#and i keep thinking that i’m over it until i think about her again

[jo-speaks]

good graces ft. quinn hughes

in which…

quinn hughes realizes you'll be okay, with or without him.

warnings: MDNI. brief smut (again, it's like a paragraph), mature language, mentions of cheating, and i think that's all.

track three in short n' sweet (hughes brothers version) series!

When I love you, I'm sweet like an angel

Drawin' hearts 'round our names

And dreamin' of writing vows, rockin' cradles

“What’re you doing?” Quinn asked, wrapping his arms behind you as you shut the oven door, leaving the sweet treat you made to bake.

You took off your oven mitt before sighing and leaning back into his hold. “Baking cookies. You said you wanted some this morning, right?

He let out a soft laugh, “Yeah. How did you hear that though?”

“It’s not like you’re quiet when you’re on the phone with Conor.”

Quinn rolled his eyes playfully, dismissing your comment about how comfortable he was when talking to his teammate. He set one of his hands to lean back against the kitchen island where he felt a piece of paper under his palm. He furrowed his eyebrows, creasing the sheet slightly to pick it up. 

After a quick examination, he realized it was the recipe you had written down for the cookies. In the top corner of it, he saw his initials next to yours, enclosed in a heart. Quinn felt a warm feeling in his chest knowing you had done that, not caring if he saw it or not.

He held the paper in front of your face, which you had buried in the crease of his right elbow. “What’s this?”

You traced your eyes over the paper, “The recipe for the cookies? Don’t tell me you can’t read all of a sudden.” He gave you a thin-lipped look before tapping his finger over the childish drawing causing your eyebrows to lift in realization. “Oh, that. Got bored, thought it was cute. Something we could show the kids.”

Now it was his eyebrows that rose, “Kids? Like our kids?”

“Yeah, two of them. One of each. We can have them after our billion-dollar wedding.” You stated that like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

Quinn knew you weren’t entirely serious. The two of you had this conversation a few months ago and he knew you wanted him to focus on his hockey career while you focused on your career. You both agreed you didn’t want to rush into anything until you were settled. And since Vancouver had been his home for 6 years and yours for 5 of those when you decided to move in with him, maybe it was time to start putting down those roots together.

Don't mistake my nice for naive

“Y/N, please. You’re being ridiculous. You were the one who told me to come in the first place!” Quinn called out to you as you walked away from him.

You stopped and turned back to face him, “Because I thought you’d have fun celebrating with your team here! Not flirt with the bartender the whole night!”

He rolled his eyes, setting you off even more. “I wasn’t flirting with her! I was getting Brock his drink!”

“Whatever, Quinn. I’m going home.” You sighed, not wanting to continue arguing with him in front of a bunch of people.

“I wasn’t flirting.” He mumbled, defeated.

You almost felt bad for reacting the way you did, but you knew him. The half smile and constant nodding all while keeping his eyes on her lips as they moved. 

You weren’t stupid.

I don't waste a second, I know lots of guys

You do somethin' suspect, this cute ass bye-bye

Like, ooh

Baby, you say you really like it being mine?

So let me give you some advice

After the whole bar argument, you decided to repay the favour a few days later when you had gone out to that same bar with your girlfriends. The same night you knew the Canucks would be celebrating their victory there. You watched the door attentively before a tap on your shoulder caught your attention.

“Y/N, this is Josh. He thought you were cute!” Was the only thing your friend said before walking away. The stumbling in her steps was the only thing you needed to explain the situation. 

Josh rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly as he placed his drink down on the bar and took the seat next to you. He cleared his throat, “Hey. Pretty interesting friend you have there.”

You snorted, “Tell me about it. You should see her sober, she’s still the same way.”

He laughed, “So, what’s a pretty girl like you doing sitting alone?”

Before you could answer, you heard the bar erupt in whistles and clapping. You didn’t even have to turn your head to know who had walked in. Josh glanced over your shoulder, getting a view of the team himself. His focus came back to you when you tilted your head to interrupt his view. 

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine. But to answer your question, I’m just here because I’m pissed at my boyfriend.”

You noticed his face drop before returning to the way it was before, “No way. I’m here because I’m pissed at my girlfriend!”

Your eyes widened at his confession, letting out a small chuckle. “Yikes, you’re an asshole.”

“Yeah?” He propped his arm on the bar, “How are you not?”

“Well for starters, I’m not approaching anyone. Second, my boyfriend just got here, so he knows where I am. And it doesn’t take a genius to know that your girlfriend has no idea where you are.” You answered, seeing the team take a seat at the tables next to where you were sitting.

As Josh sat in front of you, stunned at your words, you caught your boyfriend's eyes. He took a double take, not realizing it was you the first time. You looked away, bringing your attention back to the man in front of you as Quinn kept his on you.

“Who’s your boyfriend?” Josh asked.

You smirked slightly, “Quinn Hughes.

Josh’s eyes widened, “Bullshit.”

Shrugging your shoulders, you placed a hand on his shoulder, pulling him closer so you could talk in his ear and look over it to lock eyes with Quinn. “Don’t believe me? You’ll see who walks over to you when I leave.”

You backed up and got off your stool, heading to the bathroom as you kept eye contact with your boyfriend as you passed him. After you did, you heard him get up, his footsteps going the opposite way from where you were heading.

~

“What the fuck was that,” Quinn grumbled as he got into his car.

You shrugged your shoulders, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Quinn scoffed, “This is fucking gold, Y/N. You were all over my ass for doing the same shit on Tuesday, but when you do it’s all good.”

“Yeah, no. See, the difference between what I did tonight and what you did earlier this week is that I actually wasn’t flirting, I just wanted you to see what it was like to feel how I did when I saw you actually flirting with someone else.” You retorted, knowing how ridiculous the words coming out of your mouth sounded to him.

Yet on some level, Quinn knew you were right. He sighed before reaching over the center console to take hold of your hand. 

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t sober, but I still knew what I was doing. I don’t want to lose you over this, so please tell me what I can do to make it up to you.” He whispered.

You turned to look at him, “You like being my boyfriend?”

He nodded.

“Then don’t lie to me.”

Boy, it's not that complicated

You should stay in my good graces

Or I'll switch it up like that so fast

'Cause no one's more amazin'

At turnin' lovin' into hatred x2

I won't give a fuck about you x3

That was cool

I won't give a fuck about you (Oh) x3

Yeah

“She’s the last person I’d want to piss off,” Jack told his brother over the phone as Quinn finished up telling him the whole bar fiasco the two of you had gone through a month ago. 

“Tell me about it. I’m not just saying this because she’s my girlfriend, but she’s literally always right. It’s getting scary.” Quinn confessed, pulling his car into the parking garage of the apartment complex.

Jack sighed, “Well, shit. Good luck with that, bro. Lukey’s calling you later, I gotta go.” 

Quinn said goodbye to his brother, hanging up the phone as he stepped out of his car, grabbing the bouquet of flowers he had gotten you for no reason. After the whole situation, he knew he couldn’t only make it up with verbal apologies. So he went old-school, settling for getting you flowers whenever he felt like they were needed. 

He stepped into the elevator, rocking back and forth on his heels as he reached your floor, walking out the second the doors opened. 

As he unlocked the front door of your shared apartment, he could hear you talking in the kitchen. 

“Yeah, I don’t know. I didn’t want to forgive him, but he’s making up for it.” You said to whoever you were talking to over the phone. 

Quinn stepped in quietly, your back still turned and your AirPods in your ears as you cooked dinner for the two of you. Still unbeknownst to you, Quinn walked to the hallway across from the kitchen, wanting to hear your conversation. 

Was it wrong to eavesdrop on you? Yes. Did Quinn know this? Also yes. Did he care? Not really. 

You let out a sigh, “Listen. He knows better than to do that to me. He also knows that I’m the last person he wants to fuck with because I can switch up incredibly fast. If he wants to cheat on me, he can go right ahead. But he knows damn well I’ll be out replacing him that same night.”

His face dropped. He knew that you were telling the truth, which is what scared him straight. 

“I don’t give a fuck if he wants to go out with Bella Hadid. If he does that without breaking up with me, I’m going straight to his mother and maybe even social media if I’m feeling petty enough.” You laughed, but there was nothing you were joking about. 

By now, Quinn wanted to ignore any woman that came his way.

“Don’t get me wrong, I love him so much. So much to the point where I would get down on my knee and propose to him. But, if so much as lies to me about anyone or anything, he’s gonna need a good lawyer.”

I'll tell the world you finish your chores prematurely

Quinn lined himself up in between your legs, pushing into you completely in one swift movement. You let out a breathy moan as your nails dug into his biceps. He didn’t move, letting not only you but himself adjust to the feeling. 

“Fuck, Q. You feel so good.” You mumbled, your brain foggy from the feeling of him being buried inside of you.

He mumbled something you didn’t quite understand before pulling out almost all the way before thrusting back into you completely. He did this a few more times before letting out a guttural groan, spilling into you.

This caught you completely off guard. Quinn had never finished this quickly before nor had he cum before you did. When he came to, he realized what had happened.

“Shit.” He mumbled, too embarrassed to move or even look you in the eyes.

You cleared your throat, pressing a soft kiss to kiss lips. “It’s fine, babe.” You pushed his body back, pushing him out of you. “I can just use my hand.”

He shook his head, finding his voice once again. “No, let me do it. I don’t- I don’t know what happened.”

Break my heart and I swear I'm movin' on

With your favorite athlete

Shoot his shot every night

Want you every second, don't need other guys

You were scrolling on your phone, swiping up on all the notifications you were getting from Instagram, seeing as you had just posted. 

Quinn was featured in a few of the pictures, drawing the attention of his friends and fans to your account. Your head was propped up on Quinn’s lap as you lay on the couch as he played his video game on the living room TV. 

One notification caught your eye as you furrowed your eyebrows seeing the DM request that had come through. 

‘rjosi90 wants to send you a message.’

“Hey babe? Who’s this?” You asked, turning your phone around to show him the account.

He paused his game, looking down to look. “You don’t know who Roman Josi is? He was that guy you met at the awards ceremony, remember?”

“Oh! The one you never shut up about!” You teased as soon as you remembered the name.

Quinn rolled his eyes, nodding at your words before resuming his game but keeping his attention on your conversation. “What did he send you?”

You opened the message, your eyes widening as you internally debated on telling him the truth, not knowing how he would react. But, you knew you wouldn’t want him lying to you if he got the same message from another woman, so you decided to be honest.

“He said he thinks I’m pretty and that you’re a lucky guy.” You read, eyes quickly flashing back to Quinn.

His cheeks were red and his eyebrows were knitted together. You looked at his hands, which were now gripping his controller so tight that his knuckles were going white. “Are you gonna respond?”

Hesitantly, you shook your head, “Not if you don’t want me to.” 

Quinn had never been an insecure person, but he wasn’t always confident. And your delayed reaction probably didn’t help. You let out a breath before grabbing the controller out of his grip and setting it to the side. 

You sat up, swinging your legs on either side of his lap and taking his face in between your hands. “Hey. I want you. Only you.”

You pressed a kiss on his lips which he barely returned out of his own frustration. Pulling back, you started to litter kisses all over his face in an attempt to cheer him up. Trailing from his lips to his cheeks, then to his jaw, and stopping on his neck. You sucked on a sweet spot that caused his hands to come up and settle on your hips. 

“I don’t want anyone but you, Quinn.”

You do somethin' sus, kiss my cute ass bye

As you stepped into his room, he quickly shut off his phone and turned it face down. You furrowed your eyebrows as you stood in the doorway.

“Am I interrupting something?” You questioned.

He shook his head rapidly, clearing his throat as he rubbed his hands together before walking over to you. “Just caught me off guard.”

You scanned his face. His cheeks were flushed and his face was sweaty. Not wanting the answer you thought it was, you gave him a look before speaking again. “Was just gonna ask if you wanted to watch a movie with me. But if you’re… busy, I can just watch it by myself.” 

Quinn cleared his throat, “Uh, yeah. Let me just do something really quick and I’ll be right out.”

You simply shook your head, walking out of his room and heading back to your room and laying down on your bed with your laptop in front of you as you curled up in a blanket waiting for your boyfriend.

Even though the two rooms were separated by a small hallway, the walls were still relatively thin. You heard his door open and close but his feet remained still. You could hear the noise of his phone keyboard in front of your door, typing one last thing out before he walked into your room.

“So what movie are we watching, pretty girl?” He asked, setting his phone on your bedside table.

You eyed his phone before looking at him, “Everything okay?” 

He gave you a confused look, “Yeah, why?”

“Sounded like you were typing something important.” You shrugged, not wanting to make a big deal out of what could be nothing.

But, his wide eyes told you everything you needed to know. You sat up, raising your eyebrows in a way that said “Tell me what’s going on.”

Quinn shifted on his feet. “My ex texted me. She was saying she wanted to meet me for dinner and…” He cut himself off.

“And what?” You pressed.

“She wants to try again.”

You scoffed, “Okay. What did you say?”

He took a breath before answering, “I told her about us and that I’ll pass on the dinner because I’m very happy with you.” The way his words came out, you didn’t fully believe him. Yet at the same time, his face and body language told you he was telling the truth. You could tell he was nervous telling you, but you knew he wasn’t lying.

You nodded your head, “Okay.”

“Okay? What does that mean? I can show you the texts if you want!” He rambled.

Pulling him down onto the bed with you, you wrapped the blanket around him as well before setting the laptop in a way where you could both see it while lying down.

“I trust you, Q. If you say that’s what you told her, I believe you.” You whispered.

Boy, it's not that complicated

You should stay in my good graces

Or I'll switch it up like that so fast

'Cause no one's more amazin'

At turnin' lovin' into hatred x2

I won't give a fuck about you x3

Oh, no

I won't give a fuck about you (Oh) x3 

Oh

No, I won't

I won't give a fuck about you, no, I won't

(I won't, I won't, I won't) x2

Quinn sat in the parking lot of Roger’s Arena. You had driven home early, wanting to beat the traffic seeing as the score by the middle of the third period was 0-4. 

The loss of the game and your going home early left Quinn thinking. 

You didn’t need him. 

Sure, you loved him and you loved living with him and the company and affection he gave you, but at the end of the day, you were completely fine being alone. 

The realization had Quinn wiping a few stray tears from his cheeks as he started up the engine of his car. He drove back in silence, hoping you’d be showering and in bed by the time he got home. 

As he focused on the scenery around him in the late hours of the night, that feeling of sadness fizzled into a feeling of relief. If for whatever reason Quinn left you, you would be okay. And now that he understood that, he became even more determined not to lose you.

Because regardless, Quinn Hughes didn’t want to live in a world where you weren’t his.

[mikkomacko]

Him and I - Soul Bound

Mob!Nico x reader

Warnings: some angst, but mostly cute. Mentions of death, of heartbreak.

Previous part

A/n: I apologize for how long this took me! I really really hope it was worth the wait haha. I’ll be editing and proofing later but wanted to get it out for y’all. Enjoy!

————————————————————————

Blinking softly, Nico breathes in the scent of your shampoo, the soft strands of your hair warm with each puff of air he exhales. Snowflakes scatter the streetlights coming in the bedroom window, the night clouds dumping snow on the ground. He thinks of you, contemplates waking you up so you can see it for just a moment. You love the snow, love how soft and quiet everything seems during the winter.

You’d love this storm. The flakes are big and fat, building up on the windowsill like something out of a movie.

Nico buries the tip of his nose further into your hair, restraining himself from rousing you. You need to sleep, need to get better so he can take you home. So that you’ll both get your normal lives back.

His thumb rubs circles over your hip, trying to soothe you while also lull himself back to sleep. He’s not sure what woke him. It could be the two wedding rings he has hidden in this bedroom, one that you’re very aware of. It could be the lingering bruises and cuts on your skin, marks that taunt Nico. Or it could be the fact that this entire trip has derailed his relationship with you.

He expected to leave here with a fiancée. Now he’ll be lucky if he leaves here with a girlfriend that still wants the pendant around her neck.

Swallowing heavily, Nico closes his eyes and pushes the thought out his head. You’ve picked him a million times over, he shouldn’t be scared that suddenly you wouldn’t do it again.

“Nico,” you murmur, voice just a whimper and it startles him. His body goes rigid, arms tightening around you and he cranes his neck to look down at the top of your head.

“I’m here darling, what’s wrong?”

Fingertips trail over your forehead, brushing out of place baby hairs away. You stir, heavy eyelids fighting to flutter open as his palm settles on the side of your neck, fingers lightly squeezing in encouragement. Fingers that can cause so much damage but touch you like you’re a precious pearl.

“I had a bad dream,” you finally whisper, shaken. He presses a kiss to the top of your head, guilt settling like a stone in his gut. Unable to look at you, he focuses back on the bedroom window.

“Got you,” he swears “I’ve got you baby, you’re ok.”

Your back shifts under his hands, ribs expanding as you inhale deeply and blow out a rattled breath. Then you do it again, the puff of air hot on his bare chest. Finally, you settle.

Not for long though. Shuffling, you push yourself up until you’re straddling his waist, weight heavy on his stomach and thighs but welcome. Knuckling at your sleepy eyes, you blink sluggishly at him.

“Why are you up handsome?”

He shrugs, smiling softly at the sweet name. Your fingers reach out for him, gentle and tickling as you push a strand of hair off his forehead.

“Was watching the snow fall and thinking about you.” Nico admits, voice just a whisper. Like a bolt of electricity has gone through you, you perk up, eyes brightening.

“Snowing?”

Pursing his lips to keep from laughing, Nico nods against the pillow. You duck your head down, rolling your lips inwards and trying to hide that beautiful smile from him. His heart swells with love, thumping painfully in his chest. Hands running up and down either side of your waist, he finally gives.

“Come on, let’s go outside.”

~~~~

It’s like a dream. The buttery glow of the street lights on the fresh snow, reflecting off your smiling cheeks that have turned pink in the cold.

The fabric of your snow pants swish as you waddle away from him, snow crunching loudly under both of your boots.

Clouds of fog dance in front of Nico’s eyes, thickening as he huffs and puffs after you. Stumbling after you, Nico lazily tosses the snowball in his gloved hands. It smacks you square in the back, and you squeal dramatically.

Nico stops as you whirl around, scooping up your own snowball and he hides behind his arms as you throw it into his chest. Flakes of snow drift up to his chin and cheeks, biting cold but he laughs anyway.

“Right in the heart baby?” He gasps, clutching at his pec. “Ouch.”

You pout, locking your hands together under your chin. “Oh no poor baby Nico.” You tease, a wicked grin morphing on your lips as you quickly scoop up more snow and run at him.

Tossing the half formed snowball into his stomach, you laugh evilly and try to duck around him. Luckily Nico has quick reflexes and manages to wrap his arms around you, lifting you up and swinging you in a circle.

Clutching at his hands and arms, you squeal and giggle, snow boots and legs drifting through the air. Nico keeps swaying you back and forth until his biceps burn from holding you and his stomach and cheeks ache from laughing.

“Cold?”He asks after your feet are back on the ground, the ice cold tip of his nose nudging your cheek.

“Yeah,” you pant out, still trying to catch your breath. The two of you haven’t gone far from the house. You’re still close enough that if any of the boys are light sleepers they definitely heard you laughing and play fighting. Not that Nico cares.

This is his house and he can do as he pleases on the property. Hell if he wanted to walk around buck naked he’s more than welcome to do so.

However, it is getting late (or early, he supposes) so he nudges you back towards the house with two hands on your waist. You move in silence alongside him, kicking snow off your boots on the porch before huddling into the entryway. Like a well oiled machine you seamlessly strip out of your snow clothes and layers, leaving them abandoned in heaps in front of the door to be dealt with in the morning.

Nico’s gotten down to his socks, a pair of boxers, and his shirt when you suddenly crowd into his chest, hands holding his face tenderly as you guide him down into a kiss. Like its second nature he holds you, arms snaking around your torso and lifting you to your toes so he can kiss you back.

It’s then that he realizes you’ve taken off almost everything, the only piece of clothing left on your body the soft pair of cotton underwear that brushes against his pinky finger.

Your skin is warm and soft, soothing against his thawing fingertips as he runs a hand up your spine, fingers gripping your hair.

Head fuzzy, Nico groans when you push your chest tight against his, sweetly nudging at his bottom lip with your tongue.

“Baby,” he murmurs gently, every part of him aching to just lay you down on the stupidly soft fur rug just across the way and have his way with you. But he can’t bring himself too, even if his dick is starting to thicken up in interest.

You must be able to tell by his tone, eyes fluttering open and swollen lips brushing against his. Gaze switching between his eyes, you stroke at the scruffy hairs of his beard.

“Are you ever going to stop looking at me like I’m hurt?”

It’s not accusatory. Or angry. Or even disappointed. Your tone is curious, like you’re simply asking him if he still likes coffee ice cream.

“You’re all healed up, I know.” He assures quietly, but earnestly. “And as badly as I want to make you feel good on me, I can’t until I’m certain that you’re all healed up inside too.”

Something warm and tender settles in your features, lifting the corners of your lips in a bittersweet smile.

“I know,” you whisper, slowly stepping back from him. He’s sure you’ve lost your top somewhere in the mess clothes beneath your feet, so he tugs off his own t-shirt, straightening out the sleeve. You duck your head down when he holds it open to you, helping you pull it down over your shoulders and torso.

Nico holds you again, desperate to feel you against him. His favorite thing in the world is getting to hold you close to him.

You lay your head on his shoulder, left arm squished between your two bodies and right hand innocently fiddling with the waistband of his boxers.

Bashfully, you say, “I don’t know how to be, though. I’m so mad at Timo, and I’ve never been mad at him before. And then I feel bad because I’m not mad you but I should be if I’m mad at him. But I don’t even know why I’m mad.”

Nico hums, swallowing thickly. You maybe should be mad at him. He knows he didn’t handle the situation well, knows he let his fear get ahold of him and he shut you down to protect you. Instead of using this as a chance to make you stronger and smarter, he put you in metaphorical bubble wrap.

“Yes you do,” he finally responds. “You just won’t say it because you don’t think it justifies how upset you are. But it does baby, and you have every right to feel that way.”

You sniffle. “Ok.”

He shakes his head fondly, amused by your lack of response and knowing that it simply means you’re really listening to him.

“But Timo has his own justifications for what he did and until you hear his side of it, you’ll both just be angry at each other.”

Your hand runs up his stomach, fingers cold on his skin and you teasingly pinch at the fat on his lower belly. “When did you get so smart?”

Looking up at him with twinkling eyes and an amused grin, Nico presses a soft kiss between your eyes.

“When I met you.”

~~~~

Nico’s arm is heavy on your shoulders as the two of you descend the stairs. It’s obvious that last nights snowy adventure has left you two exhausted if the dragging feet and yawns are anything to go by.

Chatter, the noisy clattering of pans and silverware travel from the kitchen. Sharing a curious look with Nico, you stop in the entryway and blink twice to make sure you’re not still sleeping.

Mercer is standing over the stove, a pan of bacon popping and sizzling in front of him. Luke is looming over the toaster, a loaf of bread in hand and a pile of toast stacked on a plate. At the bar top, Timo is elegantly slicing through tomatoes, carefully watching Alex in front of him who is doing his best to replicate Timo’s technique. And Jack sits with them, nimble fingers tearing apart a head of lettuce and laying the leafs out on a platter.

Mouth parted in shock, Mercer turns around, a spatula with greasy bacon in hand. He freezes when he spots you two, eyes wide and caught. You realize he’s wearing a white apron that reads “I ♥️ fondue” and wonder if it’s Timo’s or Nico’s.

“Morning sleepyheads.” He greets, bacon dripping grease onto the floor. Beside you, Nico sighs and drags a hand across his face.

“Mess, Merc.” He grumbles, more tired than annoyed or angry.

Mercer makes a noise of surprise, rushing to the island counter and laying the strips of bacon out on a platter. Nico removes his arm from you, grabbing the dish towel off the oven rack and moving to clean up the mess.

