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Total Imagines: 143

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Can you do one where there was a large breed dog in the track that’s a stray and everyone is trying to catch it, but then driver reader started talking to it in a baby voice and she begs to keep the dog once she caught it.

Of course I can. That is such a sweet request. 🥰

Enjoy reading and send some requests

- xoxo, Babygirl💋

Just Ken

It was a bright and sunny afternoon at the Brazilian Grand Prix, and the atmosphere in the paddock was electric. The teams were getting ready for the final practice session before qualifying, and the tension was rising. Everything was running smoothly until, out of nowhere, a large dog—a stray by the looks of it—ran onto the track during the break between practice runs.

"Is that... a dog?" Lando squinted from the McLaren garage, pulling his visor up and pointing toward the track.

Charles laughed nervously, leaning on the pit wall next to him. "How did a dog get in here?"

The dog, a huge, scruffy breed that looked like a German Shepherd, darted across the track with a sense of urgency, weaving between the garages and cars. The engineers and staff tried to shoo it away, but it was too fast, dodging everyone and barking wildly whenever anyone got close.

The Red Bull garage, on the other hand, was a bit calmer—until Y/N, the youngest driver on the grid and currently Red Bull’s rising star, noticed the commotion.

"What's going on?" she asked, standing up in the car she had just parked in the garage.

Max shrugged while watching the chaos. "Apparently, there’s a stray dog running around the track. Everyone’s trying to catch it, but... it's not going well."

Y/N’s eyes widened, a glimmer of excitement flickering across her face. "A dog?!" She hopped out of her car faster than anyone expected.

"Wait, you’re not seriously going to go after it, are you?" Max raised an eyebrow, half-amused, half-concerned.

But Y/N was already gone, heading toward the pit lane with a bounce in her step, her Red Bull racing suit fluttering behind her.

♡♡♡♡♡

On the track, engineers were stumbling over each other, trying to catch the stray with nets, ropes, and even pieces of food. The dog growled low and deep, showing its teeth whenever anyone got too close, sending them scrambling back.

Lewis was the next to try his luck, cautiously walking toward the dog with a water bottle in hand. "Hey, buddy, come on... let's not make this difficult, okay?"

The dog barked sharply, making Lewis back off. "Yeah, no. That's not happening." He quickly retreated, shaking his head.

Meanwhile, Y/N, standing a few meters away, observed the situation with a thoughtful look. She pursed her lips and bent down, resting her hands on her knees.

"Who's a good boy?" she called out, her voice soft and high-pitched, almost like she was speaking to a baby.

The dog’s ears perked up immediately, and it stopped barking. Slowly, its head turned toward Y/N, who was still crouched down, wiggling her fingers in the dog’s direction.

"Come here, buddy! It's okay!" Y/N cooed, her voice dripping with sweetness. She gave an exaggerated pout and made soft kissing noises, as if she was calling a puppy.

The dog—who moments ago had been terrorizing a group of terrified pit crew members—calmly turned and padded toward her, tail wagging slightly. It stopped a foot away from her, tilting its head.

Everyone was frozen in disbelief.

"Is she... talking to it in a baby voice?" George whispered to Carlos, who stood beside him, equally shocked.

"Mate, I think she is," Carlos replied, eyes wide. "And it's working!"

Y/N extended her hand slowly toward the dog. "Hi, sweetheart! You're such a handsome boy, aren’t you?"

The dog, much to everyone’s amazement, gently sniffed her hand, then leaned in to nuzzle her palm, tail wagging now in full force.

Y/N grinned brightly. "Oh, you’re just a big teddy bear!" She wrapped her arms around the dog’s massive neck and started scratching behind its ears. The dog licked her face in return.

The entire pit lane was silent, the drivers and crews staring in stunned silence. No one could believe what they were seeing.

"Is this real?" Oscar muttered, blinking as if he expected the scene to dissolve like a dream.

Even Christian, who had been watching from a distance, couldn’t help but chuckle in disbelief. "I’ve seen a lot in Formula 1, but this... this takes the cake."

♡♡♡♡

After a few minutes of cuddles and praise, Y/N stood up, still holding the dog's collar. "What’s your name, buddy?" she asked, looking into its eyes as if it might answer her.

The dog barked softly, wagging its tail even harder.

"I think I’ll call you... Ken!" she announced, looking around at the crowd with a proud smile on her face. "He looks like a Ken, don’t you think?"

The dog barked again, as if in agreement, making Y/N laugh.

At that point, a track official hesitantly approached, clearly unsure of how to handle the situation. "Uh, Y/N, we’ll need to call animal control or find the owner. It’s probably a stray."

Y/N immediately pouted, pulling Ken closer to her side. "Noooo, but he’s so sweet! Look at him!" She scratched behind his ears again, and Ken looked up at her with adoring eyes.

"Ken doesn’t like anyone else, see? He chose me!" she continued, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Max, who had wandered over with a bemused smile on his face, crossed his arms. "I mean, she’s got a point. Ken’s not exactly warming up to anyone else."

As if on cue, Ken snarled at the track official when he took a step forward, causing the man to back off immediately.

"Whoa!" the official exclaimed. "Okay, maybe he’s... protective of you."

Y/N beamed and looked down at Ken. "See, he’s just being a good boy!"

Christian walked over, clearly weighing his options. "Y/N, you can’t just adopt a dog from the track," he said, though his tone was far more amused than strict.

"But why not?" Y/N asked, giving him her best puppy eyes. "I’ll take good care of him! Look at him, he’s perfect for the team. We can put a little Red Bull jacket on him!"

"Ken, the official Red Bull dog?" Max smirked, clearly enjoying the chaos.

At this point, even the other drivers were gathering around, fascinated by Y/N’s new friend.

"Can’t believe it," Charles muttered, shaking his head. "She’s like the dog whisperer or something."

"Yeah, and he’s only nice to her," Pierre added, eyeing Ken warily as he stood close to Y/N but growled whenever someone else got too close.

Y/N grinned as she stroked Ken’s fur. "See? He loves me! He’s just a big softie."

Christian sighed, rubbing his temples, but there was a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Fine, you can keep him... for now. But he’s your responsibility."

"YES!" Y/N cheered, pumping her fist in the air. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

Ken barked happily, as if sensing her excitement, and gave her another slobbery lick on the cheek.

The drivers watched in disbelief as Y/N led Ken back toward the Red Bull garage, already making plans for his new life in the F1 paddock.

Max clapped Christian on the back as they both watched her go. "Well, looks like Red Bull’s got a new mascot."

Christian just chuckled. "I suppose we do. Let’s hope Ken likes the noise of the cars, or we’re in for some trouble."

𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮

[𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐟𝐚𝐫𝐞] 𝐄𝐫𝐢𝐤 𝐱 𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Erik finds himself at your door again, like he always does.

𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬 𝐛𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, fluff, slight angst, wc 1k, the marias inspired this , got a filthy Tommy ver. in my drafts 🤭🤭🙂‍↔️

your restless. the sheets are warm, maybe too warm. you kick them off then pull them back. nothing helps. you lie still, staring at the dark ceiling your eyes beginning to involuntarily close from how long they’ve been open.

then a soft click of the lock.. the doorknob turns slowly, the door eases open without a creak, whoever it is slips inside quietly. heavy boots shift on the floor but barely make a sound

whoever it is calls your name softly

not bunny, not sweetheart, none of the things the other men call you. just your name. your real name. the one only him and one other person know about.

you know that voice quiet and hoarse, Erik.

you don’t turn when you hear your name. you don’t need to

his footsteps draw nearer, slow and almost hesitant. then the bed dips at the edge under his weight not much, just enough to tilt your body slightly toward him

you feel the brush of his fingers against your arm barely there, he tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear with care. you don’t see his face, but you can feel his eyes on you

he slowly moves, then lies down behind you.

one strong arm slides around your waist, the other settling under his head. his chest meets your back, his breath warm at the nape of your neck as he pulls you in

“Can’t sleep” he murmurs, “Thought I’d come and see you.”

you hum understandingly, your fingers find his where they rest on your stomach. you trace the curve of his knuckles, the space between them and then gently press your hand over his.

