#charlie is long winded

[blue-rose-soul]

Ooo love the devil’s bastard au

In one of your precious posts you mentioned Charlie and Nicaise meeting in heaven and getting to bond. How do you think a meeting like that would go?

They wouldn't know who the other was at first. It's an act of fate (me) that brings them together. I've seen a few different people say that the winners in Heaven don't remember their lives on Earth, but I haven't heard this until recently, and even if Vivienne did say it, I'm hesitant to take Word of God as the absolute truth until it's actually shown in the show proper. Things change in the writing process, you know?

That said, I like the idea so I'm going with it.

As a winner, Nicaise also has some deer-like traits. Her heavenly outfit is all creams and golds, she's got soft doe ears and white speckles across her cheeks, shoulders and arms, as well as a pair of cream-colored wings. Even with the deer traits though, Charlie doesn't make the immediate connection. She's a dark-skinned Creole woman who speaks with a distinct accent from Alastor's, so there's a bit of a disconnect in Charlie's mind.

They probably run into one another while Emily is showing Charlie around, perhaps at the zoo. The winners haven't been informed that they're hosting a guest from Hell because the heavenborn angels don't want to cause a panic or anything, but it becomes clear within a few minutes of conversation that Charlie's different from everyone else in Heaven. How amazed she is by the simplest things. Her sheer awe at the koala. The smell of brimstone that clings to her.

Now, Nicaise knows there's something... off about Heaven. She's known it since she first arrived and she felt like something important had been stolen from her. She just can't put together what that something was. Over the decades, the heavenborn angels have tried to placate her, reassuring that there is nothing missing from her life and that Heaven has everything she'll ever want or need. She calls bullshit. But, realizing she's not going to get anywhere butting heads, she opts to go the more subtle route, seeking out like minded winners and bringing them together. Together, she and her allies have been trying to figure out what the heavenborn are keeping from them, what they lost, but they've hit a lot of walls. Sera is too difficult to approach, and not easy to trick, Emily is just as in the dark as they are, and Adam... Well, Nicaise knows how to deal with repulsive men. But Sera realized pretty quickly what Nicaise was doing and forbid Adam from speaking to her or her cohorts, so that line of investigation was cut short.

Needless to say, Nicaise is thrilled to meet people from outside of Heaven.

She probes Charlie for information and Charlie is plenty happy to talk to someone from Heaven who doesn't seem politely disgusted by her lineage. (Something about Charlie's description of her father strikes a chord in Nicaise. She can't quite solidify the thought.) Emily is surprisingly open to the topic of conversation as well; Sera's never told her any of these things!

Nicaise knows that she must have had a life and a family back on Earth, but it's not until Charlie starts talking about souls passing to Heaven or Hell that she really understands what this means. For just a moment, the veil lifts from her memories. And then they're gone again, like a dream. Charlie, on the other hand, is more than a little peeved that Heaven is actually preventing winners from remembering their own lives. Yes, some of the memories may be painful, but these are their lives! The souls have a right to them, regardless of how painful they were! It's her first hint that Heaven might not be as idyllic as it seems.

Unfortunately, Charlie's meeting with Heaven's higher ups means they don't have as much time together as they would like, nor will they have any way to contact one another once Charlie returns to Hell. But she's left a lasting impact on Nicaise and has an ally in her and Emily both. Emily tells Nicaise everything that happened in the meeting, including the revelation of the exterminations. Nicaise passes this on to her group, who pass it on to more people who pass it on to even more people.

Soon winners all over Heaven are questioning and Sera is panicking. Things get worse for her when Sir Pentious shows up in her office. If she's going to maintain order over Heaven, she needs to find the people responsible for spreading disorder, and get rid of them. Fast.

[turtleofthehollow]

If Hazbin Hotel had more episodes, I would have loved for the show to explore Charlie’s messed up self image that she probably had from being part angel and part demon

Since she’s basically trying to turn sinners into angels thinking their lives would be better there, I can imagine she’d have grown up hating her demon heritage to some degree, and by extension hating her mom

She’d, of course, feel really guilty about it because she loves her mom, and she loves her people, but she still struggles to accept this side of her. After all, hell is the place souls are sent to be punished, so what does that mean of her for having been born here?

So while she works to redeem sinners at the hotel, she unintentionally tries to distance herself more from her demon side in some misguided attempts to prove that she is also worthy of heaven

In her mind, heaven is a great place, so it’d only be natural for her to want to ascend to heaven herself some day, even if her guilt stops her from entertaining the idea

When she finally does visit heaven, and realizes it’s full of corruption and hypocrisy, she becomes disillusioned to her goals and even her identity

Her angelic side could have been the only side of her she felt was valid, and is now left feeling lost thinking there’s nothing good about her at all

After some soul searching, and resolving to defend the hotel and her people, she learns to embrace both sides of her lineage, and is able to use her full power in the fight against Adam

It would have been a fun twist to have Charlie spend so much time trying to get sinners out of hell as some form of rejection of herself, only for her to learn to accept her bad sides knowing they don’t define her, just like a sinner’s actions don’t define them

[jamesunderwater]

blame graceland, too by phoebe bridgers but I do have a new multichap idea and im kinda obsessed

[theydoctor]

Lilac!!

thank you, this is so sweet 🥺🥺

(trying to answer normally as if i'm not holding back on screaming into my pillow because i'm overcome with love for you)

[sailforvalinor]

If Charlie had lived, how do you think he would have taken Mac and Rose's relationship and eventual marriage?

That is an excellent question, and kind of something I think about a lot.

Honestly, as much as I believe Mac and Rose are much better suited for one another, I think there is a world in which Charlie gets his life together and marries Rose. Probably in this situation the accident never happened at all, he managed to resist the temptation to drink with his friends, and he left with Aunt Clara to go see his father and managed to mature in the two years he was there.

This isn't the world I like though. I think in a world where Charlie lives but Mac and Rose still end up together, Charlie still falls to temptation, but the accident doesn't prove fatal, and he eventually recovers and still goes to see his father for two years. I think the Mac and Rose plotline would play out almost exactly the same--Mac falls in love with Rose via her letters, but is trying to hide that fact because of Charlie. In the original, he tries to hide it because he believes that Rose loved Charlie and doesn't want to speak too soon, in this case, he believes that Rose loves Charlie, he knows for sure that Charlie loves Rose, and assumes that they are engaged, or at least have some sort of understanding. It might feel like a betrayal of Charlie to some degree, especially considering his whole thing about his "romance beginning by looking after other girls' lovers." The revelation is probably even more earth-shattering in this case, and thus he probably goes to even more pains to hide it, but of course, it comes tumbling out anyway.

Rose in this version would feel even more conflicted. While we know that she is not in love with Charlie at this point, she at least considers romance a possibility if he can become a man she can respect, and Mac's confession would throw all of this into turmoil. We know from the text in the original that Rose begins to realize subconsciously that she is in love with Mac in the month or so after the initial rejection, but pushes those feelings aside out of fear that they aren't to be trusted, like her feelings for Charlie. In this version, we have the added complication that Rose would fear that Charlie would see it as a betrayal, and that he would lose the incentive to make a better man of himself and fall into ruin again. It would take her awhile, but she would probably eventually have to realize that a) the responsibility for another man's morality does NOT lay on her shoulders, and b) she is, in fact, in love with Mac, and they are much more well-suited for one another than she and Charlie are. She is assisted in coming to this revelation by Phebe, or Uncle Alec. (Or maybe even Archie, that would be fun. Rose and Archie's friendship is one of my favorite things.)

I think Mac would still go away in this version, but not this time in order to work to make Rose love him, but to distance himself from her so he doesn't cause her any more pain. I'd imagine he probably ends up doing much the same thing though, and their love story would resolve in much the same way as it does in the book. However, I think it might take Rose a bit longer to come to the revelation that she's in love with Mac, and when she finally does, she writes to Charlie immediately--she doesn't want to make him think that she's been toying with him all this time.

Now, to come to your original question--how would Charlie react? I think, worst case scenario, after overcoming his shock that Rose could love Mac of all people, the Worm, he becomes very bitter. We know he has an attitude of feeling like everything he wants in life is owed him, and his losing Rose despite all his sacrifices could be ugly. I don't see him completely backsliding in terms of his drinking habits out of spite or anything--at least, I don't think? Perhaps his instinct is to relapse, but his father limiting his access to alcohol (which I'd imagine he'd probably do with some encouragement from Rose) prevents him from doing so. At any rate, he wouldn't answer Rose's letter, which makes his eventually homecoming rather tense. A confrontation between him and Mac could be really interesting, because while Charlie would be feeling angry and betrayed towards Mac, I don't imagine Mac would be very angry in return--just kind of sad. Until Charlie implies that Rose owes her love to him in some way, that is. To be honest, it would be a bit cathartic to see Mac smack some sense (metaphorically) into Charlie, because, oh boy, he could do it if he wanted to.

(Worst WORST case scenario is that he backslides completely, but to be honest, I don't see this as very likely--I think his accident and near-death experience would have scared him enough and really shown him how destructive that lifestyle was.)

Now, best case scenario? His time with his father helps him mature enough that by the time he receives Rose's letter, he's still sad, but understands that she doesn't owe him her love--that's why she wouldn't let him make any promises. Maybe he comes home a changed man and eventually finds love elsewhere. Or maybe, a la Laurie, he meets a another girl while abroad and marries her, and brings her back to America with him without telling Rose.

However, this feels a little optimistic. Here's what I think is the most likely scenario: Charlie reacts in the same way as he does in our worst cast scenario, he feels resentful and betrayed by Rose. He goes home, intending to make her feel just how bitter he is--but then he sees Rose and Mac together, and stops dead. He sees how perfect they are together, how happy Mac makes her--he never made her smile like that. And all at once, he puts all his love and resentment and pain quietly away and goes to greet them with a smile. Because despite everything, Charlie truly did love Rose--and in that moment, he realizes that Mac brings Rose a joy that he never could. Perhaps he eventually finds another woman to pledge his undying devotion to. Or perhaps, as his Uncle Alec felt for the Rose of yore, "his first love would be his last."

[reggiesleaf]

regarding sex in heartstopper…

i think the thing people enjoy so much about heartstopper is that it takes small details about people and amplifies them so that the audience can relate to at least one character in the show.

do teenagers have sex? yes, absolutely they do. does every teenager have sex?? absolutely not! when there’s already such a bittersweet feeling around the show for people who love the representation and love the joy and the beauty of queer relationships, but also yearn for that sort of acceptance and friend group irl, i really don’t think that on top of that, anyone (especially younger teens) should have to feel like they aren’t moving quickly enough in their own lives when it comes to sex and relationships simply because these characters that may be role models in a way are already having sex.

is it maybe a little unrealistic? sure!! for some people!! but not for everyone! out of my main friend group from when i was growing up only 2 out of 9 of us had sex before 18 and it definitely wasn’t glorified like it is in shows like riverdale or other shows targeted towards teens, or meant to be representing young teenagers.

and i’m not saying sex is bad either!! sex is great if you’re into it!! if you’re having sex as a teen i won’t judge you!! just be safe, make sure you want to, have the uncomfortable conversations and be good to yourself!!

all of this to say, that if you haven’t had sex that’s okay!! you don’t have to until you want to, and if you never want to, that is more than okay and valid.

nick and charlie will have sex, spoiler alert if you’re not up to date on the comics or haven’t read the novella, but for right now let them just explore their relationship in the way that they want to!

and while we’re at it, let’s not fetishize their sex scenes please!! thanks!!

[hazelfoureyes]

The Radio Demon fucks a Human Sacrifice (a Valentino production)

⟢ part1♡̶sidestory♡̶part2♡̶part3♡̶part4 ⟣

Valentino has acquired a living, breathing human in hell. But at the begging of Angel, Alastor makes a deal in exchange for her soul.

tags: Alastor x reader, smut, dubcon, mentions of assault (Val intended to "fuck you to death”), Val's existence, overstimulation, forced (?) orgasms, bondage (shadow tentacles), choking (sexy kind, not murdery kind), cervix wrecked, your aunt is a bitch

(author's note: I've been in Japan for like 7 years and my English has suffered, but your fucking smutty writing on this site has inspired me to write for the first time in years.)

Minors DNI

Angel burst into the hotel lobby, winded. “Please, you gotta do somethin’!” 

To the surprise of everyone, he ran straight to Alastor, tears forming in his eyes.

“Val’s gonna hurt her real bad. I don’t know who else to ask, please. I can't—-“ he cradled his head in his hands, “I can't watch him break any more people.”

Alastor didn’t seem to react at first, but Charlie appeared at Angel’s side and pulled him into a hug, “Angel, take a deep breath. He’s gonna hurt who? What’s wrong?”

“He got a new soul. Some fucking cultist offered her up as sacrifice. But she's not dead yet Charlie—- he dragged her down here alive.” His voice cracked, “He wantsta— he said he’s gonna fuck her to death on camera and wait for her to respawn in hell. He’s convinced he’ll make a fortune off the tapes. Please, for fuck’s sake someone has to do something.”

A human in hell? Well, that was something interesting after all. With a raised brow Alastor spoke, “And how exactly can I help this poor, unfortunate soul?”

“Make a deal or– rip his arms off, I don’t fuckin’ know! There has to be something you can offer Val worth her soul. I’d give you my soul if I could!”

Well that’d be worthless.

But a human? A living, breathing human? Intriguing.

“Alastor you have do something. This isn't right! Hell isn’t for the living.” Charlie’s hair flew upward as her eyes flashed red for a second, “I’ll repay it somehow.”

Well there's no harm in taking a look. 

The demons and sinners who saw Alastor walking into the Vee’s tower oscillated between fleeing for their lives and live tweeting the event. Either a truce or a war would be breaking out and they knew they’d be fucked regardless.

“Alastooor”, Val exhaled,  letting the name drag out lazily, “Come to ruin something, I’m sure.” Val hadn’t seen Alastor since his fight with Vox 7 years ago, and he hadn’t expected to see him in his studio— ever. 

“Ha! No, not today. Word got around that there's a special little guest hidden in your studio.” Alastor’s eyes darted about the room, uninterested in the various parts and bits of the actors changing.

Val glanced at Angel, who’d suspiciously returned some 30 minutes before Alastor appeared. 

“I didn’t say nothing, Val.” Angel’s hands went up in defense. “He came to me askin’ about her.”

“And what exactly do you want with my “little guest”?” Val dropped any pretense of politeness. 

Alastor leaned forward on his microphone, and with a pop of static he practically cooed, “To see the poor creature, of course.”

Val ashed his cigarette into a cameraman’s hair and walked off, “Fuck it, sure. She’s back here.”

The back room was dark, perhaps some would call it mood lighting but what mood exactly it conveyed fell somewhere between dungeon and power outage.

You sat on your knees in the center of a round bed. Arms held above your head by a large clip attached to wrist restraints. Your body swayed slightly, a long rope anchored to the ceiling and tied to the clip above you.  Your body was slightly suspended, knees barely making contact with the bed beneath you. The white nightgown you wore was bloodied and ripped at the collar, causing it to slip down your left shoulder. Jaw clenched, your eyes were covered with a red satin tie. 

Alastor took the scene in. Your lip was cut and swollen, bruises peppered your cheek and exposed shoulder. Yet, you were breathing heavily, like a bull about to rush them. You were clearly defenseless, but somehow still defiant. His smile grew to his ears. It had been decades since he had a human in such a prone state.

“Have you …. broken her in yet?” He asked delicately, eyes never leaving your face.

“Nah, just roughed her up a little. I want to capture her raw reaction on camera when she takes her first demon cock.” Valentino clenched his fist to emphasize the word “first”. 

Your head fell forward as you pulled down on your wrist restraints, a growl rising in your throat.

Alastor felt his breath get caught in his own, your nightgown riding slowly up your legs as you struggled. 

“Hey!” Val snapped his fingers in your direction. “Don’t embarrass me. Our guest came to see you. He’s considering making an offer for you, I’m sure, so say hello like a good girl.” Val rolled his eyes, “Sluts always fucking embarrassing me.”

You tried to gather enough saliva to speak, finding the taste of blood still on your tongue. “Fuck you and your friend.” barely made it from your chapped lips. When was your last drink of water? Last meal? How long had you been unconscious before this all began?

“Not friends.” Alastor was quick to retort, “The name’s Alastor, my dear. It’s a pleasure.”

You sneered, a pleasure? What a sick joke. 

“Alastor.” you repeated it, disdain dripping from your lips.

The absolute contempt with which you said his name did something to him. His eyes darted from your mouth back to your inner thighs, exposed from the rising dress. Your mouth was so rude but your body looked so sweet. A little lamb– no, a doe.  

