chuckled, pushing off the wall. “Look, you could always sleep on the couch. But if you do…” He paused, tilting his head thoughtfully. “You’re letting him win.”

“Fair point,” you admitted begrudgingly.

Arthur patted your shoulder as he walked toward the door. “Good luck surviving the week. Don’t kill each other—well, at least not where anyone can see.”

Once he was gone, the silence of the room felt heavy. You sighed, glancing toward the adjoining bathroom door—the one that connected your room to Charles’.

As if on cue, the faint sound of running water reached your ears. You groaned inwardly, already dreading the inevitable awkward encounters. Maybe Arthur was right. Maybe this was all just some cosmic joke meant to test your patience.

But as you sank onto the edge of the bed, you couldn’t help but feel a flicker of something else—something unsettling that you didn’t want to name. Whatever it was, you shoved it aside, determined to prove that you could handle this without giving anyone the satisfaction of watching you squirm.

For now, you focused on unpacking the rest of your things, trying to ignore the quiet tension creeping in through the bathroom door.

⁺⋆⁺₊⁺⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⁺⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⁺ ⋆⁺

Later that day, the dinner table was alive with chatter, forks scraping plates, and glasses clinking as the group settled into an easy rhythm of conversation. The garden outside glowed under the string lights Pierre had painstakingly strung earlier, their warm light casting a soft glow over everyone seated at the table. Plates were piled high with food, the occasional burst of laughter cutting through the gentle hum of evening crickets.

You sat between Dennis and Arthur, trying your best to ignore the magnetic pull of Charles, seated directly across from you. He was deep in conversation with Joris about the best overtaking strategies, his hands gesturing animatedly as he spoke. You told yourself you weren’t paying attention, but your eyes betrayed you, flickering to him more often than you’d like.

Arthur leaned over, breaking your reverie. “You’ve barely touched your plate,” he teased, nodding toward your half-eaten dinner.

“Maybe I lost my appetite after sitting across from that,” you said pointedly, your fork gesturing vaguely in Charles’ direction.

Charles, sharp as ever, caught the jab immediately. His green eyes glinted with amusement as he leaned back in his chair, resting an arm lazily on the table. “Careful,” he drawled. “That attitude of yours might scare away any remaining appetite you have.”

Dennis snickered quietly beside you, earning a glare from you and a soft punch to his shoulder. “Don’t encourage him,” you muttered.

“Who, me?” Dennis asked innocently.

The banter escalated as the evening wore on. Drinks began to flow more freely—wine for most, a few beers for the others—and snacks were passed around as the group moved to the garden chairs scattered across the lawn. The stars above provided the perfect backdrop, but you were too caught up in the ebb and flow of conversation to appreciate them fully.

You and Charles kept up your usual sniping, each comment sharper than the last. It wasn’t long before Pierre, clearly exasperated, threw up his hands. “Enough, you two. I swear, if you keep this up, we’ll have to start taking bets on which one of you snaps first.”

“I’m not snapping,” you retorted, crossing your arms.

Charles smirked, taking a leisurely sip of his drink. “Neither am I. I’m having the time of my life.”

The group burst into laughter, easing the tension momentarily. But across the garden, Dennis leaned toward Arthur, his voice dropping low enough to stay out of earshot.

“Am I the only one seeing it?” Dennis asked, his gaze darting between you and Charles.

Arthur followed his line of sight, frowning slightly. “Seeing what?”

“Come on, Thur,” Dennis said, nudging him. “The tension. The way they bicker? That’s not just hate. That’s something else.”

Arthur hesitated, his brows furrowing. “I don’t know. With her? I can’t tell. She used to have a thing for him, sure. But now? One moment I think she’s over it, and the next…”

Dennis grinned knowingly. “She’s not over it. And Charles? He’s head over heels. Look at the way he watches her when she’s not looking. The guy’s smitten.”

Arthur laughed at him "I've had my suspicions about him for a while, but he's difficult to read"

“Just saying, the sexual tension is insane.” Dennis laughed.

Arthur groaned, leaning back in his chair. “You’re talking about my brother. Ew.”

"Hey, in all honesty. If he indeeds feels that way about her, I don't judge him.." Dennis laughed at the disgusted face that Arthur was pulling "Because, come on, you gotta admit it, she's hot"

Arthur shook his head, laughing despite himself. “Yeah, she’s hot. I'm aware of that, but I don’t see her that way. Never did, to be honest. We kissed a couple of times, but it was never like that" he said, a laugh present on his face as he thought back to the memories "I guess like once or twice during drinking games, and I remember one time when we were just young and hopeless, so we tried kissing like once, but it honestly was like… kissing my sister. Just weird.”