Erik’s breath slows against your neck, his arm tightens just a little around your waist, you can feel the tension in his hand begin to ease, fingers unclenching as you trace small, absent shapes over his skin.

then, without a word he leans in and presses the softest kiss to your shoulder. It’s barely there, just the brush of his lips against your skin

you feel him nuzzle in a little closer, his nose brushing your hair as he breathes you in. and then his hand still resting protectively over your stomach starts to move. gentle strokes of his thumb over your skin, tracing the hem of your shirt, then back again.

his fingertips lightly graze yours where your hands touch, and he curls his pinky around yours. his arms stay wrapped around you but your body shifts slowly in his hold gently, carefully until you’re facing him. his eyes meet yours instantly as if he’d been waiting

you lay like that nose to nose in the dark, his forehead barely a inch away from yours. he doesn’t speak and neither do you. you take the opportunity to really look at him. the sharp curve of his brow, the small furrow between them that never quite smooths out, the look in his eyes, like he’s always half-here and half-somewhere he doesn’t want to be.

your hand comes up slowly, fingers brushing the stubble on his chin. he leans into it without thinking, eyelids closing shut at your touch like it’s the first real comfort he’s let himself feel in days maybe longer.

you trace the angle of his jaw, then the soft slope of his cheekbone, your thumb resting just under his eye. he doesn’t move. doesn’t stop you.

“Are you okay Erik?” you whisper.

he opens his eyes again, but doesn’t look away.

“Yeah…” he says voice low and raspy, “Just… been a lot lately.”

he slowly shifts releasing you from his hold. he sits up from his position in the dark, the bed creaking softly under his weight. moonlight from the small window softly lights across his back catching on the worn fabric of his shirt as he pulls it over his head and lets it drop to the floor without a care. scars trail faintly along his skin old ones, some faded

when he lays back down, he reaches for you gently guiding you into him until your cheek rests against the warmth of his bare chest. his arms wrap around you, one hand pressing lightly to the small of your back, the other stroking slow, absent circles along your spine

you always knew Erik’s needs were different, more emotional than physical. where others came to you looking for a distraction, he came to be known. he didn’t want your body he wanted your closeness, your presence that didn’t demand anything from him.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you” he murmurs into your hair

you smile softly against his chest, “You’ll never have to find out” you whisper back

he doesn’t respond, he just simply kisses the top of your head.

you tilt your head just enough to meet his eyes again, “I’m always here Erik” you say. “always.”

he pulls you in tighter, letting your warmth melt into him

you stay there, pressed against his chest, wrapped up in his arms. you can hear his heart beating a little quick, a little uneven like him having you this close makes him nervous

and this isn’t the first time, not the first night he’s come to you mentally and physically drained. not the first time he let himself be just Erik with you not Captain, not soldier, just a man who needs to feel something soft, something genuine. and with you, he always could

It’s always been like this

your fingers drift upward from his chest, slow brushing the strong line of his neck, your thumb tracing just under his jaw. he watches you eyes half lidded and soft, you can see the way he’s letting himself feel just for a moment, just here with you.

you lift your head just enough, tilt your chin slightly and kiss him

gently, not rushed, not desperate. just lips brushing his with the same care he always shows you intentional, warm, soft

he kisses you back. his hand curls against your lower back pulling you closer, like he wants to feel every inch of you pressed to him. his lips move against yours softly

when you pull back just a little, breath mingling with his, his forehead rests against yours, eyes closed.

you stay curled against him, your hand resting gently over his heart and Erik holds you even tighter

he should feel comforted. safe. you always gave him that.

but instead, he feels everything

His eyes stay open long after yours drift closed, staring at the ceiling like it might give him answers. he listens to your breathing soft and steady, your body warm against his so trusting, so close and still, part of him unsure of what to do with all of this

sometimes, he wants to tell you he loves you

the words sit on the edge of his tongue when you’re touching him like this, when your voice is soft, when your eyes see right through the man he pretends to be for everyone else. he wants to whisper it freely while he softly kisses you, wants to feel the way you’d melt into him if he just said it.

but other times he just wants to shove it all down. pretend it doesn’t exist. pretend you don’t mean what you do to him. because you’re a barracks bunny, and he’s the captain. he should pull away, close his eyes, let himself drift off to sleep. but he doesn’t.

he lays there still, while your body fits perfectly against his like it’s meant to. like it always does. and he hates how right it feels. because everything about this is wrong, isn’t it?

you’re not his.

you were never supposed to be more than just a easy escape, just a body he could fall into when being in command became too much. that’s what a barracks bunny is.. comfort without commitment, no complication of feelings

but you mean something to him. you always have.

he tells himself it’s the circumstances you're both in. that war makes people reach for warmth and company wherever they can find it. that if he had met you somewhere else than maybe he wouldn’t look at you the way he does. wouldn’t feel his chest tighten every time he came to see you. wouldn’t ache when you pull away in the morning and leave him staring at the spot where your body laid warm and close against his.

but deep down, he knows that’s a lie. It’s not the circumstances or war that make him feel this way.

It’s you. the way you touch him without asking for anything in return. the way you see straight through him, and still choose to let him in. you never try to fix him. you just stay. quiet, patient, kind. and that undoes him more than anything else.

he watches you for a long time. his hand still on your back, moving in slow circles. you shift a little in your sleep a sweet soft sigh slipping from your lips as you unconsciously nuzzle closer.

he could never say he loves you. because if he says it what’s left of him then? so he settles with just closing his eyes for tonight, burying his face in your hair, and holding you tighter while saying nothing.

it’s getting messy.. situationship with Ray or sweet Erik 💔

@spacec0wgirl777 @meetmeatyourworst @f4nfic-lover @tenseoyong @ddlydevotion @https-junebug @glassbxttless @legoflowrs @samslvrgirl @vinecstasy

𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 - 𓊆ྀི 𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐛𝐢𝐞𓊇ྀི

Number 5

warning: none

characters: jude x fem!reader

summary: when you both play for Real Madrid and you accidentally end up in the wrong locker room

request: yess!

may contain spelling and translation errors!

Real Madrid Training Center — Spain

You were known for being as talented as you were discreet. Among the stars of world football, you had earned your place not only because of your surname, but because of your own merits. Small in stature, but gigantic on the field, you shone with your ball control and tactical intelligence, surprising everyone with every match. You trained hard, overcoming barriers and prejudices, especially for being a woman playing in a football league.

It was a late afternoon like any other, with the sun already setting on the horizon and tinting the sky a soft orange. Training had been intense, and you were eager to take a shower and relax a little. Still, your mind couldn't help but think about him. Jude Bellingham. The player you shared the team with, the same number on jersey — and, in a way, the same dreams. Although you had never openly spoken about your feelings for each other, the atmosphere between you had always been charged with something more.

Jude was charismatic, talented and, to you, dangerously attractive. You could feel his gaze on you at the most unexpected moments, like when you dribbled past an opponent or when you celebrated a goal. There was a bond there, a silent connection that you tried, without much success, to ignore. The problem was that this closeness was always on the verge of exploding into something more, something that both of you seemed hesitant to allow.

The training session that day had been particularly intense, and the feeling of adrenaline was still running through your veins when the final whistle blew. Tired, but with your head full of thoughts, you walked to the locker rooms, lost in your own thoughts about the game and, of course, about Jude.

That's when it happened.

Still a little distracted, you entered the wrong locker room. You didn't realize it right away, because you were familiar with the space, since the structure of the stadium was practically identical in both locker rooms. Your eyes scanned the room as you headed to the lockers, getting ready to take off your boots. Everything seemed normal... until your eyes caught a movement in the corner.

And there he was.

Shirtless, his bare back turned to the door as he took off the rest of his uniform. His tanned skin glistened with a thin layer of sweat that hadn't yet dried, and the muscles in his back moved perfectly with every movement he made. The sound of his boots hitting the floor echoed through the empty room, breaking the uncomfortable silence. You froze. Your heart, which was already racing from training, began to beat even faster, this time for a completely different reason.