“Say it again.” It wasn’t a request, Alastor himself was surprised to hear himself say it with such demand.

You thrashed. “Oh is that what gets you off? You wanna hear your name in my mouth?” You said mockingly. “You’re just as FUCKED as him.” The nightgown rode up even further. Alastor’s tongue stuck to his teeth as his mouth went dry. Had you been delivered to Val without panties? Offered to him in just this sheer cotton night dress? What was happening to him…

 Static bit your skin as a low hum filled the room. 

“Say it.” Alastor’s voice dropped an octave, eyes suddenly taking on a slight glow. You couldn’t see the danger before you, but you felt it. Something primal in you knew you were in the presence of a predator.

No, you couldn’t see him, but his presence was pressing in all around you. 

“Alastor.” You seethed, “ALASTOR.” Pulling down on the restraints yet again you tried to find the strength to stand, “ALASTOR! ALASTOR!!” Your legs buckled under you having gone numb hours ago, his name devolving into a gutteral scream. All of your anger and despair ripped from your chest as you shouted his name. The nightgown had now ridden to your hips but you couldn’t find an ounce of shame in you to care. 

You were so full of rage, so defiant still. You were so…. alive.

He felt the blood rushing to his crotch in an all together forgotten sensation, and knew immediately his decision. “Let’s make a deal.” His eyes didn’t leave you, but Valentino knew he was talking to him.

Val let out a laugh, “I have some time to waste while they finish the set. Why not.”

Seated in his personal quarters, Val motioned for Alastor to sit opposite him. You had been left in the dark of that room, only knowing you were alone when the static died down and the hair on the nape of your neck relaxed. 

“Listen, Radio Demon. There’s nothing you have that could tempt me to hand over the little bitch.” His long arms rested over the back of his sofa, a heart shaped puff of smoke leaving his lips. Alastor swatted at the air as it approached. 

“What do you even need her for? You don’t deal in souls, but flesh. Surely you can find another toy to break on camera.” Alastor waved his microphone away.

“Hmm”, Val brought a finger to his chin in thought, seriously considering what Alastor could possibly offer him. “Oooh, I know.” His head lolled to the side,  “People have seen me fuck a thousand times. But no one’s ever even seen you with a partner. ‘Radio Demon fucks human sacrifice’” He motioned from left to right as if reading the words off an imaginary marquee, “Now THAT would make money. Real money. Fuck GOD levels of money.” A red liquid leaked from his lips as they were stretched across clenched teeth, his hips involuntarily humped at the air, “oh fuck. Yes. You do the porn, and I’ll give her to you. Soul and body.”

Alastor was looking at Val but his mind was still in front of you, his name tumbling from your lips. The uninterrupted skin where your thighs met your hips. The desperation in your scream. How absolutely soft and fragile you were. He adjusted his hips, trying to calm the twitching of his cock at the thought of you helplessly before him. 

“What exactly are you proposing?” His fingers came to rest entwined on his knee, one leg over the other.

“First, I have full rights to the video to do as I please.” Val counted out on his fingers, “The porno has to show penetration. No dry humping or some bullshit like that. I need you fucking that whore if I’m gonna sell this shit. Aaand”, A sickening grin grew on Valentino’s face, “She has to cum. And I’ll know if she’s faking it. If you don’t manage all three, the deal is off. I keep the human and all rights to the video for per— no, *in* pep-“ he sputtered, “perpur- forever! Fuck.” 

Alastor’s default grin was now so wide his gums could be seen peeking past his lips, his eyes flashing to dials, “It’s a deal.” He extended his hand to Valentino as he stood. A green light was shining from the open palm but Val shook it regardless, confident the deal's conditions wouldn’t be met. He’d seen a lot of fucked up shit on his set, but the Radio Demon, famously uninterested in sex, wasn’t going to make a battered human cum. How stupid could Alastor be, he thought. And he’ll have the video of Alastor failing to please someone to broadcast all over the pride ring and beyond. “May I have a moment alone with her before the filming?”

Val rolled his eyes, “yeah but don’t fuck her off camera.”

The sudden feeling of a hand on your hip startled you so intensely you let out a yelp. 

“Hello, my little doe.” Hot breath tickled the shell of your ear, then your neck, then your collar bone… “Unfortunately your shoot will still continue today. But if you do as I say, I promise you’ll leave the studio alive.”

You felt the nightgown being tugged back down your hips, hiding your exposed sex.

“I will be taking that pompous moth’s place. I will be as gentle as I can, but he will want to see you suffer. You must still fight me, must act pained. Can you play along?”

Your eyes darted behind your eyelids. He sounded— gentle? His voice was soft against your skin. Maybe he was truly the lesser evil of the two. You nodded. You’d heard all the gory details of what the other demon had planned for you, this sounded infinitely more tolerable. You dare thought you’d suffered worse before. 

“And, one more little caveat, darling. I will bring you to orgasm, so please don’t fight so hard as to delay your release.”

You hadn’t realized you’d been holding your breath until his words punched you in the gut. 

“I-“

“Yes?” Alastor’s mouth was nearly on your neck, his smile ghosting your skin.

“I’ve never—- I mean I can only do that by myself. No one else has managed to-“

A large hand patted your head, cutting your train of thought off. How big was he? His hands could palm a basketball. Could he really be gentle? Was he capable of it? Were those hands going to be on you soon? Your mind was running away with the thought of this strange demon fucking you on camera. 

“Oh don’t worry about that. Just focus on your performance. We have to put on a good show!”

Angel was practically chewing his fingers off as he watched the crew finish the set.

“Alastor what the fuck, I thought you were gonna help her!”

“I am, my effeminate friend. Have a little faith in me.” He adjusted his bowtie and took his place on set.

“I have none. I have negative faith, Alastor. Fuuuuck”, Angel slumped against the wall behind him and sank to the floor. 

The stage was set. A red sigil was painted on the floor of a cabin, candles lit around the room as the only source of light (except the stage lighting hanging above the scene). Of the three walls they’d made, the far left wall had an altar haphazardly filled with flowers, a golden bowl, and small plaid satchel.

Someone — something? — led you by the restraints to the stage. Blindfolded, you were pushed down to the floor, forced to sit on your still numb legs. The leather cuffs on your wrist were unbuckled, allowing you to flex your hands. When you reached for the blindfold a hand smacked at yours.

“No no, keep it. I want you to look exactly how I found you.” The familiar voice of Val instructed. 

Someone handed a script to Alastor, but he pulled his hands away from the demon as if the paper itself was an angelic weapon, “Oh, no thank you. That won’t be necessary.”

“I’ll tell you what to say” Val said, clearly to you.

“It’s—- it’s fine. I’ll just do it like before. I don’t need any help.”

You really didn’t.  There was no improv needed. You could repeat exactly what you said yesterday evening when you awoke on the floor of an unfamiliar place. You’d been visiting your aunt one moment, and alone in a weird room what felt like moments later. Groggy, but alert enough to know something bad had happened. 

You heard “action”, and then silence. You could feel eyes on you.

“Aunt Sara….” You whispered. “I don’t understand what’s happened… Are you still there?” You rubbed your wrists trying to regain some blood flow, readjusting your legs to do the same. 

You heard a strange sound, both yesterday and now. 

“Aunt Sara isn’t here. She’s made an exchange, she gets extraordinary power….and I get your soul.” The way Alastor said it, the way his breath seemed to almost hitch, surprised you. Something cold touched your ankle, causing you to flinch, “But I want more than that. I need more than that.”

You felt that something-unknown snake up your leg toward your center. Crawling backwards on your butt to create some distance you collided with the altar. The golden bowl rolled to the edge and spilled its contents across the table. You could smell the iron tang of blood before you felt the pitter patter on your shoulder. Alastor inhaled quickly before letting the air back out with as much control as he could manage.

“Who are you?!” You’d asked this already. But this time the disembodied voice of your captor replied, “Alastor, the Radio Demon! Pleasure to meet you.”

The right side of your face smacked against the floor of the makeshift cabin as you were dragged suddenly across the room and into the red sigil. The cold appendage on your leg now tightly coiled up your calf.

“No— you have to fuck her with your fucking dick! You can’t use shadow tentacles!” Val shouted, nearly falling out of his chair.

“Now now, the deal didn’t specify with what, only that penetration must occur. Plus, I won’t show up on your video recording device anyway.” Alastor took several steps back, ensuring he was not in frame, “Rest assured, your audience will know it is me.” His words cracked and stuttered like someone had changed the station midway through his sentence.

A small, “fine, whatever.” was grumbled and the scene continued, the tentacle snaking its way up your thigh as Alastor chuckled softly at how you flinched against him.

You rolled onto your stomach and tried to kick off the shadow but it held firm. Letting out a groan you used your hands to drag yourself back towards the altar. Before you could reach the table your other leg felt the pressure of a new tentacle twist around your knee as you were dragged back toward the Radio demon once again.

Your nightgown was forced up, your ass now exposed and in the air as your legs were pulled open. That was as far as you had really gone yesterday, before a flash of light delivered you into the Pentagram City studio. 

Surprisingly, you felt embarrassed, self conscious knowing there were other people in this room. But as if he could read your mind, or perhaps just noticed the tremble in your legs, Alastor softly said, “It’s only us now, darling. There’s nowhere to hide.”

Third and fourth appendages appeared around your waist and neck. Effortlessly your hips were lifted off the floor, your cunt on full display to the man who now owned you. The tentacle on your neck slipped between your shoulder blades and pressed your chest firmly to the floor. You squirmed and struggled against the restraints but only accomplished to draw another chuckle from Alastor.

“Relax. We have forever, after all. We can take our time.”

You felt pressure at your entrance, and your pleas to stop were cut short as a shadow tentacle pushed its way inside you. It was cold, but quickly began to warm as your heat enveloped it. Your body was resisting it, too tight to take it all in one thrust, but you could feel it slick against your lips easily enough to make its way inside.

“Ooh, my dear, your wet little cunt betrays you.” He cocked his head to the side, antlers doubling then tripling in size, “Have my words affected you so much?”

You could feel the tentacle’s shape shift slightly inside you as if it were adjusting to you and not the other way around. True to his word, there was no pain except from the burning stretch of your hole against the girth of his shadow self.

Hissing, you thrashed against the sigil, “get OFF OF ME!” Pushing against the floor you barely got your shoulders an inch off the ground when you felt a nth appendage graze sloppily over your clit. You stilled, suddenly remembering your end of the deal. Your promise to the demon now circling your clit with his shadow. If you couldn’t do this, then the entire filming was for nothing.

“Don’t forget to breath. I can’t have you dying on me just yet, sweetheart.” The static was slowly building in the air around you again, a silent threat.

Your hand shot to your mouth, trying to smother the depraved sounds being fucked out of you. The tentacle in your pussy was now ramming against your cervix, curving and bending as it repeatedly forced its way in and out of you. The room was quiet, except for the slick, sticky sound of the tentacle coated in your fluids pulling nearly completely out of you before smashing back in. The pace was slow and cruel, but the pressure on your clit was fast and hard. Your mind was starting come undone, your thoughts splintering. You couldn’t focus on anything anymore, all over your body was pressure, pleasure, massaging, pushing, and pulling. 

“Ah ah, that won’t do.” Alastor practically sang the words as an appendage pulled your hands from your mouth and brought them to the small of your back. 

You whimpered, trying to find a balance between the overstimulation and the need to not let them see how much you were getting off on this. You needed to hate it more. Hate him more. Your cheek stuck to the wood of the floor as drool leaked from your open mouth, unable to keep it closed any longer. 

“I’ll—” Your strength was nearly gone, but you managed to knock your upper body around the sigil, smearing the still wet blood across your chest. You only managed to whisper into the flooring a quiet, “I’ll fucking kill you for this.”

The tentacles stopped, for a second you felt tears sting your eyes at the loss of friction. A loud screech made you wince, but you had no time to question it as your body was violently flipped. Your hips were slammed down onto the ground, held tightly by a tentacle around your waist. The back of your head ached as it was jostled in the turn. The shadows on your thighs now seemed determined to bruise you as they constricted around your skin. 

“What was that, dear?” The tentacle in your pussy seemed to swell inside you, the force of the thrusts picking up in intensity. He was ramming into your body with such fervor you felt the skin of your ass chaffing on the wooden grain beneath you.  “Speak up, now”, you heard him exhale forcefully, his controlled appearance hanging on by a thread.

“I-”, your mouth opened to continue your resistance when a new sensation stopped you. A second tentacle was trying to squirm its way into your heat, just above the now uncomfortably thick one twisting around inside of you. The pressure on your stomach from the force made you feel sick, but the devoted ministrations on your clit had your legs twitching against the restraints. “Ah–! no, wai-” It managed to slip itself into you, and with no hesitation it was pressing against your g-spot in a matching rhythm to the tentacle swiping over your swollen clit.

You’d never before made a sound like the one that was pulled from your throat. It was ugly and animalistic and took you by surprise. Still struggling to catch your breath, you threw your head back. You were losing control. As your body was rocked against the ground, the blindfold got caught in the friction and slipped down your nose. 

Bringing your head back up, you finally locked eyes with your new master. 

“Alas-” Another chilly tentacle came to your neck and began to lightly squeeze. You could only breathe out the rest of his name as your eyes met with his. He stood some feet from you, just outside of the sigil, barely on the set at all. He seemed nonplussed, antlers looming over you and suit perfectly neat, except one detail. His pupils dilated when you finally set your eyes onto his. The grip on your neck only stopped tightening when you stomped your foot down in fear of passing out. You didn’t break eye contact, a fire burning in you that told him no matter what he did you wouldn’t be broken. That look in your eyes, the contempt mixed with overwhelming pleasure made Alastor shift one foot in front of the other in an effort to better conceal the erection straining against the zipper of his pants. 

“Mmmhhh–” You finally broke contact as your eyes rolled back into your head, the pressure beneath your belly was building, a tightness threatening to snap. But this wasn’t like before, this wasn’t like when you were alone in your bed with your own hand. It felt like too much, your heart was pounding so hard you thought you’d really die. There was no way your body could continue this much longer, your heart would surely give out.

“Please–” You needed him to stop, the ghostly hand on your throat, the two tentacles pressing against your cervix and g-spot, the unrelenting pressure on your clit. It was too much, it was too sensitive. “I’m sorry, please. Pleeea-” you gritted your teeth, thighs twitching as the muscles in your core tightened.

“Going to cum, my little doe?” Through gritted teeth of his own Alastor asked you as if you had any choice in the matter. He forced your knees up to your shoulders, allowing the tentacles to reach new depths. 

“AaaaHH” You convulsed, “I’m yours, Alastor!” You moaned, willing to say anything to stop the overwhelming feeling as the coil snapped, you were orgasming on this demon’s shadow and for the love of all that was unholy he wouldn’t fucking let up. You did what he said, but he wasn’t stopping. His thrusts didn’t slow, your clit was throbbing and your body shaking uncontrollably. All defiance was dead, your fire snuffed out. Your eyes were glazed and unfocused. Your head hit the floor again as you struggled to keep your thoughts straight, “It’s all yours. My soul is yours! Please- sto-” Another orgasm was being fucked out of you, no recovery from the first. “I can’t, I can’t” Your jaw locked, the way your cunt was spasming and tightening around his shadow appendages nearly pushed them out of your body with the strength of your first forced orgasm. The lights in the room flickered and popped, the candles blew out with a sudden gust, static drowned out your voice from everyone but Alastor as you screamed through the second orgasm. A green light erupted from the smeared sigil beneath you, blinding the crew and onlookers. “My body is yours! My soul! It’s all yours. I give you all of me, Alastor! Alastor!!” Your vision went spotty, and your throat seemed to close around your voice. Your face was red with the strain of your orgasm. You’d never felt unrelenting pleasure like that before and in that moment you’d have given him absolutely anything he wanted from you. Everything. It was his. You were his. He owned you inside and out.

The bullying of your cunt finally calmed after your orgasm began to edge away, your breath no longer stuck in your throat. He didn’t stop, but he slowed down to a lazy pace as what few lights managed to survive flickered back to life. As your eyes adjusted to the light, you looked over your wrecked body to Alastor. His eyes were wild, his bangs damp and clinging to his forehead. His smile was manic, sinister almost. He looked truly demonic. A wave of fear carried a chill down your spine.

The tentacles withdrew, the sudden loss making you feel colder somehow now than before. They had taken on your own heat and matched your temperature so perfectly, now your body felt empty. You felt naked. Your cunt was still clenching, but around nothing at all. It felt…like something was missing now. Your body seemed to be upset at the loss of contact. It made your stomach turn.