Dennis nodded, a sly grin spreading across his face. “I know that, Thur. But your brother? He doesn’t seem to think it’s weird.”

Dennis was watching you and Charles with barely concealed amusement, his eyes flicking between the two of you like he was watching a slow-motion car crash. He leaned a little closer to Arthur, smirking. "I mean, come on," he said under his breath. "Do they think they’re fooling anyone?"

Arthur chuckled, shaking his head. "They’ve been like this for ages. It’s exhausting just being around it."

Gigi, sitting nearby and clearly picking up on their hushed tones, laughed softly and joined in. “It’s mildly funny, though. They’re trying so hard to keep up this weird act of hating each other. Like, come on—it’s obvious they don’t actually hate each other.”

Dennis grinned, nodding toward Charles. “Right? The guy looks like he’s about to break his neck just to glance at her without being obvious.”

Gigi shrugged, leaning back in her chair. “What I don’t get is what caused all this. They used to be great friends. Back when she was still in love with him” she explained “they were actually kind of inseparable. So, what changed?”

Dennis tilted his head, considering her words. “Do you think she's still in love with him?”

Gigi paused, her brow furrowing slightly. “Honestly? I don’t think so. I mean, she still thinks he’s hot—because, let’s face it, he is hot—but she doesn’t act the way she used to. Back then, she was constantly hopeful. And let's face it, he was her first ever proper crush, so he might have a special place, but I don't think she's still in love with him. Now it's just different"

Arthur raised an eyebrow. “Different how?”

“She just seems... done. Like she gave up on him a while ago.” Gigi shrugged again, her tone thoughtful. “And honestly, I don’t blame her. If Charles does feel something now, he's probably too late. She’s waited long enough. Sure, when she was younger, the age gap made sense. She was too young. But by the time she was, like, 20, she was old enough. She still had feelings for him then, and he never even did anything about it.”

Dennis tapped his chin dramatically. “That’s rough. And if he does admit something now, what do you think? Should she go for it?”

Gigi frowned, her gaze shifting toward you briefly. “I don’t know. It would feel... weird. Like, if he didn’t see her that way before, why now? It might just feel like he’s choosing her because it’s convenient.”

Arthur sighed, rubbing his temples. “Can we not psychoanalyze my brother’s love life, please?”

Gigi shifted her gaze to Dennis, a sly grin spreading across her face. “What about you? You and her seem close. Maybe something’s blossoming there?”

Dennis raised an eyebrow, a surprised chuckle escaping him. “Me and her? Nah, come on.”

Gigi tilted her head, still smirking. “What? I’m just saying, you two seem to have this... vibe.”

Dennis laughed, shaking his head. “Look, she’s hot. I’d hook up with her in a heartbeat if she wanted to, but something serious? Nah. We both know it’s not like that.”

Gigi rolled her eyes, clearly amused. “You’re an idiot.” she laughed.

Arthur leaned back, groaning dramatically. “Why are we even having this conversation? Can we not dissect every potential romantic possibility?”

Gigi laughed. “Oh, come on, Arthur. Admit it. It’s entertaining.”

Arthur shook his head, muttering under his breath. “You all need help.”

Both Gigi and Dennis laughed out loud at Arthur's comment, finding it funny how Arthur reacted.

Before anyone could say more, their conversation was cut short when Charles, who had clearly overheard snippets of their hushed tones, called out from across the garden. “What’s so funny over there?”

Arthur, Dennis, and Gigi exchanged a quick look before Arthur spoke, his tone far too casual. “Oh, nothing much. Just debating which one of us would survive the longest if we had to endure one of your lectures on strategy.”

Charles narrowed his eyes, clearly unconvinced. “Sure,” he muttered, turning back to his conversation with Joris. But the faint twitch of his lips betrayed his amusement, even as he pretended not to care.

⁺⋆⁺₊⁺⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⁺⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⁺ ⋆⁺

As the night wore on, the group began to disperse, some heading to bed while others lingered to enjoy the cool night air. You made your way up to your room, feeling restless. Grabbing the cigarette Inès had reluctantly given you earlier, you stepped onto the balcony, the cool breeze brushing against your skin.

The first drag burned your throat, a harsh reminder of why you’d quit. But tonight, the weight in your chest felt heavier than usual, and this seemed like the only way to breathe again.

The quiet was short-lived. The soft creak of the balcony door opening made you stiffen, and when you turned, you found Charles stepping out.