You knew you should say something, that you should make some noise so he would notice you, or even that you should get out of there as quickly as possible. But you just couldn't. It was as if time had stopped, and your feet were stuck to the ground. A part of you wanted to look away, but another... you couldn't. You had never seen him like this before. So vulnerable, so natural. Jude, usually confident and full of energy, seemed almost... calm. And that mesmerized you.

You tried to take a deep breath, but it was at that exact moment that he turned around. For a split second, the shock of being caught by you seemed to take over his eyes, but then, when he realized who was there, Bellingham smiled. Not a nervous or embarrassed smile, but one of those charming and almost challenging smiles he used to give you when he wanted to play with you.

—Y/n? —His deep voice sounded through the empty locker room, and the way he called you made your body shiver. —Did you go into the wrong locker room?

You finally found your voice, although it was still a little shaky.

—I... I think so. Sorry.

You felt your cheeks heat up, trying to look away, but your eyes insisted on returning to him.

Jude quickly grabbed a towel, throwing it over his shoulders, but still without putting on his shirt, clearly not as bothered as you were.

—No need to apologize. —He replied, still smiling in that provocative way. —But it's funny... I always knew you wanted to see me, but I didn't expect it to be like this.

Your eyes widened at the blatant joke.

—You’re an idiot!

You said, trying to sound angry, but unable to hide the nervous smile that formed on your lips.

He took a step towards you, slowly, as if measuring the impact of each movement. You tried to back away, but the closet was right behind you, preventing any attempt to escape. Jude, still unhurried, stopped a few inches away from your small body compared to his. The heat radiating from his body seemed to invade yours, and for a moment, you were sure he could hear your heart beating.

—What's wrong, Y/n? Are you going to run away now? —He teased, lowering his head a little to meet your eyes. —We're always so direct on the field... I thought it was like that off it too.

You swallowed hard, unable to take your eyes off his smile.

—I'm not running away. I just... I didn't expect to see you like this.

—Like what?

Jude arched an eyebrow, his smile widening even more.

You felt the words escape your mind completely. There was no simple answer. Because, in fact, seeing him like this —without defenses, without the barrier of the uniform and the player's posture— was something new. He seemed even closer, more real, and this closeness disoriented you.

—Like this... without your barriers.

You finally managed to say, your voice coming out low, but full of sincerity.

For a moment, his smile wavered. He watched you closely, as if trying to understand the depth of the words you had just said. And then, to your surprise, he took another step forward, completely invading your space.

—I never had any barriers with you. — Jude murmured, now very close. Close enough for you to feel the warmth of his breath. —Since day one.

The world around you seemed to disappear. It was as if, at that moment, nothing else mattered but the two of you. You found yourself trapped between the locker and the young player, and as much as part of your mind screamed to get out of there, your body wouldn’t obey. Something bigger kept you in place, something that had been stuck between you for too long.

—Jude…

You began, but you weren’t sure what you wanted to say. You couldn’t form a clear line of reasoning with him so close.

He, on the other hand, seemed to know exactly what he wanted. Without breaking eye contact, Bellingham raised his hand and lightly touched your face, his fingers running along the line of your jaw to your chin. The touch was soft, but at the same time, electrifying.

—I thought you knew... —He said softly, leaning in even closer. —It’s always been you.

Your heart felt like it was going to explode. There was something about Jude that had always attracted you, something that went beyond the physical, beyond the talent. He had an intensity, a passion, and now, with him so close, you felt like you couldn’t run away from it anymore. You closed your eyes for a brief second, trying to process everything that was happening, but then… You gave in. With a quick movement, as if your body had finally decided to act on its own, you leaned forward and kissed him. The touch of your lips was like an explosion, and everything that had been bottled up between you for months, maybe years, came to the surface all at once. The kiss was deep, full of desire and, above all, of the connection that you both tried to hide for so long. He responded with the same intensity, his hands wrapping around your waist and pulling you closer. You felt his body, strong and warm, pressed against yours, and you knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that this was where you wanted to be. There was no denying it anymore.

When you finally separated, both of you panting, you looked at him, your eyes still wide with the intensity of the moment. Jude smiled, this time softer, but still with that mischievous glint.

—That explains why you went into the wrong locker room.

He said, teasing you once more.

You laughed, still breathless.

—Maybe I did it on purpose.

And there, between laughs and sighs, you knew that, after that day, nothing would ever be the same again.

Moon Star

Marc Spector x Daughter!reader

Summary- After the snap the relationship you had with your father, Marc Spector is nothing of what it was before. The love he once harbored are all memories, and the responsibility he had over his own child he left to his parents and Layla. It isn’t until you’re 18 that you join Layla’s side for adventures Marc never wanted you to join, you become best friends, she becomes your mother. And it’s when you’re finally out back in London that things begin to go awry and your father crosses your life again, only he says he isn’t your father but rather Steven Grant. It hurts to hear him deny the fact, hear him turn you down and ignore you, you’re set to finally forget about him, but then you have no choice but to go on an adventure with him, Layla and the egyptian god Khonshu.

What does the adventure hold? Salvation for your relationship with your father? Pain? Or a very special opportunity…

Season 1:

Chapter 1: Wolf

Chapter 2: Isn’t it strange?

Chapter 3: All for love

Chapter 4: Heart to heart

.

Chapter 5: Spider-boy

Chapter 6: Daddy’s girl

Chapter 7: Should I stay or Should I go?

Marvin Gayne (faceclaim)

SUPERNATURAL MASTERLIST

*DISCLAIMER: SOME STORIES MAY BE TAGGED FOR WRONG DEMOGRAPHIC (ie, Not GN, male or fem) IF SO, PLEASE POLITELTY INFORM ME SO I CAN FIX IT

DEAN WINCHESTER

Finally Reunited (Dean Winchester X Daughter!Reader)

Little Him (Dean Winchester X Daughter!Reader)

Too Many Jokes (Dean Winchester X Daughter!Reader)

Should Have Known (Dean Winchester X Daughter!Reader)

Try Again Next Week (Dean Winchester X Male!Reader)

Make It To Me (Dean Winchester X Reader)

Pushing Yourself (Dean Winchester X Reader)

Until Next Time (Dean Winchester X Fem!Reader)

Not The Planned Delivery (Dean Winchester X Pregnant!Reader)

Baby Banshee (Dean Winchester X Wife!Reader)

SAM WINCHESTER

Rowena's Apprentice (Sam Winchester X Son!Reader)

Prom Date (Sam Winchester X Son!Reader)

Shirts Worn By Brothers (Sam Winchester X Trans!Brother!Reader)

First Hunt (Sam Winchester X Brother!Reader)

Being Sam's Half-Demon, Bi-Racial Son Would Include...

Too Selfless (Sam Winchester X Daughter!Reader)

Nerdy Interactions (Sam Winchester X Fem!Reader)

Big Secrets (Sam Winchester X Fem!Reader)

Spill (Sam Winchester X Fem!Reader) *TW

Senses (Sam Winchester X Twin!Reader)

JOHN WINCHESTER

Choice Between Siblings (Dean Winchester X Daughter!Reader)

MARY WINCHESTER

Poor Heart (Mary Winchester X Daughter!Reader)

CASTIEL

Caught With The Angel (Castiel X Winchester!Fem!Reader)

Pants (Castiel X Asexual!Reader)

Neglected Dreams (Castiel X Teen!Fem!Reader)

Feeling Left Out (Castiel X Fem!Reader)

Where Were You!? (Castiel X Fem!Reader)

CROWLEY

Did You Multiply?(Crowley X Winchester!Fem!Reader) Pt 1/Pt 2

Little Winchester (Crowley X Winchester!Fem!Reader)

Good Hunter (Crowley X Winchester!Fem!Reader)

Liking A Demon (Crowley X Winchester!Reader)

Troublesome Crushes (Crowley X Fem!Reader)

You're A Demon/ Hunter? (Crowley X Fem!Reader)

A Different Kind Of Deal (Crowley X Fem!Reader)

GABRIEL

Chocolate (Gabriel X Teen!Winchester!Reader)

Losing My Angel (Gabriel X Winchester!Fem!Reader)

Angel Date (Gabriel X Fem!Reader)

Binary Spells (Gabriel X Non!Binary!Reader)

MICHAEL

Being Michael's Daughter Would Include...