You flinched when the radio demon approached you, but instead of tearing you to pieces like his grin had promised, he slipped his suit jacket off and laid it over your body. You hadn’t realized the dress was torn and lying beneath you in a wet pile of blood and sweat. The confusion must have been evident on your face, because Alastor’s appearance shifted. Antlers now small, if not tiny between his ears. His eyes a red and pink, lids half closed. His smile was just a line across his face, no teeth at all. He looked like a gentleman, had you not known what he had just done to your pussy you’d have thought him incapable of such impropriety. 

“Good job, my little doe.” He whispered before you were handed a glass of water by a tall stranger. 

“Wow, you’re kind of natural at this babe. I haven’t seen a performance like that in ages.  Are you okay?” You took the water from him but didn’t open your mouth to reply, instead transfixed on his appearance. You’d only seen Val and Alastor until now. “You can call me Angel. We’ll get you home soon. I swear.”

Your eyes flitted to Alastor’s, did he know? He must have, he must have felt it. Of course he knew. In those final moments, you hadn’t been acting. Not an ounce of your pleasured responses were disingenuous. Not a single word a lie.

Alastor helped you to your feet as Angel placed a robe over your shoulders. Alastor hummed as he put his jacket back on, a satisfied sound coming from his chest that almost sounded like a song. 

Val sat in his director’s chair with his legs crossed, mouth open. His cigarette was mostly ash, delicately lingering on the stub.

Alastor placed a hand on the small of your back as you were guided to the door. Looking over his shoulder he grinned to Val, “It seems our deal is done here, Valentino. She’s mine, in perpetuity.”

(Part two)

༻Masterlist༺

[call-sign-shark]

Of Bending and Breaking || Tommy Shelby x Reader

Summary: Always being the one who cares for others comes with a price: you break down, but the most unexpected person is here for you: Tommy, the man you were forced to marry.

Words: 2,3k

TW: Hurt/Comfort, very tiny mention of past sexual assault, no proofreading 'cause it comes from clearing my drafts.

Notes: Aunt Isabella's is a tribute to my own aunt Isabelle who, unfortunately, died because of cancer a few years ago.

It all started with Polly shaking Tommy like a tree, her thin hands firmly grabbing his nephew’s broad shoulders: “You can’t keep sabotaging yourself like this, Tom.” These were the words that left her quivering lips as she dragged his staggering frame to the bathroom and pushed his face into the bathtub right under the tap. When the freezing water splashed all over his neck, Tommy opened his blank eyes wide and inhaled sharply, as if he had suddenly come back to life. Since Grace’s awful death, the gangster was the shadow of his former self. When he wasn’t waging a senseless war with Father Hughes and the Italian, or when he wasn’t keeping his buzzing mind busy with work, Tommy usually numbed himself with a deadly combination of whisky and opium until his deep-seated pain became bearable. It was the night he almost overdosed that Polly decided to take charge of his nephew and found him a new wife, in the hope of soothing his nephew’s mind and finding a mother figure for poor little Charlie. The idea had obviously sent Tommy in a fit of anger but Polly Gray couldn’t care less.

Regarding your own situation, it was not the opium nor the loss of a dear lover that had led you to Birmingham’s most dangerous man but rather the bump in your belly. Aunt Isabella had understood what you were suffering from the moment you had stormed out of the vardo to throw up your breakfast in the nearest bush. The tall and lean woman, whose light brown and curly mane danced in the cold autumn wind, had looked at you right in the eyes and raised one of her thin eyebrows. If there was something pleasant with her, it was that words weren’t necessary.

Yet, later she encountered Polly, with whom she had been a great friend since childhood, and explained that a powerful American man had forced his seeds in you during his stay in England. Not willing to go through the traumatic experience of aborting, Isabella only saw one solution to your problem: you needed a husband who could protect you and your future baby from the evil man with his scarred lip. A wedding would be your salvation. At the realization of what Aunt Isabella had planned for you, you tried to run away from the camp in the middle of the night but she knew you too well and soon caught you, her sly hand firmly grabbing your wrist: “Y/N! It’s for your sake! He’s rich, he needs a wife and he is feared! You’ll be safe with him, don’t you understand?” She explained, cupping your face with her long fingers adorned with claws painted in red and far too many rings. “I don’t need a man to protect me! I don’t need anyone. He’s older and he’s a criminal! Who’s going to protect me from him eh? Have you think ‘bout that?” You cried, the soft light of the sunrise turning your tears into liquid gold.

But still, you wedded him and what was supposed to be the happiest day of your life turned out to be a dull event during which you dissociated the whole time. The only memories you had in mind were two piercing and frightening turquoise eyes staring right at your soul and soft whiskey-tasting lips stealing a quick peck from your cherry lips. A kiss devoid of any form of affection. And then, the groom left.

From what Aunt Isabella told you, your husband had spent most of the celebrations with his brothers, drinking and taking bets outside of Arrow House. Months had passed and still, you felt estranged to this place and its staff. The only moments your heart lightened were when Aunt Isabella visited you, or when Charlie spent time with you, otherwise you remained emotionally closed, trapped in your own mind. Overall you could not complain: You had a house far too big for you with plenty of workers willing to exhaust every one of your wishes. Charlie was a sweet boy, who loved you with all his heart even if you were well aware that you’ll never replace his mother. As for the Shelby clan, they were cordial with you without being really friendly either. And there was Tommy…

Cold and distant Tommy, who you only saw late at night when he discretely slipped under the bedsheet and turned his back to you without uttering a single word. Busy Tommy, whose replies remained concise and spoken with a quiet husky voice each time you asked him something — at least he talked to you a little bit. Trapped in a loveless marriage, that was what you were: Tommy was more a stranger, a mere gust of wind in your life, than the love of your life.

Still, the gangster stayed true to his words and he provided for everything, never refusing to give you money when you asked, and protecting you from the man who had taken your innocence. He even gifted you a wonderful stallion because he knew how much you missed riding. In exchange for his protection and riches, all you had to do was take care of Charlie and do your best to be there for your husband when his darkness threatened to swallow him whole.

You found out about the nightmares shortly after your wedding and quickly decided to do something about it. When he woke up screaming and drenched in sweat after tasting the tunnels’ dirt and Grace’s crimson blood in his troubled sleep, you always cradle him, your fingers losing themselves in his wet dark hair to pet his head gently. At first, you feared his reaction, expecting the infamous Tommy Shelby to push you and not-so-kindly ask you to keep your distance but, to your greatest surprise, he never did. Instead, he would bury his face in your cleavage, panting and trembling, and let you reassure him. Just like he let you bring dinner to him each time he drowned himself in paperwork and forgot to eat. He never commented on your cooking skills though, even if he always handed back empty plates.

The blood on his skin? You cleaned it.

The wounds of his flesh? You never failed to patched them up.

The hole in his heart? You tried to seal it off with caresses, soft kisses, and shoulder massages. Maybe one day he would slowly turn his iciness into affection. Little did you know that he needed it. And by it he needed you. Just like the whole family. How many times did you walk the streets of Birmingham at night, seeking for Arthur and then bringing him home to take care of a wasted and high him? Far too many to keep track. Similarly, you had spent countless evenings helping Ada when she felt overwhelmed, either nursing Karl or cleaning her house when, just like her brother, she overworked herself. And finally, Polly could never thank you enough for everything you did to soothe her mind after the gallows, still haunted by the bite of the hanging rope on her throat.

“Thanks Poppy.” Arthur muttered, the gravel in his voice coated with shame now that you were down clearing and disinfecting his split knuckles. The oldest brother had started to affectionately call you so for the sole reason that, according to him, you must probably grow better when blood was considering how much you had seen when patching the Shelby siblings. “Sorry for errr… For the mess.” He went on, his steel blue eyes fleeing yours.

“That’s okay.” You replied in Romani, “You, sweet idiot.” Endeared by how surprisingly soft Arthur’s harsh complexions could turn, you couldn’t help but gently put your hand on one of his cheeks. And during this tender display of affection, Arthur was convinced he had caught sight of a smile — a scarce event barely happening on your beautiful but resigned face. Comforted by the warmth of your palm, he leaned into your touch and looked at you through dark lashes, his lids half-closed.

“Tommy’s one lucky bastard to have ya for himself, eh."

"Let's both flee together then." You teased, the familiar tone of Romani language rendered even more melodious by your siren-like voice.

"Don't tempt me, little one." Arthur replied, softer than intended and probably only half-joking.

The oldest Shelby brother had barely closed the door when your smile disappeared and tears flooded your eyes. Admittedly, spending months of repressing your own anguish didn’t do any good to you despite thinking that focusing on others would have helped. Quite the contrary, all those negative emotions you had left on the back burner turned into a silent and deadly parasite that was eating you up. Dragging your tired frame to the cold and empty marital bedroom, you curled up in a ball in a corner of the room, your bruised knees pressed against your chest, “Positive. You gotta stay positive and push forwards y’see Y/N? Do the right things for the family…” You whispered to yourself as your breath started to quicken for the ball of sorrow in your throat was growing more and more. Yes, you had to smile and say that all was just fine because you knew you were lucky to be here and that you hadn’t any real reason to complain now according to the rest of the world. And yet, the truth was you were tired. So tired and overwhelmed by everything around you. With your wild soul trapped here in the mighty walls of Arrow House, you could not help but drown in an excruciating feeling of worthlessness.

You were lost in a world too difficult for you to understand. Lost and unprepared for a life that asked for too much. When you were living in the vardo with Aunt Isabella life seemed so much easier despite the lack of money and, sometimes, food. Prior to your wedding, she used to tell you that everything would become clear once you’d be a wife and a mother. You’d be an adult adult, you see? But she lied. They all lied. Even with a husband and kids, you still felt like a scared and confused child, who wanted to hide under the blanket of her warm bed and never face the world ever again. These concerns of yours? You never shared because you wanted the Shelby to keep seeing you as a reassuring presence— moreover, God knew how much their broken hearts needed your silent care.

Bringing your trembling fingers to your mouth, you muffled a first sob, convinced it would be enough to keep you from crying. What you didn’t expect was to burst into tears, uncontrollably weeping. After all this time forcing yourself to be strong, your mind had enough. As your heart-wrenching cries echoed in the room they muffled Tommy’s footsteps that were coming closer and closer. When the door flung open, you did not even move, lost in a spiral of pain and psychological exhaustion.

“Y/N?!” Tommy called you, his usual coldness swept away by a surge of panic. He closed the distance between you and him with hastened steps, and put one of his knees on the floor to be at your level, “What’s wrong, ay?” His husky voice asked, worries thickening his Brummie accent even more. You hiccuped and raised your flooded eyes towards him, parting your lips to answer. Yet, as soon as your gaze met his turquoise iris you started weeping again, louder this time. Words were at a loss by dint of never having the chance to express what you felt throughout your life. “Bloody Hell, Y/N! Speak!” Tommy hissed, his heart now drumming in his chest at the sight of his young and always-so-strong wife crumbling in bits in front of him. Never in his life, he had felt so powerless, not even in the tunnels… And, God, he hated it.

“N-nothing. I don’t… I don’t even know it’s just that— I’m so fucking tired, and lost, and confused, and afraid!” You spoke with a very fast pace, spitting years and years of repressed emotions flowing from you all the while feeling deeply ashamed of your mental breakdown. When you were done venting, you simply turned your head and waved off the topic, tears still rolling down your reddened cheeks “Anyway! You’ve got — more important things to do.”

“Stop it, Y/N,” He scolded, low voice rumbling in his chest. His strong and calloused hands, damaged by the war and hard work, cupped your face with a softness you didn’t know he possessed. For the first time in your life, his grip felt utterly reassuring as if you knew these scarred palms were not going to let you fall apart. Never. “You’re what’s important right now.” With that being said, Tommy leaned his forehead against yours and his enchanting eyes soon met yours to force you to focus on nothing else but the vast blue oceans which composed them. “I want you to calm down.”

“I can’t, I can’t—“ You tried to speak but you couldn’t, struggling to breathe under the crushing weight of your panic attack. Your mouth gaped, looking for the oxygen it couldn’t find.

“Oi!” Tommy said louder. So loud that his voice managed to overcome the cacophony of your beating heart and the buzzing sound of your anxiety that filled your head, “I want you to breathe with me, Y/N. Alright? You can do that for me, ay?” He asked, his eyebrows slightly frowned and charming crowfeet appearing at the corner of his eyes — how odd it was to see Tommy’s face veiled with something else than unsettling placidity. Caught off guard by the sudden realization of how close he was, you quieted down a little bit and soon followed the pattern of his breathing.

One long inhale through the nose, one longer exhale through the mouth, and a short pose.

Do it again.

Your shaky hands slowly grabbed his wrists in a desperate attempt to anchor you to reality. This, as well as the focus you had on his mesmerizing complexions.

His long dark lashes — you inhaled slowly.

His cat-like turquoise iris — you exhaled.

His salient cheekbones — You stopped breathing for a very short while.

The myriad of freckles — “Breathe with me, Y/N.”

The soft, hoarse lilt guided you through the dark and thick fog of your own brain, just like a lighthouse. Coming back to clearer waters, your body finally relaxed and fell almost limp in his arms. And once again he caught you, keeping you all safe against his chest. Tommy’s voice, low and steady, resonated one last time in the bedroom with a reassuring warmth as he uttered the simple yet powerful phrase, "I'm here." Each word carefully enunciated, carrying a quiet strength that soothed and reassured, like a comforting anchor in a stormy sea.

Keep your writers motivated: Reblog and/or comment if you liked it, you filthy animal! o/ English is not my first language btw.

Taglist: @adaydreamaway08 @theshelbyclan @jomarch-wannabe @esposadomd @zablife @woofgocows @anathemasworld @anastasia000 @kate654 @kxnnxy @babayaga67 @meowtastick @shelbyssins @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @bluevenus19 @raincoffeeandfandoms @kishie8 @zablife @alexandra-001 @dearshelby @alexizodd @helen06dreamer @kmc1989 @emotionalcadaver @peakyswritings @peakyltd @chaosinkest1996 @vanhelsingsbigtoe @red-riding-wood

[alastor-x-reader-stories]

Selfish - Alastor x Reader Oneshot

You face-planted on your bed, what semblance of energy you had left disintegrating and blowing away in the wind.

Today was too long a day.

Charlie needed some comfort after seeing the news roast the hotel again.

Vaggie needed to be calmed down because everyone got on her nerves.

Angel Dust needed a good hug and reassurance that he was worth something.

Husk had drank too much and threw the empty bottle at you when said as much. (He apologized afterward and the guilt made it easier for you to usher him to bed)

Lucifer was disassociating hardcore and you had to walk him through basic selfcare.

Nifty....Was Nifty.

Not that you minded that they needed different help here and there. Everyone needed a helping hand, a shoulder to cry on, an ear to listen to. And as far as you were concerned, it really was the least you can do. You couldn't fix their problems, but you can carry some of the load for them. That was...something, right?

A knock on the door made you grimace. Masking your agitation with a neutral expression, you opened your door to see none other than the Radio Demon himself.

He grinned down at you, his arms crossed behind his back, his posture straight, his clothes smooth and unwrinkled.

But...his grin seemed a bit strained, at the corners.

Alastor was difficult to comfort as he insisted he didn't have emotions anyway. And he hated to be touched. And his favorite food was raw venison or demon meat. So most of your techniques didn't have much ground.

However, he did love to laugh. So when he needed it, you would often play the role of a clown.

You leaned against the doorframe, crossing your arms across your chest and looked up at him with an exaggerated grin.

"Whazzzzah?" You said, intentionally making your voice nasally and high pitched.

Alastor picked you up like a suitcase and carried you back to your bed, sitting you down on the edge of it and kneeling in front of you. His expression didn't change as his eyes flicked over you.

You swallowed thickly. "Er...What bees the ups my dudes?"

No change in expression. No confusion, no mild irritation.

You started to get fidgety. Maybe you needed some new material? You like doing the funny voices and the purposely incorrect grammar, but if he was sick of it it'd be-

You train of through abruptly derailed as Alastor's hand came up to cradle your face. The other one brushing some of your hair out of your eyes. One claw lightly grazed your skin and you winced.

"So Husker's little fit did hurt you, hm?" He said, pressing the pad of his thumb against a spot typically hidden by your bangs - now adorned with a partially scabbed-over cut.

You winced again "What're you talking about?"

"Oh, my dear. I heard what happened between the two of you. The drunkard got a bit too brash and ended up hurting you."

You sighed "It was an accident."

Alastor's eyes narrowed "Ah yes, it's always an accident with you."

You met his glare "What do you mean by that?"

The Radio Demon waved his hand, materializing some first-aid equipment. He didn't even let you know when he applied some antiseptic to your cut making you hiss through gritted teeth.

"A little heads up would've been nice!"

"An accident, my dear."