“Thanks boss,” Mercer grins, going back to his post at the stove. Nico grunts in acknowledgment, haphazardly throwing the rag into the sink as he heads towards the corner where the coffee pot is nestled.

One track minded for his morning caffeine, Nico putters around silently, dipping in and out of cabinets.

Rubbing your eyes, you look at the other boys. Jack is still going about his business of arranging lettuce pieces but he’s got a shit eating grin on his face, watching Nico intently. You already know he’s waiting for his boss to perk up so he can make some crude remarks or guesses at why the both of you slept in today.

Avoidant, Timo is locked in on the task of slicing tomatoes but you can tell he’s distracted. He’s slowed down, hands moving like molasses as if he’s putting more effort into not looking around than he is cutting vegetables.

Alex however, is watching you. He’s still holding his knife and half cut tomato in his hands, but they sit limp on the counter top. He angles himself towards you, gaze hesitant.

“I tried to make your matcha for you. It’s in the fridge. Not sure how good it is though.”

As usual, he just warms your heart. They couldn’t even make a cup of coffee for Nico, they’re boss, and yet Alex took the time to make you matcha before he started on breakfast BLTs with the rest of them.

“Thanks,” you smile, “M’sure it’s fine. If Nico can make it, anyone can.”

Now leaning against the counter next to Luke, Nico glares at you over the rim of his coffee mug. Even so he looks cute, all puffy eyes and messy hair, thick eyebrows pinched together.

You clear your throat, smiling drooping as you soak in how awkward it feels to be around all of them. How Luke still hasn’t said a word and that’s weird of him. Neither has Jack, and that’s so out of character it’s detrimentally concerning.

And poor Alex who looks like he’s just swallowed a buzzing alarm clock, who has never been holy at handling conflict between those he loves. Guilty, you’re moving before you can even think about it.

Timo must see you coming though because he drops everything in his hands, turning just right that you fit perfectly into the seam of his shoulder when you throw your arms around him.

He’s bigger than Nico, just a hair taller and a bit thicker, but the two of you are like pieces of the same puzzle. Different than you and Nico, but just as perfect.

The hug doesn’t say everything you need it to, but it says enough. You can tell by the way he sighs in relief, breath hot on the top of your head and he melts into you. Your fingers cling to his back, holding him tightly and desperately and it feels like the more you cling to him the tighter he squeezes you around the shoulders.

Closing your watering eyes, you puff out a weighted breath. “Please tell me you helped him make that matcha?” You whisper, just loud for Timo to hear. You can feel his laugh on your skin.

“Of course I did.”

~~~~

Picking at the sleeve of your cable knit sweater, you look from Nico to Timo, lips pursed. Your sat on the freshly made bed, legs crossed over each other in front of you and that teddy bear from Nico’s childhood bedroom resting by your feet.

Timo clears his throat uncomfortably, sat in the large windowsill across from the bed. The sky behind him is bright and blue, showing off after a night of dumping snow in the town. It hurts your eyes a bit to look at it, stabs at the tender spot behind your right eye.

Nico is slowly pacing by the side of the bed. Not anxiously or uneasy, but in a way that makes you feel both of those. He’s got his arms crossed over his chest, the string of his hoodie bitten between his teeth.

Every once in awhile he looks up from his feet, looks at Timo like he can’t really decide what to do with him. Then he looks at you, and his eyes go all gentle and soft, and his lips lift just the slightest bit. Then he looks back at his feet and paces.

“Um Schoa?”

He stops, looks up at you expectantly. “Hi, wanna sit for a second?” You ask politely, patting the bed next to you. His brow furrows.

“Why?”

Laughing, you say, “So that I can hold your hand when I tell you that we don’t need a mediator.”

Across the room Timo chuckles. Nico’s head snaps over to glare at him and Timo hides his smile behind his hand, pretending to scratch above his lip.

Climbing to your knees, you shuffle to the end of the bed until you can reach Nico, taking his hands in yours. Your touch pulls his attention from Timo, gaze going tender as it falls on you. You almost melt at the way his head tilts ever so slightly and his thumbs rub at the back of your hands.

“I know that I just…”

“Just what?” You encourage.

His next breath comes out slow and calculated, eyebrows pinching ever so slightly as he thinks. “I’m trying to decide if I should make you two wait to do this and take you with me to Luca’s.”

The investigation (and subsequent interrogation) that had taken place after Lena and Marcello abducted you was officially completed a few days ago. Luca has been waiting for you to heal before he wanted to go over the run down and findings with Nico.

You know why Nico is so torn up about making you and Timo go. He’s trying to open the work side of the family to you, just as you’d asked him to do. He wants you to feel included, to know that he’s not trying to hide this.

But at the same time, you’re relationship with Timo is more important to you than knowing why and what happened that day in his grandfathers old house.

Besides, it makes your skin crawl thinking about having to watch security footage, hear stories and records taken during interrogation with Luca and the rest of the boys around. Probably Nina too, and whatever men they have tailing them.

Embarrassing, you decide. It would so embarrassing to look them in the eye after they’ve seen you at your weakest.

“I want to hear it from you,” you say, fingers tightening around his palms. “Just you, please.”

He reads you so well. Can tell immediately why you don’t want to go, that you only trust him enough to relive that day with him. No one else.

“Ok,” Nico agrees easily, right hand letting go of yours to cradle the back of your head. He ducks down and presses a comforting peck to your forehead. “I promise I’ll tell you everything we find, show you whatever you want after ok?”

He straightens out, smoothes his hand over the top of your head and looks to Timo.

“You’ll be updated too,” Nico tells him. “As long as you keep her safe and happy today, deal?”

Your best friend scoffs. “That’s literally my job description. Along with being hot.”

His words make you giggle, the sound so unexpected you press into Nico’s stomach to stifle the sound into his hoodie. You know better than to laugh when Nico is talking business, but sometimes those boys get the best of you.

And as much as Nico pretends it annoys him, you know he likes to see how happy the family makes you. You can tell by the way he softly tugs at the roots of your hair, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make you look up at him. He’s fighting back an amused grin when you do.

“Come on Schao,” you mumble. “Get outta here, it’s Timo time.”

~~~~

Snow crunching under your boots, you sip at your latte, wincing when the foam burns the tip of your tongue, but too impatient to wait for it to cool.

To the left of you, Timo has popped the lid off of his drink, swirls of steam billowing up into the frigid air and he’s cautiously blowing to cool the liquid down.

You watch him out of the corner of your eye, the two of you strolling lackadaisically through the streets of town. After a moment he takes a deep breath, gloved hand shoving the lid back on his latte. He takes a sip.

“I’m sorry that I left you in the hospital that day,” he finally says, voice quiet like he’s unsure of what to even say. “I should’ve told Nico that you could handle it.”

“Do you really believe that?” You ask, “or are you just saying that now?”

He frowns, lips pursuing. He looks like he’s fighting himself on what to say and you’re unsure if that’s a bad thing or not.

“When Nico came me to that day and told me he lost you, it was like the ground fell out beneath me,” he shakes his head. “I don’t know how Nico kept his cool, but I mean he’s always been good at knowing what to do and when to do it.

“So when he said it wasn’t the best idea to let you at Lena and stuff, I trusted him-“

“You should’ve trusted me.” You cut in, the reminder of him picking Nico over you making your temper flare.

“I know I know,” Timo concedes, holding a hand out to stop you at the streets crosswalk. He checks both ways before nodding you along. “But I was scared and I just-I couldn’t-I didn’t trust myself.”

The sidewalk under your feet feels slick, and you reach out to link your arm through Timo’s. He’s sturdy, locking your arm under his bicep and slipping his hand into his pocket.

“What do you mean?”

Timo sighs heavily, breath shaking with the weight of it. “It was my job to train you, to prepare you to be Nico’s prinzessin and I failed. Somewhere along the way, something you were supposed to know didn’t click and I didn’t make sure that it did. And then all of this happened.

“I did this to you and Nico!”

He’s stopped walking now, angled himself towards you. His eyes are wet and red when they meet yours, the sadness in them colder than the winter temperatures.

“I had to side with him. It was the only thing that felt right after I screwed up so badly. You know Nico, he can fix literally anything.”

You wrench your arm out of his hold, rising to your toes and throwing it around his neck into a bruising hug.

Timo tucks his face into your shoulder, shoulders hunching down to meet your height. Blinking away the tears in your own eyes, you look up at the bright blue sky and focus on the puffy clouds drifting by.

“I had a panic attack,” you murmur weakly. “At the party. Nico and I were fighting, it felt like he was so far away and I just freaked. It was like I was on autopilot, I just went outside to catch my breath.”

You swallow thickly, choking back tears. “As soon as the world around me came back I realized what I did and tried to go back but-“

“Don’t say it,” he cuts off, voice strained and broken. “Don’t tell me how they hurt you.”

“I should’ve been ready,” you continue instead. “Everything they did I went over with you a million times. At least everything I can remember them doing. B-but it was like my head was exploding. I couldn’t think, I couldn’t see.

“My head hurt so badly. I could feel the instructions and lessons right there but nothing was clicking. All I could think about was Nico, how much I wanted him there.”

The air is colder on your cheeks now, and you realize it’s the wet trails of tears that burn. You tuck into Timo shoulders, wet eyelashes fluttering shut to hide from the world.

“I failed Timo. You and Nico prepared me, I just couldn’t do it.”

The arm around your middle squeezes, so tightly it takes your breath away. “That’s not true,” he utters, earnestly. “You didn’t fail. You showed all of us up, you got Luca to side with you. You got the boys out here.

“You showed me and Nico that you know how to lead, all on your own.”

His assurance is like warm water trickling on your head, trailing down into your bones. It’s soothing, calming to hear. Especially from him, from your best friend in the entire world. And he’s a people pleaser, he’ll tell anyone anything they want to hear. This, however, is sincere.

You can tell by the way he looks down at you after you’ve released him from your hug, baby blue eyes certain and steady.

He holds his arm out to you. “M’sorry I didn’t listen to you before.”

“I’m sorry I shut down on you,” you apologize, taking his arm like before. He nods down the street.

“Come on. I want to show you something.”

~~~~

The room is so silent, Nico thinks he could hear snowflakes hitting the roof of the building if he really listened. If it weren’t for the sound of Holtzy breathing so shakily, angrily.

Nico knows the feeling.

The large display screen in Luca’s conference room has gone dark, reflecting a distorted image of them gathered around the table. Nico doesn’t really see that picture. No, he still sees Marcello tying to the chair, how harshly your limo body was thrown down and manipulated with rope. He can still see the way your head lulled, even after you woke up. The way you tried to move and he’s not sure if the bindings stopped you or the fact that you looked like you couldn’t even identify your own limbs.

He can still see the blood that smattered the floor when Lena hit you. Can see and hear the way you cried when Marcello touched you.

Nico never got the footage of the warehouse in Philly when you taken the first time. He had no way of accessing it, especially after he lit the place on fire. He’s thankful for that now.

If he can’t stand to see this, he would’ve died seeing that.

“All of that because she wanted Nico?”

It’s Luke who speaks up first, lips curled in disdain as he looks away from the screen to Luca. The older Hischier sibling looks guilty as he nods, bringing a fist to his mouth as he clears his throat.

“She wanted the business. And the only way to get that for her was through Nico.”

The phones they’d taken and unlocked from Marcello and Lena lay on the oak table in front of him, message threads pulled up. Nico doesn’t need to read them again. Doesn’t need to see another video, hear anymore audio. The story is clear cut.

Lena convinced Marcello that you were using Nico, that you wanted to infiltrate the family from the inside where’d you’d be able to take over both Luca and Nina’s territory.

Marcello believed her, spurred by the fact that they never saw you in a Devs pendant or with a ring. Because in the states, those marks are subtle and hidden. Yours is always tucked under your shirt.

Unlike in Switzerland, where a pendant is always flaunted, every outfit centered around the piece of gold.

And then they devised a plan. One carefully laid out in a text thread between the two the same night Nico took you to Luca’s bar. The same night that you had a run with Lena, apparently. Her friends said something to Luca about it, his camera picked up the moment in front of the bathroom, and Nina confirmed it.

Nico had no idea about it. Hadn’t even known his ex-whatever was even back in town. He can’t believe he didn’t notice. He’s usually so attentive, so analytic of his whereabouts. He’d let his guard down that night too. Because he was so happy to see his siblings, to see you fit right into that booth in the bar with his sister and at the pool table with Luca.

He remembers holding you that night in the bar. Loving and kissing on you in a way he doesn’t normally do in public. How he swayed you to his favorite song and held your waist when helping you line up the queue ball. The way he whispered stupid little things into your ear just to get you to giggle and curl into him, give him a reason to press sweet kisses to your neck and cheeks.

Lena most of noticed. Must of seen how fucking in love he is with you. He never took her to his family’s places, never played her any songs he liked, never tried to make her laugh.

It makes him nauseous to think that someone took that love and used it to hurt you. That she saw him with you and decided that was reason enough to put you in the hospital, to articulate a plan that would take you out of his life forever.

Because that was the intention.

It’s written out in front of him. Kidnap you, use you as bait to get a private meeting with Nico. And when he’d get there by himself, Marcello would have the barrel of his pistol to your temple and Nico would barely get to say your name before he’d pull the trigger.

And Lena would throw herself at him, threaten to turn him in for treason if he didn’t agree to get back with her. She’d tell his whole family how you were using them, say Nico was in on it, and that would be it.

“She should’ve killed her,” Holtzy mutters, and Nico can’t say he disagrees with him. There was a reason he was saving Marcello and Lena after their interrogation. He wanted to have the whole story before he decided what to do.

You took matters into your own hands though, and Nico now thinks that was merciful of you. Because he’d hurt them in ways they could never imagine if he had the chance to now.

All of this because Marcello couldn’t think to check around your fucking neck for a ring or pendant before he strangled you with Nico’s scarf.

“Alex,” Nina breathes in disappointment, lips parted like she wants to scold him or defend you letting Lena live.

“She should’ve,” Nico agrees, so angry it burns his skin, claws at his throat. “She should’ve fucking killed all of us. When we left her at that hospital, when we lied to her.”

He looks over at his boys, at Holtzy who’s always been so fiercely defensive and protective of you it rivals Nico. At Luke and Jack who tease the two of you, who tell you that you can do better and love to drive the two of you crazy but still flew out here last minute because they believe in you. And Mercer who’s always so immature and playful, goofing off and acting like he’s still the 17 year old kid Nico brought into Jersey.

Mercer who worked with you and Luca to execute your plan of revenge. He stepped up lead, got them all together on that flight, was your second in command. The boys took orders from him that day, same as you.

He’s proud of them. Nico is so fucking proud of this group of kids that you turned into men.

“But she did what she thought was best, not what she wanted,” he tells Holtzy. “And we have to trust and accept that.”

The room goes quiet again. Luca takes his seat at the head of the table, running his hands through his hair. Nico locks the stolen phones, stacking them on top of each other and putting them in his hoodie pocket. In case you want to see them.

“I’m retraining,” Luca sighs. “All of my men. In phases every section is going through boot camp again. So that this never happens again Neeky.”

Nico nods, flashing a quick but grateful smile at his brother. He doesn’t blame Luca for this. He knows how Lena is -was- how conniving and controlling. She was so good at always playing the victim.

“We want to have a party kind of thing for you all before you head back to Jersey,” Luca nods towards the younger boys. “End on a happier note. I’ll shut down the bar for a night, have security still but it’ll be safer. Better.”

Nico takes a deep breath, tries to shake off how exhausting this meeting was. “We’ll be there.”

Nina is tapping her fingers on the table top, gaze burning into the side of Nico’s head. He looks over at her, raises an expectant eyebrow.

“When are you gonna do it?”

It. Propose. Nico winces.

“Do what?”

“What are you doing boss?”

Nico thinks the Hughes brothers could be twins with how in sync they always are, how they seem to have the same thoughts. He could kill Nina for bringing this up in front of them.

“Not here,” Nico mutters, looking away when Nina groans in frustration.

“You fought to get her back just to bail! Come on Nico, I saw you that day! You can’t let this scare you off.”

He squeezes his eyes shut, jaw clenching as he tries to keep his tone in check. He didn’t want to talk about this, didn’t want to be reminded that the whole purpose of this trip got hijacked and now he’s returning to the states with not just one, but two engagement rings. Neither of which are on your finger.

“M’not gonna do this to her here, Nina.”

“Why not?” She presses. “What could be better? She loves it here, you heard her.”

His temper flares, exploding out of him like boiling oil. “No I heard her screaming and crying as she was tortured!

“I watched her fight for her life in a place she was supposed to be happy. So no I’m not pulling out a ring, and looking her in the eye and explaining that the picture perfect proposal she asked for was lost because I left her alone for five minutes, but please marry me anyway. Sorry I’m asking in my brother’s sticky bar.”

Nico’s chest heaves, angry puffs of air rattling out of him as he sinks back into his chair. He rakes a hand through his hair, tugging on the strands painfully for some kind of release.

He can feel the eyes of all them, watching him like he might start yelling again.

“Boss,” Mercer mumbles cautiously, “she’d still marry you, you know that.”

Nico sighs, nods. “Yeah I know. She told me she still wants to. I just-I have to do it right. And it’s not right anymore.”

“Neeky, you could pull out a ring pop in the bathroom of the bar and that girl would still say yes to you.”

Nina is right. He knows she’s right. You told him that as long as he had the ring and was on his knee, you’d say yes.

But that’s not the point. The point is that he wanted it to be a big deal. Something he planned out, put thought into every detail. He wanted you to see the intention. That way you know he’s doing this because he wants to. Because he wants you.

“I know,” he mutters, the sound of you calling yourself a Hischier on that tape echoing in his head. The last name isn’t officially yours yet, but it’s yours in every sense of the word. “It’s not about her saying yes, I know she’ll say yes. It’s about me…”

Showing her.

He has to show you. Because he’s not great at saying things. He’s better with actions.

“It’s fine,” Nico dismisses, “I’ll figure something out.”

~~~~

Kids laughing and chattering fills the air, echoing around the large skating rink. Timo had bypassed the skate rentals desk when you came in, instead guiding you straight towards the upper stands.

You don’t know why he’s bringing you here, or why he’s staying so far from the actual ice, but you follow him anyway.

The sound of skates scraping the ice flitters up into the rafters, and you glance over to find a group of excited kids skating messily around the rink.

Timo sits dead center in the row, holding down your seat for him and you gladly take it, propping up your half-drank latte on your thigh. You look down, watch the kids skate and notice a woman among them. Beautiful red hair in a thick and loose braid, a black and white skating costume on, the sleeves and pants glittering with gems under the bright lights.

“Nico and I learned to skate here,” Timo says, crossing his foot over his knee and relaxing back into his seat like muscle memory. You wonder how many times he’s come here, probably sat in this exact same seat for some reason.

“It’s a nice rink,” you say, looking over. He’s looking at the ice so intently you think his gaze might magically melt it, create little pools of slush. No, he’s not looking at the ice, you realize, he’s looking at her. At the beautiful red head that’s now gathering the children in a circle for stretches.

“When we were about 13, this girl moved here. Went to our school and everything. She got on well with Nico. We would come here after school everyday, when we were putting off assignments especially. Luca would buy us tickets for the train and we’d come with him because he skated better.

“One day she was here too. And it was like nothing, the way she’d just join us. Never hockey, but she’d skate with us. And she was so beautiful, that way she moved, the way she opened up when she got on the ice…”

His voice has gone soft, distant like he’s lost in this vivid memory of this old friend. You take in the lovesick look on his face, so clear even from just his side profile, and it clicks. He brought you here because that girl on the ice right now is the girl he’s telling you about.

The girl he’d left here. The one Nico briefly mentioned to you once, a few years back when you asked him why Timo, with his beautiful blue eyes and his sweet smile, never went out on dates.

“Timo’s heart is back in Switzerland,” Nico had explained. “His girl is still there, I think.”

You reach over, lay your hand over his in his lap and he blinks, his fingers relaxing under your hold. “Her parents didn’t like us. They knew about Nico and his family, about how I was training with him too. Nico’s grandfather wasn’t the nicest person, hell Rino and Katja are like saints compared to his grandfather.

“So they told her to stay away from us. But she didn’t. Everyday she got on the train with us, sat right next to me and would pull out this cucumber snacks her mother made. She always had them for me. And I started bringing her stuff too. Chocolate and sweets from around my house. She has a sweet tooth but her mother never let her have it. Said it would make her unhealthy.”

Timo laughed quietly to himself, like he still can’t believe her parents were like that. Or maybe at his own rebelliousness, how he went directly against them to make her happy.

“That’s really sweet Timo,” you murmur, smiling to yourself. You’ve known he was a big softie, could’ve guessed that he’d be even worse when in love.

“Yeah, it was. We dated for a long time after that. Snuck around behind her parents back, even though we know they knew. But it was fun. And I was like a puppy in love…”

Something sad settles over his features, glosses over his eyes and he sighs softly.

You fill in the next part for him. “And then you left to Jersey with Nico.”

Timo puffs out his cheeks, nods just once. “I asked her to come with. Told her I’d marry her as soon as we got there. And she agreed, was ready to give up everything, even her figure skating career to come with me.

“But she wasn’t 18 yet and her parents could use that to stop her visa. They told her she couldn’t go with, they forbid it. And they threatened to disown her too.”

You laugh humorlessly, familiar with the abandonment of family. It makes you sad to think of her not even getting the chance to pick. Yeah it broke you to have to make a decision between Nico and your loved ones, but at least you had the agency to make that pick. Her parents never gave her that.

“Every time I’m here I come see her. Beg her to come with me. She’s not close to her parents anymore, but she never got over that teenage fear. And she has a career and a life here now. One without me.

“How am I supposed to ask her to give that up?”

He’s looking at you now, eyes glossy and begging, and it breaks your heart. You had no idea how tormented by love Timo has been all these years. That every year when he makes his annual trip home he tears open old wounds just to see his teenage sweetheart that he never got over.

Answers. He wants answers from you because you had been her before.

You swallow thickly, frowning sympathetically at him. “Tell her that,” you advise. “Tell her how much it hurts you to ask her to give that life up. And if she really loves you, it won’t matter.

“It’s not exactly a sacrifice if what you’re getting in return is far better in the end.”

“Is that how it was?” He asks. “For you and Nico?”

It’s not even a question you have to think about, nodding as your lips curl into a loving smile. “Yeah it was. Nico told me he’d never want to make me choose, but my family wanted me to. And no one who really loves you would make you choose.”

Timo sniffles, blinking back his tears and turning back to the rink. “I don’t want her to pick, I just want her to be happy. And I know she loves me still. Every time I’m home we fall back into who we were when I left. Like no time has ever passed.”

You can’t help but ache for him. So you lean your head against his shoulder, hold his hand to let him know you’re here for him, always.

“You know, for being my best friend, you kept this from me for a long time.”

Timo chuckles, squeezing your fingers in acknowledgment. “I wanted her to myself for a bit longer. And I knew if I told you you’d come flying over here in that jet to get her to come to Jersey.”

On the ice, the beautiful red head looks up from her lesson, immediately finding Timo in the stands. You were right, this must be his spot in the rink, some seat of significance.

Timo lifts his free hand, waving at her and she effortlessly skates a little flourish, wiggling her fingers back at him with a smile so wide you can see it from all the way up here.

You and Nico have your love story, you decide, and now it’s time for Timo to have his too. Whether it’s convincing him to stay here with her or convincing her to come home with him, you’ll do whatever it takes.

[mywritersmind]

how bout lando x sainz!reader like carlos’ little sister but carlos doesn’t know about their relationship?