Asshole (Michael X Fem!Reader)

LUCIFER

Being Lucifer's First Son Would Include...

JACK KLINE

Being Jack Kline's Twin Would Include...

Lost Twin (Jack Kline X Twin Sister!Reader)

For Mom (Jack Kline X Twin Sister!Reader)

Stories Behind Scars (Jack Kline X Winchester!Reader)

OTHER

Distraction (Team Free Will X Reader)

Safety And Security (Winchester Bros X Sister!Reader)

Growing Up (Winchester Bros X Sister!Reader)

3 Year Reunion (Winchester Bros X Sister!Reader)

Fidgetting (Winchester Bros X Sister!Reader)

Trying to Help (Winchester Bros X Blind!Sister!Reader)

Deals (Winchester Bros X Sister!Reader)

Our Dear Sister (Winchester Bros X Sister!Reader)

A Normal Life (Winchester Bros X Demon!Reader)

Hello, I'm The Son Of Lucifer (Winchester Bros X Male!Reader)

Safety (Winchester Bros X Fem!Reader)

Being Sam And Lucifer's Son Would Include...

Being Donna and Gabriel's Child Would Include...

Little Witch (Castiel X Dean X Daughter!Reader) Pt 1/ Pt 2

Headcanons for being the youngest Scamander sibling

Newt/Theseus Scamander x sibling!reader

warnings: fb3 spoilers! mainly takes place during the movie! also death/fighting

a/n: god i have been so excited to write this dhsbsghs. and i love u anon ur so sweet.

prompt: anonymous: “OMG I JUST WATCHED FB3 and it was such a fun ride!! may i request a headcanon for being the youngest scamander who's still in hogwarts? thank you very much! your works are always lovely ♡”

yes, you were quite younger than your brothers

but that didn’t change the fact that they loved you and you loved them

it was a shame you couldn’t get in on the action with them, whether that be magizoology or ministry happenings (or adventures they found themselves in)

dumbledore swore to keep his eye on you

made sure you didn’t get kicked out like *someone* in your family

“you’re so close to graduating, y/n. please take it seriously” -dumbledore

“fifty-fifty chance i do” -you

you don’t typically see theseus and newt at the same time, but whoever is closest for the holidays will pick you up

leta adored you, you’d talk to her every chance you got

“how’s school going, y/n? get yourself into any trouble lately?” -leta

“why does everyone keep asking me that?” -you

“why do you think?” -theseus

he always squeezes the crap out of you when he sends you back to school

and sends you off with a gift or two

“be good” -theseus

“you really don’t trust me, huh?” -you

“force of habit. i’m gonna miss you” -theseus

“right, right. i’ll miss you, too” -you

newt had told you all about how he got into all sorts of trouble at hogwarts

gave you a ton of pointers over the years. where to hide mostly

and he told you to speak your mind, even if it gets you into trouble

but he warned against taking the fall for others, he learned that the hard way

“i’d like to see you graduate here, do some good.” -newt

“wanna hear what i did last week?” -you

“oh, dear…go ahead” -newt

you always had fun telling newt your stories

the few times you get to see him

you missed your brothers often

when leta died, you were shaken to your core

the funeral was a drag

you practically clung to newt and theseus as you parted once more, you worried deeply for their lives

they felt you’d be safest at hogwarts and encouraged you to enjoy it while you could

“i really wish i could be out there with them” -you

“i know you do, but think about your education for a moment” -dumbledore

“mm, okay, still want to help” -you

“why can’t you be a cheeky hermit like newt was your age?” -dumbledore

“because i’m not newt” -you “or theseus, before you go there”

“you’re funny like them, though” -dumbledore

you really did remind him of newt and theseus, but your dynamic also reminded him of him, aberforth, and ariana

when newt’s friend, jacob, showed up to hogwarts, you were so excited

“hello! you must be jacob!” -you

“hey, yeah, that’s me. you, uh, you a psychic or something?” -jacob

“i’m something, y/n scamander” -you

“oh! oh, you’re the little sibling! look at you in your funny little uniform. wow, another scamander. you uptight or an animal lover?” -jacob

“just me, thank you” -you

giving jacob the tour

“do you fly around this place on those broomsticks, too?” -jacob

“i did once or twice” -you, laughing “got kicked off the quidditch team, though. i had my fair streak of trouble”

“quidditch? what’s that?” -jacob

“it’s the sport that they’re playing” -you

“like…like baseball?” -jacob

“sure, like baseball” -you

when your brothers got back to hogwarts, you were ecstatic (and desperate to get in on it all)

“y/n, don’t you have studies?” -theseus

“shhh, just let me have this” -you

“hi there, y/n, missed you” -newt

“where’s the case?” -you

“oh, i dont have it at the moment” -newt

“what? where is it?” -you

“bunty has it” -newt

“and where is she?” -you

you were highly intrigued by the issue at hand

well, not so much intrigued as you were desperate to know what was going on

any detail left out would make you lose sleep

“where are you staying tonight?” -you

“they’ll be staying at the hog’s head inn” -dumbledore

“may i come, too? just for tonight?” -you

“ah, i don’t know if that’s appropriate—” -dumbledore

“we’ll sign off on it” -newt

*theseus side eyes*

you brought some of your homework along and did it at the bar, just wanting to be near

newt helped you out with it for a bit

“hey, i remember this. you need a hand? or another head?” -newt

“sure, that’d be great” -you

you told him how you’d gone through the boggart lesson recently

“oh! oh…oh, how was that?” -newt

“not too bad, we all had a few laughs” -you

“yours wasn’t too scary?” -newt

“no, not any worse than a desk” -you, making fun of him

newt had noticed writing on the mirror across from him and left you a moment

and lally wanted to get to know the youngest scamander

“why hello there, dear. we haven’t had a moment to ourselves yet. what are you up to?” -lally

“just some homework brought from hogwarts. they excused me from curfew tonight as long as i proved i’d still be productive” -you

“a unique situation you’re in, aren’t you?” -lally

“you could say that” -you, laughing “i’m always being expected to act up thanks to newt, but they always want me to go above and beyond like theseus. i love my brothers, i’d just like to be me”

“oh, i see. well, i see you as you. tell me about you” -lally

you and lally had a long conversation while newt and dumbledore did the same

“you know, y/n carries a copy of fantastic beasts wherever they go. i think they miss you” -dumbledore

“they do? how do you know?” -newt

“i see them read it all the time. they even catch some unsuspecting students to ramble to about it from time to time” -dumbledore

“are you saying they’re starting to…to turn out like me?” -newt

“i’m saying they miss you. don’t take that for granted, newt. not after what i just told you” -dumbledore, glancing at the painting of ariana

when they came back downstairs, you were playing with the newest addition to the magical briefcase

where teddy the niffler was getting jealous and stealing coins from your pocket

you made the most of this time with your brothers and their friends, knowing that danger loomed over them

and there was nothing that you could do

but you could dance and talk and laugh and mingle until the sun came up

you followed them to the room of requirement and gave them hugs goodbye

“what is this place?” -jacob

“the room we require” -newt

“y/n, why didn’t you show me this?” -jacob

*magic users chuckling*

“be safe. please” -you

“you’re worried about us? that’s adorable” -theseus, hugging you as hard as he could

“oh, sorry. i hope you get cursed” -you, sarcastically

“i’ll see you soon, don’t worry. just focus on your classes” -newt

“why can’t i come with you? i want to help!” -you

“because dumbledore doesn’t need any children fighting his battles” -theseus

^(a/n: *spongebob narrator voice* “sixty years later”)

anyways

you were on edge all day, watching the election for supreme mugwump with your classmates

your brothers appeared before the wizarding world and you hid behind your hands as your classmates turned to you

“are you alright, y/n?” -professor mcgonnagal

“that depends on what happens in the next few minutes” -you

fortunately, your brothers came home

and you were invited to jacob and queenie’s wedding in new york!