You deflated immediately "Ah. Okay, sorry-"

"Thank you for proving my point." He cut you off, a slight growl to his voice. Alastor slapped a bandage over your wound and pulled back, glaring at you intently.

"Huh?"

He rolled his eyes "Everything everyone ever hurts you with is an 'accident' to you. No one ever means to hurt you."

You scowled "Husk didn't mean to hurt me!"

"You're allowed to be mad you know." He huffed "Even if it was an 'accident', you could be mad he threw a fucking glass bottle at you!"

"He didn't mean to." You insisted.

"And Charlie didn't mean to dump all her woes on you, and Vaggie didn't mean to make you play peacemaker, and Angel Dust didn't need you to be a therapist. And Lucifer didn't need you to play nurse. And nifty...." he trailed off, unsure how to categorize your helping Nifty today. He shook it off and met your eyes. You glared back at him and pushed him away.

"No! None of them meant to! I chose to-"

"Would it really kill you to be selfish once in a while?" He said, tilting his head. Red eyes narrowed as his ears pinned back on his head.

"Firstly, i'm already dead. Secondly, I'm always selfish!"

"Give me an example."

"WELL, Mister Everything-Is-My-Business, I slept in to like, noon, yesterday-!"

"Because you spent all night listening to Vagatha."

"-and yesterday I ate the last of the spaghetti-!"

"From the meal you skipped while you helped Nifty hunt bugs."

"I hid in my room all day-!"

"Due to everyone not paying any attention to your immense discomfort at their ruckus."

"...You're dumb." You said, crossing your arms across your chest. Alastor rolled his eyes and pushed you down so you were lying on your bed. His hands were on either side of your head as he leered over you.

"Despite doing nothing but listening to everyone's endless ramblings all day, you're immediate reaction upon seeing me is to play jester and make me feel better."

"You looked upset." You said.

Alastor sighed "Exactly your problem, my dear." He moved away so he wasn't pinning you to your bed, calmly removing his monocle to clean it before gingerly placing it back onto his face.

You rolled onto your side to watched him. "...I don't think it's a problem to care."

"It is a problem to care too much."

"Well, you don't care enough so I guess we even eachother out."

Alastor hummed, looking away from you. You bit your lip. Maybe...you pushed that too far? You never really held back the sass with Alastor, but he was already irritated....

"Ask me for something." He said.

"Eh?"

He snorted, ears flopping in agitation "As you said, you care too much, i care too little. So now we'll do this: you care less about what I want and you care more about what you want."

You blinked, confused "....That's. Oddly sweet of you?"

Alastor snorted in response, still locked in a staring contest with the opposite wall. There seemed to be a bit of red creeping up the sides of his face.... Now was he turning red because he was mad or because he was....flustered?

"So. Can i ask you for anything?"

"Within reason."

"....Can I get a hug?"

The record scratch was audible.

"You have the Radio Demon offering you to do a favor for nothing in return, and you ask for a hug?"

"That's what I want?" You said, snuggling underneath your duvet. "Don't worry about it if you don't wanna-"

"Oh for the LOVE OF!" Alastor cut himself off, grumbling something under his breath that did not sound as jovial as his permanent grin may imply.

The man briefly disappeared into a puff of shadows before reappearing under the duvet with you, wrapping his arms around you and pressing your head into his chest.

You laughed. "Was it that hard to just lift the blanket?"

"Quiet, you." Alastor muttered into your hair. You sighed contently, snuggling closer to him.

"Can I hug you back?"

He tensed up next to you, so you dropped it. Despite his insistence on you being selfish, he didn't push you any further. Instead relaxing more as you made no move to hold him.

"Thanks, Alastor. I'm gonna drift off, so you can head out if ya want." You mumbled into his shirt.

"We'll see."

You didn't bother trying to fight sleep, letting the exhaustion of the day catch up with you and your troubles drift away as you listened to the Radio Demon's heart.

Alastor was still there when you woke up, but don't you dare mention it.

[thaoworra]

The Science Fiction and Fantasy Poetry Association recently released the poems that made it to the finalist stage for consideration for the 2024 Rhysling Awards for Short and Long Speculative Poems of the year. Congratulations to all of the nominees! This will be the 46th year these awards have been conferred!

Short Poems (50 finalists)

Attn: Prime Real Estate Opportunity!, Emily Ruth Verona, Under Her Eye: A Women in Horror Poetry Collection Volume II

The Beauty of Monsters, Angela Liu, Small Wonders 1

The Blight of Kezia, Patricia Gomes, HWA Poetry Showcase X

The Day We All Died, A Little, Lisa Timpf, Radon 5

Deadweight, Jack Cooper, Propel 7

Dear Mars, Susan L. Lin, The Sprawl Mag 1.2

Dispatches from the Dragon's Den, Mary Soon Lee, Star*Line 46.2

Dr. Jekyll, West Ambrose, Thin Veil Press December

First Eclipse: Chang-O and the Jade Hare, Emily Jiang, Uncanny 53

Five of Cups Considers Forgiveness, Ali Trotta, The Deadlands 31

Gods of the Garden, Steven Withrow, Spectral Realms 19

The Goth Girls' Gun Gang, Marisca Pichette, The Dread Machine 3.2

Guiding Star, Tim Jones, Remains to be Told: Dark Tales of Aotearoa, ed. Lee Murray (Clan Destine Press)

Hallucinations Gifted to Me by Heatstroke, Morgan L. Ventura, Banshee 15

hemiplegic migraine as willing human sacrifice, Ennis Rook Bashe, Eternal Haunted Summer Winter Solstice

Hi! I am your Cortical Update!, Mahaila Smith, Star*Line 46.3

How to Make the Animal Perfect?, Linda D. Addison, Weird Tales 100

I Dreamt They Cast a Trans Girl to Give Birth to the Demon, Jennessa Hester, HAD October

Invasive, Marcie Lynn Tentchoff, Polar Starlight 9

kan-da-ka, Nadaa Hussein, Apparition Lit 23

Language as a Form of Breath, Angel Leal, Apparition Lit October

The Lantern of September, Scott Couturier, Spectral Realms 19

Let Us Dream, Myna Chang, Small Wonders 3

The Magician's Foundling, Angel Leal, Heartlines Spec 2

The Man with the Stone Flute, Joshua St. Claire, Abyss & Apex 87

Mass-Market Affair, Casey Aimer, Star*Line 46.4

Mom's Surprise, Francis W. Alexander, Tales from the Moonlit Path June

A Murder of Crows, Alicia Hilton, Ice Queen 11

No One Now Remembers, Geoffrey Landis, Fantasy and Science Fiction Nov./Dec.

orion conquers the sky, Maria Zoccula, On Spec 33.2

Pines in the Wind, Karen Greenbaum-Maya, The Beautiful Leaves (Bamboo Dart Press)

The Poet Responds to an Invitation from the AI on the Moon, T.D. Walker, Radon Journal 5

A Prayer for the Surviving, Marisca Pichette, Haven Speculative 9

Pre-Nuptial, F. J. Bergmann, The Vampiricon (Mind's Eye Publications)

The Problem of Pain, Anna Cates, Eye on the Telescope 49

The Return of the Sauceress, F. J. Bergmann, The Flying Saucer Poetry Review February

Sea Change, David C. Kopaska-Merkel and Ann K. Schwader, Scifaikuest May

Seed of Power, Linda D. Addison, The Book of Witches ed. Jonathan Strahan (Harper Collins)

Sleeping Beauties, Carina Bissett, HWA Poetry Showcase X

Solar Punks, J. D. Harlock, The Dread Machine 3.1

Song of the Last Hour, Samuel A. Betiku, The Deadlands 22

Sphinx, Mary Soon Lee, Asimov's September/October

Storm Watchers (a drabbun), Terrie Leigh Relf, Space & Time

Sunflower Astronaut, Charlie Espinosa, Strange Horizons July

Three Hearts as One, G. O. Clark, Asimov's May/June

Troy, Carolyn Clink, Polar Starlight 12

Twenty-Fifth Wedding Anniversary, John Grey, Medusa's Kitchen September

Under World, Jacqueline West, Carmina Magazine September

Walking in the Starry World, John Philip Johnson, Orion's Belt May

Whispers in Ink, Angela Yuriko Smith, Whispers from Beyond (Crystal Lake Publishing)

Long Poems (25 finalists)

Archivist of a Lost World, Gerri Leen, Eccentric Orbits 4

As the witch burns, Marisca Pichette, Fantasy 87

Brigid the Poet, Adele Gardner, Eternal Haunted Summer Summer Solstice

Coding a Demi-griot (An Olivian Measure), Armoni “Monihymn” Boone, Fiyah 26

Cradling Fish, Laura Ma, Strange Horizons May

Dream Visions, Melissa Ridley Elmes, Eccentric Orbits 4

Eight Dwarfs on Planet X, Avra Margariti, Radon Journal 3

The Giants of Kandahar, Anna Cates, Abyss & Apex 88

How to Haunt a Northern Lake, Lora Gray, Uncanny 55

Impostor Syndrome, Robert Borski, Dreams and Nightmares 124

The Incessant Rain, Rhiannon Owens, Evermore 3

Interrogation About A Monster During Sleep Paralysis, Angela Liu, Strange Horizons November

Little Brown Changeling, Lauren Scharhag, Aphelion 283

A Mere Million Miles from Earth, John C. Mannone, Altered Reality April

Pilot, Akua Lezli Hope, Black Joy Unbound eds. Stephanie Andrea Allen & Lauren Cherelle (BLF Press)

Protocol, Jamie Simpher, Small Wonders 5

Sleep Dragon, Herb Kauderer, The Book of Sleep (Written Image Press)

Slow Dreaming, Herb Kauderer, The Book of Sleep (Written Image Press)

St. Sebastian Goes To Confession, West Ambrose, Mouthfeel 1

Value Measure, Joseph Halden and Rhonda Parrish, Dreams and Nightmares 125

A Weather of My Own Making, Nnadi Samuel, Silver Blade 56

Welcoming the New Girl, Beth Cato, Penumbric October

What You Find at the Center, Elizabeth R McClellan, Haven Spec Magazine 12

The Witch Makes Her To-Do List, Theodora Goss, Uncanny 50

The Year It Changed, David C. Kopaska-Merkel, Star*Line 46.4

Voting for the Rhysling Award begins July 1; a link to the ballot will be sent with the Rhysling Anthology, as well as with the July issue of Star*Line. More information on the Rhysling Award can be found here.

[artyandink]

that’s my man (and my woman)

Summary: Your kids are curious little buggers. Asking questions about everything and anything under the sun. So there comes the complications of when your kids ask you if you’ve fallen in love before. How will you explain everything? Time to put your imagination to use.

A/N - I’ve been putting out a lot of sexy fics recently. Why not some fluff?

Song Inspo: Style - Taylor Swift and Perfect - Ed Sheeran

It took so long just to get two human beings to eat breakfast.

“Charlie, Sam, breakfast!” You called up the stairs, sighing after you did. Your hands were on your hips in true mom fashion, and disbelief and faux-regret was your adrenaline high this time as you wondered why exactly you had kids. That you loved to death despite their poor eating schedule. “Come on, I made pancakes.”

The thundering of little feet on the stairs told you that you had two incoming hurricanes.

Your seven year old boy, Sam, and your five year old girl, Charlie, appeared at the bottom of the stairs with broad smiles, crashing into you for a bear hug that knocked the wind out of your sails. You laughed as you hugged them back, giving a few pats of their head each. “Hey, there. Ready for breakfast?”

“Is there syrup?” Charlie asked eagerly, running and hopping into a high chair, grabbing her plate of pancakes and bringing it to her with a familiar lick of her lips and happy, twitchy grin. Sam had gotten his father’s hair, while Charlie had gotten yours. But the eyes were swapped around, and it was always a point of laughing. Not one child could be more like one or the other.

Arguably, both kids had their father’s dimples and smile. So yes, he could stake his claim.

“And whipped cream?” Sam added with a toothy grin.

“Raspberries?”

“Blueberries?”

You shook your head with a chuckle; such chatterboxes. You opened the fridge and a cabinet, getting out the maple syrup, whipped cream and strawberries. “Not too much, ok?” You passed the toppings to them, and with a chorused ‘yes, mom’, they proceeded to completely disregard your orders. It made you shake your head again, huffing out a breath when all sense of scolding them disappeared once you saw the golden morning light hitting their little heads as they squealed and laughed.

Kids. You loved them to bits.

“Mom,” Charlie asked through a bite of pancake and whipped cream that smeared over her mouth, “have you ever loved someone before?”

The question startled you slightly, but you grabbed a kitchen towel, cleaning her lips with a soft smile as she shied away with a shriek of delight, little bunches waving about wildly. “Course I have, sweetie. But only once.”

“Ooh, tell me, tell me!” She giggled, while Sam cringed a little, muttering a small ‘gross’ that got a sharp glare and pout from Charlie. Out of care for his little sister, he shut himself up.

You took a slow breath in to give yourself time to think, leaning on the counter and putting down the paper towel. “Well, it started a long time ago. When I was twenty six, all young.”

“That’s old.” Sam wrinkled his nose in confusion. You scoffed lightly, because it damn wasn’t, but he was just a kid.

“Behave, Samuel.” You ruffled his hair with a laugh. “We met at my old job. 4th October, 2006. He had his brother with him. Now, I thought he was trouble. He had a leather jacket and one of those really fancy, loud cars and he was very popular with girls.” You reached out to tickle Charlie’s side, which had her squeaking. “But he was likeable, and charming, so I wanted to bump into him more often.”

“Was he cool?” Sam perked up, suddenly very interested. “He sounds cool.”

You pinched his chin affectionately. “The coolest. But our job was very tiring. We went through a lot of big stuff, like I told you in your bedtime stories. There would be vampires and werewolves and fairies of all kinds, but he and I would always save the day. And if we didn’t, we’d save the next day.”

“You saved the world!” Charlie exclaimed, making an aeroplane with a pancake bite on her fork. The action sent a flutter of warmth and love through your chest. For your family. Something you thought you’d never have.

You nodded, guiding the bite to her mouth gently before your hyperactive child sent the fork flying. “That’s right, gumdrop. We saved the world.” It was like telling a story, of you and your prince. “I couldn’t help but love him. He’d call me sweetheart and hold me tight. He’d look at me with a wide smile on his face, just for me. And he told me I was the one he was looking for.”

“That’s corny.” Sam piped up, but he also had a wide, goofy, dimpled grin on his face. He leaned forward. “So, where is he now? Did you two leave each other?”

“Well, he-” The sound of the door opening and closing echoed through the house, followed by soft padding steps and heavier ones not so far behind.

“Sweetheart, I’m home!” A familiar voice called, the deep one which always had your stomach doing flips. That you heard murmuring sweet nothings in your ear every damn day. “C’mon Miracle, stay still- attaboy. Such a good boy.”

“That would be your father.” You sighed, not in a disappointed way, but a lovesick teenager way because hearing the word ‘sweetheart’ from your husband’s mouth never got old.

Your husband. Damn, you didn’t think you’d make it to that point. Not when Chuck was still a threat. Or even that rebar that Jack saved him from.

Your kids shrieked happily and practically flew off their high chairs, sprinting towards their dad, who was busy taking off his jacket in the hallway.

Dean Winchester. All 6’ 1” of flannel and denim, but this time with burden-free smiles and lit up looks.

When he saw his two munchkins, the jacket was off in a flash and he’d bent to one knee in order to absorb the impact of two koala hugs. “Aw, hey, squirt number one and two. Hope you didn’t give your mom much trouble.”

It felt so much better than the impact of a punch. Indescribably better.

“Dad!” The two giggled at the same time, accepting two kisses on the forehead each while being smothered by their dad’s strong arms. Warm and comforting and no longer instruments of destruction.

They’d always be somewhat like that, Dean thought in the back of his mind. The seed of doubt sowing in again.

Then Dean saw you in the hallway, and his brain forgot to work, doubts forgot to sow and crept into the dark corner it came from. You, his wife (he never got tired of the way that word rolled off his tongue), Mrs Winchester, standing there all pretty looking at him with those eyes of yours that always saw through his crap and often jackassery.

Dressed up in his undershirt, your sweats with the last few winks of sleep yet to go from your eyes, but still working yourself to the bone to make sure your kids had a good meal. A far cry of the days where he’d look up, see you covered in blood that wasn’t yours, adrenaline-pumped with that sexy fire in your eyes, machete in hand instead of that ring he bought around your finger.

He preferred this look on you. It meant you were safe.

Dean watched as you gave Miracle an idle scratch before ushering the kids into the kitchen, then walking up to him and wrapping those gorgeous arms around his neck, gorgeous eyes twinkling and your gorgeous lips stretched into a smile.

The whole nine yards, apple pie and picket fence of gorgeous and it was all his. All his personal heaven.