“If you’re planning to mock me for smoking, shut up,” you said, not even trying to hide your annoyance.

Charles raised his hands defensively. “I wasn’t planning on anything.”

He leaned against the railing, his gaze fixed on the view rather than you. For a moment, the two of you stood in silence, the tension ebbing into something softer.

“Are you going to keep standing there, or are you taking a seat?” you asked, nudging a chair toward him with your foot.

He sat without a word, the quiet between you stretching but not uncomfortable.

“I thought you quit,” he said finally, his voice soft.

You took another drag, exhaling slowly. “I did.”

Charles chuckled, shaking his head slightly. “Figures.”

“But then my best friend decided it was a good idea to take me on a holiday and make me share a bathroom and connecting rooms with his brother" You smirked faintly "Don’t know if you’ve met him, but he’s got a massive ego and loves getting on his brother’s best friend’s nerves. Pathetic, really.”

Charles laughed, the sound low and warm. “Can’t say I’ve met him. But he probably has a good reason.”

The two of you shared a quiet laugh, a rare moment of peace between the insults. You held out your cigarette to him, a small gesture of truce.

Charles hesitated before taking it, his fingers brushing against yours briefly. The touch was fleeting but electric, sending a jolt through him that he didn’t entirely wanted to administer. He took a drag, exhaling slowly, his eyes on the stars.

“For someone who claims to hate me this much, this seems pretty generous,” he said, handing it back.

“Maybe I’m trying to ruin your lungs so you screw up your next race,” you replied dryly, leaning back in your chair.

Charles hummed in mock agreement. “Hmm. If you say so.”

The silence lingered between you and Charles, stretching into something neither of you was used to—quiet, companionable, and strangely comfortable. You stared out at the darkened garden, the faint glow of the string lights from below casting soft shadows across the balcony. The cigarette burned low between your fingers, the occasional ember flaring as you took a slow drag.

Charles shifted slightly in his seat, his arms resting casually on the chair's arms, his eyes flicking to you when he thought you weren’t looking. The lines of his face were softened by the night, his usual sharpness replaced by a contemplative calm.

“You’ve gotten quieter,” you muttered, breaking the silence. “What? Run out of things to argue about already?”

He smirked, glancing at you. “Just pacing myself. Don’t want to exhaust all my good comebacks in one night.”

You rolled your eyes, fighting the small smile that tugged at your lips. “Oh, please. I’ve heard them all before. You’re not that original.”

“Maybe I’m just giving you a chance to catch up,” he quipped, a faint grin playing at the corner of his mouth.

You laughed softly, shaking your head, and for a moment, it almost felt easy—like the walls you’d both carefully built were thinning, letting something more natural seep through.

The two of you lapsed back into silence, the occasional sound of the night filling the void. Charles tapped his fingers lightly against the chair, his rhythm steady, almost soothing. He tilted his head back slightly, staring up at the stars.

“What do you think they’re talking about down there?” he asked suddenly, nodding toward the garden where the others were still chatting.

You shrugged, leaning back in your chair. “Knowing Arthur and Dennis? Something dumb. Probably debating the best flavor of chips or some other nonsense.”

Charles chuckled softly. “Sounds about right.”

Minutes passed, the quiet stretching comfortably between you. Occasionally, your gazes met, and though neither of you spoke, there was an unspoken exchange—something in the way his eyes softened just slightly when he looked at you.

Finally, you stood, brushing ash from your hands. “I’m going to freshen up in the bathroom and go to bed.”

Charles didn’t respond immediately, his eyes following your movements. Just as you reached the doorway, he called out softly, his voice cutting through the quiet.

“You know,” he began, his tone uncharacteristically serious, “aside from all the arguments… you know I don’t actually hate you, right?”

You froze in the doorway, his words hanging in the air between you. Slowly, you turned, your hand resting on the doorframe. “You have a shit way of showing that,” you said, your voice quieter than usual.

Charles gave you a small, almost rueful smile. “I’ll work on it.”

You stared at him for a moment longer before nodding. “Goodnight, Charles.”

“Goodnight,” he replied, watching as you disappeared inside.

In the bathroom, the scent of him lingered—subtle but unmistakable. It was maddening how easily it unsettled you, making your chest tighten with an unspoken weight. You closed the door behind you, locking both his and your side with care, as if the physical barrier could somehow keep your thoughts at bay.

You stared at your reflection in the mirror, the faint steam from the earlier shower still clinging to the edges of the glass. “Get over it,” you whispered to yourself, your voice barely audible. “You hate him. Remember?”