“really?!” -you

“yes, really, kid! you’re gonna love new york, i’ll even give you a tour! least i can do for you showing me your school” -jacob

you went to new york and absolutely loved it, it was your new favorite place

and these wedding guests, your new favorite people

“you’re my new favorite, too!” -queenie

taglist: @ravenmoore14 // @summersimmerus // @the-did-i-ask // @azazel-nyx // @randomfandomimagine // @scarthefangirl // @locke-writes // @sweetjedi // @beth-gallagher22 // @bad4amficideas // @xoxobabydolls // @ruvaakke // @evilcr0ne // @thedarkqueenofavalon // @nightmarefox15 //

Drunk Shakespeare

Summary: It’s Summer 1925 in the Little Lady Blinderverse. Isiah and Clara decide to end their work day early to escape the heat of the betting shop, but find the heat in the air between them is harder to escape than they thought.

Characters: Clara Shelby x Isiah Jesus, Finn Shelby pops in for a moment.

Prompt: Almost caught

Content Warnings: Just vibes and a little kissing.

Tell me what y'all think! Reviews and comments are always appreciated. 😌❤️

Peaky Blinders (Little Lady Blinder) Masterlist

Peaky Blinders (Non-Shelby!Sister) Masterlist

Clara watched the long hand of her brother's old pocket watch as it moved around the clock face, the quiet ticks and tocks seeming to mock her as they seemed to slow and delay in her mind.

After what had seemed like an eternity squashed into a mere morning and early afternoon, she was basically caught up on the books. Or at least, if she wasn't precisely caught up, Clara wasn't feeling particularly motivated to keep working on them. Not that she'd been doing anything that could really be considered ‘work’ for the last hour and a half.

Shoving the pocketwatch away, she glanced at Isiah. He was across the room in Finn’s office, twirling a pencil in his fingers. Clara wasn't sure what he was meant to be ‘working’ on in her brother's office, but she assumed pencil twirling wasn't it. 

It had been a slow afternoon. No one had been keen on laying bets or working, so the shop had emptied early. Everyone had finished up their day's work and gone home.

In this heat, Clara didn't blame them. Despite the mound of work she had to complete for her brother, she didn't want to be here either.

Clara had already shed her sweater. She couldn't respectably lose any more layers or she'd be left in just her slip, but she longed for it. She longed for a breeze or dip in one of the ponds on the grounds of Arrow House. She longed for a chunk of ice from the ice box in the kitchen. She longed for the end of this Friday afternoon, the end to this stale, sticky existence.

Clara pushed herself back from the desk—Tommy's desk, though he never used it anymore. The chair was more hers than his these days. Tommy had once said it could be Clara’s one day—the boss's chair—but even though it was her who sat in it more than him, Clara wasn't the boss. Today, she felt no better than any other working person staring at the clock and waiting for the end of their shift. It seemed that was all she’d done all day.

She'd have to come back and finish what she hadn’t accomplished before the end of the month—over the weekend or early before she was due at the Jamaica Row office on Monday morning. It wasn't smart putting it off, but Clara didn't care. The heat had zapped any sense of caring from her system, leeching all of the diligent conscientiousness she was known for straight out of her. 

"What are the odds we get caught out if we lock up early?” 

Isiah's foot fell off the desk and slammed against the floor, Clara's sudden presence in the room startling him more than it should have considering a wall of windows lined the office and he’d faced that way, his glossy gaze set out toward the empty shop she crossed over on her way to get to him.

"Christ, Clara—Trying to stop my fucking heart, eh?"

Clara sighed, rolling her eyes at Isiah’s dramatics out of nothing more than habit. The whole bit was familiar. He usually would have wrapped her head in an arm, ruffling her hair as retribution, but today he barely moved, barely even allowed the muscles of his mouth to pull into a smirk. 

Clara was glad for it because if Isiah laid a hand on her, Clara thought she might scream. The idea of him coming anywhere near her in this heat, of his warm hand in her already frizzy hair…she felt warmer just thinking about it.

"The only thing I'm trying to do is stop working."

"You're finished?”

Clara shrugged. She didn't have it in her to lie, but she didn’t quite want to admit she’d been doing close to nothing all day either. "Are you?'

"I've been done for hours." 

"What are you sitting in here for, then?"

She could see that she wasn't the only warm one. Isiah had rolled his shirt sleeves. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he looked at her with a raised eyebrow. She couldn't imagine why he'd choose to sit here when he could be anywhere else.

Isiah raised an eyebrow. "What do you think?" 

"Fucking hell. You’re babysitting. Tommy's such a—" 

“Finn," Isiah interrupted.

"What?"

"It was Finn’s idea. Said 'I've got a meeting across town. Keep an eye on her.’ Not Tom."

Clara hummed, filing that annoying development away to complain about later. For today it was an order from Finn’s mouth, but before Finn, it had been John, and before that, she knew the order had originated with Tommy and Arthur. Tommy, who Isiah no routinely called 'Tom' and defended, as if they were friends. On the same side of things. Clara let the thought go, too hot for the annoyance that came with thinking too hard on her brothers.

"Where'd Finn go, anyway?'

"Meeting across town," Isiah answered, repeating the words with a smirk. 

Clara breathed deeply, stifling the urge to hit him. She could imagine herself doing it, the satisfaction of her open palm—all clammy and swollen with the heavy moisture of the air—smacking against Isiah’s stupid, sweaty forehead. 

“I just said.” Isiah added, stupid grin still on his face. “The heat getting to you, there, Miss Shelby?” 

It was hotter in Finn's office than it was in Tommy's. There were no windows to the outside here, no airflow. Clara pulled at her dress, the fabric sticking to her collarbone as she tried to catch some relief.

“I meant who’s he with?” 

Isiah shrugged. “Afraid that's above my pay grade. Can’t be asking after the boss’s whereabouts now, can I, love?” 

Clara rolled her eyes. Finn wasn’t any sort of boss, not really, even if he was acting like it lately. And the amount of things that fell above Isiah's pay grade had dwindled over the last few years. She was nearly certain Isiah knew exactly who Finn was meeting with and what it was about, but she let it go, figuring that if it was important or relevant to her, he'd have just told her. The fact that he was playing with her told her it wasn't either of those things.

“Fine. Tell me, love, does the 'boss' have anything good in that drawer there?” Clara nodded toward the desk and Isiah shook his head, chuckling. 

“What are you shaking your head for? What’s he going to do?” she asked. “Fire us for borrowing his whiskey and skiving off?” 

“Tom—”

“I don’t care what Tommy or Arthur or John or Finn has said. It’s hot and there’s no reason for us to be cooped up here. I’ll take my chances with the lot of them.” Clara reached down, pulling out the bottle of whiskey. She opened it and took a slug before she handed the bottle to Isiah. After he drank, Clara held a hand out to him. 

He raised an eyebrow, glancing at the hand they both knew was clammy and damp with sweat. Clara ran her hand down the side of her dress before presenting it again. 

Isiah rolled his eyes as he slipped his hand into hers and Clara groaned, dropping his slicked hand in an instant. Isiah smirked as he ran his hand down the side of her skirts same as Clara had just done. No other man would’ve dared to slide his hand down Clara Shelby’s side like that, but this was Isiah and they were alone in the shop—no prying eyes to watch over them for a change.

“You’re insufferable.”

Isiah chuckled. “You’ve said so plenty enough.”

“Because it’s true.”

“Well, between you and me, it’s mutual.”

Clara yanked his hand then, pulling him out of the chair and to his feet. Isiah stumbled for her benefit. 

“You’re testy today.”

“I’m hot,” Clara answered, walking towards the staircase. She tugged Isiah along up the first few steps, her arm straining as Isiah stopped on the third step from the bottom.

“And we’re going to the second floor to cool off?” 

Clara took a deep breath before stopping and turning back to Isiah. 

“We’re all locked up?”

Isiah nodded. He'd gone around to check all of the doors after Finn headed out. “Have been for hours.” 

“Good, now shut up and do what you're told.” 

Isiah snorted. “Yes, ma’am.”

Clara smirked at that. At least someone respected her. Even if it was just Isiah, and even if he was only playing, the telltale smile tugging at his lips, a bit of glee right there dancing in his eyes. Because even with those things present, Clara knew some part of it was genuine. Isiah respected her more than most people in her life. Believed in her more than most, too. And he had always offered up a bit of his power in the context of their relationship, allowing her to win on most things. 