“Mrs Winchester.” He murmured, nudging your nose with his as his arms circled your waist, drawing you in and gripping your hips with both underlying possessiveness and a tender glow in those emerald eyes. Your soul soaring and low, warm vibrations in your body increasing until it was at the frequency of his. Syncing you both.

“Mr Winchester.” You giggled softly as you let your lips meet his once, pulling back. Then you couldn’t help yourself, letting them meet in holy matrimony again. And again. And again, over and over until you were both mentally and physically restraining yourselves due to your children being in the next room.

“We have to stop.” Dean chuckled, his hand tangling in your hair as the other inched down from its place on your hip, taking yet another hit of your honeyed lips.

“We do.” You whispered back, meeting his ministrations with the slow massage of your thumb against his scalp from where your fingers ran through his hair, your other hand on his chest.

Over his heart.

“Hard to when y’looking so pretty, darlin’, and you know it.” He huffed, nuzzling your nose before dipping to press a slow, hot kiss to your jugular. “Wearin’ my shirt too, hardens the bargain. And these sweats, god, you know what they do for your ass.” As if to punctuate his point (and sentence), he gave a quick, firm slap to it. “Ain’t makin’ it easy for me here, baby.”

“Dean!” You squeaked, giggling. “Our kids are in the kitchen.”

“Lil’ buggers. My sex drive’s arch nemesis.” He groaned against your neck, but listened anyway, taking his hand off your ass and cupping your cheeks, pressing a loving kiss to your forehead, then hairline. “C’mon.” You two made your way to the kitchen, where Miracle then padded over, rearing on his hind legs to paw at Dean’s jeans for attention. He obliged, bending down to ruffle Miracle’s golden coat.

“Hey, boy.” He whispered, fingers doing good work to give Miracle the love he was whining for. “I love you a lot, ok? But I’ve got a wife, a very sweet, very sexy…” Dean gave you a once over with a lick of his lip and a quick bite of the bottom one, “wife. And I wanna get her in bed today, so don’t ruin this one for me. All respect given. Alright?”

A small whimper of affirmation.

“Attaboy.” Dean gave Miracle a quick scratch behind the ear before straightening up.

“C’mon, mom, tell us what happened to the cool guy!” Sam insisted, which had Dean raising an eyebrow at you in question. Cool guy? Who, what, when, where, how, why?

“Yeah, the one that stole your heart and put rainbows in your eyes!” Charlie added, making a heart with her tiny hands.

Dean smirked, leaning against the counter by his hip. “Oh? Who stole your heart and put rainbows in your eyes, honey? Do tell.”

“First of all, I did not say that.” You chuckled, raising a finger.

“You don’t have to. It’s all here.” Charlie pointed to her own eyes with an intense stare at her finger and a cute pout. It almost had you melting. “But tell us!”

“Oh, fine.” You rolled your eyes playfully with a laugh, then took Dean’s hand and kissed the battle-scarred knuckle.

The gesture making Dean internally melt and externally making his eyes fill up with hearts and his lips twitch into a warm smile.

“I married him.” You said softly, your eyes mirroring the same look.

“Damn right.” He chuckled, leaning forward and meeting your lips in a sweet, slow kiss. Free from the stress of an Apocalypse or a battle. That tasted like coffee and toothpaste rather than beer or whiskey and had no rush. His hand cradling your cheek while yours gently cupped the back of his head. Breathing in his body wash that wasn’t low grade anymore. You still had the unlimited credit cards, so you had more time for things like these. The little things.

You became absorbed in everything Dean, the kiss not as passionate as when he’d dipped you and took your breath away in front of a crowd of hunters on your wedding day but still had the same meaning. The whispers of the vows you two had choked out through tears. He became absorbed in you, in the sweet taste of a croissant on your tongue and your floral scent dizzying and overwhelming his senses in a good way. It was you he was feeling. It felt like you, so real, so safe. It felt like home.

“Ewwww!” You were interrupted by Sam and Charlie, and you broke apart, foreheads pressing together with a soft laugh coming from the both of you.

His hand on your waist, yours carding through his hair. Comfort, assurance, something you both had been deprived of for fifteen straight years. You wouldn’t let being Mrs Winchester go. Not now, not ever.

Mrs Winchester. Never got old.

I’d appreciate a like, comment and/or reblog! Make sure to do this for all your favourite writers so they get inspiration!

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@a-girl-who-loves-disney @jeneelsworld @deans-spinster-witch @deanspinsterwitchs-readinglist @kayleighwinchester

[fangirl-dot-com]

Epilogue - Sign of the Times

Just stop your crying it’s the sign of the times… Welcome to the final show, I hope you’re wearing your best clothes… 

Here it was. The last lap of the 2025 season. Sweat pooled on your forehead as you kept pushing the car to its max. A car similar was right on your tail, and you wanted to keep him that way. You could see the finish line start to get closer. With an inhale and an exhale, you crossed the line with such speed. 

“FOR THE SECOND TIME IN HISTORY, THE POINTS WERE EQUALLED BEFORE THE FINAL RACE. IN THE BEGINNING OF THIS RACE, WE THOUGHT THE CHAMPIONSHIP WAS GOING DUTCH ONCE AGAIN, BUT NOT IF Y/N L/N HAS ANYTHING TO SAY ABOUT IT. SHE HAS FOUGHT BRILLIANTLY THIS SEASON AND CAN ONLY BE REWARDED WITH ONE THING! Y/N L/N IS CHAMPION OF THE WORLD!” 

You can’t bribe the door on your way to the sky… You look pretty good down here, you ain’t really good…

Your eyes flitted around your helmet as you finished your burnouts. Your heart was racing so quickly. Tears were pooling in your eyes. Was this it? Was what they were saying true? You wouldn’t believe it until you got out of the car. The “1” on the board in Parc Ferme seemed to stare at you as you climbed out. You looked at your team, who were all screaming and shaking the barrier. 

Like normal, you stood up on the car and raised a hand. Only this time, your pointer finger was out, as if you had counted to one and suddenly stopped. You stepped off the car and kneeled down next to a tyre. Your helmet rested for a moment against the cooling rubber. A hand lightly tugged you up and wrapped you in their arms. 

Oh yeah. 

You had beaten Max in the last two laps of the race, claiming the P1 spot at the end. The Dutchman was shaking you around, celebrating. But, he had lost. 

“KID, KID, YOU DID IT! I KNEW YOU COULD DO IT!” 

Your eyes were wide as you looked up at him. They quickly turned into half crescents as you smiled at him, starting to jump up and down with him. You never left his arms. 

“I’M A WORLD CHAMPION. OH MY GOSH. OH MY GOSH!” 

Max let you go as you turned around to jump to the team. You jumped so far in that you took the barrier down with you. Sobs left your lips as everyone wanted to get their hands on their new champion. Hugs, helmet kissed, and pats were tenfold. 

Later that evening, your flag was draped around your shoulders as you held your head high for your national anthem. You could remember how you were on this step just one year ago, third place in the championship.  However, this year, you stood on that top step as Champion of the World.

redbullracing has posted

redbullracing for the first time ever, Y/n L/n is Champion of the World!

liked by verstappen33, arthur_leclerc, lewishamilton, and 6,294,018 others

y/n.nation OH MY GOSH OH MY GOSH OH MY GOSH 😱

y/n&co LETS GO LETS GO THAT'S MY DRIVER

box_box_express YOUNGEST AND FIRST FEMALE TO WIN THE WDC

y/n.89 I still think I'm dreaming

landonorris in that case bug, I'll GLADLY take the trophy

y/n.89 NO YOU WILL NOT BACK OFF 🤺

lestappenlove I NEVER THOUGHT I'D SEE THIS DAY

If we never learn, we’ve been here before… Why are we always stuck and running from the bullets?  The bullets…

“CHARLIE!”

The Monegasque barely had any time to react as your body soon collided with his. He felt as though the wind had been knocked out of him for the second time that night. Your hands were on his shoulders, shaking him widely. It wasn’t long before Max joined you around Charles as well. Max had brought him into a bone crushing hug, while you waited to the side with Arthur, whose tears hadn’t stopped since the second to end lap. 

The fireworks in the Abu Dhabi night sky were blood red. The crowds around them mimicked their shine and color in devotion for the driver who stood in the middle of the crowd. 

When Max broke the hug, Arthur was the one to take his brother back in his arms. You and Max let the two have their moments. Among your jewelry that you were putting back on after the race was a pretty special ring. The Dutchman’s eyes widened as he saw you slip in onto your left hand’s fourth finger. You smiled up at him and winked. A groan left his lips. 

“Has Charles been teaching you how to wink? Or is that a Leclerc special that you pick up if you’re marrying one of them.” 

A giggle left your lips as Max’s whining, but it wasn’t long until he gave you a hug. His head rested on top of yours as you just stood there. 

For the 2026 season, Lewis and Charles had built a literal fighter jet. There was no way that yours and Max’s cars could ever keep up. With the new regulations, Newey just seemed a bit lost. However, he was understanding them little by little and promised a championship contending car for next year. 

But, you couldn’t even be sad about losing to Charles. And you had a feeling that Max felt the same way. The Monegasque deserved it, everything, and a little bit more. Lewis, in the bright red, stood next to him. He wore a proud smile for the teammate that he got so close to in the past two years. 

You stepped away from Max and made your way to the Briton. The man opened his arm and let you slip right in. A sigh left your lips as you watched Charles jump into the sea of red, thanking the team for finally loving him the right way. 

You sniffed, suddenly getting a bit emotional. And you knew why. 

You didn’t look up at Lewis as you spoke quietly. 

“You’re retiring right? I can feel it Lew, you don’t have to lie.” 

Just stop your crying it’s a sign of the times,  We gotta get away from here, we gotta get away from here 

Lewis’s chest rose, his breath slightly hitching, letting you know that you were correct. His grip only got tighter around your shoulders. A quiet “yeah” left his lips. You knew how heartbreaking it must have been to see you win in 2025 and then Charles in 2026, never giving Lewis a chance to get his 8th.

“I’m happy though. It’s been a long time coming. Fernando retired last year and has decided to just not come back, I guess it’s finally my time then.” 

Tears started to drip out of your eyes. If anyone saw, they might have guessed that you were crying for joy about your friend’s win. But they didn’t know that you’d be crying for your friend’s loss too. 

“Don’t cry sweetie. I’ll be around.” 

“I’ll miss you Lew.” 

“I know kid. I know. But I’m here if you ever need me.” 

Fireworks went off again, igniting the sky and bleeding it red. 

y/n.89 and arthur_leclerc have posted

y/n.89 the Leclercs 2027 🖤🤍

liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc, olliebearman, and 7,295,097 others

y/n.nation WHAT IN TARNATION IS THIS??

rb4ever I THOUGHT I saw a ring on her finger during the post-race interviews!!

maxverstappen1 I will have people know that I was the first to know

charles_leclerc um, excuse me?? Arthur phoned me after 😌

landonorris who do you think took the pictures?? 🤨

olliebearman who do you think he brought to get the ring - I win

formulala_delulu a match made in the stars!!

Just stop your crying it’ll be alright  They told me that the end is near, we gotta get away from here  Just stop your crying, have the time of your life  Breaking through the atmosphere, and things are pretty good from here

The chilled air made goosebumps arise on your arms under your long sleeved dress. You huffed as you stood outside the area, waiting for the signal to start walking. But one person was missing. Your head violently turned left and right, mind getting worried that he was going to miss the cue. When a hand touched your arm, you knee he had finally made it. 

“Vito, you were making me sweat, and then you were going to make me cry if you missed this,” you whined out. 

The older man rolled his eyes. 

“I would never do that to you. And isn’t it bad if you cry on your wedding day?” 

A huff left your lips. You wanted to say something snarky, but soft piano music began to fill the area. You knew there was a brilliant white piano being played by a talented world champion right now, urging you to start walking. 

Your arm was wrapped around Vito’s bicep as you started walking down the white cloth that had been laid down earlier in the day. 

Arthur stood on the opposite end, a nice destination of where you’d end up. Charles smiled softly at the piano as he watched his brother’s exterior start to crumble at the sight of you in your white dress. Quite possibly, tears of his own began to fall on the baby grand. 

Christian stood near Arthur and gave the younger man a tissue. Arthur took it with no hesitation. Max stood a next to a little space where Charles would come back to stand once he was done playing. 

The Dutchman had been surprised when Arthur had asked him to be a groomsman. The two laughed when Arthur mentioned that if Max didn’t take his offer, you’d make him a bridesmaid and make him wear a dress. Max had never accepted something so quickly. Ollie stood next to Max, also crying at the sight of you. These were his best friends getting married, how was he supposed to stay calm. 

After what felt like an eternity to you and Arthur, the two of you were finally back in each other’s arms. 

You whispered a “hi” to him as he took your hands. 

Arthur just cried a bit more. 

The wedding was beautiful. The colors complimented everything so well in the Italian countryside where you and Arthur held the ceremony. Your estate would host the commencement activities. You had Arthur had talked about permanently moving in so that you two could start your new lives together. But, you’d still keep your Monaco house for visits to Max and the family. 

Speaking of, your eyes landed on Kelly in the crowd. You wanted her to be in your wedding so much, but the little baby in her arms made if just fine if she couldn’t stand with you. You remember crying when Max asked you to be the godmother of his son, Adriaan Daan Verstappen. Oh well, you’d get baby snuggles later. Max and Kelly’s wedding was planned for the 2028 summer break, hence why your wedding was in December of 2027. 

Max was back to being world champion, which was fine with you. You’d let him break his own record and then destroy it later on. 

The rest of the 2024 grid were also there, along with a lot of the past F2 boys that loved Arthur as their own. 

The vows were read and the ceremony ended shortly after. As you walked back down the aisle, finally known as Mrs. Y/n Leclerc, your eyes landed on an empty seat. A picture of Lorenzo sat there, reminding everyone about the man who loved you more than life itself. 

Last night, you had heard Arthur whispering out the window. Tears had welled when you understood his words. 

“I know that you love Y/n so much Enzo. I wish that you could have been here to see tomorrow, she looks so beautiful, even if I haven’t seen the dress. I just wanted to let you know that she’s doing ok. I am here to love her so much. I know I can never replace you, but I hope you can rest easier knowing that she finally has people who also love her so much.” 

We can meet again somewhere  Somewhere far away from here…

Arthur gave you a kiss on your cheek as he led you back down the aisle. 

“Hello wife,” he said, gathering you in his arms after you rounded the corner out of sight. 

You pressed a kiss to his lips. “Hello husband.” 

During the “after party,” you couldn’t stop giggling as you got ready to throw the bouquet. You knew what was going to happen right after, and you made sure to throw it in the direction of the certain bridesmaid. 

Charles had asked for your permission for this weeks and advance and you had happily accepted. You threw the bouquet, praying that it went in the right direction. Once you turned around, a smile grew on your lips as you saw that Alex had caught it. And right behind her was Charles on one knee. 

You couldn’t wait to gain a sister. 

y/n.89 and arthur_leclerc have posted

arthur_leclerc can't wait to spend forever with you 💍

liked by y/n.89, oscarpiastri, pascale_leclerc, and 7,943,857 others

y/nxarthur wow, I've legit had a front row seat to this entire relationship

maxiel_lover most of the drivers from 2024 where there 🥺

y/n.89 forever is too short

arthur_leclerc I'll love you in every universe and all of eternity

landonorris gag.

charles_leclerc get a fiancé and then we'll listen to you norizz

y/n.89 not on my wedding post please boys

landonorris yes ma'am

y/n.leclerc I will be sobbing forever

We never learn, we been here before Why are we always suck and running from the bullets?  The bullets…

You walked into the garage, a smile on your face as you watched Max take pole for the last time in Formula 1. The crew around you cheered once the final times were set. On the wall next to you read the names and years of yours and Max’s championships. 

The 2025 was yours, 2026 wasn’t on there, but 2027 to 2030 was all Max. He had finally broken the 7 championship record 2 races ago, winning his beloved 8th World Championship. You would have made him battle it out till the last race, but you couldn’t have done that since the 2028 season. Liam had done a good job in your car, keeping it warm until you could return. 

Max stepped into the garage, eyes still full of life at 33 year old. He was practically a baby still if you remember how old Lewis and Fernando were when they retired. His eyes lit up as they landed on you. Before he could say anything, a screech sounded in the garage. 

“MAXIE!” 

The two-year-old in your arms wiggled until you put her down. Her little legs took her to her favorite godfather, much to Charles’ chagrin of wanting to be the favorite uncle. Except Max didn’t need to know that Ferrari was Lottie’s favorite team. The Leclerc’s love for the Italian Prancing Horse was definitely written in their genetics. 