PRICK AND A TEASE - LN4

listen up : sainz!reader!! inappropriate use of a lollipop. jealous lando.

word count : 755

note : dare i say this is my fav request yet!! sainz!reader will forever eat <33

⋆｡‧˚⋆

“My baby sister!” Carlos says to me as he and Lando round the corner, joining them as they walk. The pair are in orange and red racing suits, Lando’s is unzipped and criminally attractive. “Nice of you to grace us with your presence after hiding away with Alexandra all today.”

I roll my eyes, “I’m not even going to congratulate you on your quali today.” He jabs me in the side and I punch him in the arm.

“I didn’t know you were coming this weekend, Y/n.” Lando says from Carlos’ side, lying right through his teeth.

I smile innocently as if he wasn’t in my bed last night, “Yup! Decided to surprise Carlos.” Decided to surprise Carlos and come two days earlier to spend time with Lando.

Carlos has no clue Lando and I are… In a relationship? It’s unclear but it’s quite fun.

I know I fancy him and he fancies me.

Lando smiles softly at me, the look he gives me that makes my knees go weak.

We make it to the ferrari hospitality and I go straight for the lollis in the corner. I unwrap my favorite flavor, strawberry, and pop it into my mouth while texting.

Carlos and Lando talk rapidly about qualifying and some poor results from other teams. It’s not until Carlos gets pulled away by his manager when I realize that Lando has been staring at me.

I wiggle my fingers at him a bit, Carlos’ back facing me. He smirks a bit as I run my tongue over the candy. I see Lando swallow and decide to be a bit of trouble.

Carlos’ manager leaves and as my brother sits across from Lando, I slip the lollipop into my mouth again.

Lando clears his throat and changes his position, my brother keeps talking as I move my tongue around more.

Lando’s eyes won’t stop flickering to me, Carlos eventually notices and turns around to look at what he’s distracted by.

I fake innocence by watching the f2 cars on the track, “So that Colapinto kid is good huh? Funny, too.”

Carlos stands to join me, Lando follows, “You’ve spoken to him?” my boy asks.

“Mhm. A real flirt.” I see Lando roll his eyes.

Carlos raises a brow, “Seems like the type. Sort of reminds me of a young Lando.” He claps his hand on Lando’s shoulder as Lan eyes me.

“Think he’d go for me?” I ask the two, lollipop in hand.

My brother frowns, “No chance, Y/n.”

“You think he wouldn’t?” Lando asks his friend.

“He definitely would. But you know how I feel about it-”

I mock him as he says the same words, “No dating boys on the grid’ yeah I know.” I sigh, “You never let me have fun.”

Carlos pulls a disgusted look, “I’m sure you’re fine.” I glance at Lando, I definitely am fine. Carlos checks his phone and swears, “I’m so late. I’ll be back soon Y/n!”

Carlos rushes out and Lando is next to me in seconds, “You’re a prick.” he says as the candy goes back in my mouth, “And a tease.” he grabs the candy and tastes it.

“And yours.” I add, this makes him smile proudly.

“I’m going to tell Franco to fuck off.” he leans against me a bit.

“And explain that how? Oh yeah! You’re fucking your best mates sister behind his back and still haven’t asked her to be your girlfriend?” I call him out in one move.

He eyes me, his hand going to my waist before turning to me, “Dinner, tonight? I’ll make you forget Franco.”

I roll my eyes, still smiling at him. I’m about to say yes but the door swings open, Carlos walks in quickly and Lando’s hand is off me in seconds. “Back so soon?” Lando asks.

Carlos grabs his hat from the couch, “Nah, Forgot this.” He does a double take at us and I pray that he doesn’t notice that the lolli in Lando’s mouth has my lipstick on it.

“You alright?” I ask him as he slowly backs away.

“Yeah…” he says suspiciously, “You coming soon, Lan?” Lando nods, stepping away from me and following my brother.

“Bye Y/n!” Carlos tells before practically running out.

“Bye Y/n.” Lando turns around to look at me, winking and waving the hand that holds the lollipop. I sigh when they’re gone, leaning against the glass and watching the cars go past.

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

Crash Course

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

Word count: 708

Pairing: Lando Norris x diver!reader

Summary: Two fierce rival drivers, Y/n and Lando Norris, find their intense competition on the track evolving into something deeper.

______________________________________________________________

The roar of the Singapore crowd still echoed in Y/n’s ears as she clambered out of her wrecked car. She felt a surge of anger and frustration, her pulse racing with adrenaline as she tore off her helmet, tossing it aside with little care. The final lap had been hers—until that moment when she miscalculated, clipping Lando's car. Now they were both out of the race, and her championship hopes lay in shambles.

She didn’t care about the bruises or the pain in her side; her mind was laser-focused on one thing—Lando. He had every right to be angry, but so was she. She could already see him stalking toward her, his expression thunderous.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Lando’s voice was low, laced with fury. “You could’ve—”

But before he could finish, Y/n staggered, the world around her spinning. She blinked, trying to steady herself. The heat and exhaustion of the race clung to her, but something else was wrong. Her side ached more than it should have. The adrenaline that had been keeping her going was ebbing away, and her vision blurred. She stumbled again, reaching out blindly.

Lando’s hand shot out, catching her just before she collapsed completely.

“Hey—Y/n?” His anger vanished instantly, replaced with concern as he held her steady. She clung to him, trying to focus, but her body wasn’t cooperating. Pain flared up her side, and she gasped, finally realizing how badly she was hurt.

“I’m fine,” she muttered, her voice weak, though even she didn’t believe it.

“No, you’re not,” Lando said, his voice tense as he looked down at her. “You’re bleeding.” His eyes flicked to her side, where blood soaked through her race suit, the fabric darkening beneath his hand.

The pit lane had descended into chaos around them, but Lando didn’t seem to care about anything else. His grip on her tightened, worry etched into his features as he guided her gently to the ground. He kept her propped up against him, his arm supporting her shoulders.

“You need help,” he said urgently, shouting over his shoulder for the medical team.

Y/n winced, finally feeling the sharp, throbbing pain in her ribs. Her breaths came shallow, and she felt herself leaning more heavily into Lando’s chest. “It’s not… that bad,” she protested weakly, though her body betrayed her, trembling as the pain surged.

“You nearly fainted, Y/n,” Lando replied, his voice softer now, yet filled with intensity. “Stop pretending you’re fine.”

Despite everything, she wanted to argue, to push him away and insist she didn’t need his help. But there was a softness in his tone she hadn’t heard before, and the warmth of his arms was oddly comforting.

The medical team finally arrived, and Y/n felt Lando gently hand her over to them, though his hand lingered on her shoulder a moment longer than necessary. As they assessed her injuries, he knelt beside her, watching closely, his anger now a distant memory.

“You scared me,” he admitted quietly, his voice barely audible over the commotion.

Y/n blinked up at him, confused. “Why do you even care? I thought you hated me.”

Lando’s gaze softened, his jaw clenched as if struggling with what to say. “I don’t hate you, Y/n. I never have.” He hesitated, his expression vulnerable in a way she hadn’t seen before. “You push me. You make me want to be better. And yeah, sometimes you drive me crazy, but… I care.”

Her heart skipped a beat, her breath catching in her throat. Before she could respond, the medics lifted her onto a stretcher, cutting the moment short. Lando stood up, walking alongside as they moved her toward the medical center, his eyes never leaving her.

As they reached the entrance, Y/n grabbed his hand, stopping him. “I didn’t mean to take us both out,” she whispered, guilt and exhaustion weighing heavily on her.

“I know,” Lando replied, his thumb gently brushing against her knuckles. “Just focus on getting better. The championship can wait.”

She gave him a weak smile, her mind spinning—not just from the injury, but from everything he had just said. As she was taken inside, Lando’s words echoed in her mind, shifting everything she thought she knew about their rivalry.

[yelenasdiary]

Hi how about an enemy to lovers with Yelena were in their last mission they somehow get handcuffed to each other and until the team can get them off they are off duty and having to deal with eachother (their feelings)

Cuffin' Season

Pairing: Yelena Belova x GN! Reader

Summary: You and Yelena find yourselves in a situation neither of you want to be in

Angst, Fluff

Warnings: Language Warning | 1.8K

AC: Thank you for sending this! Sorry it took so long; please ignore the cringe title lmao! I hope you enjoy it! x

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” You groaned, throwing your head back against the wall. Yelena sighed heavily, for the last 20 minutes or so, the two of you have been trying to escape a from each other. Yelena still trying to wrap her head around how on earth the target tricked you both and was able to keep you both hostage, not the classic tried to a chair with duct tape across your lips. No, this was the worst kind of being kept hostage. 

“Stop tugging!” Yelena said, rolling her eyes. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, does that hurt? Is being tugged by the fucking wrist hurt the tough Russian spy?” You snapped in frustration. “You know, if it wasn’t for Natasha needing Kate, she’d be the one hand cuffed to you and I wouldn’t be sitting here wishing THEY WOULD KILL ME ALREADY!” You added, yelling out to your kidnappers. 

“They’re not going to kill us” Yelena said. 

“I wish they would!” 

“Alright, what the hell is your problem?” Yelena snapped, looking to you. “What do you mean? You’re the one with the problem” you argued. 

Yelena cocked a brow, “you think I’m the one with the problem? You’ve never liked me; you can’t even stand to be in the same room with me” she replied watching you try to squeeze your hand out of the handcuff. “Nope, that’s all you, spy! I’ve never been nothing by nice to you, but I guess you’re too high and mighty to see that and now thanks to you, we’re trapped and I’m probably going to die handcuffed to you”

“Thanks to me?” Yelena frowned, “do you hear yourself right now? You’re the one the fell for the damn trap. I followed you to stop you, don’t you remember that? Probably not because you can’t do any wrong!” She added causing you to stop your actions and look at her with anger in your eyes. 

“You want to do this now? Right now? Instead of trying to escape you want to play the damn blame game?!” 

“If the shoe fits, why not” Yelena spat. 

“Agh! You’re so unbearable! I can’t believe you think this is my fault! You’re the one who told me to go ahead, it’s like you knew this was going to happen” you argued. 

“I was talking to Kate! I had to wait for you to shut your pipe hole for a second so she could finish her sentence, I said “go ahead, Kate” Yelena corrected you, your mind having a small flash back to that moment. You were so annoyed that you had been paired with the one person who hated you the most that you when you heard her say ‘go ahead’ you took it as her giving you instructions. 

Silence fell, you rolled your eyes once more at the blonde before trying yet another pointless attempt to set yourself free. “Seriously, stop tugging!” Yelena tugged her left wrist, pulling your right wrist to her. 

“Ouch!” You groaned at the pain, before tugging back. Yelena took a deep breath to keep herself from exploding over your childlike behavior, the two of you hated being cuffed together, if anything, this was the most that the two of you had ever spoken to one another. When you first met Yelena, she gave you a similar vibe that Natasha did when you first met her, so you just assumed it would be a little bit of work to break the widow and the two of you would get along after but no, not Yelena. You’ve been on two other missions with her in the past, both missions went quick and rather smoothly but again, such little conversation was ever exchanged between you both. 

Outside of work, Yelena simply made it obvious to you that she wasn’t a fan of you. So naturally, you stopped trying to win the assassin over and found yourself giving her the same cold vibe she would give you. It made things harder given that you were both great friends of Kate’s and the poor archer hated seeing her two closest friends hating one another. But what you didn’t know was the little secret that Yelena had let slip to Kate one night after a few too many shots of Vodka. 

As time passed, you and Yelena sat in silence. Both of you quietly tried to work out a plan to get out of the situation you were in but neither of you wanted to bring your ideas to the table first. “If we work together, we can get out of here” Yelena says with a light sigh, breaking the silence. 

“What do you think I’ve tried to do this entire mission?” You replied, not trying to snap back at her but her comment slightly annoyed you. “You just hate working with me” you added. 

Yelena looked over at you, “how about once we get out of here, we never have to work together again” she says in a calm tone. 

“Perfect! Can’t wait” you gave her a fake smile before her eyes quickly turned to the banging sound of guns outside the door. The two of you instantly went into fight or flight, just waiting for whatever was going to happen come through that door. 

You let out a sigh of relief when you saw Natasha standing in the doorway with a cocked brow, Kate standing slightly behind her. “Well, don’t you two look cozy” Nat commented, earning herself a death stare from her sister. “Have you got the keys?” You asked, ignoring the comment from the older widow. 

“I’ll go find them” you heard Kate say before rushing off. Natasha stood still with a growing smirk as she looked at the two of you, “which one of you wants to tell me how this happened?” She asked before letting out a chuckle. 

“Shut up!” Yelena spat. 

----

Back at the compound, free from being cuffed to Yelena, you just sat down on the edge of your bed, letting out a heavy sigh as you rubbed the handcuff markings on your wrist. Your mind replaying everything that had happened on the mission, trying to work out if you were the one that put you and Yelena in that situation or if it was just a case of bad lucky. Did you the two of you let your hatred for one another get in the way of a mission or was it something much more than that? These thoughts circled your mind until you heard a knock at your bedroom door. 

You opened it only to see Yelena standing there, “can I help you?” You asked kindly although Yelena was the last person you wanted to see right now. 

“Can I come in?” She asked taking you by surprise. You nodded and opened the door wider for her to enter. She walked in and noticed the little things about your room layout, where your perfume sat on a shelf, how neatly your close were hanging in your opened closet, your favorite movie as a poster on one of the walls, all these little things she smiled softly to herself about. 

“If you’re come to give me a lecture about the mission, I won’t want to hear it” you said as you wandered over to your dresser to apply some cream to your hands and wrists. Yelena turned around to face you, “I didn’t come here to lecture you. I came here to tell you that I don’t hate you” she replied. You frowned slightly as you looked back at her, “you don’t?” You questioned. 

Yelena shook her head, “I’ve never hated you” 

“T-then why you act like you do?” 

Yelena took a deep breath and took a seat at the end of your bed, placing her hands in her lap before she looked up at you once more. “I told Kate what happened today, and she said it would be best if I just come clean to you” she started. 

“Clean to me?” You questioned. 

“I don’t hate you, in fact, it’s the opposite to hate” 

Her reply only added to your confusion, “so you what? Dislike me? Or is it you can tolerate me?” You asked. It was your words that quickly told Yelena that this wasn’t going how she thought it would and quickly tried to fix it before this would escalate into yet another argument. 

“Try, I have feelings for you” she replied, her eyes slightly dropping to your feet. Her confession took you back, not once did you ever think that Yelena’s behavior towards you was because she had possible feelings for you. “I know it’s probably not what you expected but putting Kate’s advice aside for a moment, after today and the way we talked to one another wasn’t okay. I didn’t know that’s how you felt until today. I didn’t think that I was giving you the impression that I hated you” she paused as you slowly rubbed the cream into your skin while listening to her continue. 

“I’ve never looked at somebody and have my heart skip a beat, I’ve never heard somebody talk to me and wish they would never stop, I’ve never had somebody smile at me and that make me nervous. I guess I was so cold to you because I didn’t know how to be around you so I guess I thought that if I was distant with you that I wouldn’t feel these things, but I spoke to Kate and she told me that what I feel is okay” she went on. 

You wandered over to her and sat beside her, “well, I can say I’m so glad that you came to me. I thought I was going mad” you looked to her, “you’re not the only one who has feelings in this” you added.

Yelena’s eyes lit up, “do you mean y-“ 

You nodded before she could finish her question, “I don’t like the saying ‘if they’re mean to you it’s because they like you’ but I guess it has some kind of truth” you added, making you both chuckle. Gently, you took Yelena’s left hand into yours, “we don’t have to act on these feelings if you don’t want too or not ready, I don’t ever want to push you” you assured her. 

“Being handcuffed to you has been the highlight of my week, I would like to explore these feelings more, but it needs to be slowly” Yelena replies. You couldn’t help but smile softly at her, “we have all the time in the world, there is no need to rush anything”

You noticed Yelena blush a little at your words and you swore, if you could, you’d kiss her right then and there but you wanted this to work and right now, you were finally able to see a side of Yelena you wish you saw sooner.

Taglist: @marvelfan98 | @boredandneedfanfics | @music-4ever | @marvelwomen-simp | @swaqcenix | @scarlettbitchx | @mallyka-blog | @itsalwaysskorpioszn | @caporal-nino | @natashamaximoff-69 | @evilcr0ne | @boredandneedfanfics | @teganmiller | @ihavezeroclue13 | @tobiaslut | @itsmelulu | @axolotllover225 | @koinsss | @nuianced-tck-enby | @springsheep | @prentgarcialuvr | @stayevildarling | @mommysgoodlittlebrat | @marvelnatasha12346 | 

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[natashaslesbian]

Another Mother | Part 3

Scarlett helps you out when you start to get sick, she hopes you’re getting closer until your dad tells you he’s needed back at work. All you truly want is your mother, not Scarlett

Word count: 3.1k

Warnings/Content: Sickness, Throwing up, Medication, One hint of non sexual nudity, One swear word

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You followed slowly behind your dad into the living room, finding Scarlett already settled on the couch with a bowl of popcorn. “Hey you two” Scarlett smiled, a little too friendly for your liking, despite your earlier bonding time. “Did you apologise?” The blonde asked Colin “yeah” your dad nodded. “Good, now let’s watch a film, what’s your pick y/n?” Scarlett said as she adjusted her position on the couch, hoping you would join her. She was slightly disappointed when you took a seat on the spare armchair beside the expensive looking couch, wiping at your suddenly stuffy nose “terminator 2” you said as you slumped down. “Oh one of my favs, nice pick” Scarlett said as Colin came and sat beside her. Your dad sighed as he got comfortable “guess I gotta get used to being outnumbered again” Colin smiled as he wrapped his arm around the blondes shoulders “looks like you girls are already ganging up on me” he joked. “We make a good team y/n” Scarlett smiled at you “we’re not a team” you coldly replied “just two people living under the same roof who happen to get on occasionally” you said with a croaky voice. You didn’t see it, but Scarlett smiled at your words. Even if it was only occasionally, she was happy to be getting on with you, it was a start.

Your eyes grew tired towards the end of the film, a small headache forming behind your eyes. The exhaustion due to your restless night soon lulled you into a comfortable doze. “I think someone’s ready for bed” Scarlett whispered when she saw your head slowly bobbing to the side. “Y/n, wakey wakey!” Your dad called, using that annoying voice which he thought was hilarious. Your brows furrowed as you shuffled slightly “Colin!” Scarlett groaned. “Sorry kiddo” he laughed “you tired? Why don’t you go take a nap before dinner?” He said. You sighed loudly as you sat up, rubbing at your sore eyes “no I’m good” you said. “You sure?” Colin asked worriedly, to which you nodded in response. “You do look a little pale y/n” Scarlett piped up. “God I’m fine! What do you care anyway?” You snapped as you stood from the chair, leaving heavy footsteps in the path of your exit. “Hey! What did I tell you about the attitude!” Your dad called after you. “Leave it honey, she doesn’t seem well” the blonde said, running her hand along Colin’s arm in what she hoped was a soothing manor. “She’s fine” he huffed.

You made it halfway up the stairs before a rough cough escaped your lungs, as if being home sick wasn’t enough, now you were getting actually sick. You finally made it to your bedroom, where you flopped down dramatically onto your bed. Being too tired to change, you rolled over into your stomach letting your heavy head hit the pillow. You slept through dinner, Colin left you to sleep when he came to check on you. You slept so deeply, it was morning the next time you opened your eyes. You whined as the morning sun hit your gaze, making your pounding headache ten times worse. You were slightly dazed, but still knew it was Monday, meaning you needed to get ready for school. You peeled back your duvet and began shivering despite the sweat running down your head. You somehow made it to the door quickly, ignoring the ache of your muscles in each step. When making your way to the bathroom, the haze behind your eyes caught up with you, sending you toppling down to your knees. The crash against the wall had your dad awake in seconds “y/n?” He said as he swung open his bedroom door.

You saw a hint of worry come over your dad as he ran towards you “are you alright kid?” He said as he began to help you up “god you’re boiling” he exclaimed, deciding it would be better to keep you sitting. An inquisitive blonde appeared in the doorway, also awoken by the noise “is everything alright?” She said. “You were right, I think she’s sick” Colin frowned as he held you in his arms. “M fine” you whined “gotta school go” you slurred. “No sweetie I don’t think you’re going to school today” your dad said “I…um…I’ll call them okay, and we’ll…we’ll get you feeling better in no time” he stuttered, slightly unsure of what to do “let’s get you back to bed” he said. “I think she needs a shower first” Scarlett said, still standing in the doorway. “What?” Colin said, looking up at her. The older woman came to rest the back of her hand on your forehead, you shuffled away when she came into contact with you, pulling a face of disgust. “She’s too warm, she needs a cold shower” the woman said. Colin’s face fell into shock “right…well uh” he mumbled. “I’ll do it” Scarlett said “if that’s okay with you” she asked as she placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, thrilled when you didn’t shrug her off. Your dad smiled at the offer from his fiancé “you go call her school” she smiled back “I don’t know the number” Colin said in defeat. “I’ll find it later” Scarlett said as she rolled her eyes.

You felt a pair of arms scooping you underneath your arms, gently lifting you away from the floor “ok sweetie, come on let’s get you in the shower” Scarlett said as she took on all of your weight. Being too dizzy to notice, you allowed yourself to be helped into the bathroom and deposited into the toilet lid. The running water caught your attention and you furiously rubbed at your eyes trying to regain your vision. “Hey try not to do that okay, you’ll make them sore” Scarlett said as she reached for your hands. “Leave me lone” you said as you saw a flash of blonde hair “don wan you” you grumbled. Scarlett was getting used to your standoffish attitude, so she didn’t take your words to heart. “I know you don’t y/n but you need a shower and I don’t think you can do it yourself right now” she said as she checked the temperature of the water. Satisfied that it was cool enough, Scarlett began peeling away the shirt stuck to your skin “we’ll keep your underwear on okay but I need to take your shorts off too” she said soothingly. Despite your best ideas, you allowed the blonde to help you stand and step out of your shorts as they pooled at your ankles. “‘S cold” you groaned as you stepped underneath the water. “I know sweetheart but we gotta cool you down” Scarlett said as she helped you to sit in the tub.

You whined as more of your skin came into contact with the cold water, Scarlett gently shushed you as she helped you to settle against the tiles. You didn’t put up much of a fight once your body was supported by the tiles and Scarlett took the opportunity to search for your schools phone number. Once she found it, the actress poked her head out of the bathroom door and called for her fiancé. “I got the schools number” she said as Colin climbed the last few steps. “Thank you baby, is she okay?” he asked as he typed the number into his own phone. “She’s only just got in but it should cool her down a bit. I’m guessing Marie used to take care of this kinda stuff?” Scarlett questioned. Colin smiled at the mention of his late wife “yeah she did” he said, reliving all the times you would be napping with your mother when you had a cold. “Why don’t you go make her some breakfast, she needs to eat before we give her some medicine” Scarlett said as she held Colin’s hand lovingly “okay yeah” your dad sighed as he ran back down the staircase, still in his panicked state at your sudden sickness.

Scarlett returned to the side of the bath and leant over to gauge your temperature, she was delighted when you felt much cooler than before. “Okay let’s get you out sweetie” she said as she reached for a fluffy towel. “No tired” you mumbled through the droplets of the water “thought you said it was too cold?” Scarlett smirked as she helped you to stand up again. “Don wan your help if you jus gon make fun of me” you argued, your anger a stark juxtaposition to the grip you had on her arms. “Sorry baby” Scarlett said, the nickname sliding off her tongue so naturally. You grimaced in annoyance at her affection but allowed her to help you back to your bedroom nonetheless. “Sit tight okay, I’ll grab you some fresh clothes” the blonde said as she sat you on your bed “I feel sick” you groaned as you wrapped your arms around your bubbling stomach. Scarlett took notice of your movements and hurried across the room to place your bin underneath your chin. On cue, the small contents of your stomach came out, it was mostly acid considering you hadn’t eaten in almost 15 hours. “Alright sweetie, it’s okay, let it all out” Scarlett cooed as she ran her hands along your back. You pulled back when you were done, avoiding the bin as you moved your head forwards to rest on the blondes frame. She placed the metal can back on the floor and gently soothed the skin of your arms. “I…I need to get dressed” you stuttered as you slowly pushed Scarlett away, feeling guilty for relying on her so heavily. “Do you want some help” Scarlett asked. “No, I can do it” you said as you pushed yourself to your feet and turned your back to the older woman, ending the conversation.