Not every single thing, but most. 

Enough of the time that Clara knew when he was doing it. 

As they moved up the stairs, the heat wrapped around them like a blanket. Someone had shut all of the windows, the air up there even more stale than it had been down in the shop. 

Clara had a moment of doubt while the stifling heat grew, smothering them both and challenging Clara's breathing. Sweat collected on her back and chest under her clothes. She cursed in her head that maybe Isiah was right. Maybe there was no relief to be found on this Friday afternoon, not unless she wanted to give in and head out to her brother's house. 

But Clara didn’t want to. If she did, Tommy would have questions about the books and whether or not she’d caught up yet. She didn’t have it in her to try to lie to him. If she was being honest, she didn’t have it in her for much of anything except simply being. 

Walking the stairs of her childhood home with Isiah’s hand growing sweaty in hers, Clara was reminded of simpler days. Of times when she’d been just allowed to be. Even then, she’d been an anxious child. Overwhelmed and feeling like she was pulled in a million different ways, but looking back on it now, Clara was nostalgic for a certain freedom inherent to childhood. A certain freedom that came with not fully understanding the actions and motivations of the adults surrounding her. 

She had always sought to understand, had always wanted to be a part of things, and now that she was—now that she and Isiah both were thoroughly integrated parts of the things they’d once begged to be included in—Clara would give anything for the two of them to go back to before. 

To be reading together from a book, or pretending to be Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson. To be just two kids in their own little bubble, just the two of them against the world. It was a lovely thought, accompanied by a lovely feeling of nostalgia and as they stepped onto the second floor—just the two of them there within the walls of number 6 Watery Lane—Clara thought maybe it could still be the case.

The times were less frequent these days, but there were still moments when Clara would catch Isiah's gaze across the room, the two of them immediately caught up in some secret conversation that no one else even knew was taking place. 

And sometimes, the two of them would dance, and as Isiah spun Clara around, she could’ve sworn there was no one else in the world. On those occasions, it was as if the music played of its own accord, no one needed to pull the strings or croon the melodies, the two of them feeling anonymous and alone even though they were surrounded by other couples. 

“Come on, Siah,” Clara said as she tugged Isiah’s hand, some part of her certain that she could reach out and grasp that feeling, as if it was something she could trap and hold onto, keeping it close to her heart. 

Isiah smiled at Clara’s impatience, his body so near to hers that he could feel the heat radiating off her back, a warmth separate from that of the air around them, almost pulsing between them. 

Clara dropped his hand as she stepped into her bedroom, still neat and tidy and kept as if the 12-year-old girl she once was still lived there. As she moved toward the window, Clara pressed the whiskey bottle into Isiah’s hand, not bothering to look back to confirm it was within his grasp before she let go. 

Isiah leaned against her dresser, watching as she struggled with the window, the wooden frame stiff and swollen and thoroughly stuck from the heat and years of disuse. 

As he watched, Isiah wondered...when was the last time Clara Shelby had climbed out through her bedroom window? When was the last time Isiah Jesus had climbed out with her? 

Neither of them could remember, and it seemed like the room had forgotten as well, the window remaining belligerently shut even as Clara dug in her heels and leveraged all of her strength in trying to raise the pane, a new layer of sweat gleaming at her hairline as she struggled. 

“Alright,” Isiah started as he eased off the dresser, the whiskey bottle set aside. “Let me—”

“No!” Clara answered, her voice booming with the strength of her struggle as she kicked a leg out in Isiah’s general direction to keep him back. “I’ll get it. You choose a book.”

Clara sent her foot out again, this time directing it toward the other side of the room, and Isiah turned to follow the direction of her kick, straight to the chair beside her bed where a stack of books sat piled dangerously high. 

The pile was a mix of old and new, a selection of books from her childhood and few of her more recent favorites interspersed with a few of the books Isiah remembered as coming from Tommy’s shelf. Those books had once been forbidden to Clara, but Isiah supposed they were far beyond forbidden books at this stage. And Tommy Shelby had far bigger concerns than what types of books his sister was reading. 

Isiah fished a book out of the pile before returning his attention to Clara. He was about to sit down on her bed to watch the show of her struggle when the window flew open, the sudden movement accompanied by a rush of air and a celebratory shout from Clara. 

“I told you I would get it,” she said, wiping the sweat from her brow as she turned to him.

Isiah rolled his eyes fondly and crossed the room to grab the whiskey, a swallowed comment on the tip of his tongue because even though Isiah and Clara usually passed quips back and forth, he was more interested in getting out on the roof, more interested in the reprieve of fresh air. Isiah pressed the book and bottle into Clara's hands before swinging himself out through the window. 

Isiah was through in a small span of seconds, but it was certainly a more difficult maneuver than he remembered now that his body was all long limbs and the window seemed infinitely smaller than it once was. 

Reaching back through the frame, he took the book and the bottle Clara handed off. Isiah set them both aside before holding his hand out back through the open window.

“I can—”

“Just let me help, won’t you?” Isiah interrupted. He wiped his hand down the front of his pants before holding it out again. “Gotta fight me about everything.” 

“I’m not—” Clara grasped his hand, allowing Isiah to tug her through, and letting go once she was steady on her feet. “—fighting. I just—”

“Can do it yourself,” Isiah answered. “I know. Doesn’t mean you should always have to.” 

Clara huffed even though a part of her appreciated the sentiment. She tried to be independent. She tried to do everything for herself. She tried to prove how smart and strong and capable she was to just about everyone, but she didn’t have to prove any of that to Isiah. 

Clara unbuttoned the top of her dress, gently fanning herself with the loose fabric as she looked over the courtyard. She took a deep breath, grateful for the grey and cloudy Birmingham skies that shielded them from the heady rays of sun she usually craved.

The roof outside of her bedroom wasn’t exactly the reprieve she had imagined, but it was marginally better than the dense staleness of the shop and her bedroom. 

“Romeo and Juliet?” Clara asked as she lowered herself to the roof and reached for the book. “Really, Isiah?” 

While Clara enjoyed her Shakespeare, the play hadn’t exactly been her favorite, and her memories of the piece were tainted by the fact that she’d first read it at school, with Juliet’s role going to a girl she wasn’t particularly fond of. Clara would’ve preferred to revisit Sherlock Holmes or one of Tommy’s old books. 

Isiah shrugged and sat down beside her, reaching for the bottle. “Reminded me of when you tried stepping out with that Italian kid.” 

He said it as if he didn’t remember the name of the ‘Italian kid.' As if it had been nothing but a blip. As if her social connections hadn’t gotten her into nothing but trouble that year and been the source of arguments between her and her family, and her and Isiah.

Clara shoved Isiah’s shoulder.

“I wasn’t stepping out with anyone.”

It had been a friendship. Maybe with a hint of a crush, but there had been no stepping out. Nothing close. Her brothers' reputation had seen to that.

“And anyway, it’s more like when you were stepping out with that Cheapie girl.” 

Isiah raised an eyebrow. “What are you on about?” 

“Ruth,” Clara answered. “Practically Wally Bartow in a dress.” 

He snorted. “It was one dance, Clara. Didn’t even know her name. Had no clue she was a Bartow.”

Clara shrugged. “You looked awfully cozy if I remember properly.” 

“Well, that’s just how I dance, love.” Isiah winked at her before taking a swig from the bottle. “You know that better than anyone.

“And I'm sorry to inform you, but if either of us is destined to have a love life like these two—” Isiah nodded towards the book. “—it’s you. No matter who you end up with, it’ll be like Montagues and Capulets. Shelbys against whatever poor sap you choose.” 

Isiah knocked her shoulder, the touch telling her it was only a joke. Clara stayed leaning against him as long as she could manage in the heat before prying the bottle from his fingers to take a sip.

“Ada says us Shelby girls are cursed that way.” 

Isiah reached for the book, thumbing through the pages rather than answering. He had an idea about that particular curse. He had been old enough to remember how Ada’s marriage had been handled, and even if he hadn’t been, Isiah knew how Clara was being managed. 

How they both had been managed for years now. 

Isiah reached out for the bottle, taking another swig before he started reading.