But the words felt hollow, even to your own ears.

The shower’s warm spray hit your skin, washing away the tension that had settled in your shoulders, but it couldn’t quite cleanse your mind. Images of his face lingered—his small, almost shy smile when he’d said he didn’t hate you, the way his fingers had brushed against yours earlier when you passed him the cigarette.

You lingered longer than usual, hoping the heat of the water would somehow dissolve the confusion swirling inside you. When you finally stepped out and dried off, you felt no closer to clarity, only exhaustion.

Back in your room, the muffled sounds of movement from the adjoining space made you pause. You could hear him faintly—the soft creak of his bed, the shuffle of fabric as he adjusted his position. It was strangely intimate, knowing he was so close, separated only by a thin wall.

Sliding into bed, you stared at the ceiling, the room’s quiet amplifying the sounds next door. Your mind drifted despite your best efforts, and with a sigh, you reached for your phone.

You: Bathroom’s free

You'd typed it quickly, hesitating for a moment before pressing send. Before you could even process your message, the reply already came.

Charles: Thanks.

You put your phone on your nightstand, plugging it in the charger, before crawling deeper beneath the covers. You tried to fall asleep, but it felt impossible. Every movement he made, every creak of his bed, echoed faintly. It made you realize once more, in what close proximity you both were, keeping you awake longer than you’d like. Eventually though, sleep claimed you, surprisingly peaceful despite everything.

next part

[landososcar]

so american ; CL16

pairing(s) ; charles leclerc x american!reader

summary ; in which a trip to monaco turns permenant because of one ferrari racing driver

warnings ; fast paced relationship, smau, google translated french (pls correct anything that’s wrong) & FLUFFF

note ; lol sorry i lowkey disappeared. anyways. here’s charles and leo (aka everyone’s fav duo)

instagram !

liked by friend1, charlesleclerc, and others

youruser leo & i might never leave 🥰🇲🇨

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friend1 monaco is so so beautiful

yourbff you can’t leave me here alone in the us

youruser but…

charles_leclerc im stealing her

yourbff you’ve know her for 3 weeks

charles_leclerc whats your point ??

friend2 the states miss you come home

friend3 leo has a new lap to sit in????

yourbff i feel cheated on

charles_leclerc i’ll make sure you don’t leave ☺️❤️

youruser having the best time of my life with you🫶

yourbff saying you’re not gonna let her leave is kinda creepy not gonna lie…

charles_leclerc you’re just jealous coz she doesn’t wanna go back to the us and wants to stay with me

friend4 you look so happy😁

instagram !

liked by fan1, fan2, and others

cl16updating recent pictures of charles with a puppy, fans who asked him about the dog say his name is leo and he is not charles dog but he is staying with him for a while!! we are also unsure who the girl in his car in the last picture is, if anyone has any idea please share her instagram @ with us!!!!!!!!

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fan1 omg he’s not his dog??? i’m devastated now i wanted leo paddock appearances

fan2 idk maybe if you guys find her instagram @ don’t share it,, if charles wanted us to know about her he’d share with us

fan3 if she doesn’t want us to know about her maybe she shouldn’t hang out with the prince of monaco

fan4 she should be able to hang with whoever she wants. some of y’all are so weird

fan5 imma steal that dog

fan6 that means we probs won’t get leo in the paddock😭

fan7 maybe leo is the girls’ dog and she’s a friend of charles visiting him or something idk

imessages !

translation 1: ‘i’ll miss you so much’

translation 2: ‘we can be crazy together, my love’

twitter !

instsgram !

youruser added to the story!

charles_leclerc added to his close friends story!

charles_leclerc replied to your story

↳ you always do baby

↳ god you’re so cheesy

↳ i hate you

↳ can we go back home i miss leo

↳ charlie babe leo will be fine by himself for 3 hours

↳ i know i know

↳ i just love him so much

you replied to charles_leclerc’s story

↳ CHARLIE DELETE

↳ THE DOGS ARE OUT😭😭😭

↳ LEO GOT OUT??????????????? WHERE IS HE ??? IS HE SAFE??? DID SOMEONE FIND HIM??:??;??/??

↳ omg baby no leo’s fine i’m sorry for worrying you

↳ why would you joke about that

↳ i think i nearly had a heart attack

↳ you’re more obsessed with leo than me

instagram !

liked by user1, user2, and others

f1wagupdates charles and his girlfriend (leo’s mum — we don’t know her name) this saturday. the owner of the first pic said that they were out for dinner with pascale, arthur, lorenzo, and their girlfriends.