Scarlett waited just outside your door while you pulled your clothes back onto your cooler body. Colin came rising back up the stairs with a tray of fever friendly food. “Hey, she’s just getting dressed” the blonde said as she leaned over the tray to give her fiancé a kiss. “Okay hunny, thanks for looking after her” Colin said “I made her soup and a few slices of toast” he sighed as he held out the tray, wishing you could get better quickly, he hated to see you like this. “That should settle her stomach a bit, she threw up” Scarlett frowned, also hating to see you like this. “Oh god okay, I’ll see if I can get the rest of the week off work, I’m due back tomorrow” Colin said. He placed the tray on the hallway table and pulled out his phone to call his boss when a small whimper came from your bedroom. “Scarlett?” You called out “yeah sweetheart” the blonde replied leaning gently against the door. “I think I need some help getting dressed” you muttered “okay I’m coming in” Scarlett said as she picked up the tray of food for you “I got her” she nodded to your father. Scarlett couldn’t help the pitying whine that escaped her when she came back into your room. You were half sitting on the bed and half sitting on the floor, you’d managed to dress your lower half but when trying to put a loose sports bra over your head, you failed tremendously. The older woman kept her eyes above your shoulders as she helped to pull the bra over your chest, when you were covered she grabbed the large shirt she had laid out and helped you to slip into it. “Thank you” you whispered, “don’t mention it sweetie.

You climbed back into bed as Scarlett carried over the food your dad had prepared “‘M not hungry” you whined as she set it down on your lap. “You need to eat y/n, you’ll feel better I promise. And after your done we’ll get some medicine in you then you can sleep okay” Scarlett said, unconsciously leaning forward to brush away a loose strand of your hair. You continued to moan in disagreement but soon you had finished the whole meal, you felt a little bitter though you were definitely not going to tell Scarlett she was right. Your dad stopped by as you were finishing up, arms full of medication as he wasn’t sure which ones you needed. You and Scarlett both chuckled as his frantic state “give it here” she blonde rolled her eyes and reached for the basket. “How are you feeling pumpkin?” Colin asked as he rested a hand on your forehead “sleepy” you whispered “we’ll get you tucked in soon I promise” he cooed. Scarlett found what medicine you needed and helped you to swallow it, despite your unwillingness. She stood back as her fiancé helped to soothe you to sleep “get some sleep” Colin said as he switched off your overhead light, leaving you to rest. “I can’t get the week off” your dad sighed as he closed you bedroom door “they’re behind on scripts for the sketches I gotta go in” he sighed. “She’ll understand baby” Scarlett said as held Colin’s hand tightly “and I’ll be here to look after her” she said. “I know it’s just, her mom used to watch her when she was sick, or on school holidays, practically all the time cause I was at work. I thought I would finally have a chance to be there for her” Colin frowned. “She knows that you love her CJ, and she knows that you’re always gonna be there for her, wherever you are” the blonde said as she brushed his cheeks in her hands. “Come on, I think we have time for our own breakfast while she sleeps” Scarlett smiled as she lead her fiancé back down to the living room.

The pair kept a close eye on you for the rest of the day, although you slept for most of it. Despite your sickness, Scarlett and Colin used this time to spend together, basking in each other’s comfort. You were awake now and enjoying a sit com in the silence of your room. The medicine was beginning to ware off and you felt the same bubbling in your stomach return from earlier. Colin shot up from his desk when he heard the retching coming from upstairs, he jumped into action as he ran up to you followed by Scarlett. The door swung open to reveal you with your head over the bin once again “oh pumpkin” your dad cooed. “Daddy” you whined as she came to your side. The blonde also appeared behind you, pulling your hair into a loose ponytail to avoid it getting in the way. Colin nodded in thanks to his partner as he gently stroked your back “it’s alright kiddo” he soothed. When you were done, you leaned back against your dad in defeat. He didn’t waste a second as he scooped you up into his arm, bringing you back to your bed. You saw the look in his eyes, the one that meant he had something to tell you “you have to go to work tomorrow don’t you?” You quietly asked. “Yeah baby, I’m so sorry there’s nothing I can do” Colin said as he reached around your shoulders to hold you against himself. “Scarlett will be here though, she can look after you okay?” He said. You drew your gaze to the blonde standing at the foot of your bed. You wished your dad could be with you, the comfort of your mother was absent and now so would your father’s, Scarlett was the last person you wanted around right now. “Okay” you sighed in defeat. You supposed it could’ve been worse, and Scarlett had helped you out today. Whether or not you wanted to admit it.

You soon fell back asleep in your fathers arms, feeling comforted by his presence. You didn’t join him and Scarlett for dinner, your stomach not being able to hold anything. Nightfall soon came and you resorted to having a movie marathon having slept so much already. You were feeling worse than ever as you couldn’t take any of the medication on an empty stomach, but you just couldn’t keep anything down, your tummy was constantly aching. It was around three am when you couldn’t hold back from stumbling over to the bin again. You had no concept of time and the world was going around in a blur. “Y/n?” You heard as you gently turned your head to the footsteps closing in. “Oh pumpkin” Colin sighed as he came to your side. “Dad” you whined as you leaned into him “what time is it?” You asked. “About 3” your father said. You glanced towards your window, seeing no light leaking through “am?” You said feeling guilty for waking him. “Go back to sleep daddy, you have work today” you said as you toyed with his necklace. “It’s okay baby don’t worry about me” Colin said as he too your face into his hands. “You’re gonna be tired” you frowned, your vision blurring slightly. “No, no sweetie it’s okay” your dad said as he helped you to stand.

“Come on let’s get you back to bed” Colin said as he supported your weight on the short walk back to your mattress. “I wanna go home” you said as water crept up behind your eyes. “You are home kiddo” your dad sighed as he began to tuck you back into bed. “I’ll never be home again, not without mom” you cried, thinking about your moms soft hands gently flowing through your long hair. “Pumpkin, you gotta let her go” Colin whispered. “What like you did” you snapped, sitting up with a sudden burst of energy. “You just let her go, moved on and forgot about her. You sold her house, drove in some new bimbo to replace her and just let her go!” You shouted, tears now streaming down your face. “Y/n” your dad sighed “it’s not heathy to keep holding on, she would want you to-“ he continued before you cut him off “don’t you dare say she’d want me to move on” you sobbed. Colin sat back in defeat as you flipped back down into bed, turning your back to him and pulling your stuffed bear close to your face. “Y/n” he whispered “just go dad. You’ve got work in a few hours. I’m not gonna be the reason you get fired for falling asleep at your desk” you muttered under your breath, shaking due to your small outburst and probably your once again rising temperature. “Scarlett’s here if you need anything” Colin said coldly as he headed off back to bed for a few extra hours. “Like fuck” you cursed.

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A/N: Series Masterlist here<3

- Astara Bell

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[Taglist]

@saraaahsstuff / @dannipotatoo / @tobiaslut / @nevaeh-daughterofvalcarol / @marvelnatasha12346 / @yelenasdiary / @mousetheorist / @ashadash0904 / @strange-night-owl / @kkreader78o / @hatergirl-69 / @asv-xx

[miss-bushido]

our bodies are oh so close and tight

written for @steddiesmuttyseptember week three, using the prompt 'rough' Title from the song 'Paradise by the Dashboard Light' by Meatloaf

Also inspired by this tweet from @_cydonic: “young, bratty Steve who always calls for his father's car when he's working so that Mr Harrington's long-time, trusted driver Eddie can fuck him nasty in the back of the rolls 🥰”

Rating: E

“Going somewhere, Steven?” his Mother asks as he walks past her in the living room, adjusting the sleeves of his navy blue blazer. She doesn’t look up from her latest bodice-ripper romance book, so he knows he can be vague in his response.

“Yes, Mother. Just out to meet the guys.”

“Mmm, make sure you drive safely.” He can see her interest in the conversation is waning as her eyes keep moving over the words on the page. She even reaches for her glass of Chablis. It must be a very interesting passage.

“Eddie will make sure that I get there in one piece,” Steve answers. There is no response to that. His Mother sips her wine, and is now fully engrossed again in her story.

It’s just as well. He doesn’t think she’ll even wait up for him. She never does.

And he doesn’t know what time he’ll come back home. Not that the Harrington’s ever cared when their son came home. He tested it once: stayed out for three days, sleeping in a different girl’s bed every night. When he finally came home, they barely registered it.

This kind of parental neglect has been going on since Steve can remember. Their wealth let them spoil him with all the toys, experiences, cars and vacations a young man could want. There were a myriad of tutors, nannies, personal assistants as well. Their boy would never want for anything.

Except for affection and love from his parents. The Harrington’s did not give this to their only child readily, and on some level they must have felt guilty over it, because they let him do whatever he wanted. Steve was spoiled and willful and bratty, and no one was around to check him on this attitude.

Until the Harrington’s hired their chauffeur, that was.

Eddie Munson was like nothing and no one Steve had ever encountered before. He was in his mid-twenties, with dark hair and deep brown eyes. He had an air of something about him: a hint of danger that only Steve picked up on.

He also didn’t take any shit from The Brat, as he had christened Steve.

The first time he’d tested Eddie was about six months after he’d been hired, almost three months ago now. He’d walked over to the garage where the Harrington’s cars were kept, just as Eddie was finishing wiping down the interior of the Rolls, his tongue poking out in concentration as he moved the damp rag over the steering wheel.

“I want you to drive me somewhere,” Steve said by way of greeting, brushing a piece of imaginary lint off of his blazer.

Eddie moved out of the driver’s seat, rag in hand. His hair, usually kept hidden by his chauffeur’s cap, was loose and long, brushing the tops of his shoulders. The white tank top he wore showed all the tattoos he’d kept hidden under his chauffeur’s jacket, along with the strong arms he had. “I just finished detailing the car, so it’ll have to wait-”

Steve sighed heavily, as if this was the most inconvenient thing in the world. “I don’t care. I want you to drive me-”

“No,” Eddie said.

“No?” Steve repeated, hazel eyes wide. No one had ever told him ‘No’ before. “Who do you think-”

“I don’t know who you think you are,” Eddie cut him off, voice even with a hint of anger, “but I’m not the one.”

“I’m your boss’s son, is who I am,” Steve answered, eyebrows furrowed as he came closer to Eddie.

“You’re a brat, is what you are,” Eddie retorted.

Steve blinked dumbly, not sure what to do. This conversation was not going how he’d expected it to go. “What did you say?” he asked, moving so he was in Eddie’s personal space.

Eddie stayed where he was, which was also unexpected. So the two were almost chest to chest. “I said that you’re a brat.” He leaned in as he spoke. “Just because I drive you and your family around doesn’t mean you get to treat me like shit.”

Steve blinked again, but this time at the closeness of their faces. He could see a spray of freckles across Eddie’s cheeks, how pink his lips were, the hint of red in his cheeks from his anger. It made something stir in his gut, an unexpected feeling of arousal.

It wasn’t that Eddie was unattractive: he was actually pretty gorgeous to Steve’s mind. It wasn’t even that he was a guy: Steve had experimented with a few guys in the past. He just hadn’t ever expected to be attracted to someone who would speak to him like this. Like he wasn’t important. Like he wasn’t the spoiled and bratty son of the richest man in town.

“Get away,” Steve managed, pressing his hands on Eddie’s chest to shove him back. He managed to move the chauffeur about an inch before Eddie recovered and grabbed both of Steve’s wrists in his strong hands and pivoted so that he shoved Steve’s body up against the car. Eddie’s left thigh was between Steve’s legs, unaware that he was pressing against Steve’s crotch.

“Don’t ever do that again,” Eddie growled, tightening his grip on Steve’s right wrist. “Do you understand me, brat?”

Steve breathed heavily but didn’t answer. No one had ever been this rough with him before. And he found he kind of liked it. In response to Steve’s lack of one, Eddie pushed his body against Steve’s. The motion of him doing that produced delicious friction of Eddie’s thigh against his crotch that made Steve moan, closing his eyes at the feeling.

Eddie’s eyebrows raised at this development. “You like that, huh, brat?” He asked. When Steve didn’t immediately respond, Eddie moved his thigh again, feeling Steve’s erection clearly now. “You like it when someone corrects your behavior?” He was whispering in Steve’s ear now, his whole body pressed against him.

“Maybe…” Steve managed, his voice already sounding wrecked. He turned to look at Eddie, and felt a shiver run through him at the predatory look the chauffeur was giving him. “Maybe I do.”

“You want me to correct your behavior, huh?” Eddie asked. “Put my hands on you? Punish you?”

“Fuck,” Steve breathed, biting his lip at the imagery.

“First things first,” Eddie said, his left hand moving off of Steve’s right wrist, sliding down Steve’s body before he cupped Steve’s erection. He squeezed lightly, making Steve moan filthily, the sound echoing in the garage. “You don’t get to shove me around. Only I get to do that to you.”

“Yes,” Steve breathed, hips moving against Eddie’s hand. “Yes, God, I want that so much.”

“Good boy,” Eddie said, continuing to palm Steve through his pants. “Second thing: if you piss me off, if you keep acting bratty, I’m going to take it out of your ass.” As if to prove his point, Eddie moved them away from the car so he could give Steve a hard slap on the ass.

“Oh my God,” Steve shouted, his cock kicking in his pants. He’d never been spanked before, and didn’t know if it was because it was new or because it was Eddie doing it, or both, but he felt like he could come in his pants from just that by itself.

Eddie bit his lip at the display before him. He had his boss’s son in the palm of his hand, quite literally. He didn’t know Steve had it in him to be this pliable, this slutty. He found he really liked the power he had over him. “Third thing,” he said, his right hand moving in circles over Steve’s cheeks. “I’m the only one who gets to fuck you from now on. I’m the only one you’ll spread for. My pretty little whore.” He punctuated this by giving Steve’s earlobe a bite at the same time as he slipped his hand inside Steve’s pants, stroking his thick cock quickly. “Say it,” Eddie demanded, spanking Steve again as he stroked him.

“Only you,” Steve panted, head tilted forward, his right hand gripping the driver’s side mirror. He shoved his pants down with his left hand, his cock and Eddie’s hand wrapped around it springing free. The slick sounds of his precum sliding up and down his cock could be heard. “Only you get to fuck me,” he continued. “Eddie, fuck, I’m gonna come soon.”

“I can see,” Eddie breathed. He pushed his own pants down so his erection could be taken care of too. He wrapped his right hand around his cock and began stroking himself, getting off on getting Steve off. “Next time, I’m going to fuck you in the backseat, and you better not get cum all over the leather, or I’ll have to punish you.”

“Eddie!” Steve shouted as he came hard, gripping the mirror tightly as he bent forward. His cum dribbled over Eddie’s hands, some of it dripping onto the garage floor.

“God you’re so fucking hot,” Eddie groaned, forcing himself to stop stroking himself. He brought his hand up and licked all of Steve’s release into his mouth.

“I want more,” Steve pleaded. He looked up at Eddie, lust and longing written all over his face. “I want to be in the backseat with you now.”

Eddie pulled Steve in for a kiss, his tongue sliding into Steve’s hot mouth. “You ever been fucked before, brat?”

“Once,” Steve breathed, gripping Eddie’s tank top as they kissed. “I think you’ll be better at it, though.”

Eddie smirked. “Damn right.” He slapped Steve’s bare ass again before he said, “Get in the backseat and bend over.”

Steve kissed his once more before he complied, opening the back door and sliding in so he was facing the passenger side door. He grabbed the edge of the leather seat, and arched his back, waiting for Eddie.

Eddie slid in after Steve, closing the door behind him. “Fuck, your ass looks so good.” He ran a hand over his cheeks, pleased to note the pink spots where he’d spanked Steve. “I have to have a taste.”

Steve cried out, gripping hard to the seat as Eddie spread his cheeks and began tonguing his asshole. No one had ever done this to him, and it was a revelation in pleasure. He felt the wetness of Eddie’s spit, his tongue working inside Steve, punching in and out of him. “Eddie!” he moaned. “God, fuck, it feels so good!”

“This is just the warm up,” Eddie murmured, almost losing himself in eating Steve out. “You taste so fucking delicious. Some day I’m going to eat you out all night.” He felt Steve’s hole clench around his tongue at this. “Sounds like you want that too, huh?”

“Want that, want you, want all of you. God, please, Eddie. Please fuck me!”

Eddie grinned, giving Steve one final lick before he straightened up. “Since you asked so nicely…” he murmured. He reached into his back pocket, pulling out the little tub of Vaseline he kept there. It helped keep his hands smooth and soft after he worked on the car. Eddie uncapped it and scooped out a generous amount on his right pointer and middle fingers.

“This’ll be cold,” he warned Steve as he rubbed the lubricant over his hole. He slid both fingers inside Steve slowly, adding lubricant and getting him adjusted quicker. He heard the little hiss of pain Steve made and removed his fingers as quickly as he could. “Are you okay?” he asked. “Do you want me to stop?”

“If you stop, I’ll shove you again,” was the answer. Steve turned his head from where it was currently pressed against the seat, giving Eddie a knowing grin.

Eddie grinned back, returning to the task at hand of getting Steve’s hole nice and lubed and stretched for him. “There’s that brattiness we talked about,” he said, adding more Vaseline to his fingers as he slipped a third one inside of Steve. He slowly fucked Steve on his fingers, feeling him clench each time. “Someone should fuck it out if you.”

“Is that gonna be you?” Steve asked, practically drooling all over the leather.

“Does my little brat want that? Maybe I want to hear you beg a little first,” Eddie said, pulling his fingers out. He rubbed some Vaseline along his cock, which was red and aching from being ignored for so long. “And loudly. I want to make sure I hear you.”

“Please fuck me, Eddie,” Steve begged, the desperation in his voice taking on a fever pitch. Part of him knew that begging was part of the roleplay they’d stumbled onto, but he also was desperate to feel the other man inside him. “Please, please, pleas- oh fuck, yes!”

On the last ‘please’, Eddie began to push inside Steve, groaning loudly at how tight and hot he was. He slid in slowly and then slid back slowly, almost pulling out. “Is it good? Is it okay?” he asked, his own voice ragged, his hands clutching desperately at Steve’s hips.

“Don’t stop!” Steve begged, pushing back.

It was all Eddie needed. He thrust back inside of Steve, setting a rough rhythm as he fucked him. “You’re so tight,” he breathed. “Such a tight little whore. Can’t get enough of me, can you?” He heard Steve gasp, felt him clench around him. “Say it,” he ordered, delivering a slap to Steve’s ass again.

“I can’t get enough!” Steve yelled, a desperation in his voice. He was leaking precum everywhere all over the seat. Eddie’s words about punishing him if he got cum all over the backseat reverberating through his head. “I want all of you. Only you, please. Please Eddie!” He didn’t know what he was begging for at this point, but that didn’t matter as long as Eddie didn’t stop fucking him.

Eddie felt a shudder run through him, his hips snapping hard against Steve’s as he kept fucking him. “I’m gonna cum in your tight hole,” he panted. “I’m gonna fill you up, make you mine.” He reached between Steve’s legs and began stroking his hard cock, trying to match the rhythm of each stroke to each thrust. “I’m gonna ruin you for anyone else.”

“Only want your cock, your hands, your mouth, oh fuck, Eddie! Eddie, I’m-!” Steve’s words cut off as he came hard while Eddie stroked him, thick ropes of cum spurting out of him.

Eddie gripped Steve’s hip tight with his other hand, the rhythm he’d built up beginning to falter. “Take all of it,” he groaned as he went over the edge, coming so hard inside Steve that he saw white. His whole body shuddered at his release. “God, Steve,” he gasped, trying to catch his breath. “You’re fucking incredible.”

“So are you,” Steve panted, trying to catch his breath. He liked the way his name sounded in Eddie’s mouth. “I want some more.”

Eddie groaned as he pulled out, licking his lips at the sight of his cum leaking out of Steve. “You’ll get some more, brat.” He pinched Steve’s cheek, grinning at the outraged yelp he gave. “First, I gotta clean the car up before this becomes an issue.”

Steve pushed himself up onto his knees, a dull ache in his backside. “So much for the detailing. I got cum all over…” he trailed off as he felt Eddie’s arm wrap around his waist.

“It lets me know I did a good job,” Eddie whispered in his ear, giving his earlobe a light bite. “And I lied: I hadn’t finished detailing the car.”

Steve turned his head to look at Eddie. “Why’d you lie?”

“Because you were being bratty like usual,” Eddie answered. “Are you mad that I lied?”

“No,” Steve said, fully turning to kiss Eddie on the mouth. “Especially not after this.” He deepened the kiss, placing his right hand on Eddie's face.

Eddie broke the kiss to ask, “Did you actually want me to drive you anywhere?”

“I did, but I think I can have a better evening if I stay here with you,” Steve said, giving Eddie’s lower lip a small bite.

“Brat,” Eddie replied, spanking Steve on the ass again, a grin on his face. “Go upstairs and get washed up. Once I clean the car, I’ll be up.”

“But don’t you want to shower with me?” Steve whined, kissing Eddie on the neck, the jaw, everywhere but his mouth. He gasped when Eddie gripped his hair and tilted his head back.

“Do what I say,” Eddie growled, licking a line up Steve’s neck. “I haven’t finished punishing you yet.”

Steve groaned with longing. “Okay,” he breathed, following Eddie out of the car after they both pulled their pants back up.

He was about to go upstairs when Eddie grabbed him by the blazer and pulled him in for a blistering kiss. His hands roamed everywhere on Steve, and when he pulled back, nuzzling their noses together, he started to say, “If it’s too weird or too much…”

“I guess I’ll wait to shower with you after all,” Steve quipped as he pulled out of Eddie’s grasp, a big grin on his face. As he walked upstairs to Eddie’s apartment he heard behind him: “That ass better be on display when I come up there.”

“Why don’t you make me?” Steve called back as he hurried up the stairs, already beginning to shed his clothes.

-

Now back in the present, Steve waits outside at the edge of the walkway. Soon enough, he sees a pair of headlights coming down the driveway, circling and pulling to a stop right in front of him.

Eddie, his Eddie, steps out from the driver’s seat and walks around to the other side, opening the right back passenger door for Steve. “Your chariot, my liege,” he jokes.

“Cute,” Steve replies, running his fingers across the waistband of Eddie’s pants. He is rewarded when Eddie bites his lip, trying to keep his composure. Steve slips his hand further down to palm him over his pants.

Eddie gasps loudly, glaring at Steve as he slides coolly into the car. “Brat,” he hisses. It is said with all the love and affection Steve has always craved.

And it solidifies his decision to tell Eddie he loves him tonight.

After a few spankings, of course.