“Two households, both alike in dignity, In fair Verona, where we lay our scene…”

They passed a few hours reading and talking and sipping from the bottle, the pair moving on to gentle conversation interspersed with quotes from Shakespeare’s catalog once the pages became too difficult to read in the dimming light. Lost in the throes of conversation, easy laughter and the cooling night breeze, Isiah and Clara were suspended in what felt like a world that was just their own, their sense of time and place and awareness pushed aside.

Clara was giggling at some obscure quote Isiah had pulled seemingly out of nowhere when Isiah sensed suddenly that the world was no longer theirs alone, his attention gone to the far end of the shared courtyard, a familiar chorus of boisterous laughter reaching his ear from across the space. 

Isiah was faintly aware of Clara naming the play he’d quoted before she shared her next quote, a gentle laughter lacing her words as she spoke, but the awareness of his heart pounding against his chest was stronger, a sudden urge to quiet her—to shield their presence there on the roof—taking over.

Overcome with that urge, Isiah could’ve shushed her or set his hand over her mouth to stifle the words.

Or he could've taken a breath and calmed himself and simply let her finish. 

It wasn't as if they were doing anything wrong. There was no reason to hide.

Isiah could have let Clara tell him, ‘I do desire we may be better strangers,’ before dissolving into giggles. He could’ve then told her the quote was from ‘As You Like It,’ a quote which he was intimately familiar with because Clara had directed it at him and Finn a number of times before, sometimes in jest, sometimes because she wished to hurt them. 

No one would question Isiah and Clara being out on the roof with a book and a bottle of whiskey, least of all Finn. People were plenty used to their antics, but something felt different tonight so Isiah only let Clara get half a sentence out before he placed his hand at the back of her head, drawing her in close and pressing his lips to hers in the dark, catching her words and quieting her so efficiently that it was nearly silent on the roof as Finn and the junior Peaky Boys passed over the back threshold of no. 6. 

The kiss only lasted a few seconds, but Isiah felt Clara’s whole body relax within his touch. She leaned into the hand he cradled behind her head, allowing him to deepen the kiss he hadn’t intended on giving in the first place, her hands reaching out for him, her fingernails grazing his scalp in a way that sent shivers down his spine. 

Isiah pulled away, but even so, for a moment, he forgot where he was. He forgot why he’d kissed her, or at least he’d forgotten whatever justification he’d initially provided himself for pressing his lips to hers. He forgot about Finn and the boys. He forgot about Shakespeare and feuds and consequences. With his warm hand still on the back of Clara’s sweaty neck, barely able to see the details of her now flushed face, it was once again just the two of them there in the world. 

With their faces still so close that Clara could feel Isiah’s warm whiskey-tinged breath on her face, her eyes shifted to his lips. She couldn’t remember what they were talking about before. She didn’t know why he’d kissed her. She had heard the back door slam, some part of her aware of her twin's proximity, an awareness Aunt Polly had always tol her was part of her gifts, but as Clara pulled Isiah's lips back to hers, she found she didn’t care to remember there was more to the world than the two of them and this. 

She didn’t want to question it, and yet, Clara was first to pull away this time, her ears far more sensitive to the familiar sound of someone turning the handle of her childhood bedroom’s door than Isiah was. With a sudden swiftness, she removed herself from Isiah’s hold and pushed him back against the roof as she extended her hand up to the sky. 

“There you are,” Finn said, sticking his head out the open window to see what Clara was pointing at. "What are the two of you out here for?"

Clara tilted her head back to her brother. “Constellations and Shakespeare. Would you like to join us?” she asked, the words feeling odd to her as they passed through her swollen lips.

“No,” Finn snorted. “It's payday. We’re heading to the Garrison, and then maybe to a few other—” 

“No, thank you. I'm staying here,” Clara answered, even though it wasn’t exactly an invite Finn had extended, but more of a declaration. An order.

A flash of something passed over Finn’s face. Clara could barely see it in the dark, but she figured it was a bit of annoyance, maybe, or a touch of shock at being refused. It seemed like more and more, Finn was coming to expect the same sort of compliance from Clara that the others did, forgetting that it was mere minutes that separated their births rather than years.

“It’s too hot, Finn,” Clara added, her tone a bit softer. “I have no desire to be holed up in the snug, squashed between you lot.”

“Alright, then. Isiah?” Finn tried.

“She’s got a point, mate.” 

Clara heard someone shouting from the floor below, the details muffled by the shut door, but Finn seemed to recognize their meaning well enough. 

"Are you sure?" Clara sensed the question was for Isiah even though they could barely see each other's faces in the growing dark. "Drinks are on Shelby Company Ltd. tonight," Finn added, as if Isiah's drinks weren't usually on the house, anyway.

"It's alright. You go ahead with the boys," Isiah offered. "I'll keep an eye on Clara."

Clara's elbow twitched, the desire to ram it into Isiah's ribcage surging as she caught the hint of a smirk on Isiah's face, but Clara stopped herself knowing that it had been the right thing to say.

Finn nodded his understanding in the dark, his attention pulled to the stairs once again by a sudden noise.

"Don't fall asleep out there, Clara."

Clara heaved a breath to stop herself from telling him he had no business telling her where she could or couldn't fall asleep, but Isiah beat her to it, telling Finn he would handle it.

No matter that Finn would likely be the one who needed assistance finding his bed before the night was through...

"Have a good night," Finn said as he stepped away from the window, leaving Isiah and Clara alone. They leaned back against the roof, the two of them staring at the sky in silence as they listened to the sounds of Finn and the boys heading out through the back door, their shouting and laughter echoing as they traversed the shared courtyard. 

When the echoes died away, Clara stretched out her fingers, seeking the familiar roughness of Isiah’s palm. 

“That was bad,” Isiah said, his fingers closing around hers. “Close...we almost got caught.”  

Clara heaved a breath before turning to face him. “There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so.” 

Isiah snorted. He glanced briefly to his right to meet Clara's gaze in the dark before tipping his head back to the sky.

"Hamlet," Isiah answered softly, squeezing her hand gently before releasing her fingers.

They had been through this time and time again, the two of them dancing around the label of what they were. Friends. Best friends. Something more. They had settled on friends as far as most of the world was concerned, but that didn’t mean the lines weren’t still blurry at times, their belligerent feelings tangled and confused and persistent. For years now, they had maintained a mostly unspoken agreement that they’d keep anything beyond friendship hidden—from themselves, from one another, from everyone else. 

Most especially from everyone else. 

They'd learned early on that it wasn't worth the strife. It wasn't worth the fight. Any resistance had been squashed down time and again. Somehow, this felt easier. Less painful.

If it was up to the two of them, perhaps things would be different. Perhaps they’d have tried at love and failed, and moved on by now. Or perhaps they would have tried and it would have been easy. Smooth.

Perhaps there would be no confusion or jealousy or hiding. No dismissing their closeness as nothing more than echo of a childhood friendship, no stinging comments on who the other had stepped out with—the slights used both as a weapon and a protection to guard their tender hearts. 

But as it was, Clara and Isiah had never been given a proper chance at something more. A boundary had been set for them at the outset, a series of orders they’d both been too young to fight at the time. They’d been at the mercy of the powers that be, and even though they were older now, they were still at the mercy of that power.

Or maybe they still danced around the boundary because it felt easier, somehow safer for them both to keep that prescribed distance between them. 

“Perhaps I am destined for tragedy, Isiah.” Clara mused. “Or simply to be alone. Unloved for eternity.” 

“You’re not alone, love.” Isiah reached for the hand he’d dropped only moments before. “I’m right here.” 

“And you know I love you," he added as Clara curled toward him, resting her head against his chest. 

Clara sighed and nodded. 

“I love you, too,” she added, and Isiah’s chest fell with the breath he’d been holding. 

“Can we not just pretend that’s enough?” Clara asked. “Just for tonight?”

They were dangerous questions and Clara asked them without turning to observe Isiah’s face. She could feel the tenseness of his body beneath her, the fear her questions provoked.

“Like it’s just us in the world and no one else?” she tried, a question and a wish because the house was empty and the roof was dark and it was unlikely they’d be caught. 