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user1 she so beautiful oh my god

user2 where’s leo

user3 girl she doesn’t have to take him everywhere

user4 i think her name is y/n… my cousin in america said that she looks like someone she used to go to school with

user5 i looked through charles’ following and he follows a private account with that name @youruser

user6 ooo that could be her fs

user7 did she really leave leo alone.. she’s a bad owner wtf

user8 leo is a dog he’ll be ok by himself for a few hours omg you just want a reason to hate her go touch grass

twitter !

twitter !

instagram !

liked by carlossainz55, lorenzotl, and others

charles_leclerc happy gorgeous amazing month ☺️❤️

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user1 CHARLES who is THAT

user2 Y/N CONTENT ON THE MAIN ‼️‼️‼️

carlossainz55 whipped

user3 omg is she playing his piano

user4 yes with her feet

youruser love love love you

charles_leclerc chérie💓💓

user4 anyone else think they’re moving REALLY quickly…. like i heard they’re living together already

user5 who CAREEESSSSS

user6 it’s none of our business

yourbff you’re all she talks about oh my GOD

charles_leclerc are you jealous

instagram !

liked by leclerc_pascale, yourbff, and others

youruser “too much, too soon” i’m living with him lol

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yourbff remember when we had conversations that weren’t about him

youruser wdym

yourbff i hate him

yourbff you’re OBSESSED with him

yourbff you guys are DISGUSTING

youruser you sound jealous

yourbff i AM. that little french driving man STOLE my best friend

charles_leclerc FRENCH????????

friend1 miss you 🫶🫶

joris__trouche ❤️

friend2 come visit soon we miss youuuu

friend3 you’re so so so gorgeous

charles_leclerc MON AMOURRR

charles_leclerc YOURE SO BEAUTIFUL I WANNA KISS YOUR FACE

yourbff can you get me a ticket to the miami gp so i can see my wife pls

charles_leclerc no you’re gonna try steal her back

yourbff @youruser ur boyfriend is being mean to me

youruser charlie i lost my miami paddock pass can you get me another one pls but like could you put it under the name y/bff/n y/bff/ln please, for no reason☺️

charles_leclerc okay baby💓💓

youruser stop it i love you so so much you’re so adorable😭

leclerc_pascale Leo ❤️

youruser he misses you 🥰

imessages !

my other works !

[wonderjanga]

This is an Intervention

The JL have a serious concern about Marvel. This is because the man doesn’t know when to put down the bottle. Like, at a bar, he’ll just keep drinking and drinking and drinking without a care in the world. The man doesn’t show restraint in the slightest.

Meanwhile, Billy thinks nothing of this because he doesn’t actually know how much adults can drink without literally dying of alcohol poisoning. There’s also the fact that his Marvel form can’t get drunk so down and down the drinks go.

Their final straw was when they were all at a bar and Marvel was just downing shot after shot like it was nothing.

GL: “Uh… Cap? Why don’t you cool it on the shots?” *sounds nervous because how was Marvel doing that without even flinching*

Flash: “Yeah, man. Are you okay? We don’t want to have to carry you back to the Watchtower.”

Marvel: *looks genuinely confused* “Why would you have to do that?”

Speaking of which, despite being the person who drinks the most out of all of them, and that’s no joke, he out drank both Diana and Arthur, he somehow is always the person carrying drunk people back to the tower. He’s also the person who drives whenever Bruce wasn’t there, which now that they think about was extremely stupid to let Marvel do. It’s not even that he’s a bad driver or carrier. It’s just that the man drinks a lot.

Anyways, the point is, Marvel has a problem. A big one. So, as his friends, the JL wants to help in anyway possible. That includes staging an intervention for their friend.

Marvel: *walks into the meeting room, whistling a little tune*

JL: *sitting at the meeting table all looking solemn or grim*

Marvel: “Uh… Hey guys?” *awkward wave when he notices the tension*

Supes: “Marvel, could you sit down with us?”

Marvel: “…Sure?” *hesitantly sits down*

Supes: “Marvel… we called this meeting because we had something to discuss with you.”

Marvel: *looks slightly horrified because he thinks they know about Billy* “Is this you kicking me out of the league?”

Supes: “Wha- No! No, of course not! Look it’s just- Marvel, we’ve come here today because of another problem.”

Marvel: “Oh.” *relaxes slightly* “And that is?”

Aquaman: “Your drinking problem.”

Marvel: *looks extremely confused* “Drinking problem? I don’t have a drinking problem.”