[violettwrites]

new kid — tp!daryl

a/n: hi besties !!! i hope you enjoy the little backstory on our fave duo 😌 if there’s anything you’d like me to write about these two, just let me know ! i’m also working on some tp!trio stuff including merle bcos those three are just chaotic.

if you enjoyed this, please like, reblog, and/or comment !

you can find my ask box here — which is open for requests !

summary: reader (11) moves into yet another place in another town, and isn’t exactly thrilled about it. that’s until they meet the quiet kid in the park.

warnings: allusions towards/mentions of abuse

word count: 1,166

resources: divider by @adornedwithlight

➸ tp!daryl masterlist

➸ regular masterlist

it was mid june when you first met daryl dixon.

your father had just pulled his old pickup into the trailer park, kicking up a cloud of dust that hung in the air long after the engine had shut off. you stared out the window, eyes scanning the rows of faded, sun-baked trailers, each one looking as old as the next. your dad, already in a foul mood, grumbled something about going inside and “not making a fuss.” you knew better than to argue with him.

you had just moved here. not that it was much different from the last place. same kind of peeling paint, sagging porches, and rusted cars that never seemed to run. but little did you know, this trailer park would have one difference.

you didn’t know him yet, but you saw him the moment you stepped out of the truck. he was sitting on the steps of the trailer not too far away from yours, his small frame slouched like he was trying to disappear into the wood behind him. his hair was dirty blonde, a little too long, falling into his eyes. and his clothes were dirt streaked and a couple sizes too big for him. he looked like he hadn’t had a good meal or heard a kind word in a long time.

your dad noticed him too, but all he did was grunt. “tha’s will’s kid,” he muttered, spitting on the ground and making you grimace at the action. “stay clear of him. ain’t no good come outta that family.” you frowned, because as far as you knew, your father and will were friends. he was the reason your dad knew about this place.

you didn’t say anything, turning on your heel to make your way into the trailer. your new home for however long your dad could keep a job, or not piss off the park owners and get kicked out. it had been like that your entire life. and you were just a burden on his back— someone he had to feed and provide a roof over their head.

it had always just been the two of you. you didn’t know much about your mother— sure you remembered her a little bit. she stuck around until you were about four, but then she had run off with someone else. someone who had more money. someone nicer.

according to your father, she had always been selfish like that.

later that afternoon, while your dad was off drinking with some of the other men that lived in the park, you wandered out. you kicked at a rock as you walked along the dirt road in the park, feeling the dry heat against your skin. the kind of heat that made everything feel like it was moving slower. you saw daryl again, this time sitting by the edge of the lot.

without thinking too much about it, you walked over. he didn’t say anything when you stopped just a few feet from him, he just stared at you through a tangle of hair.

“hey,” you said, trying to sound casual, though your anxiety caught the best of you and your voice wavered.

daryl didn’t say anything, his eyes darting away like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to look at you.

you kicked the dirt again, feeling a little awkward but not wanting to leave. you looked back up at him, a small frown on your lips. “i’m (y/n),” you said, hoping to get something out of him.

“daryl,” he replied, finally glancing up at you. his blue eyes were sharp, like they saw more than they let on.

you nodded, not sure what else to say. you knew that look. you saw it in the mirror sometimes — the kind of look kids get when they’re used to keeping their heads down, used to trying to stay out the way.

“i think your dad is friends with mine,” you stated, hands shoved into the back pockets of your shorts, rocking on your heels.

daryl flinched— just the slightest twitch of his shoulder, but you saw it. he didn’t say anything, but you didn’t need him to. you could tell what his life was like. his dad, will, and your dad — they were all the same. angry men with heavy fists and loud voices. men you had to learn to survive around.

after a long silence, daryl finally spoke, his voice barely more than a whisper. “yeah. he is.”

you didn’t push. you knew that was enough for now. instead, you sat down on the ground next to him, the dust covering the back of your legs. daryl didn’t move, but you could tell he wasn’t as tense as before. the two of you sat there in silence for what felt like hours, the sun slowly dipping behind the trees, casting long shadows across the trailer park.

as the sky started to turn orange, you finally broke the silence that enveloped the both of you. “you wanna hang out tomorrow?”

daryl glanced at you, his brow furrowed in confusion, wondering why you would want to hang out with him. “why?”

you shrugged, picking at the hem of your shirt. “i dunno. ain’t got nobody else to talk to.” you looked at him, meeting those sharp blue eyes again.

he didn’t answer right away, but eventually, he nodded. “yeah. okay.”

that’s how it started. you and daryl weren’t the kind of kids who needed a lot of words, but it seems like you needed each other. you spent a lot of your days wandering the woods behind the park, throwing rocks at tin cans, and sitting by the creek when you wanted to escape the heat. you talked about your families a lot, but not your fathers. it was obvious what fathers who drank to much did, who hurt too much, who left scars deeper than anyone could see.

he’d talk about his older brother, merle, a lot. and you’d grimace at a lot of the things merle seemed to do. you were yet to meet him, but you weren’t exactly sure if you wanted to.

as the years went by, daryl became more than just a friend. he was your escape, your reason to keep going. you knew he felt the same, even if he didn’t say it out loud for a long time. you had each other’s backs in a world that seemed determined to keep you down, and that was enough.

even on the worst days, when your father’s temper flared and you were too scared to go home, daryl would be there, waiting by the tree line, ready to disappear into the woods with you. and when his old man came around looking for trouble, you’d do the same for him.

and though merle constantly teased the both of you, calling you names like lovebirds, you felt a little sense of security with your newfound family. it wasn’t picture perfect, but it mattered to you.

[eenochian]

i found a song that i listened to the night before my family had to put one of my cats to sleep and now i am just. sitting here crying. fuckin hate it here man.

[pyjamacryptid]

I’m trying soooo hard not to rant to my friends about unfortunately common writing conceptions but I remember that I was once studying to become a literal editor, so I feel justified for a second, and then I’m back to staying my hand because this soap box feels like a face reveal! The face of pretension!!!! Lmao!!!

[solace-seekers]

screaming into the void <3

[werebutch]

Why does my sister crush all hope of having a good time with her when we’re out. Like she does it on purpose. And I keep believing that the next time will be better 😭

[rafecameroninterlude]

Omg omg omg, pls pls pls do reader and rafe fucking raw and reader is riding rafe and he’s about to cum and tells her to get off him but she puts her hand over his mouth and keeps riding him😩 I NEED THAT

warnings: unprotected sex, the ‘L’ word, creampie

a/n: i couldn’t help but listen to ‘pink matter’ by frank ocean while i wrote this..

“oh, my god..” rafe was hypnotized, his fingers grabbing at your hips while you moved on top of him. words couldn’t describe the amount of pleasure you were giving him right now. he could barely think, his mouth hanging open as his eyes glazed over. you were as equally as a mess, your nails clawing at his skin while you cried out in pure bliss. you leaned down taking his lips in a searing kiss, the remnants of your lipgloss getting lost on his tongue.

“i love you.” he whispered against your skin, a smile gracing your features before he bucked into you, your eyebrows knitting together as he licked a stripe up the column of your throat. “mhm, fuck— i love you too.” you shuddered, the sound of your shared breaths filling the chilly air of your room. “i’m not gonna last long like this, baby..” he sounded worried as you ignored his words. feeling determined, you pulled him up so he could lean against your headboard, your arms wrapping around his neck as you picked up your pace.

“ah, shit,” rafe’s grip on your waist was bruising, “hold on, i think i’m gonna cum-” you held onto him tighter. “y/n! get off for a second- oh, fuck..” you clamped a hand over his mouth, his eyes widening as you clenched around him. “give it to me.” his eyes rolled to the back of his head as you whispered filthy obscenities in his ear. your words were driving him wild. he never knew how bad he needed to hear you say ‘fill me up, ray!’ until now. you basked in the feeling of him twitching inside of you, a guttural groan rumbling from his throat.

he was littering your chest with kisses, holding onto you as if you’d disappear into thin air. you took your hand off of his mouth, a sigh leaving his lips. “do you know what you just did?” he looked at you, concern written all over his face. you traced a finger down his jaw. “yes..” you trailed off. “and you’re okay with it?” he was rubbing circles into your skin. “yeah, i’ve wanted you to do that for a while now.” rafe nodded, already feeling himself wanting to fuck into you.

the idea of not pulling out turned him on more than he anticipated. “me too,” he admitted, “let’s do that again.”

[pucksandpower]

Baby Steps

Charles Leclerc x single mother!Reader

Summary: you are barely staying afloat, desperately trying to wrap your mind around your impending motherhood while juggling being a press officer for Scuderia Ferrari … Charles shows you that you don’t have to do it alone

Warnings: pregnancy, family abandonment, and harassment

You grip the edges of the trash can tightly as your stomach lurches again. The half-digested remains of your breakfast spill into the plastic liner with a sickening splatter. Straightening up slowly, you take a few deep breaths and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. The smell rising from the can makes your stomach roll threateningly once more.

Turning away quickly, you lean against the side of the Ferrari motorhome, eyes closed. The sun beats down relentlessly, and you can feel sweat beading at your hairline.

This “morning” sickness is no joke — it seems to strike at all hours of the day. You thought you had gotten away with a quick breakfast break an hour ago when Carlos was in a team briefing, but apparently not.

Footsteps on the gravel make you open your eyes. You pray it’s not a member of the press, or, god forbid, Carlos. The last thing you need is a photo of the Ferrari press officer tossing her cookies behind the paddock. But no, it’s Charles Leclerc striding towards you, his brow furrowed.

You straighten up and attempt nonchalance. “Good morning, Charles.”

He slows, glancing between you and the extremely obvious trash can of vomit. “Are you alright?”

“Oh, yeah, fine,” you say breezily. “Just a bit of food poisoning, I think. Had a questionable chicken salad for dinner yesterday.”

You notice Charles is wearing a soft grey t-shirt and track pants, his hair damp from the shower. He must have just finished with physiotherapy. He looks so effortlessly handsome, it’s frankly unfair. You suddenly feel acutely aware of the sheen of sweat on your face and your limbs heavy with fatigue.

Charles’ face remains creased in concern. “Food poisoning? Have you been to the medical center?”

You wave a hand. “Oh, I’m sure it’s nothing. Probably just 24 hours of hell before I’m back to normal.” You attempt a smile, but have to grab the trash can again as the smell from it hits you like a wave.

Charles springs forward and grabs your arm as you retch miserably. “Whoa, take it easy,” he says, supporting you until the heaving subsides.

You stay hunched over, breathing hard. The world is spinning a little. You hear Charles say firmly, “Okay, come with me. Let’s get you sat down.”

He keeps a hand under your arm and leads you into the blessedly cool motorhome. The rich scent of coffee fills the interior, reminding you that you haven’t managed to keep any food down today. You sink gratefully onto a padded bench at one of the tables.

Charles sits opposite you, his green eyes studying you intently. “When did the sickness start?”

You sigh, shoulders slumping. The jig is up. “About four weeks ago,” you mutter.

Understanding dawns on Charles’ face. “Oh. Oh!” His eyes flick down to your still-flat stomach. “So you’re ...”

“Pregnant. Yes.” You drop your head into your hands.

“Well, hey, congratulations,” says Charles gently. “That’s really exciting.”

You huff out something between a sob and a laugh. “Exciting? More like a nightmare!” You run your fingers back through your hair and look desperately at Charles. “You can’t tell anyone, okay? Not even Carlos. I can’t risk anyone finding out about this. If I lose this job ...”

Charles’ brows draw together again. “Why would you lose your job? You’re Carlos’ press officer. I’m sure he’d be thrilled for you.”

You shake your head rapidly. “No, no way. I can’t take time off. The season just started! Carlos needs me, I organize everything for him. The travel, the events, the media, everything!” You bite your lip anxiously. “Maybe … maybe after the baby comes, I can figure something out. But I have to keep this quiet until then. Please.”

Charles reaches over and lays a hand on your arm. His touch is gentle but firm. “Y/N. Working yourself into the ground won’t be good for you or the baby. Have you thought about taking a sabbatical? Just a few months to rest, focus on yourself.”

Panic flares in your chest. “No! No, I can’t.” Your breathing quickens. “You don’t understand — I have no one else. No partner. No family. This job is everything. If I lose it ...” You trail off, trying to blink back the sting of tears.

Charles is silent for a long moment. Then he says, “Okay. I understand this is your decision. And I promise I won’t tell Carlos or anyone else.” He hesitates. “But Y/N, please take care of yourself. Don’t be afraid to ask for help.”

You nod jerkily and avoid his earnest gaze. With a shaky breath, you push yourself to your feet. The motorhome tilts sickeningly for a second.

Charles rises too, watching you with concern. “Will you be alright?”

You nod, not trusting your voice. You start to head deeper into the motorhome, desperate to lie down before the nausea returns.

“Y/N,” Charles calls after you softly. You pause, glancing back. “Congratulations again. You’re going to be a wonderful mother.” He gives you a small, warm smile.

You swallow hard. “Thank you, Charles,” you whisper. Then you turn and continue on unsteadily, one hand braced against the wall.

You make it to the small office that passes for your private quarters on race weekends. Collapsing onto the ergonomic desk chair, you stare up at the ceiling and place a hand over your still-flat belly.

A baby.

Your baby.

Fear and wonder tangle inside you.

You must have dozed off, because the next thing you know a hand is gently shaking your shoulder. You jerk awake to find Carlos standing over you, his eyebrows drawn with concern.

“Y/N? Are you ill?”

You stand up too quickly and immediately regret it as the room spins. Carlos grabs your shoulder to steady you.

“I’m fine,” you say hoarsely. “Just needed a quick nap.”

Carlos frowns, clearly unconvinced. “Charles said you were throwing up outside. That you have food poisoning?”

You make a mental note to kill Charles later. “Uh, yeah. Bad chicken salad, I think. But I’ll be okay.” You attempt a reassuring smile.

Carlos sits down on the edge of your desk, watching you closely. “Why didn’t you tell me you were unwell? You know you don’t have to worry about me, I can look after myself for one day.” His dark brown eyes are filled with worry.

Guilt twists your gut. Carlos has always been extraordinarily kind and thoughtful, a rarity in the high stakes world of Formula 1. You hate lying to him.

“I know,” you say quietly. “I just didn’t want to let you down. But you’re right, I should have said something. I’m sorry.”

Carlos shakes his head immediately. “No, don’t be sorry. Just focus on feeling better, yes? Take tomorrow off too. I order you to rest,” he adds with a small grin.

You smile weakly back. “Okay, boss.”

Carlos stands and gestures to the tiny table bolted to the wall. “I brought you some tea and crackers. Hopefully you can keep it down.”

“Thank you. I really appreciate you checking on me.”

He smiles. “Of course. Feel better, Y/N.” With a last lingering look of concern, he turns and leaves you in peace.

You look at the steaming tea and crackers and feel tears prick your eyes again. Carlos is a good man. Too good, probably, for the pragmatic demands of Formula 1. You know you should tell him about the pregnancy. But the thought of losing your place here, on this team, fills you with dread.

This high stakes world of racing is all you’ve known for the past three years. You can’t imagine life outside the bubble of the paddock, away from the adrenaline and pressure. Away from the team. Away from Carlos. Away from Charles.

With a deep breath, you sit up straight and tear open the crackers. You need to think about this rationally. Maybe Charles is right and you do need to slow down eventually. But for now, for the next few months at least, you have to keep going like nothing has changed.

You place a hand on your stomach as you nibble a cracker. “It’s gonna be okay, little one,” you whisper. “We’ll figure this out.”

***

The smell of coffee turns your stomach these days, but you still make your way blearily to the breakfast buffet each morning. Carlos is an early riser, and you need to be available whenever he is ready to start the day. You scan the offerings, deciding toast is the safest option, and reach for a couple of dry slices.

“Oh, Y/N!”

You turn to see Charles holding out a pre-packaged parfait cup. “I grabbed an extra yogurt by mistake. Do you want it?”

You hesitate. Your first instinct is suspicion — this is the third time this week Charles has “accidentally” had an extra snack to offer you. But the yogurt does look appealing ...

“Sure, thanks,” you say, taking the cup from him. Charles shoots you a smile before grabbing a plate and continuing down the buffet.

You sit down next to Carlos with your toast and yogurt. He glances up from his phone. “Morning. Feeling better today?”

You nod, mouth full. In truth, the nausea has continued, but you’ve gotten better at hiding it from Carlos and powered through.

Charles joins you both a few minutes later, greeted by Carlos with a fist bump. You peel open your yogurt while half-listening to the two men discuss the upcoming practices.

The sweet, fruity parfait is cool and soothing on your sensitive stomach. You find yourself polishing it off in record time. As you scrape the last bit of yogurt from the bottom, you realize Charles is watching you.

“Good?” He asks.

You lick the plastic spoon clean before answering. “Yeah, really hit the spot, thanks.”

Charles’ eyes crinkle with a smile. “No problem. I’ll try to grab two tomorrow.”

You feel your smile grow fixed. This is getting ridiculous. Charles Leclerc does not care this much about your yogurt preferences. He’s up to something.

Over the next week, Charles’ thoughtfulness continues. A cold bottle of water when you’re looking hot and tired. A sandwich from a local bakery when you missed lunch. Your favorite chocolate bar when you mention a craving in passing. Always with an innocent smile, as if he’s not playing Superman to your pretend Lois Lane.

It all comes to a head on race day. You’re in the scorching sun on the grid, already feeling the fatigue of the hectic weekend. Carlos is doing his pre-race routine, so your attention has lapsed. Suddenly a blessedly cold bottle of water appears in front of your face. You look up to see Charles grinning down at you.

“Stay hydrated,” he says with a wink.

That does it. “Okay, enough!” You snap, smacking the water bottle away. It falls to the ground with a thud, water glugging out.

Charles’ eyes go wide with shock. “Y/N?”

Grabbing his arm, you pull Charles several steps away from eavesdropping mechanics. “Why are you doing this?” You hiss. “I don’t need you to baby me!”

“What?” Charles looks completely bewildered. “I’m just trying to help-”

“Well, stop,” you interrupt sharply. The hurt on Charles’ face makes you falter, but you press on. “I don’t need your pity. I’m fine.”

“Pity?” Charles frowns. “It’s not pity, Y/N. I care about you.” He places a gentle hand on your shoulder. “You’re always taking care of everyone around you. Now you need someone to take care of you too.”

His kind words hit you like a gut punch. Oh God, the stupid hormones! You feel hot tears spring to your eyes.

Charles’ alarmed expression softens. “Hey, I didn’t mean to upset you ...” He pulls you into a hug. One hand smoothes your hair while the other rubs comforting circles on your back.

“Shh, it’s alright,” he murmurs. You cling to him, embarrassed by your raw emotional response but unable to stop the tears.

After a minute the wave passes. You pull back, wiping your eyes. “Sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Charles smiles kindly. “Nothing is wrong with you. But I understand this is a difficult time.” His expression turns serious. “If you ever need anything, please ask me. I’m here for you.”

Looking up into Charles’ earnest green eyes, you feel a rush of gratitude. Whatever awkwardness lingers between you has evaporated. Charles is a true friend.

You squeeze his hand. “Thank you. That means a lot.” Glancing around, you notice some odd looks from passing crew members. “We should probably get back to work before people think there’s a full-blown soap opera going on over here.”

Charles grins. “Agreed. But this conversation isn’t over. Dinner tonight in my room?” He raises an eyebrow.

You laugh, blinking away the last dampness from your eyes. “It’s a date.”

***

You smooth your hands down your dress as you approach Charles’ hotel suite, suddenly feeling nervous. You’ve been in drivers’ rooms countless times for work, but this feels different. More intimate.

You take a steadying breath and knock. Charles opens the door, looking unfairly handsome in a crisp button down shirt.

“Y/N! Come in.” He steps back to allow you inside.

The suite is spacious and modern, with floor to ceiling windows along one wall looking out over the glittering city. Charles leads you through the living area to a set of glass doors. “I thought we could eat out on the balcony,” he explains, opening the doors with a flourish. “The fresh air will be good for you and baby.”

You step outside and have to stifle a gasp. A small table is elegantly set for two, a vase of flowers in the center. String lights twinkle overhead. “Charles, this is beautiful!”

He looks pleased. “I’m glad you like it.” Pulling out a chair, he gestures for you to sit.

As he takes the seat opposite you, you notice several covered dishes on the table. Charles sees you looking and smiles a bit sheepishly. “I, uh, called my mother earlier.”

You raise your eyebrows in surprise. Charles rubs the back of his neck. “I asked her what foods she craved when she was pregnant with me and my brother. So I ordered a bunch of that from room service, in hopes there might be something you’d like.”

A lump forms in your throat. You reach over and squeeze his hand. “Charles, that is so incredibly thoughtful.”

Pink tinges his tanned cheeks. “Of course. I want to take care of you.”

You chat comfortably over food and Charles’ excellent choice of wine for you — sparkling grape juice. He relaxes as you praise the chicken and melon he ordered.

When you sit back contentedly, Charles fixes you with a thoughtful look. “So, do you know how far along you are?”

You hesitate. “About three months now.”

He nods. “And have you been to a doctor yet?”

Your fingers find a groove in the wooden table to trace. “Not yet.” At his surprised look, you add defensively, “I’ve just been so busy with work. But I’m sure everything is fine.”

“Still, you should make an appointment soon. Just to be safe.” Charles’ tone is gentle.

You nod without meeting his eye. An uncomfortable beat passes.

“Do you ...” Charles pauses delicately. “Forgive me, but … do you know who the father is?”

Your cheeks flame. You stand abruptly, walking over to the balcony railing. After a moment Charles joins you, leaning on the rail at your side.

“I’m sorry, that was too personal,” he says quietly.

You shake your head. “It’s okay. I just ...” You glance up at him. “He’s no longer in my life.” You look away, a lump in your throat.

Charles doesn’t ask anything more, just moves closer in a gesture of silent support. You stand together breathing in the night air. The twinkling city sprawls before you. For a moment, the future doesn’t feel quite so frightening.

Eventually you stifle a yawn behind your hand. Charles glances over. “You must be exhausted. I should let you get to bed.”

You smile gratefully. He walks you to the door of the suite. Pausing, you stand on tiptoes and kiss Charles lightly on the cheek. “Thank you again for dinner. For everything.”

His eyes shine as he gazes down at you. “Of course. Sweet dreams, Y/N. And ...” He brushes a feather-light touch over your belly. “Sweet dreams to you too, little one.”

You feel your heart melt just a little. With a last smile, you head down the hall to the elevators. As the doors slide closed, you catch one last glimpse of Charles watching after you.

Back in your smaller, blander room, you change for bed in a happy haze. Sliding between cool sheets, you let out a contented sigh. Tonight was lovely. Charles’ thoughtfulness reminds you there are still good people in the world. For the first time in weeks, you feel a spark of hope.

You drift off to sleep with a hand resting gently on your belly. Everything seems less frightening now that you aren’t alone. Whatever happens next, you and your baby will get through it together.

***

The buzz of the media pen is giving you a headache today. Or maybe that’s just the pregnancy. You blink heavily, trying to focus on Carlos speaking into the microphone in front of you. You hit record on your phone as he answers the first question. It’s your job to capture every word to ensure he’s not misrepresented later.

The reporter’s voice fades in and out. You sway slightly, shaking your head. Just need some fresh air. You take a step away from the crowd, vision blurring at the edges. Dark spots dance across your eyes. The concrete floor rushes up to meet you-

“Y/N!”

Strong hands grab your shoulders, slowing your collapse. Your head spins as you try to make sense of it.

“Y/N, can you hear me?” Charles’ worried face swims into view above you. You part your lips but no words come out.

There’s loud commotion around you now. You feel yourself being shifted, lifted. Snatches of Charles’ voice pierce through the fog.

“She’s pregnant ... get help ... ambulance ...”

You try to cling to consciousness but it’s like grasping at smoke. The world goes dark.

When you resurface, it’s to antiseptic white walls and a steady beeping. Hospital. An IV pulls at your arm as you shift.

“Y/N?” Charles appears at your side, relief breaking across his face. “Thank God. You’re awake.”

Before you can respond, he’s disappeared again, calling for a doctor. You try to push yourself more upright but your limbs feel like lead.

A brisk older woman in a white coat enters, glancing at the monitor beside your bed. “Good to see you awake, Miss Y/L/N. You gave us quite a scare.”

“What happened?” Your voice comes out hoarse.

“You fainted from low blood pressure. A common issue in pregnancy, but yours seems to be more severe.” The doctor flips through your chart with a frown.

Charles stands anxiously at the foot of the bed. “But she’ll be alright now?”