Isiah feared that a little, but more than he feared getting caught—for they’d successfully explained away so much over the years and he had no doubt they could manage it again—Isiah feared the two of them getting caught up in things. He feared getting caught up in the true feelings between them, the ones they’d so carefully worked to keep a hold on all of these years, a carefully manicured relationship that allowed them to be close, but not so close that they fell over the edge. 

For even though Isiah dated other girls, and even though Clara insisted that Isiah Jesus was just a friend, they both knew there was something more between them. A magnetic pull, something in their hearts that they both knew to be true love. 

In the moments when the two of them could be honest with each other, when the rest of the world fell away...on nights like tonight, it wasn’t especially unusual for their lips to meet. It wasn’t unusual for Clara’s hopelessly romantic naïveté to make a showing. For some part of her to feel that it could be easy. That it could work.

And it wasn’t unusual for Isiah to agree. For every part of him to want the very thing they spent the bulk of their days denying and shutting down.

They were both craving it now though, both barely able to remember why they ever did hold back. It was just the two of them there on the roof beneath a blanket of smog-covered stars, both of them still hazy around the edges due to the whiskey and the heat and the memory of their kiss, the memory of his hands on the back of her neck. 

Those things made it easy to hope. They made it easy to forget.

Because if they were surrounded by friends at the Garrison or out at Arrow House or under the watchful eye of a Blinder, Clara and Isiah wouldn’t even entertain the thought that they could be more than friends. Under those circumstances, they’d be easily convinced that regardless of the feelings between them, it was much too complicated, much too difficult. 

“Maybe we should just run away. Find a place in the world where there are stars in the sky and no Shelbys.”

Isiah snorted. “Not even you?”

“Well, just me,” Clara amended. “Just me and you and no one else we've ever met. It could be easy.”  

“Maybe,” Isiah hummed, his hand tilting Clara’s face up to his as he spoke. “but the course of true love never did run smooth, Clara Shelby” 

“A Midsummer Night’s—” Clara started, only for the rest of the play’s title to be caught up by Isiah’s lips. 

They both knew it wasn’t a good idea, dabbling in love when neither was ready to commit to the war it would be. Neither was quite ready for the consequences of them moving beyond friendship, moving against her family’s wishes and decrees, but they let it happen anyway, some piece of their hearts holding on to the hope that someday they wouldn’t be hiding on a rooftop, stealing hungry kisses in the dark.

Peaky Blinders (Little Lady Blinder) Masterlist

Peaky Blinders (Non-Shelby!Sister) Masterlist

our deal masterlist [ln4]

can't believe i'm doing this but our deal series is a go, find all the parts, finished and future here / send me an ask or comment below or on a fic to be added to the taglist!! and as usual let me know what you think! :)

plot: lando norris x williams driver!reader, friends with benefits (idiots to lovers) - 2023 F1 Season

part one | suzuka

part two | just friends | social media au

part two(.five) | qatar

part three | mexico

part four | miami

part five | heart eyes | social media au

part six | las vegas

part seven | question mark | social media au

part eight | season end

part nine | together | social media au

bonus - an our deal christmas

plot: lando norris x williams drivers!reader against the world (idiots in love) - 2024 F1 Season part one | dts

it'll be alright [blurb]

part two | bahrain

part three | australia 

part four | have your back | social media au

part five | miami

part six | austria

part seven | x | social media au

part eight | summer break

part nine | singapore

part ten | abu dhabi

Team Betrayal | Red Bull! Reader x Platonic! Grid

Summary: Y/N Y/L/N races for Red Bull but when she's caught out drinking another brand, she enacts her revenge until the Grid outs her snitched.

Apologies but this is a female reader.

Warning: Bad writing. I'm not sure what this is but it was prompted between an energy drink dilemma I had the other day.

There is no timeline for this. Make it up.

Main Masterlist.

━━━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━━━

Swiping away the sweat that ran down the back of her neck, Y/N grinned at the camera, drinking in the euphoric energy enveloping her on all sides.

"Thank you for joining us after such a long day." The interviewer beamed, pleased to have been able to catch the Red Bull racer before debrief started. "How're you feeling? You look absolutely drenched."

"Yes. Max thought he was funny tipping the entire can of Red Bull over my head. I'll wash my hair three times and still go home smelling of the stuff." Y/N joked, dabbing the drop of sticky liquid rolling down her forehead.

Pleased that the conversation had naturally developed down that path, the interviewer smirked at the camera before turning their attention back to you. "So, you've been driving for Red Bull for 2 years now? Is it safe to say you're also a big fan of the drink?"

She laughed nervously, unsure why such an odd question was being asked after a Grand Prix. Usually the media used this opportunity to ask how she felt about losing/her teammate winning. Again. "Who isn't?" Y/N joked.

Whipping out her phone, the interviewer (dressed in traitorous McLaren orange) thrust it in front of her face. The grin from Y/N's face instantly dropped as she squinted against the blinding sun. Disbelief painted her face.

"Where did you get that? That's actually me!"

"One of your fellow racers provided it earlier." The interviewer informed, tucking away the damning photo of Y/N drinking a can of Monster Energy, dressed in her Red Bull racing suit and attempting to hide her behaviour behind a laughing Lando Norris.

"Who?!"

"I'm afraid we're not at liberty to say. We promised confidentiality in favour of the photo," teased the interviewer.

"That's my face." Y/N's eyes darkened challengingly. She leaned into the microphone, staring down the camera. "In that case, those boys won't know a moment of peace until I get my answer."

She straightened just as soon after, smile flickering back into place as she heard her name being called. "Oops, I was meant to be in debrief a minute again. Thanks for talking to me. Catch you later!"

"Thank you for your time." The interviewer called after the retreating navy figure. She turned back to the camera. "Ladies and Gentleman, I think it's safe to say that Y/N Y/L/N is as ferocious off the track as she is on it. I don't know about you but I would not want to be a member of the Grid this evening."

━━━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━━━

The interview went viral.

YourUserName this you? (She retweeted with a pic of Lando wearing a Monster Energy hat, a can of Red Bull in hand)

→ LandoNorris no.

User 1 not Lando deliberately lying about his own face

User 2 oh, no. Lando. What have you started?

User 3 not me checking my phone every 2 seconds to see if Y/N has posted after she vowed vengence.

→ Your User Name 👀👀

User 4 don't drag poor Maxie into this. He's always seen drinking Red Bull.

User 5 she never was good enough for the team, hope they drop her after this.

User 6 may as well just go to McLaren with how much time she spends with them.

OscarPiastri just a warning. I can hear her laughing evilly next door.

YourUserName so just to clear a few things up. I have never bought a Monster Energy in my life.

YourUse Name i am always supplied with them by people who are attempting to remain innocent in this scandal.

PierreGASLY yeah, well. My shoes are cleaner than yours so...

→ LandoNorris you sure showed her.

User 7 not the Grid coming for my girl only to end up fighting for their lives.

User 8 coming for his teammate

User 9 not the whole Grid teasing her for betraying Red Bull

User 10 always knew Max didn't like them. This just confirms

YourUserName not you too. You said you had my back

→ Max33Verstappen this is why you didn't get on the podium

Max33Verstappen not my babies?!

→ YourUserName i may not have a podium but I do have your cats.

→ Charles_Leclerc you're making this worse for yourself

→ YourUserName watch out or Leo's next

→ Charles_Leclerc *horrified gasp*

User 11 alex fighting for his innocence.

User 12 the Grid are feeding us tonight.

User 13 what's the odds that they're fighting for their lives in the gc?

User 14 bet they're compiling a list of times they gave her Monster

→ User 15 trying to figure out who might be next

User we found the snitch

User 2 anyone else see Red Bull lurking in the likes?

LandoNorris @ danielricciardo this is why she didn't respond

Max33Verstappen daniel's currently crying.

redbullracing christian said you have a meeting with PR tomorrow.

→ YourUserName crap.

User 3 can we take a moment to appreciate all the Grid content we got this evening?

→ User 4 and look at how quick Y/N's responses were. Boo was ready for them.

→ User 5 what are the odds they were all sitting next to their phones, terrified every time it buzzed

→ lilymhe can confirm.