GL: “Eh… Yeah you do, man. Look, there’s no need to feel ashamed or anything like that. We just want you to get help.”

Black Canary: “I can give you the number of a therapist who works in group therapy sessions specifically for alcoholics.”

Marvel: “That’s nice Canary, but I’m still not an alcoholic!”

He ended up going there anyways to appease them .

Marvel: “Well, I guess whenever I just pick up the bottle, I can’t stop. I’m a social drinker though. I only really do it around people.”

Therapist: “Yes, Mark.” (That name’s a reference to this post from a really really long time ago) “Everyone here is and or was a social drinker too. I’m glad you’ve acknowledged that you struggle to put down the bottle. That’s some good progress.” *writes in little notepad*

By progress, he means the fact that Billy adamantly denied that he was an alcoholic, which again, he wasn’t, but just decided to go along with it to get these group sessions over with.

[cllightning81]

Family Friend [PG10]

Summary : You and Pierre had been dating for a while but the last thing you expected was to see a picture of you kissing on social media. Except that's not how your brother's found out it was him.

Pairing : Pierre Gasly x Leclerc!Reader

Warnings: Google Translate French

When you woke up that morning, the last thing you expected to see was a billion text messages from only three people. Charles, Arthur, and Lorenzo. Reading through the texts, they were all variations of

You looked down with Pierre’s arm tightly wrapped around your waist. You opened the Twitter well now X app to see millions of pictures of yourself kissing a guy -Pierre- explaining all the texts from your brothers. Your face dropped as you shook Pierre awake 

‘When were you going to tell us?’

‘Who is that?’

‘What the hell Y/N’ 

“Amour? Qu’est-ce qui ne va pas?” (Love? What’s wrong?) He asked, voice deep and full of sleep

“We’ve been caught. There’s pictures of us kissing. My brother’s have already seen it” You panicked as he pulled you closer now more awake. 

“Chérie. Take a deep breath.” (Darling) You copied his breathing. Your head placed against his chest, his heartbeat against your ear resting right above his heart, relaxing you more. 

“I guess. I miss your blonde hair” You changed the subject as you always did when you panicked. 

“Now let’s see this picture?” He muttered, taking your phone and looking at it

“Okay. So it’s just a picture of you kissing someone. It’s also a very old picture Chérie” He rubbed your arm gently with his hand

“You’re changing the subject. This could be anyone in this picture, so let’s continue with our plans of a day on the boat. There’s gonna be other people there, so let’s get ready for that” You nodded, kissing his jaw. 

An hour later, you were following Pierre onto Charles’ boat after not answering any of your brother’s texts. Lando thankfully followed behind you so it didn’t look too suspicious. Not that he knew that you were using him to hide your panic. 

“Look who finally showed up” Charles rolled his eyes, and you dropped your head 

“It’s an old picture. I promise. I was like nineteen in those pictures. Like four years ago” you sighed, sitting down next to Pierre. It's more like you had been hiding your relationship for four years. It was perfect. You got to quarantine together and just pretend it was because Pierre’s house offer had fallen through. Well, it had, but he definitely could have got another. 

“Qu'est ce qui ne vas pas chez toi?” (What is wrong with you?) Arthur asked Charles, pushing him aside and wrapping his arms around you from behind. Being just a year younger than Arthur, you had always been close. He was more interested in who it was to annoy you about it than Charles, who wanted to kill whoever it was. Lorenzo just wanted to be nosey and know all the details. A little longer, you were talking about stories of your childhood with the Leclerc brothers. Pierre had left to go to the bathroom and then get the next round of drinks. 

“Y/N started a fight once, and it got a little too violent” Arthur laughed, and you shook your head 

“I did not start the fight. I joined in on the fight and got violently attacked” you replied, rolling his eyes 

“Violently attacked?” Lando asked, and you nodded

“Enzo pushed Cha. Who fell into me, and I went through the glass table. Maman was not happy. I broke her glass table but was even less amused when she realised I was bleeding” You looked at Arthur, who was sitting on the other side of you. 

“It’s a nice scar now. One for the history books” Arthur laughed 

“What scar?” Pierre asked, handing you a glass of wine as he took his seat back next to you, his hand instinctively going to your thigh, which was hidden by the table you were sitting at. 

“The one from going through the table when the boys were fighting”  

“The one on your right ribs?” He asked, and you nodded. He paused only now, just realising what had left his mouth. Shit. 