The doctor hesitates. “I’m recommending complete pelvic rest and limited activity for the remainder of the pregnancy. Strictly no standing or walking for prolonged periods.” She pins you with a sharp look. “And if your blood pressure drops again, we’ll have no choice but to put you on full bed rest.”

Your stomach drops through the floor. “What? No, I can’t! I have to keep working, I-”

“Y/N.” Charles’ voice stops your panicked rambling. His face is lined with concern as he takes your hand. “Your health is what matters most.”

The doctor nods briskly. “Precisely. No job is worth risking your or your baby’s safety.” With a final warning look, she departs.

The moment she leaves, you burst into tears. Harsh, gasping sobs wrack your frame. This is a disaster. Without being able to stand or walk for long stretches, you’re useless to the team. You’ll be fired for sure. And then what will you do? You have no one, no other skills-

Warm, strong arms wrap around you as you weep. Charles cradles you against his chest, making low soothing sounds.

“Shh, it’s going to be alright,” he murmurs, stroking your hair. “We’ll figure this out.”

You clutch fistfuls of his shirt, burying your face in the soft cotton. The steady thump of his heartbeat slowly calms your hysteria.

When the tears finally subside, Charles eases you gently back against the pillows. His thumbs brush away the moisture from your cheeks.

“I know you’re scared,” he says quietly. “But I promise, I will do everything I can to help you. We are in this together now.”

His green eyes radiate such sincerity, you feel some of the panic and despair lift. You cling tightly to his hand, anchoring yourself to him like he’s a rock in a stormy sea.

***

You pick listlessly at the greyish meat and mushy vegetables on your hospital dinner tray. At least Charles had the foresight to sneak in some contraband snacks earlier — you polish off the last crumbs of the cookies he brought, wishing futilely for something more appetizing.

A knock at the door precedes Charles peeking in. “Hungry for something better than hospital food?” He holds up a paper takeout bag and shakes it enticingly.

You brighten immediately. “Charles, you’re my hero.”

He laughs and enters, pulling a table over your lap to serve as a makeshift dining surface. Soon plastic containers of pasta, salad, and fresh bread are opened, the savory scents making your mouth water.

Charles watches fondly as you tuck in. “I wasn’t sure what you’d feel up to eating. But who doesn’t like Italian food?”

You make a noise of emphatic agreement through your full mouth. Charles chuckles.

When you finally surface for air, he clears his throat. “So I was thinking ...” Charles busies himself folding and refolding your napkin. “My apartment in Monaco is pretty big for just me. And it has a guest room that’s just sitting empty.”

You raise your eyebrows, waiting for him to go on.

“Well ...” Charles rubs the back of his neck. “I thought maybe when you’re discharged, you could come stay with me for a while. So I can make sure you’re not overexerting yourself.”

You frown slightly. “Oh. That’s really kind, but I’ll be fine once I’m out of here.”

“Will you?” Charles levels you with a knowing look. “No offense, but you’re not exactly the best at asking for help when you need it.”

You open your mouth to protest, but can’t really argue with that.

“Let me do this for you. For my own peace of mind too,” Charles implores gently. He takes your hand, blue eyes full of sincerity. “Please?”

Looking into his earnest face, you feel your weak resistance faltering. Still ... “I don’t want to be a burden,” you mumble half-heartedly.

Charles squeezes your hand. “You could never be. I care about you, Y/N.” His thumb brushes over your knuckles. “I want to take care of you and the baby.”

The warmth in his voice melts away the last of your reluctance. And honestly, the prospect of having Charles doting on you is far preferable to being alone in your small, dreary apartment.

You meet his hopeful gaze. “Okay. If you’re sure you don’t mind, then … I accept your kind offer.”

Charles’ answering smile rivals the sun. “Yeah? Oh, that’s fantastic!” He sweeps you into an enthusiastic but gentle hug. You cling to him, feeling the nervous knot that’s been your constant companion for weeks finally start to loosen. Everything will work out.

That night as Charles is leaving, you call his name softly. He pauses, one hand on the door.

You twist your fingers in the blanket, suddenly shy. “I just wanted to say … thank you. For everything. I’ll find a way to repay you someday, I promise.”

Charles’ expression softens. He comes back and squeezes your hand. “You don’t owe me anything. Just focus on yourself and that little one.” He strokes a finger over your belly. “That’s all the repayment I need.”

With a last smile, he slips out, leaving you to fall asleep with a heart full of gratitude and growing affection for your kind rescuer.

***

You smooth your hands nervously over your dress as you approach Fred Vasseur’s office. This is it. Time to tell your boss that you’ll be leaving him in the lurch smack dab in the middle of the season.

Charles gives your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “It will be okay. Just explain the situation.”

You take a deep breath and nod. Charles opens the door and gestures for you to enter first.

Fred rises from behind his desk, surprise flickering across his face. “Y/N, Charles. What can I do for you?” His gaze darts between you curiously.

Your mouth goes dry. Charles gently guides you to sit in one of the chairs facing Fred, taking the other himself.

“Y/N has something she needs to discuss with you,” Charles begins calmly. “I’m here for moral support.”

Fred’s eyebrows raise but he nods for you to go on. Your hands twist together in your lap.

“Well, I ...” You have to pause and swallow hard. “I recently learned that I’m pregnant. And I’ve developed some, uh, complications that mean I can’t travel or be on my feet much.”

Fred’s eyebrows climb higher. “I … see. Congratulations?” He still looks perplexed.

Charles jumps in. “What she’s trying to say is, she needs to take a leave of absence. Doctor’s orders.”

“Ah.” Understanding settles on Fred’s face. He turns back to you. “I’m very sorry to hear you’re unwell. Of course health must come first.”

You feel yourself relax slightly. “So I can take a sabbatical? My job will still be here when I’m able to return?”

“Absolutely.” Fred nods. “You’ve been invaluable to our team. Your role will be waiting whenever you’re ready.”

You could cry with relief. “Oh, thank you! That means the world.”

Fred smiles kindly. “Think nothing of it. Focus on your health and that baby. We’ll manage in the meantime.”

Charles reaches over to clasp your hand supportively. “Is there anything else she needs to know before starting her leave?”

Fred considers this. “Y/N will have full pay during sabbatical, of course. And keep me posted on any support you require — medical, household, anything at all.”

You clutch Charles’ hand, too overwhelmed to speak. He smiles. “Very generous. We appreciate that greatly.”

After finalizing a few details, you both stand. Fred comes around the desk to shake your hand. “Best of luck with everything. Let me know if you need absolutely anything.”

You whisper a heartfelt thank you before allowing Charles to guide you out. Safely in the hallway, you turn and fling your arms around him.

“Charles, thank you,” you murmur into his shoulder. “I couldn’t have done this without you.”

His strong arms come around you, cradling you close. “Of course, Y/N. I meant what I said — I’ll be by your side every step of the way.”

You cling to each other for a long moment, his steadfast support washing away your lingering fears. As long as Charles is with you, you know everything will work out just fine.

***

You fidget in the generic mint-colored exam room, paper crinkling beneath you as you perch on the edge of the table. Charles sits in a nearby chair, scrolling through his phone, the picture of calm. You wish you shared his zen attitude.

A brisk knock precedes the door swinging open. A smiling older woman enters, glancing down at her chart.

“Y/N? I’m Dr. Boucher, nice to meet you.” Her smile widens as she looks between you and Charles. “And you must be the dad! Wonderful.”

Your mouth drops open to correct her, but Charles beats you to it. “That’s right, thank you,” he says easily, standing to shake the doctor’s hand.

You snap your mouth shut, eyes widening. But the doctor has already moved on, washing her hands at the sink.

“Now then, let’s take a look at this baby, shall we?” She pats the exam table.

You lie back, hiking up your shirt to expose your belly. The cool gel makes you shiver as the doctor smears it over your skin. She places the ultrasound wand low on your abdomen and moves it slowly.

The screen blooms to life, blurred black and white shifting until a shape emerges — a tiny profile, curled arms and legs distinct. You gasp softly. There’s your baby.

Dr. Boucher smiles. “There we are. Looks to be about 16 weeks along. Growing beautifully.”

You can’t tear your eyes away from the screen. Your throat feels tight. After so many weeks of secrecy and fear, this precious little life finally seems real.

“And there’s the heartbeat.” The doctor turns up the volume, and a rapid thumping fills the room. “Nice and strong.”

Tears spill over your cheeks before you can stop them. A glance over shows Charles watching the monitor intently, green eyes shiny with emotion. He reaches for your hand, gripping tightly.

When the appointment ends, you both exit the office in a daze. As you walk down the street to Charles’ car, he turns to you.

“That was … incredible,” he says softly. “Seeing your baby for the first time ...” He trails off, at a loss for words.

You lift his hand and press a kiss to the back, hoping he understands the depth of your gratitude. Charles smiles tenderly in return.

Safely home in Charles’ plush apartment, you curl up together on the sofa with mugs of tea to continue gazing at the ultrasound photos. Charles slips an arm around your shoulders, his thumb idly stroking your arm as you chatter excitedly about preparing a nursery.

This moment, here with Charles, your child’s heartbeat still echoing in your ears … it’s the closest thing to pure joy you’ve ever known. The future finally feels bright with hope. You lean into Charles’ warmth and send up a silent prayer of thanks for this man and the new life he’s given back to you.

***

You curl deeper into the plush couch in Charles’ apartment, cradling your mug of tea. Rain patters against the windows overlooking Monaco’s glittering harbor. The cozy scene makes you feel safe enough to finally open up.

“Charles?”

He glances over from where he’s poking at the fire. “Hmm?”

You twist your fingers together nervously. “There’s more I should tell you. About how I got pregnant.”

Charles rises and comes to sit beside you, face open and attentive. Taking a deep breath, you begin.

“It happened last winter, during the off-season. I went back home to Italy for a while, to the little town outside Milan where my family lives.”

You stare into your tea, remembering. “There was a man vacationing there, from Rome. Dario. We met in a cafe and just … clicked. He was handsome, charming, a perfect gentleman.” Your lips twist wryly. “Or so I thought.”

Charles remains quiet, letting you gather the words.

“We spent every day together for two weeks. Took long walks, went on romantic dinners. When it was time for him to leave, we ...” You trail off, face warming.

“You made love,” Charles supplies gently. You nod, still not meeting his eyes.

“I thought it meant as much to him as to me. But after he went back to Rome, his texts and calls slowly stopped. And then I found out why.”

Your voice drops to a pained whisper. “He was married. His ‘business trip’ was just a chance to fool around. When his wife saw my texts on his phone … it exploded. And then my family found out about the affair.”

Finally you lift your head. Charles’ face is lined with compassion. “They disowned me. Called me a fool and a harlot. It didn’t matter that I was lied to — as far as they’re concerned, I brought shame upon our family.”

Hot tears spill down your cheeks. Charles immediately pulls you into his arms. You cling to him, crying into his shoulder as he rubs your back.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmurs. “You did nothing wrong. This Dario took advantage of you, and your family should have supported you.”

Charles holds you until the storm of tears passes. When you finally pull back, he cups your face in both hands, brushing away the lingering moisture with his thumbs.

“Thank you for telling me,” he says softly. “I know that wasn’t easy. You’re so incredibly strong.”

Leaning forward, he places a tender kiss on your forehead. Then his palms slide down to cradle your rounded belly.

“I’ve got you now,” Charles murmurs. “Both of you. You’ll never be alone again.”

Nestled in his lap, you close your eyes and just breathe. The remnants of hurt and betrayal wash away, replaced by the safety of Charles’ embrace. Whatever comes next, you have found your sanctuary here, with him.

***

You wander through the apartment looking for Charles, one hand braced on your lower back. Your belly has popped noticeably in the last couple weeks, throwing your balance off.

Not finding Charles in any of the usual spots, you head down the hall towards the spare bedroom. When you push open the door, your jaw drops.

The room has been completely transformed. Bright sunshine spills through the windows onto whitewashed walls. A plush rug covers the hardwood floor. In one corner sits a fully assembled crib, stuffed animals piled inside.

Charles stands back to admire his work, shirtsleeves rolled up and hair adorably mussed. He turns when you gasp softly.

“Y/N! I wanted to surprise you.” His grin falters. “Do you like it?”

“Like it? Charles, I love it!” You blink back happy tears, wandering further inside. Charles’ face lights up.

“I wasn’t sure what color to paint, so I left the walls white for now,” he explains, coming over to slip an arm around you.

You lean into him, gazing around. “It’s perfect. Our baby is so lucky to have you.”

Pink tinges Charles’ cheeks. He kisses the top of your head. “I’m the lucky one.”

You decide on a pale green for the walls. Charles immediately fetches paint supplies, but hovers anxiously as you start rolling color onto the first wall.

“Are you sure you should be doing this?” He eyes your protruding stomach. “The fumes can’t be good ...”

You wave off his concern. “I’ll be fine! Here-” You dip a roller in paint and offer it out. “Make yourself useful instead of worrying.”

Charles accepts the roller reluctantly. Soon you’re both working side by side. Charles takes on the higher parts of the walls that you can’t comfortably reach anymore.

Humming under your breath, you step back to critique your work so far. As you do, your foot catches on the paint tray and you stumble. Charles reaches out to steady you, but not before a fat drop of paint lands on his cheek.

“Oops!” You clap a hand over your mouth, trying not to laugh at the green splotch on his tanned skin.

Charles narrows his eyes in mock indignation. “You think that’s funny, do you?” Before you can react, he flicks his loaded paintbrush at you, spattering your shirt.

You gasp in delighted outrage. “Oh, it is on!” Grabbing your roller, you swipe it down his arm.

Charles lets out a laugh of surprise. Soon paint is flying from both directions. You run around each other, giggling and slipping on the drops coating the floor.

Finally Charles catches you gently by the waist. You’re both absolutely covered in pale green, sides aching from laughter. Your faces are inches apart, smiles fading into something more tender.

Slowly, Charles leans in and presses his lips to yours in the softest, sweetest kiss. You melt against him, hands coming up to cradle his jaw.

When you finally part, Charles rests his forehead against yours. “I’ve wanted to do that for a while,” he confesses, a little breathless.

You smile, heart soaring. “What took you so long?”

His answering grin outshines the sun. There, surrounded by dreams of the future, you share another lingering kiss.

***

You settle back against the mountain of pillows, trying to find a comfortable position for your unwieldy body. At nearly 8 months along now, your belly feels impossibly huge. Luckily Charles’ plush bed offers plenty of space to sprawl.

Speaking of Charles, he appears in the doorway holding a bottle. “Ready for your massage?”

You eye the bottle of oil eagerly. The stretch marks crisscrossing your stomach have been itchy and tight. “Yes please.”

Charles props up pillows behind you so you’re half-reclining. Then he drizzles some of the oil into his palms, warming it up before smoothing his hands over your bump.

You sigh in bliss at his gentle but firm touch. The fragrant oil soothes and softens your irritated skin. Under Charles’ ministrations, the discomfort slowly ebbs away.

His strong hands glide over every inch, easing out the aches and pains. As Charles works, he murmurs to your belly. “There you go, little one. We’re going to make your home nice and cozy.”

Your heart clenches at the tender scene. Even after all these months of living together, it still sometimes hits you how domestic this is. Sharing a home, sharing a bed … it’s everything you secretly longed for but never expected to have. A real family.

You trail your fingers through Charles’ soft waves. His eyes lift to meet yours, soft with affection. The look on his face steals your breath — pure adoration, like you’re the most precious thing in his world.

“I love you.” The words slip out unbidden. Charles’ hands still. For a heartbeat, you’re afraid you’ve said too much.

But then he surges up to capture your lips in a searing kiss. “I love you too,” Charles whispers fiercely when you finally break apart, both panting. “So much.”

He seals his words with another drugging kiss. Your hands clutch him close, heart near bursting with joy.

Suddenly Charles breaks the kiss with a gasp. His wide eyes dart down. “Did you feel that?”

You start to shake your head no, distracted by the sensation of his calloused hands massaging your belly, but then you feel it — a distinct thump against your insides. Your baby shifting and kicking.

Charles’ face lights up. “There it is again!” He laughs in wonder. “The little one is saying hello.”

Happy tears blur your vision. Charles presses a delighted kiss to your stomach. “I can’t wait to meet you,” he whispers tenderly.

Through your tears, you smile at the man you love. The one who gave you and your child a home when you had nothing. However you got here, this is exactly where you’re meant to be.

***

A dull ache starts low in your back as you crawl into bed. You shift and stretch, trying to get comfortable, but can’t seem to. Charles notices your restlessness.

“Alright?” He murmurs sleepily, rolling over to rub your back.

You nod. “Yeah, just some back pain today.” Probably from lugging around this massive belly.

Charles makes soothing noises and continues massaging you until he drifts off. You finally manage to doze too.

Sometime in the night, you jerk awake. The sheets under you are soaked. For one confused moment you think you wet the bed. But then it hits you.

Your water broke.

“Charles!” You shake his shoulder urgently.

He comes awake with a snort. “Huh? What’s wrong?”

“It’s time! The baby-” You break off with a hiss as the first real contraction clenches your belly.

That wakes Charles up fully. “The baby? It’s coming?” He practically falls out of bed, all long limbs flailing.

You have to stifle an inappropriate giggle at his panic. “Yes, so we should-” Your instructions die as Charles sprints from the room. Alright then.

You shake your head in amusement and heave yourself to your feet, one hand braced on your lower back. Waddling slowly after Charles, you find him hyperactively rushing around the living room, tossing items randomly into your hospital bag.

“Okay, let’s go!” He grabs the overflowing bag and dashes out the front door. You stare after him in disbelief then lower yourself carefully onto the couch to wait.

Not thirty seconds later, Charles comes barreling back inside. “Oh God, I forgot you!”

You have to laugh at the panic on his face. “It’s okay. Just breathe.”

Looking marginally calmer, he helps you up, frantically gathering your bag in one hand while keeping the other wrapped around you.

You lean your weight on him during the next contraction, breathing through it. “It’s okay. But we should really go now.”

Charles practically carries you down to the garage and bundles you into his Ferrari in record time. He drives well over the speed limit, one hand clutching yours the whole way.

At the hospital, Charles refuses to leave your side even for a second. He holds the gas and air for you to breathe during contractions, whispering how strong and amazing you are.

When the time comes to push, the pain is unimaginable. You nearly give up, sobbing that you can’t do this. But Charles is there, guiding you through it, telling you that you absolutely can. And with one final scream, your son enters the world.

The shrill cry is the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard. Charles cuts the cord with trembling hands. Then the nurse lays your wailing, squirmy son on your chest.

You press kisses to his downy head, tears of joy streaming down your face. Charles gazes at you both with pure reverence.

“His name is Matteo Charles,” you whisper. Charles lets out a choked sob at the middle name.

Too soon, the nurses take Matteo for cleaning and checks. One asks Charles if he’d like to hold him. Charles looks to you questioningly, and you nod through your exhaustion.

Charles settles into a chair, shirtless, and Matteo is laid on his bare chest. Charles strokes a gentle finger over Matteo’s cheek, seemingly enraptured.

“Thank you,” he rasps to you. “For our beautiful boy. Thank you, mon amour.”

This is everything you never knew you needed — a family, a home, and an overflowing love you once thought would forever be lost to you. But you’ve found it now, here in this room, together.

***

The sharp cries jolt you from sleep. With a groan, you roll out of the warm circle of Charles’ arms. Your body still aches and protests as you make your way to the nursery in the dark.

Picking up little Matteo, you carry him to the rocker and situate him at your breast. He latches on eagerly, cries fading to soft snuffles.

Charles appears in the doorway, hair adorably mussed. “Everything okay?” He asks through a yawn.

“We’re good now.” You smile tiredly down at your nursing son. His downy hair and scrunched features are all you — you find yourself thankful that there is barely any indication that his biological father even participated in making him.

Charles comes to perch on the ottoman, watching Matteo. “I can’t believe he’s really here,” he murmurs. “Our son.”

Pride swells in your chest. Charles has fully embraced his role as Matteo’s father, as naturally as breathing.

When Matteo finishes eating, Charles takes him to gently pat his back while you right your nightgown. He kisses your son’s head when Matteo lets out a tiny burp.

Back in bed, you curl into Charles with Matteo nestled safely between you. Charles has a race this weekend, his first since the birth. The thought of him leaving fills you with anxiety.

In the morning, Charles confirms your fears. “I’ll just tell Fred I’m not coming this weekend,” he says casually over breakfast. “The team will manage without me. One of the reserve drivers can take over for a few days.”

Your head jerks up. “What? No, Charles, you have to race.”

“But I don’t want to leave you two!” Charles gestures helplessly to where Matteo snoozes in a bouncer.

You catch Charles’ hand. “This is your dream. Matteo and I will be right here cheering you on when you get back.”

Charles wavers. You soften your voice. “It’s only for a little while. We’ll be okay.”

Finally he nods reluctantly. You know how hard this is for him — but Charles was born to race. You won’t let him give that up.

The morning Charles is set to fly out, he clings to you and Matteo like a second skin. You practically have to peel him off at airport security.

“I’ll be back so soon,” he whispers fiercely. One last kiss, and then he’s gone.

The apartment feels empty and too quiet. But you fill the time singing and playing with Matteo, keeping yourself busy until the race.

You and Matteo cuddle close on the couch to watch Charles zoom around the track. Your heart swells with love and pride seeing your man do what he was meant to.

When Charles wins, he shouts his ecstatic thanks to you and Matteo over the team radio. The podium champagne gets sprayed directly into the camera for you.

Finally Charles is home, sweeping you and Matteo into his arms. “I love you both so much,” he murmurs in wonder. You whisper it right back, nestled safe in the arms of your little family.

***

The energy in the Albert Park paddock is electric as teams prepare for the first race of the 2025 season. You feel a thrill just being back, Matteo cooing happily in your arms. At nearly six months old now, he’s ready for his first race.

Charles bounces on his toes, unable to contain his excitement. “Are you ready to see Papa race, Matteo?” He tickles Matteo’s belly, eliciting bubbly giggles.

You head first to the Ferrari garage, where the mechanics crowd around eagerly to fawn over Matteo. Lewis gives you a careful hug, peering curiously at the baby.

“Lewis, meet Matteo,” Charles says proudly. At Lewis’ questioning look, he adds “My son.” The way he says it brooks no argument.

Lewis’ eyes widen slightly but he just smiles. “Hi Matteo!” He offers a finger for Matteo to grip.

Fred comes over next, cooing over how much Matteo has grown. You enjoy the familial atmosphere, everyone fussing over your boy. Matteo basks in the attention.

Charles takes him down to the front of the garage to watch the crews work on the cars. He points out parts of the sleek machines, explaining them seriously to Matteo as if he understands. Matteo just gazes adoringly up at his Papa.

When Charles finally straps into the car for practice, you have ear muffs ready for Matteo’s sensitive ears. Charles blows kisses to you both before pulling on his helmet. Matteo squeals and waves his little fist as the car roars out.

In the hotel that night, you set Matteo on the bed while Charles showers. Stripped down to his diaper, your son kicks his chubby legs excitedly.

Charles emerges in comfy clothes, his hair still damp, and laughs at Matteo’s antics. “Alright, my little race car driver, time for bed.”

He tickles Matteo’s tummy as he puts on a fresh diaper and snaps up his pajamas. Then Charles cradles Matteo close, humming softly as he sways back and forth to soothe him. Your heart clenches at the tender scene.

Once Matteo is deeply asleep, Charles lays him gently in the travel crib. He turns to you with a soft smile. “I can’t imagine life without him now.”

You slip your arms around Charles from behind. “He loves his Papa so much already. Your biggest fan.”

Charles covers your hands with his, gazing at Matteo. “I’m going to win tomorrow for him.”

And he does. On the podium, Charles looks down to where you cradle Matteo in one arm, and gently showers you with champagne. Matteo’s delighted laughter is the sweetest sound.

This is everything you’ve ever wanted.