Charlotte Pascale Maxine Leclerc was born almost one year after yours and Arthur’s wedding. The announcement raised some eyebrows and you could see some adults calculating in their heads. But they ignored everything once she was born. Brown hair and bright hazel eyes were surely going to break hearts when she was older. She was a carbon copy of Arthur. 

With you getting pregnant, you’d have to miss at least 2 years of Formula 1. You also didn’t want to miss any of her firsts so you announced a semi-permanent retirement for the 2028, 2029, and 2030 seasons. You may have cried when Max said that he was going to retire while you weren’t racing. But, you knew why he was doing it.  

Penelope was 11 and Adriaan was 3. Max didn’t want to have to miss any more of their lives that he already had. 

The Dutchman bent down to pick the toddler up. 

“Hey kid.”

You knew he wasn’t talking to Lottie. You rolled your eyes as you approached him and gave him a hug. 

“I’m not a kid anymore Max. I have a kid. So it kind of cancels everything out.” 

Max only looked down at you with a smile. 

“You’ll always be my kid, no matter what.” 

“Sure Maximillian.” 

We never learn, we been here before 

Max this time did not roll his eyes or comment how that was not his name. He’s played this game before, and he’ll finally let you have it. 

“Are you sure I can’t convince you to stay one more season?” 

He put a hand on your shoulder. 

“I’ll be close by, don’t worry. I told you that I’d be here for all of it. I’m not breaking that promise.” 

y/n.89 has posted

y/n.89 Lottie insisted she watch Maxie drive the car with Adriaan 💙

liked by leclercfam, y/nsnumber1, kellypiquet, and 8,230,185 others

leclercfam STOP STOP STOP THEY'RE SO CUTIEEEE

rbxferrari I can't believe Lottie is turning 3 this year???

charles_leclerc still the favorite uncle 😚

maxverstappen1 not if Lottie has anything to say about it

charles_leclerc says the man whose son was in Ferrari merch earlier

y/n.89 max I fear Charles wins this time

charles_leclerc HA

maxverstappen1 you win ONE championship and your ego grows by 10 thousand

y/n4ever dare I say I'll miss them all like this?

Why are we always stuck and running from the bullets?  The bullets…

“MAX EMILLIAN VERSTAPPEN AND CHARLES MARC HERVE PERCEVAL LECLERC! WHEN I GET MY HANDS ON YOU, YOU’RE BOTH DEAD!”  

Max and Charles looked over at Arthur with pleading eyes. 

“Help us.”

Your husband only looked at them with pity. 

“Shouldn’t have waited to tell her. Now she knows because of Instagram.” 

Both drivers, er well, a team principal and driver winced at the sound of your footsteps getting closer and closer. 

Charles immediately grabbed his son from Alex. 

“I have a baby Y/n! You can’t do anything.” 

Little Jules Herve Anthoine Leclerc looked up at his dad with big and round, green eyes, making cooing noises at everything, blissfully unaware that his aunt was about to try to kill his father. 

“But Max doesn’t!” 

Just stop your crying it’s a sign of the times  We gotta get away from here, we gotta get away from here 

Max slightly paled as he looked around for a child to grab, but Lottie was already in Arthur’s lap by the time you got down the stairs. He winced when you landed on the ground floor. You, Arthur, and Lottie had come to visit after Charles called that Alex had gone into labor. Your family of three hadn’t planned to stay this long, since it had been three weeks, but Lottie had insisted that she wanted to see Maxie, Pen, Adri, and Aunt Kelly. 

Your phone showed an Instagram post from Red Bull Racing. 

“Should I read this Max or do you just want to tell me?” you raised an eyebrow as you asked. Max winced again. This was the ultimate betrayal. 

Arthur, looking at Max with glee, asked you to read it. The Monegasque didn’t react when he felt the Dutchman’s glare on him. You only hummed as you began to read.

“Max Verstappen will officially return to the F1 paddock, not as a driver, but as the Team Principal of Oracle Red Bull Racing. 

“We are also delighted to announced that Charles Leclerc will be racing alongside Y/n L/n, as she returns from her retirement in the 2031 season.” 

Max tried to give you a smile. 

“Surprise?”

You turned to Charles, who tried not to jump due to Jules falling asleep in his arms. Your eyes narrowed. 

“I’m going to be champion again this year. You can eat my dust for this.” 

Laughter erupted from the small group. Lottie had no clue what was going on, but she crawled off of Arthur lap and demanded that she be held in your arms. Her head rested on your chest as you rocked lightly back and forth. You hadn’t planned to have her so early at 25, but the little girl in your arms was your pride and joy. 

She tried to give her best stink eye to her uncle and godfather. She pointed her little finger at them. 

“Maman is going to be champion!” her little voice squeaked out. 

And Lottie was right. 

Maman was going to be champion from 2031 to 2034, adding another four to her one.

Only four more to go. 

Stop your crying, baby, it’ll be alright  They told me that the end is near, we gotta get away from here 

You looked up at Arthur with a smile. The now 36-year-old stood shirtless, with a small baby on his chest. The TV in the hospital room was playing the 2035 Abu Dhabi Grand Prix. Like they had back in 2026, the red fireworks lit up the night. 

You knew what was coming after Charles won this year. The promises of retirement hung over his head as you watched another one of your friends leave the sport. 

The only ones that remained from your fateful 2024 season were Lando and Oscar (still with McLaren), Logan and Lance (racing together for Aston Martin), George (who raced with Kimi for Mercedes), and then Yuki and Pierre (who found each other again in now back to Torro Rosso). 

Daniel retired the year before Max along with Valtteri, Kevin, and Nico. 

You looked up at your husband. 

“Are you ok if it’s just him and Lottie? I’d like to continue racing until I retire and I don’t think any more kids might be possible after?” 

Arthur looked at you with a smile. 

“That is more than ok chéri. I think Lottie will just enjoy little Lorenzo Oliver Alessandro Leclerc’s company.�� 

You peered up at him. 

“You do not have to keep saying his full name, you know that right.” 

Arthur stepped over to the bed right as Charles was getting out of his car, finally a second time world champion. He gently put Enzo into your arms and gently rubbed over his head that was covered with blond hair. The same shade of eyes looked up into yours as your son took in the sight of you. If Lottie could be Arthur’s copy, Enzo was yours. 

Arthur sighed. 

“I can call him whatever I want. It’s not fair that he was named after Ollie and not his own father.” 

“Bebe, you said you were fine with it.” 

He knew you were teasing. 

“It is all jokes ma chéri.” 

Charles voice sounded in the room through the TV speaker. Arthur turned up the volume to hear his brother.  

“I am so thankful for this opportunity for one more championship. I have loved driving for Red Bull and previously for Ferrari. But, uh, I feel as though this is my closing chapter.” 

Mark Webber was the one to be interviewing Charles. 

The Australian asked, “So is this a retirement announcement?” 

The Monegasque gave a small smile. “It would seem so. I’ve given all that I can to the sport. It is time for me to continue my life with my family.” 

Mark clapped him on the shoulder. 

“I know I can speak for the entire Formula 1 world when I say that you will be missed.” 

y/n.89 and arthur_leclerc have posted

y/n.89 little Lorenzo Oliver Alessandro Leclerc, you're more cherished than you will ever know

liked by oliverbearman, logansargeant, y/n&fam, and 9,205,834 others

leclerc_family not all of their kids having multiple middle names💀

y/n.nation them naming little Enzo after Lorenzo - don't bother the tears 😭

landonorris so...when am I getting a kid named after me?

oscarpiastri and me?

logansargeant and me?????

olliebearman hoes mad - you're just not superior 😝

y/n.89 sorry boys, no more kids, I'll name the dog after you

iamred_iamyellow I just know that little Enzo and little Jules are going to be best of friends

We never learn, we been here before  Why are we always stuck and running from the bullets?  The bullets We never learn we been here before  Why are we always stuck and running from the bullets?  The bullets…

You sat back on a tyre of your car, looking out at the crowds. You could finally breathe easily for maybe the first time of the 2040 season. The battle was tough. All the rookies this year gave you a run for your money. 

But you had done it. Finally. 

Nine championships to your name. One of a kind feat. Probably never to be repeated until the end of time. 

You calmly walked over to the barrier. Arthur stood with your 13 year old daughter and 4 year old son. When had they gotten so much bigger? You were scared after Enzo was born, getting back into racing so quickly, unlike you had done with Lottie. But Arthur was with you every step of the way. So were Charles and Alex, and so were Max and Kelly. 

You gathered your family into your arms and let yourself cry. Tears of sadness for the sport you loved with every fiber of your being, and tears of joy of finally accomplishing your one dream. It had taken 17 years for you to finally get what you wanted. 

We don’t talk enough We should open up Before it’s all too much

At Milton Keynes, the years 2025, 2031, 2032, 2033, 2034, 2036, 2037, 2039, and then finally 2040 were hung in lights along the walls. You could have been done last year, but Lando had decided that he needed one championship in 2038. You were proud of the Papaya boy. All of his hard work finally paid off. And now he could have all the chances as he finished second this year. 

You had one request for this podium. You wanted everyone up there with you. Arthur made sure that everyone from the 2024 grid was there.

(Yes, even Esteban). 

The drivers you were close with when you were 20, watched as you were crowned World Champion for the ninth and last time ever. Max had red eyes the entire night. He made sure to splash you extra with the champagne. Your kids ran around squealing as their uncle Charles shot bits of bubbly at them. 

It felt like a dream, to be up there with all of your found family. After the first few times, you thought that celebrating a championship would get boring. But, you were wrong. Each time was even more special than the first. 

On the way back to the hotel, you looked to the back seat at your two kids. Both had fallen asleep the moment the car started moving. You blamed yourself and Arthur for driving them around as babies, and now car noise was the best way to put them to sleep. 

Arthur looked over at you, smiling softly as he watched you look at your children with such love. 

You whispered, breaking the silence, “I have more than I could have ever dreamed. And it makes me think that this is a dream, that I’m going to wake back up in 2023 in my drivers room and not be able to do anything.” 

A quick pinch was given to your leg. 

“Ouch Thur!” you whined as you rubbed the sore part. 

Arthur had that teasing glint in his eyes that you missed so dearly. 

“I don’t think it’s a dream chéri. You’re more awake than ever.” 

redbullracing has posted

redbullracing our golden girl in her golden year, for the ninth and last time, Y/n L/n is Champion of the World ⭐️

liked by maxverstappen1, logansargeant, y/n.nation, and 10,583,850 others

y/n.nation thank you Y/n for all that you have done! it's time for you to finally relax with your family!

formula1fan at first I was annoyed with the domination, but Y/n deserves it more than anyone - you will be missed champ

y/n.89 my team, I am so proud to have been your girl - let it be known I am the golden child of Red Bull

maxverstappen1 um, no, you're not the original

charles_leclerc I was the golden boy at Ferrari AND Red Bull

sebastianvettel sit down, the original golden child is here

redbullracing we love you all equally

y/n.89 ... I'm still the favorite tho

author it's the end of an era, thanks kid for everything - stay golden

Will we ever learn?  We’ve been here before It’s just what we know

At 42-years-old, you sat in a chair, looking over the estate watching Lottie and Enzo all play with Max’s family and Charles’s family. A drink was in your hand as you used the condensation to cool down from the hot Italian sun. 

Retirement from all motorsports had been your decision alone. 

Ollie and Dorian Pin had the two coveted Red Bull seats, however, Lando and Oscar were really duking it out for a world championship. You knew that the two would be fine. 

After Formula 1, you did two years of endurance racing, winning Le Mans twice and the Endurance championship once in the years of 2041 and 2042. 

In 2043, you tried out IndyCar, only wanting to win one race: The Indy500. Thankfully, you’d been able to do so in the only year you wanted to. 

Thus, becoming the second person in history to win the Triple Crown of Motorsports, and the only female. It felt nice, breaking yet another record, even if someone had done it before you. But, it didn’t feel as nice as it did right now. 

Arthur came out of the house behind you and sat on his chair that was built for him. When you had come back home, you wanted two seats in the backyard to be able to watch your children play for hours. 

Lorenzo had told you a story of your parents on year. It was about the time when they truly loved each other. They too had matching chairs outlooking their own backyard. You wished you could have such memories of you parents. But now, you rarely thought of them. 

Because in the end, you didn’t need them. 

A tear ran down your face as you continued to watch Penelope, Adriaan, Lottie, Jules, and Enzo play under the Italian sunset. 

“Why are you crying chéri?” 

Arthur’s hand had come to your face to wipe the single tear away. 

You didn’t look at him and kept watching the family that you built out of love and dreams.

“I’m happy, so happy.” 

Stop your crying, baby it’s a sign of the times…

TAG LIST: @fionaschicken @glitterquadricorn @laura-naruto-fan1998 @treehouse-mouse @sam-is-lost @kagatinkita @fangirl125reader @megatrilss1885 @myxticmoon @angsthology @cmleitora @fly-me-away @graciewrote @ashy-kit @slutofmultifandom @aexitizen-ln4 @sugarvibez @vellicora @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @33-81 @hoetel-manager @xcharlottemikaelsonx @jayda12 @ilove-tswizzle @justme2042 @itsjustkhaos @nikfigueiredo @stopeatread @cha-hot @sadg3 @iloveyou3000morgan @s4turnsl0ver @alessioayla @torchbearerkyle @leptitlu @awekbachira @shreks-sugar-daddy @v1naco @stan-josie @mellowarcadefun @badassturtle13 @beskardroids @callisposts @poppyalice2001 @juniper-july19 @lizzypiastri

[scoutswritingcorner]

Can I request how the Hazbin cast would deal with their partner being afraid of storms?

Storming Troubles

Hazbin Gang x GN!Reader

TW: Fear of storms!

A/N: Female Reader for Vaggie and Male Reader for Angel Dust as always! 

-👑Charlie👑-

-👑 She’s immediately hugging you and telling you how brave you are for telling her. Because telling people in hell about your fear is not always a good thing.

-👑 She’ll do everything in her power to help you. When it starts storming? She’s holding you close.

-👑 Need noise canceling headphones? She’s got you. Just want to be held? Her arms are already open for you!

-👑 Will stay with you the whole night. All in all she’s very understanding and kind.

-🎀Vaggie🎀-

-🎀 Also very understanding! 

-🎀 If she knows it’s going to starting storming later that day? She’s preparing everything for you!

-🎀 Blankets, pillows, your favorite plushies. She’s not complaining. -🎀 It also gets her out of work too for a bit, she’ll hold you all night if it helps!

-🍎Lucifer🍎-

-🍎 I feel like he also has a fear of storms or just doesn’t like them much!

-🍎It reminds him too much of when he fell and how he could hear the roaring winds around him and then the boom when he hit the soil of Hell.

-🍎So when it does happen? He’s got a whole blanket fort full of comfort items and snacks just in case!

-🍎 Big on the cuddles! It comforts him so much and it keeps him grounded when his mind starts to wonder.

-🕷️Angel Dust🩷-

-🕷️ Angel doesn’t mind the rain but when he sees how distraught you were he immediately holds you close.

-🩷 He doesn’t want his boyfriend shaking in fear or crying all night thinking he’s alone. He’ll press kisses to the top of your head and softly whisper to you telling you how brave you are.

-🕷️ If you want to get your mind off of it, he’ll definitely start gossiping or will make you laugh. Either one works. 

-🩷 He will 100% tell Fat Nuggets to “attack” you with Kisses to make you laugh and smile.

-🎰Husk🎰-

-🎰 He loves the rain and storms, it reminds him alot of when he was alive and just watched the rain hit the windows of whatever bar he was in.

-🎰 But when he realizes you are terrified of them? He picks you up and takes you to your shared room for cuddles.

-🎰 He’ll help you take your mind off of it by talking to you or with you! 

-🎰 He purrs loudly while laying on your chest, head in your neck as you slowly drift off. Didn’t you know purring heals the soul? Also his wings drape over you as an additional barrier of protection!

-🦌Alastor🦌-

-🦌 Now this man. He is an asshole, he means well but he’s an asshole.

-🦌 He doesn’t like storms either. But because they can fuck up his broadcast.

-🦌 He’ll let you hide in his room with him as he reads, he’ll hold you close to his side and occasionally kiss your forehead. Also makes snide remarks.

-🦌 His shadow is the one that comforts you the most, it will curl around you and snuggle you all night long while giving your own shadow kisses.

[mallowsweetmiri]

F.W. ~ Fred and George’s Room

Part 1 • Part 2

Summary: nothing beats a hot summers day hanging out at the burrow… except maybe a cold beer and two goofy gingers.

Warnings: cursing, mentions of sex, alcohol

—————————————————————————

Your POV

The summer was hot.