“Que viens-tu de dire?” (What did you just say?) Charles asked, standing up and rounding the side of the table

“I didn’t” He shrugged, and you rolled your eyes 

“It’s not exactly hidden, is it?” You asked with a shrug

“I’m sure Lando even knew it was there” you added, and Lando shook his head 

“Of course you didn’t” This really wasn’t how you wanted your relationship to come out. Your leg bouncing under the table. Arthur took your hand, giving it a squeeze, knowing exactly how this was about to go. Arthur had definitely pieced it together today, and he didn’t care. 

“C'est bon. Il s'en remettra” He whispered in your ear as Charles continued to go off on Pierre for getting with his little sister. You stood up, pushing Charles back 

“Shut up! Charles. You’re not my keeper. No wonder I spent the last twenty-three years hiding all of my relationships. Including this one. Pierre looks after me, Charles. More than you ever had during your travelling. It’s all I’m the best with you. Arthur’s never been good enough, I’ve never been good enough. So stop it, will you?” You shook your head walking inside the boat, Pierre, following behind you. His arms wrapped around your waist as your hands rested against the counter. Your head fell back onto his chest as you tried to hold back your tears. His head resting on your shoulder. 

“Amour. Je t'aime et je t'aimerais toujours” (Love. I love you and always will) He kissed your neck softly as his thumbs gently rubbed against your hips. 

[dyns33]

Family protection

I missed Alfie during Flufftober, I'm not going to lie, even if it was fun

Thomas Shelby was preoccupied.

No, if he was honest, Thomas was just as terrified and furious at that moment, hurt inside, ready to devastate everything in his path, like every time he was told that a member of his family had been targeted.

It had perhaps been a mistake on his part to believe that it was not necessary to monitor Y/N after her marriage. Solomons' men took care of that.

So, when John had called him in a panic, saying that there were rumors about the kidnapping, or even the murder of their sister, he had at first remained frozen at his desk.

Since Polly had brought her back, this little girl from another mother, also abandoned by their fucking so called father, he had loved her. Maybe even more than the others.

The child was adorable. Shy at first, then smiling, with a crystal-clear laugh, asking for cuddles from her brothers, playing with dolls with her sister, and always wanting to be with them.

Normally, boys didn't accept the presence of girls. Poor Ada knew something about that. But strangely, with Y/N, it was different. Neither he, nor John, nor Arthur, could refuse her anything.

She came with them in the streets, in the countryside, in the trees. There were some limits of course, but he had shown her how to climb, jump, run. How to defend herself, if one strange day they weren't there.

Thomas confided things to her and her only when they were alone. The times he slept in the fields, she came to join him. That was often what pushed him to come home, because he didn't want her to catch her death. She stayed there, glued to him without saying anything, respecting his silence like no other member of his family, and for that, he ended up talking to her.

It was a false secret, that Y/N was his favorite. A secret that didn't bother anyone, since she was everyone's favorite.

So Thomas Shelby was preoccupied, because it was said that something had happened to his little sister, without anyone being able to clearly say what.

"She was in a bookstore." Arthur mumbled. "She goes there several times a month, to get books and read to the kids. They like it, she has a beautiful voice. After the session, she often has tea upstairs with the old owner. Men came in, beat up the employees and customers, before going upstairs. Then there was a fire. We don't know anything else."

"And Mr. Solomons ?"

"Haven't managed to reach him. His little assistant says he's… busy."

You'd think the same guys had come to Camden Town to destroy the King's Bakery. Because everything was in a pathetic state, and it was the doing of one man, who shouted orders from his office when he wasn't breaking anything that came his way.

If Thomas was preoccupied, Alfie had lost his mind.

During an important meeting with the Irish, he had let Ollie handle the business, and since the men had to be watched, it was a new kid who answered the phone.

He learned only two hours after his return that a woman had called. Not just any woman, his wife. Who was worried, because there were men in front of the bookstore, whom she didn't know.

She was smart, his wife. His tender Y/N, well raised by the Shelbys. Even if she was normally safe, she remained wary, thinking of looking behind or through the window, knowing all of her husband's employees.

The incompetents who followed her that day had been found with their throats slit in an alley.

Even though his patient was at his limit, Thomas let Alfie finish his tantrum, noting that he had left only the phone and the record player intact, which was playing opera to try to calm him down.

Y/N had disappeared for four hours now. He wouldn't calm down.

"They would have called, huh ? To give their fucking instructions. Or maybe they're scared, they know that my men, the most competent this time, and yours, are all over town, and that as soon as we know who did this, they'll be dead. But… If they don't have her… Tommy, if they don't have her, if she's in that still smoking pile of ashes… I'll burn everything."

"Arthur and John are going to find her."