***

The energetic buzz of the Italian Grand Prix washes over you as you stroll hand-in-hand with Charles, your son cradled safely in his arms. At nearly a year old now, Matteo is fascinated by the vivid colors and cacophony of sounds surrounding him.

Charles playfully bounces Matteo as you weave through the crowded walkways, pointing out the sights and sounds. “Look Matteo, there’s the cars! Vroom vroom!” Charles mimics the roar of an engine. Matteo’s delighted giggle melts your heart. You can’t help but grin, chest swelling with love and pride for your little family.

You’ve just about reached the looming Ferrari motorhome when an absolutely venomous female voice shrieks out, “You!”

Every muscle in your body instantly tenses. You freeze mid-step, heart lurching into your throat. Whipping your head around, you see an immaculately dressed woman barreling directly towards you, her face mottled an ugly shade of rage-induced crimson.

“You disgusting harlot!” The woman spits with unrestrained fury. “You filthy whore!”

Stunned, you instinctively take a faltering step backwards, nearly stumbling. Charles’ strong arm immediately wraps protectively around you and Matteo, steadying you. His body angles partly in front of yours and Matteo’s smaller form, shielding you both on pure instinct.

The deranged woman continues her tirade, advancing until she’s nearly screaming in your face. “Oh, I know exactly who you are, you reprehensible little homewrecker!”

Before you can even begin to formulate a response, a ghost from your past suddenly materializes behind the enraged woman. A man you hoped to never lay eyes on again.

His eyes blow wide at the sight of you, Charles, and the infant cradled against Charles’ chest.

The woman — his wife, you realize with dawning horror — grabs viciously onto his arm, her razor-sharp nails digging in hard enough to leave crescent-shaped gouges. “Just look at her!” She shrieks, spit flying from her mouth. “Parading that little bastard child around like it’s something to be proud of!” She violently thrusts her finger towards Matteo, still safely ensconced in Charles’ embrace.

Your son, sensing the onslaught of hostile energy, immediately begins wailing in distress. You instinctively reach out to take him from Charles, desperate to comfort your frightened boy. But Charles subtly shifts his stance, moving further out of her reach, as he focuses intently on gently bouncing and shushing Matteo in an attempt to calm him.

Matteo’s biological father simply stares, slack-jawed, at the sobbing infant. The gears visibly turn in his head. “Is that ...” he chokes out, “Is he … mine?”

“No.” Charles’ immediate response is biting and unequivocal. He clutches Matteo tighter to his chest. “Matteo is my son.” Though his voice remains steady, you can see a muscle in his jaw ticking from the effort of holding back more heated words.

But Dario clearly does not accept this response. His eyes narrow calculatingly as he continues scrutinizing the wailing baby. Behind him, his unhinged wife keeps up her tirade of slurs and accusations, whipping the gathering crowd into greater frenzy.

You feel lightheaded, paralyzed. This is a living nightmare. Distantly you are aware of camera phones pointed your way, capturing every wretched moment. Charles seems to realize the same, his handsome face darkening with rage.

With frightening efficiency, Charles strides directly over to the nearest paddock security officers and has a brief, terse exchange. Moments later, two bulky guards firmly take hold of the still-screaming woman and shellshocked man, forcefully escorting them away. The crowd reluctantly disperses, murmuring.

Charles immediately returns to envelope you and Matteo in a fiercely protective embrace. “It’s alright now, you’re both safe,” he soothes, though his rapid heartbeat belies his calm words. Matteo’s panicked sobs have faded to tiny hiccups against Charles’ neck.

The rest of the chaotic day passes in a blur. Much later, in the privacy of your hotel room, Charles reveals that he pulled every string and called in every favor necessary to have Dario and his deranged wife permanently blacklisted from all Formula 1 events.

His voice shakes with quiet rage as he describes how close security came to needing to restrain him physically.

Finally he takes your face so very gently in his hands. “I promise you, I will do anything and everything to protect our family. You and Matteo are my entire world. Nothing will ever hurt you as long as I’m breathing.”

Overwhelmed with gratitude, you collapse against his solid chest. Charles’ strong arms anchor you in place as you cling to him. He continues murmuring fervent assurances, pressing kisses to your hair.

Despite the ugliness of the day, you know with utter certainty Charles will shield you and Matteo from the darkness of your past. Your family is still perfection in your eyes.

***

“Papa, I wanna be a race car driver like you when I grow up!”

Your five-year-old son looks up at Charles with big, adoring eyes as he makes this pronouncement over breakfast one morning.

Charles freezes with his coffee cup halfway to his mouth. He slowly sets it down, gazing at Matteo with surprise and pride. “You do?”

Matteo bobs his curly head eagerly. “Yeah! I wanna drive fast cars and win like you! Can you teach me?”

Charles melts, ruffling Matteo’s hair. “Of course, buddy. We’ll have to convince your maman first though.” He shoots you a meaningful look.

You shift uncertainly. Of course you want to encourage Matteo’s interests, but motorsport is dangerous ...

Charles seems to sense your hesitation. “Why don’t you think about it, mon amour? No need to decide yet.” He winks at Matteo, who grins in excitement.

Over the next few days, your two boys put on a full court press to sway you. Charles points out safety advances in karting and helps Matteo make adorable PowerPoint slides with photos of your son in race helmets. They both unleash heartbreaking puppy dog eyes.

Finally you cave. “Alright!” You laugh, holding up your hands in surrender. “You can start teaching him the basics.”

Matteo and Charles high-five so hard it makes a cracking sound. “Yesss!” Charles pumps his fists while Matteo dances in glee. Seeing their matching enthusiasm melts away the last of your reluctance. Your little daredevil was born for this.

The next weekend, Charles takes Matteo to a racetrack an hour outside the city. It’s just a small circuit, but Matteo gazes around with wide eyes, gripping Charles’ hand tightly.

Charles shows him the karts and safety gear, patiently explaining how everything works. Then it’s time. Charles helps strap Matteo into a kart made for kids, snugging his helmet gently under the chin.

“Ready, mon petit champion?”

Matteo gives him a thumbs up, practically vibrating with excitement. Charles grins and drops the visor down. “Alright! Let’s do this!”

He gives Matteo a little push to get the kart rolling onto the track. Your son quickly gets the hang of working the gas and brakes. Charles jogs alongside, gesturing and calling out instructions.

Gradually he lets Matteo take full control. Your little boy zips around the course, hair blowing out the back of his helmet. His delighted laughter echoes around the circuit.

Watching from the sidelines, Charles records it all on his phone, face alight with joy and pride. “That’s it Matteo, you’re doing amazing!” He cheers.

This is only the beginning. But seeing the utter bliss on both their faces, you know Matteo has chosen the right path. The Leclerc legacy will live on.

***

“I’m here in the pit lane with Charles Leclerc on the momentous day his son, Matteo Leclerc, makes his highly anticipated debut with Scuderia Ferrari. Charles, you must be incredibly proud right now.”

The Sky Sports reporter holds her mic out to Charles as he stands, beaming, in front of the scarlet Ferrari garage. Charles nods, looking slightly choked up.

“Incredibly proud doesn’t even begin to cover it,” he replies earnestly. “This has been Matteo’s dream since he was just a little boy. To see him achieve it, to be standing here watching him drive for the team I devoted my life to … it’s indescribable.”

Charles pauses, glancing over fondly at where you stand with Matteo, straightening your son’s helmet and race suit.

“His mother and I, we’ve worried and experienced every up and down along the way with him. But Matteo has worked so hard for this, never gave up even when it seemed impossible. He more than deserves today.”

The reporter smiles. “And his last name isn’t the only way he takes after you. Matteo is widely considered your protégé after you mentored him through the junior ranks.”

“I taught him everything I could,” Charles acknowledges. “But his talent and dedication are all his own. Matteo is his own man now. I can’t wait to see how high he continues to climb.”

“Any advice you’ve given him before his first race with Ferrari?”

Charles chuckles. “Just to enjoy every second. This only comes around once.” He looks off into the distance, eyes crinkling nostalgically.

“Still seems like yesterday I was in his shoes for my own Ferrari debut. I’ll never forget that feeling.”

The reporter wraps up the interview and Charles makes his way over to where you and 21-year-old Matteo are embracing. Charles’ eyes shine with unshed tears as he clasps arms with his son.

“I’m so proud of you,” Charles says hoarsely. “Your mother and I both. Now go show the world what you can do.”

Matteo’s answering smile is blinding. “I’ll make you proud, Papa.”

He hugs you tight, then pulls on his helmet and strides confidently to his waiting Ferrari. The mechanics cheer as the car roars to life and Matteo peels out onto the track, on the cusp of achieving his lifelong dream.

You cling to Charles’ side, waving tearfully. “Our little boy,” you whisper in awe.

Charles wraps an arm around you, never taking his eyes off the bright red car. “He’s all grown up. But he’ll always be our son.”

No matter how high Matteo climbs, Charles knows he will always remain his sweet little boy — the bright-eyed child you and Charles raised with love.

His greatest source of pride and joy as the future beckons brightly, another generation of Leclercs carrying the hopes of Ferrari forward.

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Me, You, and Baby, Too

Summary: You and Joel have always wanted kids, but didn't want to rush into having them until you both were ready. After a surprise at his job, Joel realizes there's nothing more he wants to do than put a baby in you as soon as he gets home.

Pairing: Husband!Joel Miller x Wife!Reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 4.1K

Warnings: SMUT (18+), unprotected p in v sex (it's baby making time, so hush), oral (f receiving), vaginal fingering, big ole fat and nasty breeding kink (.... don't look at me it's bad), creampie, cum play, talks of starting a family, calling Joel "Daddy" (in the sense you want to have his babies, but also 🤷🏼‍♀️), Sweet soft Joel who loves his wife and would give her the universe if he could, honestly with just the way Joel is talking about makin' babies, I think I'm pregnant

A/N: It's that time of the month where Madeline ovulates and writes feral breeding kink smut!!! 🤪 Okay I am so nervous to post this because I have never written for Joel before and I'm worried it's trash with a capital T, but after re-watching TLOU, I need 2003 Joel Miller carnally, so here we are. This is also inspired by @mrsmando post about 2003 Joel Miller constantly keeping you barefoot and pregnant because it made me unwell, and no lies were told. (thanks for ruining my life mimi) 🤠 ANYWHO I hope you guys like it, and if not, I'll shut up and go back to writing Javi and Frankie and pretend like this didn't happen

There were a lot of stereotypical answers that you expected from your husband when you asked him how his day at work had been:  

“Good.” 

“Fine.” 

“Long.” 

“My knees are killin’ me.” 

“Tommy did somethin’ fuckin’ stupid again.” 

“Better now that I’m home with you.” 

So when Joel arrived home today after a new job he had started with Tommy on a bathroom renovation, there were few things that could have prepared you for the response your husband had when you asked him how his day had gone. 

“Hey, honey. How was your day today?” You smiled, watching Joel stroll in through your front door, kicking off his work boots at the entryway, beginning to put away his things before strolling into the kitchen to greet you. 

“Pretty good." He paused, leaning in for a quick kiss before making his way over to the closet before speaking again. "Saw a real cute baby today.” 

You could practically feel your heart skip a beat as you looked up from the vegetables you had been cutting up for dinner, tightening the grip you had around your knife to make sure you didn’t drop it in shock. 

Out of all the things for Joel to bring up on the first day at a new job, a cute baby had been at the top of the list.

Not floor plans. 

Not timelines for the project.

Not something stupid that Tommy did. 

Not even what he had done today on the job. 

The top news that Joel Miller had to report back to you about his day was the sighting of a cute baby. 

You and Joel had always agreed that you’d wanted kids, and your husband had been not only adamant, but genuinely excited at the prospect of becoming a dad. But only being a little less than a year into your marriage, the two of you had decided you didn’t want to rush into anything, and when the time felt right, you’d both know it. 

But one by one, as your friends began to announce their pregnancies, baby showers, and pictures of their adorable newborns, you couldn’t help but deny the baby fever starting to burn hotter and hotter inside you with every passing day. 

You’d brought it up in passing a few times with Joel, talking about your friends who had kids, or a cute mom and her children you saw walking around in your neighborhood, and while he had always had a positive response to what you had to say, you just had a feeling that now just wasn’t the time for the two of you yet, and that was okay.  

But here you were, standing in your kitchen, jaw practically scraping the ground at the notion that your husband had dropped just about the least subtle hint ever that babies weren’t just at the forefront of your mind- they were on his, too. 

“Awh, really?” You asked, shaking your head to snap out of your shocked state, returning back to dice the onion you had been working on before Joel could turn around to see you after finishing hanging up his things in the closet, trying to subtly coax more information out of him. 

“Yeah.” He smiled, joining you in the kitchen, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you closer to his chest for a soft kiss to greet you, “The family we’re startin’ the bathroom reno for just moved in. Had their first baby a few months ago and just hadn’t had time to work on fixin’ things.” 

“So they’re already putting the baby to work with you and Tommy?” You teased, raising an eyebrow at Joel playfully, giving him a quick peck back on the lips as he laughed at your sass. 

“Cheap labor.” Joel shrugged back, playing into the joke, “Nah, she woke up from her nap while Tommy and I were runnin’ through some measurements so her mom brought her out for the last lil bit we were there. She was damn cute, too. Just smilin’ and laughin’ at everything.” 

You were glad Joel’s arm was still wrapped around your hip, because you were convinced if it wasn’t, you were about to melt to the floor into a puddle, watching how soft and sweet Joel was talking about a cute, smiling baby. 

“Well a cute baby definitely sounds like a very nice perk of being on the job.” You smirked, trying to play it cool enough to keep your heart from bursting out of your chest. 

“Yeah.” Joel replied softly, quietly pausing for a moment, watching the gears turning in his brain, carefully calculating his words before he spoke. 

“You okay?” You asked, looking up at Joel, knowing your husband well enough that he had something on his mind he was trying to work up the confidence to spit out. 

Joel looked back down at you, big brown eyes locking with yours as his grip around your waist tightened ever so slightly, tongue swiping against his plush bottom lip as he took a long, deep breath in and slow exhale out.  

“Honey, what is it?” You asked again, now slightly concerned with how nervous your husband looked in his stoic silence, reaching up to gently wrap your fingers around his arm, thumb stroking his skin. 

“I want one.” 

You froze, worried that your heart may have actually stopped as you looked at Joel, making sure that you had really just heard what he had said. 

“W-what?” 

“I want one. A baby. I- I know it’s been a while since we’ve talked about it, but I’ve been thinkin’ about it a lot, and seein’ that baby today, it just- shit, I just couldn’t stop picturin’ what it would be like to have one of our own I guess.” 

If you weren’t a puddle before, you sure as fuck were now.  

An overwhelming sensation of nerves and excitement began thrumming through your veins, your heart beat pounding in your ears as your face grew warm and a smile started to spread between your cheeks. You were almost certain you had to be dreaming, asking again to make sure that someone needed to come and wake you up and send you back to reality. 

“Joel… Really?” 

“Yeah, really. Nothin’ I want more. I know I ain’t gonna even be close to the perfect dad, but I know you’ll be sucha good mom, and I’ll be damned if I don’t want some tiny lil versions of us runnin’ around. Couldn’t think of anything that would make me happier than that. Like I said, I know that we ain’t talked about in a while, and if ya aren’t ready yet that’s okay but I-” 

Before Joel could even finish the rest of his thought, you were pressing up to plant your lips to his with passionate intensity, hands roaming up his chest before cupping his jaw and the scratchy stubble of his cheeks while your stomach flipped with arousal and want, already feeling a damp patch beginning to pool in the cotton of your underwear. 

You pulled away, kisses traveling along his jawline and up his neck until you were nipping at his ear, the hot breath of your words whispering against his skin. 

“You wanna make a baby, Joel Miller?” 

“Fuck-” Joel groaned, reaching his other arm around you grab at your ass, pulling you in tight enough to feel the bulge beginning to grow under the denim of his worn jeans, pressing against your thigh.

“‘Cause there’s nothing that I want more than to make you a daddy.” You smirked, looking up to watch Joel’s eyes darken with lust, jaw going slack as a low groan rumbled in his chest, his once half hard cock now fully erect and straining against his zipper, trying to keep from giggling watching your husband try to string together any sort of thoughts to speak. 

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ-” He moaned, running his hand over his face to try and regain his composure to keep from busting right then and there. “You- fuck, you sure, baby?” 

“Mhmmmm. Don’t think I’ve ever been so sure of anything in my whole life. So sure,” you paused, softly pressing your lips to his between words, “that I think we should go make one right now.” 

Your adamant confirmation was all it took to set off something almost animalistic in Joel, crashing his lips back into yours in a messy clash of tongues and teeth, gripping his hands under your thighs to hoist you up around his hips and lock your legs behind the small of his back. Without ever letting your mouths part, Joel was already halfway to the bedroom before you had even realized it, playfully giggling at how frantically he was carrying you down the hallway, your bodies bumping against the walls and door frames, too focused on desperate and needy kisses for any sort of spatial awareness. 

Finally reaching your bed, Joel carefully laid you down, letting your back fall into the mattress, leaving your lower half to hang off the edge before your husband was on his knees, settling himself between your parted thighs. 

You sat up on your elbows, watching as Joel tightened his grip around the meat of your legs, peppering kisses up the inside of each across your soft skin before coming face to face with your core, planting another soft kiss there before letting his fingers ghost over your heat, still covered by your jeans. 

He rapidly worked at the button of your pants, shuffling them down off your hips to reveal your underwear, now absolutely soaked with arousal from the prospect alone of Joel knocking you up and carrying his baby. 

“Jesus Christ, baby girl, look at ‘cha.” Joel tutted, admiring how the cotton of your underwear clung to the outline of your cunt, sticking to the puffy and swollen lips of your pussy from how wet you were. “Haven’t even touched ya yet. This all for me, darlin’?” 

Just as you began to try and answer, Joel took one of his fingers, barely dragging it over the damp fabric before beginning to rub soft circles over your covered clit, eliciting a pathetic whimper from you at the electric sensation.  

“F-fuck- It’s all for you, b-baby.” You stammered, moaning even louder as a second finger joined the first, pressing more pressure into you sensitive nub as he nudged each of your legs to drape over his shoulders, his free hand tugging at the waistband of your underwear, making you instinctually lift your hips as he yanked them off your legs to crumple in a messy pile with your pants. 

“Prettiest fuckin’ pussy I’ve ever seen.” Joel mewled, running his fingers up and down through the weeping seams of your folds, toying with your entrance while draping his arm across your hips to hold your squirming lower half in place. “Wants me to fuck her full of me and fill her up so bad, huh?” 

“P-please, Joel. Want you to fill me up so badly.” You whimpered, staring down at your husband, a devilish grin spread across his face, licking his lips as his eyes darted back and forth between your blissed out face and the glistening mess between your thighs. 

“I will sweetheart, promise. Gotta taste you first though, baby. Gotta make sure you’re nice n’ready for me. ‘Cause once we start, I ain’t lettin’ you outta this bed ‘till I knock you up.” 

With that, Joel was diving between your legs, lapping you up in long and firm strokes, pressing against your clit in the way he knew would make you fall apart under his tongue. While he would have loved to have spend hours just like this, making you writhe under his touch, drinking up your arousal like a wandering man parched in the heat of the desert, Joel had one thing on his mind, and one thing only- 

To get you pregnant.   

Joel began to intensify the pace of his tongue, swirling and sucking around your clit as two of his thick fingers pushed into your heat, sliding in and out of your entrance with ease from how wet and worked up you were. Curling his fingers ever so slightly, you cried out as Joel bumped against your g-spot, pushing against the soft, spongy spot as his tongue worked its magic. 

You could feel the arousal shooting through your veins, heat beginning to bloom in your stomach as Joel fucked you with his fingers and mouth, shooting your hand down to grab fistfulls of his thick, brown hair to brace yourself for your impending orgasm. 

“J-Joel, oh fuck- Fuck, baby, I’m c-close. Don’t stop, please, don’t stop.” You whined, pussy beginning to flutter around Joel’s fingers, the tightening only egging him on further to get you to cross the finish line. 

With just a little more pressure of his tongue, Joel could feel your cunt clamping down around his digits, watching the pleasure shoot through your body as you came, your orgasm crashing through you like a tsunami. 

As you reached your high, Joel drank up your arousal, not faltering in his pace, too focused on your pretty cries of his name being chanted like a prayer to do anything but keep going and making you feel good. 

Truth be told, Joel had gotten so lost between your thighs, the only thing stopping him was the tensing feeling between his, so pussy drunk and determined to fuck you full of him that he was worried he was about to cum too if he didn’t stop. 

Pulling off you, Joel frantically stood up, racing to undo his belt and jeans, yanking them down his legs in tandem with his boxers as his cock slapped against his stomach, precum already pearling from his tip, desperate to be inside of you. His shirt quickly followed his pants, ripping it over his head as his broad body caged yours under him, helping you to scoot back on the bed until your head hit the pillows, trailing kisses up and down your body the whole way. 

As Joel kissed and nipped at your skin, you quickly shuffled off your top and bra, leaving you bare beneath him, moaning as his tongue flicked against each of your newly exposed pebbled nipples, grouping your breast and kneading the soft flesh in his palms. 

Even though you had just came, you could already feel your cunt starting to clench around nothing, desperate to feel Joel inside of you, to stretch you out with his thick cock and fuck you until you couldn’t think straight. But with the way your chest was heaving and breath shaking from your orgasm, you could barely muster out the words you wanted. 

“J-Joel, p-please, baby. P-please.” 

You snaked your hand between your bodies to reach for Joel’s cock, wrapping your fingers around his length and swiping your thumb over his leaking tip, a low groan rumbling in his chest as you stroked him, trying to guide him to slide between your legs and ease your ache. 

Lowering his hips, you moved your hand and let his replace it, Joel pumping himself a few times before guiding his tip between your folds, collecting your slick to coat his cock, using every last ounce of self-control he had as his eyes locked with yours, wanting to see your face as he pushed inside you. 

“Please, what, darlin’?” Joel teased, knowing damn well what you were begging for. 

“Need to feel you, Joel. Need you to put a baby in me.” You moaned, reaching up to grab his face, your palm rubbing against his stubble as your fingers tugged on the curls at the nape of his neck. 

With one more pump, Joel lined himself up with your entrance, sliding into your heat, the sweet stretch and sting of his length making the breath hitch in the back of your throat, filling you up inch by inch until he bottomed out inside you with his tip just kissing your cervix. 

Joel couldn’t help but smirk as he watched your mouth fall open, parted lips letting a soft moan escape while your eyes nearly rolled to the back of your head at the newfound sensation, giving you another moment to adjust before he began to slowly roll his hips, dragging his cock in and out of your core. 

“Christ, baby girl, so wet and tight. Like this pussy was made just for me. Made for me to fuck ya full of me until it’s got no choice but to fuckin’ take.” Joel groaned, reaching down to grab your thighs, pinning your knees to your chest, stretching you open to take Joel even deeper, practically feeling him in your stomach with the position he had you in. 

“Joel, oh my god- fuck, you feel so good. Fuck, baby. Want you to fill me up so bad.” You whimpered, Joel now beginning to pick up his pace as he thrust in and out of you, continually punching in that perfect spot over and over again, leaving your brain bordering on short circuiting. 

Joel’s fingertips dug deeper into the flesh of your thighs, pushing your legs down just far enough to be chest to chest with you, the sweat dampened curls of his forehead brushing against yours as your mouths met in an electric kiss, catching each other’s muffled moans with each snap of Joel’s hips. 

“Yeah, sweetheart? Want me to fill you up? Fuck a baby into you? Let everyone see what a pretty momma you are, carryin’ our kid?” Joel grunted, picturing you, months from now, belly round and tits swollen, pregnant with your baby, wondering how many you’d let him give you, because fuck, he’d keep knocking you up until he had nothing left to give. 

Each push and pull of your bodies against each other felt more and more electric, an undeniable coil tightening in your stomach with the way Joel was pounding into you and the hairs at the base of his cock were brushing against your clit, already feeling yourself beginning to teeter on the brink of pleasure once again. 