As July settled in, so did a resting heat. Even the walk to the lake seemed unbearable this week, so you settled in the house under Molly’s cooling charms and the occasional summer breeze. The younger of the lot were hunkered in the living room, playing chess in a competitive tournament. It was quite boring for those who got knocked out in the first round, so Fred and George dragged you up the winding staircase and into their bedroom. You were a little nervous going up to Fred’s room after everything that’s happened this summer, but you followed behind them anyway. You were never one to run away because of fear. The twins grinned at you as they pushed through the door. It had been only a year since you’d been in here, but the twins had managed to plaster most of their walls in posters. Their shelves were lined with all sorts of trinkets, and Fred’s cassette tape collection had doubled in size.

“Wow, where did you managed to get all of these?” You asked, plopping down on Fred’s mattress and touching the stack of tapes on his shelf. Fred came over and grabbed Nevermind off his shelf along with his Walkman.

“Been going to the muggle town a few miles away,” Fred popped the tape in with a grin. “Check this out.” He nodded to George who cast a nonverbal silencing charm on the room. Impressive. Fred muttered sonorus and placed his wand next to the headphones. The room filled with the sounds of Nirvana as Fred and George grinned at each other.

“You guys are geniuses! You have to bring it back to the dorm,” you beamed, jamming along to the rock music. Fred grabbed his guitar from the corner before plopping down beside you.

“Oh trust me, we’ll be bringing plenty back to Hogwarts,” Fred winked, earning a low chuckle from George.

“And don’t worry, Y/N. You’ll be the first to try our new creations,” George grinned evilly in your direction. You raised your brow as the twins began to laugh. You didn’t even want to know what they had in the works. It seemed like every year the twins came up with more ingenious inventions and charms. You looked around the room at the mix of muggle technology that had been enhanced by magic, like Fred’s guitar. You were continuously amazed by their talent, and couldn’t help but watch as Fred began to play Come As You Are. You watched his long fingers move across the fret. He’d gotten a lot better since the last time you heard him play. Of course it was hard to judge his playing technique when all you could focus on were his forearm muscles. You laid back on the bed with a sigh as you listened. You felt a breeze come in through the window as you played with the sheets on the bed. You figured that maybe Charlie’s room wasn’t the best in the house after all.

“You want a beer?” You heard George ask.

“Is it cold?” You sat up on the bed, earning a cheeky smile from the younger twin. He reached under his bed and pulled out a case of Carling.

“Why, of course. I would never offer you anything less,” he teased, pulling out a can and presenting it to you. You rolled your eyes and grabbed the cold can. Cooling charm.

“Thanks,” you said, cracking open the drink and humming in content. George gave one to Fred before cracking open his own and taking a long drink.

“Before you lot showed up here, all Fred did was play on that guitar,” George smacked his lips after his gulp of beer. Fred huffed out a laugh and shook his head.

“I’m actually making progress this year,” Fred stopped playing in favor of a drink, “thanks to all the music you recommended this past year.” He nudged you with a smile and kept playing. You blushed and drank, hoping the alcohol would soothe the constant buzz of embarrassment you felt around Fred these days.

“Well, it’s my job to educate the two of you on all of the wonders muggle London has to offer,” you sighed, leaning back on your hand. “We should totally visit my cousin this summer. Y’know, the one I was telling you about? I could take you out to a real muggle club.” George perked up at this.

“Yeah, we’re totally going,” George decided, raising his beer up to you, “cheers to your hot cousin.” He smirked and downed the rest of the beer, making you scoff.

“George!” You scolded, tossing a pillow his way, “You’ve never even seen my cousin.” You shook your head and downed the rest of you beer, crushing the can and tossing it in the bin.

“Well, I’ve seen you so I’m sure your cousin looks just fine,” George shrugged, reaching to grab more beers. You blushed and stifled a laugh as Fred looked up from his guitar with distaste.

“What?” George protested, “just cause you’re shagging her doesn’t mean I can’t state the obvious. She’s still just Y/N to me.” He tossed the pillow back at you, a laugh escaping your lips. For some reason, hearing George say it out loud made everything a little less awkward, and you were grateful that he didn’t care about you and Fred. Fred looked like he was going to reprimand George, but when he saw your blushing giggles his face softened into a smile. He put his guitar down as he grabbed the pillow off your lap.

“Alright, shut up mate,” he said, smacking George in the face with the pillow.

“Fred!” You laughed, moving to sit on your shins to watch the action. George stood up and hit Fred right back with his own pillow. They kept at it as Nirvana blared through the speakers. You sipped you beer through laughs before a pillow came dangerously close to your face. “Hey! Guys, watch the beer,” you pouted, holding your beer away from the twins.

“Oh, that’s my bad,” George said, reaching for your beer and placing it on the shelf before promptly smacking you with the pillow. Fred barked out a laugh as he attacked George.

“You’re not supposed to hit a lady!”

By now you had joined in on the fight, the three of you running around with feathers flying throughout the room. Your laughter echoed through Fred’s ears as he protected you from George’s attacks. He guessed it had always been like this, George teasing the two of you even before anything had happened. He’d called Fred out on his crush ages ago, even before Fred knew what it was.

February 1994

Merlin that dress is something else, Fred thought to himself as he watched you talk to Oliver Wood, captain of the Quidditch team. Gryffindor had just won a vital match against Ravenclaw, and Oliver was especially happy as it gave the team a chance at the cup. Everyone had been congratulating you tonight. Your flying was marginally better than most Hogwarts quidditch players, and a lot of people were speculating you would go pro after school. Fred knew you didn’t want to do that, but he let your fans whisper in awe about you. I mean, you were pretty amazing. Fred had never seen anyone play the way you did, not to mention you were one of the best witches in your year. Oliver sure seemed impressed with you.

“Oi, George. D’you reckon Wood’s getting a little too close to Y/N?” Fred nudged his twin and nodded his head towards you. George squinted at Wood before barking out a laugh.

“Yeah, I guess. Maybe Y/N will finally get a proper boyfriend,” George nudged his brother back with his elbows, wiggling his brows comedically. Fred cringed, throwing back the rest of his drink.

“I suppose…” Fred trailed off, letting his gaze fall to the table as he pour himself another glass of fire whiskey. As soon as that was done his eyes snapped back up to you in that dark dress, with Oliver’s face painfully close to yours. “But with Oliver?! We’d be bad friends to let her suffer like that,” Fred continued on, staring at Wood with disdain. George clicked his tongue, causing Fred to snap out of his gaze.

“Freddie, it sounds like you just want her for yourself,” George said with a teasing half grin. Fred’s face of disdain turned to one of horror as he set his drink down and waved his hands in defense.

“No, no, no. Not like that. C’mon George, it’s Y/N,” Fred scoffed, “I just mean that Wood is the reigning Quidditch dictator on top of being an absolute slag.” George pursed his lips and nodded in agreement with a shrug.

“True enough. Well, should we save her from her torture?” George asked with a grin. Fred’s face changed to match.

“Cheers,” Fred grinned, flicking his wand and effectively shutting Oliver up with a lip lock jinx. They watched as you stifled a laugh before excusing yourself, leaving Oliver to struggle with reversing the jinx. You began to make your way towards the twins at the corner of the party.

“Took you guys long enough. I was waiting to be saved from that interrogation,” you chuckled, grabbing Fred’s drink out of his hand. “Can I have this?” Fred hummed with a nod, prompting you to throw back the drink in a gulp. George watched with amusement.

“You wanna go dance with Angelina?” George asked, shimmying his shoulders with an infectious smile. You giggled, hiccuping from the drinks.

“Hell yeah. Fred, can you make us drinks?” You turned to Fred with a dramatic pout and pleading eyes. He rolled his eyes with a smile.

“Yeah, yeah. Run along, quidditch star. I’ll bring you your drinks,” Fred chuckled, watching as you said a thank you before running off towards Angelina in that short dress.

“You’re so down bad,” George laughed, shoving Fred before running off towards the girls. Fred shook his head as he made the drinks. What was George on about?

Present Day

Now, while Fred watched you jump and squeal as George chased you down with a pillow, he realized exactly what George was on about. You’d always been his best friend, and you’d always made him laugh in a way nobody else but George could. It also didn’t help that you were absolutely gorgeous. Somewhere along the line Fred had fallen completely in love with you, and now he was fighting for you, his pillow reigning down on George in all its blazing glory. You joined by his side to pelt George with attacks.

“Hey! This is totally not fair. Since when is this two against one?” George whined in between attacks. You just kept chuckling and destroying him with hits. You seemed to be enjoying your newfound advantage.

“I feel no pity for you, you took away my beer!” You laughed in your evil little laugh, taking another hit on his back.

“I call a truce!” George called, dropping his pillow and putting his hands up. You stopped your attack and stood there panting, waiting for any movement. “Let me just get your beer and we can put this behind us,” George reasoned, slowly moving towards the shelf with his hands up. Fred chuckled and dropped his pillow, moving to chug what was left of his can. Merlin, pillow fights sure took the wind out of you. George dropped to his knee and presented you with your half drunken can of Carling, “M’lady.”

“I suppose this will do,” you said, taking the can and bopping George on the top of his head. You fell back onto Fred’s bed with a laugh as you behind to chug your beer in deep gulps, attempting to cool yourself down. Fred sat down next to you, his hand resting on the bed behind your back.

“You guys reckon we should go to the treehouse tonight and play some more exploding snap and shots?” Fred asked, nodding up at George. The twins grinned at each other mischievously.

“Why yes, Freddie, I think that’s a fantastic idea,” George said pleasantly before falling back onto his own bed. The three of you raised you beers to the summer. This was going to be the best one yet.

—————————————————————————

Authors note:

Hope you guys enjoyed part 3 of my lil summertime Fred x reader series! I know this part is a bit shorter and mostly fluff, but I promise the next one’s going to be spicier hehe. But man, I love writing this series so much and appreciate any comments from my beloved readers xoxo

[charles-leclerizz]

🥂 the f1 boys... after an arguement

MEET THE CAST. CL 16 ◦ CS 55 ◦ LN 4 ◦ MV 1

VIDEO DESC. hey guys ! welcome to the start of what i hope to be a long series. i would love for you guys to request something you would like to see, so don't be shy to leave something in my inbox. also please let me know if the graphic above is good, since i would like to continue it for the series

SHOUT OUTS. [@vroomvroomcircuit, @disneyprincemuke, @verstappen-cult, @starkwlkr, @sailing-with-100-ships, @foreveralbon, @lorarri], IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED, PLEASE SEND IN AN ASK, AND MUTUALS LET ME KNOW IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO BE REMOVED ON PRIV !

ᡣ𐭩 ⎯⎯ CHARLES LECLERC 16

" you're being ridiculous ! " Charles shouts, slamming his hands down on the marble and startling you with the loud echo of his palms against the counter.

" me ? " you mumur under your breath, leaning towards him on the opposite side of the kitchen island, " i'm the ridiculous one ? you're the one who was getting drooled on by your ex-girlfriend . " you snarled and stomped your feet.

" je ne peux pas, je ne peux pas- je ne peux pas avoir à nouveau cette fucking conversation avec toi . mon Dieu . " [ i can't, i can't- i can't have this fucking conversation with you again. my God] He ran his hand through his hair and watched as you gaped at him, slowly translating the words in your mind .

"of course," throwing your hands up in the air, you move away from the kitchen and rush down towards the foyer, "it's my fault, it cannot possibly be you, who made a goddamn mistake ?"

you collected your purse and keys, the metallic fob jingled obnoxiously against the bowl, "no it can't becau- what are you doing ? " Charles stopped mid sentence, eyes widening .

Squinting your eyes at him you shook the metal in your hand, "out."

"where is out ? je te prie de te le dire ? " [ pray tell thee ]

"anywhere but here, i need time charles." you mumured, itching to reach out and take his hand as you breathed heavily yet the anger that was bubbling up to a boil had settled into a seething magma, already solidifying into scathing stone.

"time ? " he spluttered, latching onto your bag that had just been slung onto your shoulder, "for what ?"

"for the clocks to reset." you sassed, dropping the clutch into his hand, "god. i'll be back."

the sun had begun to set by the time you had pressed in your combination into the keypad and attempted to silently pad into the apartment.

lest to say, that didn't work, because as soon as the door clicked open and the jingle of the lock had ceased, the sound of steps bounding up to you was following shortly after.

"tu es de retour, Dieu merci, tu es de retour." [ you're back, thank god you're back ] Charles hugged you tightly, hands winding around your waist to hold you close, the comfort of your heartbeat in time with his made him slump over you with relief.

you patted his back slowly, smiling inwardly, "yeah, i'm back. i told you i would be." pressing kisses to his neck but stopped short when small droplets began to wet your top.

"charlie," you sighed, pulling away to hold his red face in your hands. he sniffled and kept his gaze down on where his hands gripped your hips. his fingers fiddled with the hem of your clothing as his bottom lip wobbled and fresh tears bubbled at his lashline.

"charles ." you tried again, rubbing your thumbs against his temple, "why are you crying ? " he sniffed again and shook his head slowly, already curling around you again, going against the gentle force you applied on his face.

"pensé que" [ thought that ] he started, taking a stuttering breath, "thought that you wouldn't come back."

Your heart shattered, "why ?" with a burning throat, you blinked quickly and listened patiently.

"i was so mad, you were mad." charles bit his lip, despite the skin already being rosy and swollen, most likely from his growing worry throughout the day, "i wouldn't have blamed you, if you didn't come back. "

"honey ? " you call out, smiling gently when he finally met your eyes despite the pang that coursed through your body when you noticed the harsh red lines that sat stark in his eyes, "i would never leave you. "

"you wouldn't ?"

"no-" you choked back a sob, "no, why would you think that." scolding him, you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him into you, trapping him in your embrace, "stupid, stupid french man." you grit out, salty streams dripping down your face.

"you're right. " he laughed wetly, rubbing a large palm down your back when you begin to sob laboriously.

"i love you," you detach from him quickly, pecking his lips, his eyes, each and every individual freckle littered on his nose and cheeks, "i love you so much- even when that bitch is slobbering over your arm."

"chérie" he starts, but presses his lips together when you pause in between your smooches to arch an eyebrow at him, "i love you too."

ᡣ𐭩 ⎯⎯ CARLOS SAINZ 55

the sun was beating down on the yacht as the crsytaline blue waves lapped at the pristine white of the boat.

you lay on the sun bed, sunglasses propped up on your head as your eyes twitched, watching as carlos and some random chick were talking on the deck.

it was the days leading up to the monaco grand prix, and since it was easiest to procure a yacht here, the boys thought to host a party, where drinks, dancing and daquiri were a must.

so as the music blasted and almost 20 other people were chatting and moving their bodiees to the music, you were busy seething as the girl ran a hand up carlos' salty, sea water covered bicep.

though you stayed away, book disgarded on your exposed stomach whilst your hands twitched with undisclosed rage at your side.

it was when you noticed that even though your boyfriend glanced down at her fingers, he made no move to push it away, that you decided to get up from your place and saunter towards them.

"-wow you're so strong, it must be so hard to drive an f1 car."

"uhm-"

" hi." you gritted out, lacing your arm with carlos', who stood frozen in his spot, "if you would so kindly, stop humping my boyfriend- i would really appreciate it."

the girl stared at you, mouth opening and closing dumbly.

" you can go do that-" you pointed to the throng of the party, where lando was dj-ing, "over there."

she scoffed and walked away, but not before she winked at the driver on your arm and shot you a dirty glare.

as soon as you were sure that she had left, you slowly turned to carlos, who was already gawking at you, "you have 5 minutes to explain, why and how she felt that she could be doing that to you."

he spluttered, eyes igniting with annoyance, "that was the daughter of one of our biggest sponsors- why would you do that ? mujer loca" [crazy woman]

"i'm the crazy one ?" you asked incredulously, "so i'm meant to watch as you let girls just, what? sex you up?"

"oh come on, you know she wasn't." he rolled his eyes, "and what could i do? if i told her no, she could get me fired."

you crossed your arms at him, "so what you're saying, that no matter what, your job is more important than me and my feelings ?"

" Ay, ¿por qué siempre dices eso? " [ay, why do you always say that ? ] carlos shook his head and held your shoulders, "you need to understand that your feelings are important to me, but so is my career."

you shake your head, "but it's all the time carlos, all the damn time." he tilts his head, large brown eyes conveying his confusion, "it's always, 'we can't go here, its bad for my reputation" or "i'll be back late, the office needs me" . what about when i need you ?"

" i can't go everywhere, it's unsafe, you know that. and i'm not always out late. " he reasons, shrugging.

" no- firstly, it was a cafe, you aren't in danger at a fucking cat cafe. and secondly, name one time this entire month that we ate dinner together."

you wait, wedged foot tapping against the laminated wood beneath your sole. carlos stills for a moment, wracking brain before looking at you again and cringing.