"Yeah, huh ? You can sense it with your gypsy powers ? Your witch aunt read the cards and saw that my Y/N was healthy ?"

"Not now, Alfie."

Solomons growled, turning his office chair in anger and slamming it against the floor until it was all crumbs. It was only because it was his wife's family that he was acceptinf Thomas' presence.

And for his part, even though he wanted to blow his head off for not protecting his sister properly, Tommy sat there smoking his cigarette, remembering how it had felt to hold Grace in his arms.

When the phone rang, he stared at it for a moment, before looking at Alfie, frozen in the middle of the room, staring at the wall. He wondered if he hadn't heard, before realizing that the wandering Jew was afraid to answer.

It might have been the famous ransom demand, which would teach them that a lot of harm had been done to Y/N, and much more would come if they didn't do what the kidnappers wanted.

It might also have been the coroner, who had finished putting names on the bodies following the fire.

Slowly, Thomas put down his cigarette, before answering.

"… Tommy ?"

"… Y/N ?"

"Give me that !" ordered Alfie who immediately came back to life, snatching the phone from him before finding a softer voice. "Treacle ? Love ? Are you okay ? Where are you ?"

It turned out that despite the lack of practice, taking young Y/N into the woods to teach her how to climb, jump, play tightrope walkers and hide, had been a good thing.

Realizing that something was happening and since her husband was not reachable, she had climbed through the upstairs window on the courtyard side, hoisting herself up onto the roof, until she found a secluded spot to climb down.

Then, not knowing who to trust, she had stayed hidden until nightfall, to go to the closest and safest place from her position, which was her sister's house.

"Faster, Ismael !"

Thomas could have muttered that it would be better to get to Ada's alive, but he only clung to the door handle while the driver obeyed Mr. Solomons without worrying about pedestrians or other cars.

It was also useless to stop Alfie from jumping onto the sidewalk, forgetting his cane in the car to go and bang on the door like a madman until someone opened it.

Calm only returned when he laid eyes on Y/N, settled in the living room and already surrounded by all the other Shelbys who had been called after them.

"Treacle. Forgive me." he sobbed as he threw himself at her knees, his arms around her and his head against her stomach. "I was so worried, love, I thought I was going to die."

"Oh, Alfie. I'm sorry, I wanted to call you before but I didn't have access to a phone."

"I'm the worst husband. I didn't protect you. If my men weren't dead, I'd slit their throats myself."

"Let's try to talk about something happier." Thomas coughed as he approached, placing a hand on his sister's shoulder who smiled at him. "Did you hurt yourself jumping off the roof ?"

"No, I'm fine. Just a little tired."

"Strange clothes."

"Yes, love. You weren't wearing that this morning."

"Oh, I…" Y/N said, visibly embarrassed. "I may have "borrowed" a disguise. And money. And a car."

"She's our lil sis !" Arthur declared proudly, oblivious to the dark looks from his aunt, sister, brothers, and brother-in-law.

Maybe they had also shown young Y/N how to steal, but only once or twice, for fun, telling her that it was wrong, and that she would never need to do that because they would take care of her.

Alfie mumbled in Hebrew, which made her laugh. Probably insults without malice. He only let go of her to allow the others to kiss her before he took her back to their home, returning worse than a leech at the first opportunity.

When he proposed to add some of his men to Solomons' for her next outings, the king of Candem was at first outraged. He didn't bark only because his wife had already experienced a lot of emotions, but he would not let Thomas humiliate him.

However, in the middle of the night, certainly when Y/N was sleeping, Solomons contacted him.

"How many men, and what price ?"

"I'm the one who feels insulted now, Alfie. She's my sister, that will be the necessary number and for nothing at all."

"Hmm… You know, they all have something to say about you, your siblings. All of them, while you take care of them. I know it, I see it, but they are never happy. But not Y/N. No, my treacle has nothing but compliments for her big brothers, and you the first. Tommy this, Tommy that. She adores you."

"I adore her too."

"Hmm. Not as much as me, and so there will be fewer men than mine, but… I accept the offer."

"Glad we almost agree on something, Mr. Solomons."

He did not sleep that night, because Thomas Shelby was a preoccupied man by nature. By business, by his family, by the future and the past.

But as for his favorite little sister, he could have slept peacefully, knowing that her husband was there to ensure her happiness and protection as he had sworn during their marriage.

And if something were to happen, they would join forces, then Thomas would probably kill Alfie to punish him, if the madman didn't kill himself first to join Y/N whom he loved at least as much as her brother loved her.