“Yes, fuck, fuck- yes, Joel. I wanna have your baby. Want you to knock me up so I can make you a daddy. Please, baby, please.” You were all but sobbing at this point, your fingers digging into the tan and sweat sheened skin of Joel’s broad shoulders, overwhelmed by the lewd combinations of Joel’s heavy pants in your ear and wet squelching of your pussy as his pelvis flushed against yours repeatedly. 

Joel could feel you beginning to tighten around him, pussy sucking him in with its warmth and wetness, ready to clamp around his cock and milk him for all he was worth. 

“That’s it, darlin’, I know you’re close. Gotta cum for me first though, baby girl. Gotta feel ya soak me before I stuff ya so full of me, I swear t’god, you’ll be drippin’ outta me for days. So fuckin’ full that I’ll get you pregnant right now.” Joel groaned through gritted teeth, leaning back to reach and grab your leg, wrapping it around the small of his back before you lifted your other to join it, locking your ankles to keep him as close to you as possible. 

“Joel, oh my god, fuck baby, fuck, I’m gonna- fuckfuckfuck-” 

Suddenly, your orgasm was rushing through every inch of you, crying out as the pleasure hit you like a freight train, choking Joel’s cock with your pussy, unable to do anything but relish in the white hot bliss that had you nearly floating out of your own body. 

While Joel would have kept fucking you until the sun went down, the truth was he was relieved to feel you cum, spending every second since your agreement in the kitchen trying to keep from finishing until he was balls deep inside you and you were soaking his cock as you reached your high. The realization that now was his chance to make good on his promise, to fill you up and fuck a baby into you, ignited something primal, feral, in him, pounding into you at a punishing pace as he could feel himself teetering on the brink of collapse right with you. 

“That’s my girl. That’s it, cum all over my cock, baby. Shit, I’m gonna cum too, fuck- gonna fill this tight lil pussy up so goddamn much, give you a baby, make you a momma, oh fuck!” 

With one final stutter of his hips, Joel let out a strangled moan, flushing his hips against yours as he milked himself of every last drop, painting your warm, wet walls with hot ropes of his spend, making sure nothing went to waste. 

He couldn’t help but but press even further into you, plugging you with his length and fucking his cum as deep as he could into your cunt to make sure it took, collapsing on top of you with his cock still buried in your heat, letting your chests heave together in sync as you both caught your breath. 

Joel was convinced he had never cum so much in his entire life, afraid that if he pulled out, that somehow he’d have more left to give, and sure as fuck wasn’t going to risk letting anything coming out of him end up not inside of you. 

Well, not until your muffled grunt rumbled beneath him. 

 “Joel, baby, I love you but you’re kinda squishing me.” You huffed, giggling to yourself as you watched your husband come-to in real time out of his post-orgasmic state, immediately offering a half muttered apology as he rolled off you, sitting back on his knees to admire the shiny and slick mess between your legs. 

“Fuck me…” Joel murmured to himself, eyes wide as he stared at your pussy- wet, puffy and soaking with your arousal, bringing his fingers to your spent hole as he watched a dribble of his cum begin to leak out. Gently scooping it up, he collected everything he could, pressing it back into your cunt before pulling his hand out. Crawling up the bed to lay next to you, Joel wrapped you up in his arms as the little spoon, peppering ticklish kisses over your back and shoulders, making you burst into laughter. 

“Joel, stop! That tickles!” You squealed, squirming in his grasp, trying to defend yourself from his unrelenting attack of soft, plush lips and scratchy beard dancing across your skin. 

“Don’t laugh so damn hard, or all my hard work’s ‘bout to come out!” Joel teased, giving you a playful nudge, pulling you in even closer. 

“Stop making me laugh, then! Plus, I think you came enough to put quadruplets inside of me, so I think we’ll be okay.” You snorted, Joel joining in on the laughter. 

“Baby, I don’t think I’ve ever came that hard in my whole goddamn life.” Joel sighed, shrugging as you rolled your head up to look at him and that stupid goofy grin he got whenever he couldn’t contain his excitement about something. “God, I love you.” 

“I love you too, Joel.” 

The two of you sat in a comfortable silence for a moment, Joel slowly bringing his arm to rest across your stomach, thumb slowly tracing careful circles on your skin. 

“You’re gonna make such a good mom. I’m the luckiest man alive that you wanna have a family with me. Still not really sure what I ever did to deserve it.” 

“Joel! You’re gonna make me cry! And this is before pregnancy hormones, ya jerk.” You tried to laugh, choking back the tears welling in your eyes. 

“Yeah, what a jerk, your husband tellin’ you how much he loves you.” He teased back, planting a long kiss on your temple, before pressing another one to your lips. Another wave of soft silence followed, watching Joel’s face scrunch in a calculated concentration. “How big of a crib you think I gotta make? I don’t know ‘bout a rockin’ chair, but a crib can’t be that hard. I gotta measure the guest room tomorrow.” 

“Honey, I don’t even know if I’m pregnant yet, you don’t need to have a crib built tomorrow.” You teased, laughing at Joel, despite the fact his mind was already thinking about a baby room and accessories had you melting. 

“Sweetheart, what did I say earlier? I ain’t lettin’ you outta this bed ‘till we know there’s a baby in there.” He smirked, nodding at his hand still splayed across your stomach, “So you better get comfortable, ‘cause if it’s up to me, there ain’t a chance in hell we’re gettin’ anything but a positive pregnancy test at the end of this month, and we'll sure need that crib nine months from now. Never hurts to get a head start."

Tag List: (Sorry if I tagged you and you don't wanna be tagged, just let me know!!)

@chaotic-iguana @rhoorl @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

@pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24

@3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85

@partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo

@endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @milly-louise

@jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled

@pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper r @nastiasnow @vee-bees-blog

@hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr

@amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler @burningnerdchild

@copperhalfcent @theoraekenslover @bloodyinspirationaldemon @vee-bees-blog

@samgirl4life @pigeonmama @survivingandenduring @itsokbbygrl @javierpena-inatacvestnotifs

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Sleeping, Dancing and Mistletoe

Summary: Logan x Fe!Reader -> Times when people found evidence that you and Logan were possibly a couple, and the one time you both finally confirmed it.

Disclaimer: Mostly fluff, mentions/illusions to sex, Logan checking you out. Couple of swear words here and there. This has been unfinished in my drafts for at least a week so...yeah. This is finished. little Christmas at the end. Not Proof Read.

For what felt like the thirtieth time in the hour, you turned over with a huff and pressed your pillow to your ears, trying to muffle the sounds coming from next door. 

And just as it finally died down, you sighed and was just about to thank some ancient being for hearing your prayers when…it started again. 

“That’s it.”

Changing out of your longer pyjama bottoms and into some sleep shorts, you made your way out of your room, keeping your footsteps as quiet as you could until the noises faded away and you started to reach your intended room. 

Opening up the door, you found exactly what you were looking for. 

Shaking his shoulder as he lay on his stomach, you whispered his name, hoping he’d hear you. 

“Logan.” You shook him for a third time. “Logan.” 

Nothing. 

With another sigh, you slapped his face gently and said his name once more, a little louder and firmer. 

“Logan.”

Finally, he groaned. “What?” 

His voice was muffled by his pillow but you could hear him just well enough. Or maybe you were just used to his grunts that they were starting to become their own language you could understand. 

“Move over. I’m sleeping here tonight.”

“What’s wrong with your bed?”

“Nothing.”

“Then go and sleep there.” Logan turned his head away from you and scrunched up his pillow beneath his head.

“I can’t. My neighbours have decided tonight is Valentine’s Day 2.0.”

You pushed half of his body with your hands until he finally got the cue to turn over. 

“Too much information.”

You shook your head, “Too much information is what I’ve been hearing for the last hour.”

Finally, Logan rolled onto his back, his covers covering his bottom half, and groaned. “Fine.”

“Thank you.”

Logan straightened himself in his bed, giving you room to get in beside him. And the minute you touched his covers, you were glad you had changed into shorts. 

Logan was like a furnace. Just constant heat radiating from his body and for as much as it, at times, got too hot to stand near him, he was also, in your opinion, the best person to fall asleep beside. 

“Just shut up and go to sleep.”

Laying on your side, it wasn’t long until you closed your eyes, thankful that you could hear nothing other than Logan’s steady breathing and the distant clock down the hall that was forever ticking. 

However, just before you fully drifted off, you felt Logan’s hand take hold of yours and you smiled. 

He could be gruff all he liked, but when it came to you, he could be a softie. 

By the time morning rolled around, Storm was in search of both yourself and Logan. So, when she found your bed empty and cold, she figured Logan would know where you were. 

But he was asleep. 

Right beside you. 

Storm leaned against the door frame for a while, taking in the picture in front of her. 

Logan was fast asleep, something that was a miracle in itself, with you right beside him, your head turned towards the windows in his room, his own looking towards you, all the while, his arm slung over your midsection and one of your own hands, holding his. 

“Storm- what are you- Oh.”

Jean looked inside. 

“Looks like someone had a good night.” She smiled before looking back at Storm. “Do you think we can finally ask if they’re together?”

“I’d say this is confirmation enough.”

You shifted in your sleep as did Logan, and the two girls hid behind the corner for a moment. 

You turned your head and the rest of your body towards Logan, all the while his arm held you in a stronger grip and pulled you towards him. 

It took you a moment but you finally opened your eyes, adjusting to the light before your vision finally cleared on a sleeping Logan. 

For a moment, you allowed the hand between you both to reach up and brush the stray hairs from his eyes. It was rare you ever got to see Logan this…calm. 

Serene. 

Rested. 

Unknowingly, you started to run your left thumb over Logan’s arm that still held onto you. 

Then his fingers twitched, running over the exposed skin at the bottom of your back. 

“Are you watching me sleep?” His voice was rough, the first words in the morning. 

“Not anymore,” you smiled, brushing the final parts of his hair out of his face. 

“Thanks for letting me stay.”

Then a cough came from the door. 

Logan groaned. “Is this a new hobby; watching people sleep?”

Jean and Storm laughed from the door. “You two look cosy.”

You lifted your head and glared at Jean. “There is one reason I’m here. Maybe I think it’s time you make an investment in soundproof walls.”

Jean turned a little red and Storm laughed. 

“Look, we’ve got a busy day. You can kiss your boyfriend later.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you called out just as Logan called; “She’s not my girlfriend.”

Storm and Jean nodded and just as Jean snapped a picture, she sent it to both yourself and Logan as they walked away. 

“Sure.”

Leaning up, Logan reached for his phone to see the notification pop up before he placed it back down and you climbed out of bed. 

“They’re got a point.”

“About us being a couple?”

You threw a t-shirt at Logan. “Having a busy day.”

Logan laughed a little, scrubbing his face as he watched you leave his room before he reached behind him and took hold of his phone once more. 

Jean and Storm were right. 

From the picture…they did look like a couple. 

A couple of days passed and you were sitting in the quiet living room, the fires on both sides roaring. 

All classes had been finished for two days and some kids had returned home for the holidays, which meant you had some free time on your hands. 

And for you, that meant finally reading. 

Until you sensed someone stood behind you. 

“If you want to know what happens, you could just ask me.”

Logan plucked the book from your hands and circled around the sofa before coming to sit down beside you. 

“Logan! Give it back.”

“I want to see what it’s about.”

You sighed and sat up, “It’s a romance, Logan.”

“A romance?” Logan had a hint of a smirk on his face. “Like the…trashy kind?”

“Like the romantic kind.”

Logan looked at you and smiled. “The trashy kind.”

You rolled your eyes and took the book back from him, leaving him to fix the blanket so it rested over both of you. He placed his arm over the back of the sofa, allowing you to lean into him, whether you noticed you were doing so or not. 

“Just because you might not believe in romance, doesn’t mean the rest of us are the same.”

“I believe in romance.” 

“Yeah, right.”

Logan couldn’t help but smile. “What?”

“The Wolverine,” you said with a deep voice. “Believes in romance?”

Logan nodded. “Occasionally.”

“Occasionally?”

“Do you just like repeating everything I say?”

You nodded and smiled. “Occasionally.”

Logan rolled his eyes and took the book back from you and read a line out loud. 

“People really talk like this?”

You leaned into Logan. “No, but in a book it’s not so bad. Go on, read some more.”

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

You nodded. “You’re like my own personal audiobook.”

Logan gave a short smile before getting a little cosier and continued reading out loud. 

It wasn’t long before Logan found you asleep against him and he shifted in order to avoid you getting a crick in your neck. 

“Keep reading.”

“I thought you were asleep.” 

“Now I’m awake.” 

“Fine, just be quiet.”

You gave a fake salute. “Yes, sir.”

Holding his arm around your body that was pressed between himself and the sofa, Logan quickly kissed the top of your head and went back to reading. 

And ten minutes later, you were asleep. 

And so was he. 

An hour passed before someone found either of you, but this time, it was Scott and Bobby. 

“They might be in- oh. What do we have here?”

“Oh my god, Rouge has to see this. I told her they were together.”

Bobby rushed off and soon returned, pulling Rouge with him. 

“What is it?” Then she gasped. 

“Believe me now?”

And what Rouge saw made her smile. 

On the slightly too small sofa for Logan, you lay both between him and the sofa, as well as partly on him with your hand a little over his heart. His head was turned towards you. The blanket had fallen a little, so she reached over and pulled it up both of you before turning around and throwing a log onto the fire. 

“Come on, let's leave them.”

“But-”

“No, you are not going to disturb them. Come on.”

Rouge dragged the pair out and closed the door behind her. 

The third time people suspected you and Logan were an item was one late evening in October. 

Half of the kids were playing outside with all the freshly fallen leaves, whilst some of the older kids helped them find different critters and point them out, and build them habitats. The rest of the kids were either in their rooms or studying. 

Save for two. 

Bobby and Rouge were hiding outside of the kitchen watching yourself and Logan cook. 

“I didn’t even know he knew how to…chop. Let alone cook.”

“You should have more faith in him.”

“Come on, Rouge. You can’t tell me you weren't thinking it, too.”

And she couldn’t. Because she was. 

Meanwhile inside the kitchen, Logan was watching you from the kitchen island as he continued chopping the veg. 

There was something different about you. From the way you practically danced around the kitchen finding the different items for the recipe, to just…you. Whilst he was (semi) shirtless, just having his zipper hoodie on, along with his jeans and socks. He would have been fully dressed, except you had come and ambushed him in his room – even though you denied the word “ambushed” – to get him to help. 

And you were just simply in your pyjamas (of sorts) along with one of his zipper hoodies. 

“Bub,”

Logan laid down his knife and walked over to you as you stood by the stove, standing a little higher to see how much water was left in the pot at the back. 

You hummed a questioned response, but was met with a question…you didn’t expect. 

“Dance with me?”

“What?”

Logan smiled lightly as he pulled the wooden spoon from your hand and pulled you closer to him, despite him walking backwards. 

“Come on,” his voice in a light whisper. “Dance with me.”

“Didn’t take you for a dancer.”

Outside the door, Bobby and Rouge mouthed to each other; “They’re dancing.”

And you both were. 

Gently swaying to the music for a while, you allowed Logan to lead you around a small space in the centre of the kitchen. 

“We’re gonna burn the sauce.”

Logan gave a slight smile at you as he spun you out and back in, “We’re not gonna burn the sauce.”

“Logan.”

“Can’t you ever just enjoy a moment?”

“When that moment doesn’t include burning the house down, yes.”

“Bit of a jump, don’t you think, from burning the sauce.”

“Ha, so you agree. We’re gonna burn the sauce.”

Moving over, Logan turned down the heat on one of the pans before taking your hand back into his. “Now we won’t.”

Bobby and Rouge watched, in shock, the rest. 

For one, Logan knew how to dance? Since when? And since when did he…cook and dance in the kitchen? Unless…

Then Logan did something even you didn’t expect. 

He dipped you. 

You hand tightened its grip on Logan’s arm as you let out a small, if a little nervous, laugh. 

Logan had been full of surprises recently. From the impromptu audiobook session in which you woke up in his arms, to him not only dropping off a cup of coffee during your break from teaching but also a freshly baked muffin. 

And now he was dancing with you in the kitchen. 

And dipping you. 

When you had rushed him out of his room to help you cook, you hadn’t expected him to know the recipe for the sauce from the top of his head. Something he just happened to rattle off whilst you were looking for the cooking notebook that should have been in the cupboard beside the oven. Let alone be the one to ask to dance in the kitchen, and dip you. 

Bring you back up, both of you gave a slight chuckle as you turned around, the music slowly fading away in the background. 

“Logan…”

Looking at him, you forgot what you were going to say. 

Had his eyes always had so much green in them? 

Logan’s palm became warm against your back as it pressed further into you. Or maybe you pressed further into him and he just held you tighter. 

Slowly, your hand left his bicep and trailed towards his chest all the while your eyes studied his face. You’d known him for years and seen him a thousand times or more. 

So why did now feel like you were seeing him for the first time? Noticing him? Noticing each particle he was made up of that allowed him to sway with you in the kitchen to the music that had changed on the radio?

Only, before the space between yourself and Logan became any more closer, a noise came from outside the door. 

A sneeze. 

A sneeze that shocked you and Logan back into reality. 

Still holding you, Logan looked towards the door and gave a hint of a smile when he saw the flash of white disappear behind the beam. 

Realising what was happening, you lowered yourself back to the ground and slowly stepped out of Logan’s arms. “We should finish up.”

Logan nodded in agreement, however did look back at you when you got back to the stove, not noticing you do the same a few moments later, watching him pick up the rest of the veg and toss it into the collider to be washed. 

Time passed and after more music, more conversation - including a burnt tongue from when you had shoved a wooden spoon with fresh sauce on, into Logan’s mouth for him to try - and a lot of scrubbing later, you found Logan sitting inside the library and collapsed next to him. 

“Good news, the kids loved the food,” you told Logan. “Double good news; Jean and Scott are on cooking duty tomorrow.”

“Thank fuck.”

“Thank you for helping me.” Turning to look at Logan, you found him already looking. 

“You did ambush me.”

“I didn’t ambush you.”

“I wasn’t dressed.” Logan examined himself. “Technically, I’m still not.”

You rolled your eyes with a slight smile. “Fine. Maybe it was a mini, tiny, miniscule ambush.” 

You made a small space between your fingers. “Like this big of an ambush.”

Logan looked at you, at your fingers and then back to you in slight disgust before moving your fingers wider with his own. 

“That big of an ambush.”

You rolled your eyes and dropped your hand. “And they say us women are dramatic.”

It was Logan’s turn to roll his eyes. However, as he did so, his arm wrapped around you, and pulled you back into him and the sofa. 

“Just shut the fuck up for a minute and listen.”

You did so. 

“I don’t hear anything.”

“That’s the point.” Logan’s eyes were shut as his head rested on the back of the sofa. 

Eventually you gave a shrug and joined him. 

An hour later, Storm found you both fast asleep beside one another so with a knowing smile, she found a blanket, covered you both up and closed the door behind her. But not before reminding herself she needed to get verbal confirmation from you both. 

She wasn’t handing over any money to Jean and Xavier until she had verbal confirmation of what exactly was going on between you two. 

And she didn’t have to wait long…at least in the long run, she didn’t have to wait long. 

Until then, there were plenty more incidents of falling asleep next to each other, bringing each other coffee, dancing to music in the kitchen, smiling and laughing – all before she finally got verbal confirmation that the inevitable had finally happened. 

Finally, it was acceptable to decorate for Christmas. 

Two days prior, Rogue, Logan and Storm had been helping you find all the old decorations in the attic and bring them down. Storm did try then to bribe something out of Rogue, but she apparently was just in the dark as the rest of them. 

But the smile she gave when she looked over at Logan, who was placing down another box from the back of the pile for you to take a look at, told Storm something different. 

“I can’t believe you leave it this late to decorate.”

Logan looked at you. “We’re still in November.”

“So?” 

Taking hold of the garland, you started to climb the ladder. Logan held onto the bottom just to be safe. 

“If you had it your way, the decorations would be up all year round.”

“Hey, no.”

“Hey, yes.”

“I’d take them down for…” you tried to think. “Halloween. You’d have a little break.”

Logan didn’t look entirely thrilled. “Halloween is one day.”

“Technically, it’s a month.”

“To you, it’s a month. To the rest of us, it’s a day.”

You looked back at him. “To you it’s a day, to the rest of us it’s a month.”

Then you looked back at the garland. “How does that look?”

“Great from where I’m standing.”

You looked a little confused for a second before quickly looking over your shoulder, realising where Logan was, in fact, looking. 

Not at the garland, but at your ass. 

You smiled and started to step down the ladder, hitting his shoulder on the way down. 

“I meant the garland.”

“Oh, yeah, sure.” Logan looked up. “Looks great.”

You laughed. “You didn’t even look.”

With a smile as you finally stepped back into his arm, he looked to the side and up. “It looks great.”

“Good. Now,” Logan turned back to look at you and you kissed him quickly. “We have to put up five more.”

“I get to watch you put up five more.”

You smiled. “This is why you’re my favourite person.”

Logan smiled. He could help you with everything else, but when it came to the garland, you had full control on where it went. Which, he didn’t mind. So long as he got to watch you put it up. 

You quickly kissed him once more, only to be pulled back when you tried to walk away. 

Then Logan gave you a real kiss. 

A little dizzy, you smiled and placed a hand on his chest and closed your eyes. “Wow.”

He gave you a quicker, lighter kiss. “You better get going before Rogue comes back with another box of lights.”

“Light?” Then it hit you. “Oh, yeah.”

Logan smirked a little as he watched you walk away and down the hallway. 

It was a couple of hours before everyone was in the same room, making the final touches all the while most of the other kids were either playing outside in the snow, were taking naps or decorating their own rooms. 

And the others had been watching you and Logan all day. 

The stolen glances, the stolen touches, the slightly knowing smiles from both Rogue and Bobby. And then, as Logan was helping you down from the ladder, his hand on your thigh, Bobby went to make the final hammer to hang up the mistletoe. 

“Wait, no. Not there.”

“Where then?”

Storm looked around. “I know. Y/n, hang this just above there. We don’t need a remake of Mistletoe Central 1997.”

Logan looked at Storm. “Do I wanna know?”

Storm shook her head. “Here.”

She handed you the mistletoe before Logan passed you the hammer back from his belt. 

Three knocks and the nail was set in and the mistletoe was above you on a corner beam, just a little to the side of the christmas tree. 

At least this way, those looking for it, would find it. 

"Oh, no, wait.” Jean said, looking at you. “Have to kiss someone. It’s tradition. You’re under the mistletoe.”

There was no one else apart from Logan.

Logan looked around at the others. He wondered how long it would take. 

Coming up behind you on the ladder, you moved over for him to stand beside you. His palm on your back held you steady and, leaning his other arm on the ledge of the ladder, his hand cupped your face and he kissed you. 

Lasting a little longer than the others had expected, you soon heard Rogue giving a little cheer, as well as a couple of whistles from the others. 

“Okay, I think they get it.” You whispered to Logan as he finally pulled away, a smile very noticeable on both of your faces. 

“Happy now?” Logan asked, turning towards where Jean and Scott were standing. 

“That was some kiss.”

You felt yourself blush at the comment. As did Logan. 

He helped you back down the ladder before you both turned and really saw the other's expression. As well as the exchanging of money between people. 

“Sooo…how long has this been going on?”

You were leaning into Logan, his hand around your back and on your hip. 

You looked at Logan, “A couple of months. We’re…what? November now so that would…”

“That would…” Logan counted back in his head. “May…June, July…six months.”

You looked back to the others. “Six months.”

A chorus of shocked faces and loud voices sounded out; “SIX MONTHS?!”

All before a small call from Rogue was made, which made both yourself and Logan smile. 

“I knew it!”