"- see ! "

"- i'm sorry cariño !"

you shake your head pushing away his hands, "not this time- i won't forgive you. i deserve better. "

carlos watches, gobsmacked and panicked when you walk away, already collecting your things as the yacht docks.

the bell to the cafe that you sat in jingles quietly, though you ignore it and continue to pet the sweet, grey cat that purrs in your lap whilst sipping a warm tea.

a shadow forms infront of you, and you look up, eyes widening, "carlos- what are you doing ?"

he pants, bracing his hands on his knees as he doubles over- you instictively reach out and take his hand.

"i-" he keens and pants, "i looked everywhere for you, the apartment, all the shops that you normally go to, landos place, max's place, charles' place. then i remembered that you sent me the link for the directions here." carlos leans down to kiss your head, cradling your face in his palms, "gracias a Dios te encontré". [ thank god i found you. ]

you motion to the seat infront of you, letting the cat that now watched interestedly onto the floor so you could tuck your legs beneath the table, "what do you want ?"

carlos sighs, hanging his head before taking your hand and intertwining your fingers, he rests his forehead on your conjoined hands, "i'm sorry, i'm so so sorry. i told fred that- that i don't want to be talking to sponsors, y'know-" he looks up at you, kissing your hand gently, "like that, especially on my down time. and that i won't be staying in the office after 5pm."

you blink at him slowly, tightening your fingers, "oh.. good."

he finds your embarrassed gaze, and locks your eyes together, his caramel pools glistening beneath the sunlight that streamed in through the large windows. your stare softens, "i forgive you carlos." reaching forward, you brush away the hair that had fallen onto his forehead.

"you do ? i had so much grovelling left to do." he mumurs, glancing nervously to his side.

"did you seriously buy me something, already ? it's been-" you check your watch, "-3 hours ?"

"there was a plan in place Niña bonita. " [ pretty girl ] he reaches to his left and places the small black bag infront of you, "open it."

smirking, you begin to reach into the ominous container and retrieve a medium sized velvet box- as you pop it open, you gasp, "oh wow, it's beautiful."

nestled within, was a gold necklace, small diamonds hanging from the last few delicate chain links and in the middle, sat a chili pendant, petite rubies be-dazzling the body of the charm.

"i bought it a few days ago, i was waiting for the perfect moment to give it to you, but this seemed more appropriate." carlos took the jewellery in his hands and gestured for you to come closer.

craning your neck forward, you laugh quietly to yourself as you watch him stuggle with the clasp before grinning victoriously and retracts his hands away from your nape.

you take his face in your hands, "i love you." you declare as you kiss his pouted lips. he holds your wrists that rest against his jaw, running his thumb back and forth against your pulsee before whispering against your mouth,

"i love you more."

ᡣ𐭩 ⎯⎯ LANDO NORRIS 4

you stomped up to the door before banging on the wood angrily, "lando norris" you huff, "get out of this room right now."

"what ?" Lando wretched the door open, staring down at you, visibly annoyed.

"it has been 3 hours, since you have even stepped out of this room. now it is the winter break, you cannot possible think i will allow you to train on the sim for this long."

He opened his mouth to retaliate when gratingly familiar voices began to laugh and, "ohh" in the background.

"are you streaming ?" crossing your arms over, you're half tempted to push past his fuming chest and unplug the entire setup.

" so what ? you said i'm on break, i can stream if i want to." his voice began to raise dangerously.

"not when i told you that i cooked dinner," you poked his chest, making him blink, "that it's your favourite-" you poked again, "and especially not when i made that fucking tiramisu which you kept on going on and on about from japan." you push him, hard, before stalking out to the kitchen.

"wait ! " he called out, the sound of him shuffling and the door clicking closed made you grind your teeth when he didn't appear down the hallway.

Already packing up the food and placing it into the fridge carefully, you remained stoic to the fact that he had finally appeared behind you, wringing his hands as he watched you.

"babe ? "

"babe ? "

"bab-" "what."

you turn around on your heel, growling and if he were to open his mouth to say anything, steam would most likely begin to shoot out of your ears.

Lando stared at you, still playing with his fingers, "i wanted to- uhm," he gulped when you crossed over your arms, "say that i'm sorry." he whimpered.

"you're sorry ?"

"yeah."

"so," you guffaw, "i slave over the stove for hours, cooking, whipping, mixing and you think that i'm here to serve you when all you say is a 'sorry' "

"...no ?" he cringed, squeaking when you slithered past him towards the dining table and drag out a chair before taking a seat, "i don't see the big deal."

"you don't see the big deal ? " you pressed the heels of your palms into your eyes.

"no."

"no ? " you parrot, holding your face in fear that if your hands were to be free, you would strangle him.

"i really don't ."

Inhaling deeply, you attempt to find your inner peace. for both of your sakes.

"lando, it has been 2 weeks of you being back home. 14 days. 336 hours and god knows how many minutes. and throughout that time, you have not touched me," you put up a finger, "you refuse to kiss me nearly as much as you did when you were out of the continent," another finger, "and someone would think you need glasses because you never seem to be looking at me, ever."

Lando's mouth popped open, eyes darting around your face in search of a viable answer, "I-"

"and lord," you scoff, "when i go to make a romantic dinner, in hopes that you could sustain eye-contact for more than a millisecond. you go and forget that as well." covering your mouth, you dip your head down, avoiding his crumpled expression to sob into your hands.

"Are you crying ? "

"i'm not," you retort, sniffing obnoxiously.

"then what are you doing ?"

" they're called allergies. it's the pollen."

"babe," you feel his once distant presensce come and crouch down to your level, warm palms braced on your knees, "its winter."

"i know," you weep, pressing your forehead into his shoulder.

"i'm sorry my love," he pleads, bumping the crown of his head gently with yours, "im so so sorry, i didn't mean to."

you shake your head pitifully, "yes you did. you think i'm ugly" you blubber.

"no- what ? NO ?" he takes your face in his hands, smooshing your cheeks together, "you're beautiful and the only thing that's ugly is my behaviour, i should've paid more attention to you, and i didn't." Lando kissed you tenderly, fingers brushing your hair away from your wet face, "but don't you dare say that you're anything short of stunning."

"shmokay," you lisp, tongue poking through your puckered lips, "shu hungry ?"

you smile contently when he wipes your cheeks and pecks your closed eyelids, "yeah... but not for food."

ᡣ𐭩 ⎯⎯ MAX VERSTAPPEN 1

" come on schat, i said i was sorry." Max tries for what seeemed to be the fiftieth time.

" will sorry bring back the 2 hours i spent outside, looking like an idiot ?" you plant your hands on your hips, staring him down.

Max slaps his head a few times before slowly approaching you, padding his way past the bed, "I have a job, Liefde" he presses his hands together and aims his fingers at you whilst gritting his teeth.

"oh, and i don't ? " you smack his aggitating hands away from your nose, "someone call wallstreet, i've been trading illegally. since apparently, my liscence and MB- fucking - A was for nothing . "

"you being on the phone and playing with money, is different from me driving a deathbox every week. hoe kun je de twee zelfs vergelijken ?" [ how can you even compare the two? ] he eununciates.

You gasp, half tempted to smash your stilleto heel into his poised foot, but decide against it when he follows your gaze and peices together your attack, already shuffling his foot away.

"max- i will not stand here and take this from you. i trade stocks you race jumbo bumper cars."

your voice reaches a new decible as you attempt to get through his thick skull.

"now either you can apologise, or else i'm walking out of the door. because i am done explaining to you how to be a good boyfriend " you point outside the bedroom which you both were currently shouting in.

Max crossed his arms, challenging your threat.

"really ?" you ask, appalled but nonetheless collect your purse from the floor and begin to leave the threshold.

Max hums, catching your eye when you turn around, already pivoting at the corner of the doorway. He shrugs, moving to the bed to sit down and yawn nonchalantly.

You blink a few times before leaning back into the room to snatch up the keys to his pista from the dresser, "fuck you."

and with that, you left the apartment. and max, whose words were beginning to dawn on him.

your feet were beginning to ache with how much you were walking and it was almost 200% confirmed, that blood was begining to pool into the expensive interior.

the sun was starting to set from it's afternoon high point and you watched it whilst continuing on your journey down the sidewalk, already having charged an alarming amount of shopping on max's card, you were nursing a grande cup of the most expensive coffee monaco would offer.

The pista sat 10km away from you, full to the brim with your shopping, so when it began to approach you parrallel on the road, your eyebrows shot up and you were prepared to throw the steaming drink into the drivers window as it rolled down.

"schat- why is there so much shopping in here ? "max asked, guidinng the car dangerously close to the pavement.

"you should know since i charged it to your account. " you clutch your to-go cup to your chest.

Max's eyes widened as he pulled his foot off the accelarator to twist his body back and take in the sheer amount of bags that were pilled into the backseat.

"is there a problem ? " you blink at him innocently, still walking towards what appeared to be the public beach.

he turned back to you, irises huge as saucers before he cleared his throat and shook his head, "nope" his voice cracked, "not at all."

"good" you harumphed, "on my measly sallary, i couldn't afford to buy all of it. thankfully i had your card with me."

Max grimaced at your words, "please just get in, people will think i'm hustling you."

"i hope they do. imagine max verstappen 3X world champion pays for sex ? on the tabloids."

He scoffed and stopped the car, no longer entertaining your trek since your determined trot had morphed into an embarrasing limp and your eyes were starting to water.

"please get into the car, you're in pain."

"no-" you sniffed, wiping your eyes, "no i'm not, my only pain is that my boyfriend doesn't think my job is serious enough or something." you wave a hand over your face, lip wobbling.

You're too busy trying not to sob into your hands to notice that max had parked the car and was currently slamming the door shut to come comfort you, "no, no i do- i think it's serious."

his arms wrap around you as he guides your back again the car, hiding your face into his chest to kiss the crown of your head, "i'm sorry for getting mad and saying those stupid things. it was uncalled for."

you look up at him, chin resting on his shirt, "..and ?"

"and..." he huffs, "i'm sorry for not meeting you at the resturant for lunch and not telling you that i wouldn't be able to make it since my meeting ran over."

you smile at him, giggling under your breath when his hand comes up to wipe your tears away, "my job is super serious, you were mean." you pout.

"yes- i was mean."

biting your lip guility, you take a deep inhale, "and i shouldn't have called your job 'jumbo bumper cars' "

max laughs and kisses your lips softly, "yeah- i think i deserved it."

you grin against his mouth, winding your hands around his neck as he presses you against his chest, hugging you tighter, "yeah you did. but im sorry nonetheless"

[pinecipitation]

Pine,,,, smiling friends headcanons, how do you think each of the boys would react to their crush saying they feel safe with them :> if not all of them, your boy Alan and Charlie and Pim (asking for us both im shaking)

SMILING FRIENDS X GN!READER HCS

FIRST OF ALL,,,, HAIIII TEDDYYYY :3 ❤️💛 HELLO WIFE HI LOML…

second of all YESSS SMILING FRIENDS CONTENT WE R SO BACKKK let me get to work ‼️

word count: around 1.2k

authors note: oh my god this was in the works for like a month, I be procrastinating really hard i’m sorry gang 😔🤞 also I’m so sorry alans is so short despite him being my favorite one I’m fighting for my life in here man

CHARLIE: (s1e6)

charlie… is almost relieved to hear it, honestly would immediately flip a switch and do the very most to KEEP you as safe as you can be- but hide it in a playful manner. would carry you for the rest of your life if you asked, just because you inflated his ego.

The two of you are almost halfway in the enchanted forest, you walking in front of Charlie as you hold a little makeshift map in front of the two of you. The whole time Charlie is pointing out little shortcuts, you erasing and drawing paths over and over on the paper until a particularly strong gust of wind blow it away from the two of you, his shocked mouth open and yours would’ve opened if the pencil wasn’t still in your mouth. You didn’t want to say it, but you felt a little aggravated at him for losing your focus like that.

You stop to let him speed up in front of you, the two of you continuing onwards in silence before he speaks.

“Listen… I-“

“It’s fine, you go and I follow. I trust you.”

The minute those words left your mouth, Charlie immediately stops and turns to look at you, the clinks and clanks of his armor making it almost comedic.

“What?”

“…I said you could lead the way?-“

“No,” he shakes his head, the helmet shifting with him, “After that.”

You look at him quizzically, your arms awkward by your side as you look to the side then to him again.

“I trust you?”

What you couldn’t see was Charlie internally squealing like a little girl, happy that someone like you can allow themselves to be so carefree around him. Except you weren’t just someone; he’s unknowingly had a thing for you long enough to where it’s embarrassing that he hasn’t made a move. But, somehow, you telling him that made him understand why he got so nervous around you. Why he always felt let down whenever you had a different mission that day and couldn’t hang with him and Pim. Why he always slightly pulled aside the seat next to him in the office just so you’d sit next to him instead of across.

He finally realized he liked you.

But of course, he’d never say that out loud.

What he did do, however, was immediately grin and flex, his armor audibly showing him move as if he were showing off in a gym mirror.

“Well of course you do, I’d be concerned if you didn’t think a hero like me could protect you. I mean, look at me,” he plays along, successfully earning a chuckle from you before you roll your eyes and shift the bag on your shoulder before you keep moving ahead.

“Alright, hero- hey-!” Your joking manner was cut short as Charlie picks you up, flinging you over his shoulder as his laugh rockets off the trees around the two of you.

Your giggles and pleas to be let down drowned out as he thought about that sentence once more, thinking about what to do to hopefully hearing it again another time.

PIM: (s1e4)

pim….. he’d be so happy, would internally have a little panicked spongebob brain moment but on the outside he’s a stuttering blushing mess. as if he isn’t pink enough.

“Don’t worry, i’ll use this rock to mark the trees- we can find our way back easy!”

Pims words seemed like an echo, his happy go easy personality twenty minutes ago almost feeling like a warning now that the two of you crossed that bridge. The two of you just barely escaped the rain, logs and sticks discarded as the rickety cabin door you called shelter slammed shut.

You were both dripping, Pims cowboy outfit making wet stretching noises every time he stretched his leg or raised his arm. Your outfit was also drenched, a small rip or two from the thorns you pulled away from on the run here.

You were still kneeled over catching your breath as the thunder pursued outside, Pim shakingly clearing his throat before looking up at you with disappointed eyes.

“Listen,… I’m really sorry, I didn’t think it would rain or anything but even then I shouldn’t have taken us across the bridge, and now it’s my fault we’re here-,” he begins, his wet hat now in his hands as he stares down at his cowboy spurs. He only really looked up once he hears you interrupted him with a laugh, a sound he immediately feels his cheeks redden to.

“Don’t worry, it’s just a little rain. We’ll be okay- plus, I feel safe with you. I know we’ll make it back fine.”

You were facing down trying to wring the water out of your hair and costume, thinking nothing of it, but to Pim?

To Pim, it meant everything.

He immediately stopped, his eyes widening as he stares at you with his mouth slightly ajar, the redness in his cheeks instantly spreading to his nose and ears. It took two or three tries for him to get his words out, the clothes on him somehow feeling tighter the more he tried to express himself.

“You… you trust me??” The way his meek voice instantly made you straighten up and look at him, the barely there water in his eye almost making you feel guilty for saying it.

Immediately you went to go hold him, your hands wrapping around his back as he listens to you giggle out a ‘Of course! Pim, are you okay?’ and he nods in return. His hands interlock together behind your back, his cheek on your shoulder as he thanks you.

ALAN: (s2e3)

alan… my wife.. would definitely think about asking if you’re SURE. in that case, he’s taken it upon himself to keep his eyes on you like a HAWK, unfortunately intimidating everyone around the two of you.

You seem to feel oddly safe perusing the streets of CrimeVille, thinking back on everyone’s warnings of how dangerous the place was. This is too easy, you think, feeling like everyone was just exaggerating the state of where you two were. What you didn’t realize, however, was Alan shooting everyone the stink eye of the century as he walks behind you.

It wasn’t too long ago when you two left the OfficeCrap, the following conversation unexpected as you both walked out.

“I can do it myself, I don’t want you going to that part of town…” Alan mumbles, the soft mechanic noise of the sliding door behind you helping end his sentence. You only shake your head, shushing him before pronouncing how you’ll be fine, and you trust him to protecting you if anything.

Unbeknownst to you, that’s the only thing Alan’s been thinking about since you left. Fortunately for Alan, being tall and having a somewhat stoic resting facial expression, he was very easy to intimidate anyone looking at you.

He almost walked like your shadow, hands in his pocket as he walks over you like a protective red totem, his blue tie occasionally brushing the top of your head as he looms over everything.