We Do But The Crippling Pressure To Perform To The Highest Standard We Set For Ourselves Keep Us Inline

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ when we are together

| Charles Leclerc x female reader

Content warning(s): FLUFF eventual smut 18+ mdni, mutual pinning, friends to lovers, unprotected sex, english is not my first language.

Summary- It took quite some time for you and Charles to realize that you were truly meant to be together.

word count 4.7k it's a bit long, but I swear it's worth it.

Charles Leclerc has the most captivating eyes you’ve ever seen. Sometimes, they shimmer with a beautiful shade of green, flecked with honey, and at other times, they resemble the majestic blue of Niagara Falls. Regardless of their hue, you find yourself captivated, able to admire them for hours, even days, lost in their beauty.

You first met Charles back in 2014, on a rainy Thursday night. He and his friends burst into your favorite café, shattering the serene quiet with their adolescent banter and laughter. Amid the lively chaos, Charles seemed to glow with an infectious vitality, his face perpetually adorned with a radiant grin.

Unfortunately for you, the café was unusually crowded that evening, so it shouldn’t have been a surprise when his pair of striking eyes met yours for the first time ever. "Sorry, would you mind sharing your table with us?" he asked, his voice as captivating as his gaze.

"Of course not, please sit," you heard yourself say, scooting to the corner to make room for them.

"Do you play?" one of his friends asked, displaying the Uno cards they had brought along.

"Uh, not really," you replied softly, fingers tracing the pendant of your necklace. Despite your attempt to remain composed, the sudden surge of energy around you left you feeling somewhat overwhelmed. The calm ambiance you had been enjoying was swiftly replaced by an unbridled liveliness, making you feel strangely diminutive in comparison.

"Give it a try, I swear it's super fun," he urged, his enthusiasm always infectious to everyone around. Little did you know that simple invitation marked the beginning of years where you found yourself incapable of saying no to him.

That night, you discovered that Charles Leclerc was fiercely competitive, his energy palpable as he fussed around his seat, grimacing and sighing whenever he was losing, and occasionally even letting out a scream directed at his friends—but never at you. You also realized that you both attended the same school yet had never crossed paths before. This was likely because you spent all your free time in the library, while he was always engaged in lively conversations with anyone who would listen.

Even though you hadn't actively sought out Charles's friendship, he made it his mission to befriend you. He would flash you a warm smile and wave at you in the school hallways, trailing behind you as he yapped on about karting and racing. He even accompanied you to the library (although he often ended up falling asleep, it still counted!). And on top of all that, he would walk you home after school, casually mentioning that his house was in the same direction, so he might as well accompany you.

2016

It became challenging when Charles left school to focus on his racing career. Despite this, he still crashed at your house most of the time, practically becoming a permanent fixture there. Your mom now prepared meals for five instead of four, often shooting you suggestive glances whenever Charles would praise your intelligence and express his desire to spend more time with you now that he couldn’t see you at school anymore.

Even your dad and brother had grown accustomed to his presence in your home, to the point where Charles would sometimes inadvertently spend more time with them than with you, getting caught up in their lively discussions about races airing on TV.

"You like them more, admit it," you tease, poking his cheek on a casual Friday evening while the two of you lay in the grass of your favorite park. It was the middle of spring, and he had suggested going for a run, but after the first two kilometers, your lungs and legs had given out, screaming for a break.

"I don't," he says, gently catching your wrist, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. "But they let me talk about racing as long as I want," his fingers trace the delicate lines of your knuckles and veins.

"I let you talk about racing all the time, even though I don't understand half of what you're saying," you pout at him, your voice softening with affection.

It's true. Ever since you were seventeen, you've let him chatter on about racing endlessly. Even back then, when you didn't understand a single thing about it and resorted to googling terms like 'rear wing' and ' suspension' at night, you still listened intently. Because seeing his eyes light up with passion, cheeks flushed, and a wide smile on his face was worth it all. You loved watching him talk about racing.

"Fair enough, mon ange. You're my favorite, you always have been and always will be, happy?" he says teasingly, grinning at you before pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

"No," your pout deepens, and he can't help but let out a chuckle. You're adorable, he thinks

"What can I do for you to forgive me?" he asks, his gaze locking with yours. You're not sure if he's aware of the power his eyes hold over you, their deep blue hue pulling you in, inviting you to lose yourself in their depths.

"Carry me back?" you jest, reaching out to him with a mischievous grin. He laughs, but obligingly stands up and turns around, offering his back for you to climb onto.

2017

You certainly understand the meaning of "suspension" now, but you wish you never had to. If you thought Charles leaving school was tough, you never imagined the agony of not seeing him for weeks. You had grown so accustomed to his presence that now, in his absence, you feel empty, as if a piece of you is missing.

On the other hand, if someone were to ask your mom, she'd likely tell you that you're overreacting. After all, you talk to Charles every single day through every imaginable form of communication—texts, calls, emails, social media posts comments, even postcards. You name it, and the two of you have probably already covered it. She's actually impressed that you two haven't resorted to smoke signals yet.

Either way, she drives you to the airport on the day he's coming back. She stands next to Pascale, just a few steps away from where you are, surrounded by his brothers.

"Thought one of them would have confessed by now," Pascale whispers to your mom as they watch you tease Arthur alongside Lorenzo.

"I thought they’d be dating by now," your mom snorts, and Pascale joins her in a laugh.

It’s as if your body is possessed the moment, you see him step through the doors. Your legs carry you forward at full speed, drawn to the sight of his messy hair, tired eyes, and familiar hoodie. He notices you just in time, catching you in his arms, his hands gripping your thighs to hold you in place.

"Miss me that much, ange?" he teases.

"Shut up," you retort, and he falls silent, savoring the way your legs wrap around his waist and your arms encircle his neck, pulling him closer. He buries his face in your neck, inhaling deeply, letting your scent envelop his senses.

"I did miss you," he whispers into your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. "I'm signing with Sauber, but don’t overreact—I haven't even told my mom yet. I wanted you to be the first to know."

His breath brushes against your neck, and you have to summon all of your strength not to let out a squeal. Instead, you tighten your hold and whisper back to him, “So proud of you, cœur,” your feet touching the ground again. With a final smile, you release him, allowing him to reunite with his family.

2019

Ferrari's garage buzzes with precision as the final details for the Monza GP are attended to. You weave through the crowd filling the Ferrari lounge, your family already dispersed, likely exploring, and soaking in the pre-race excitement.

"Where's your mom?" you call out, raising your voice to be heard over the noise once you spot Arthur. "I haven't seen her yet, and it's about to start."

Although this isn't your first time attending a Grand Prix, it's the first with such a massive crowd. Normally, it's just you, Charles' family, and occasionally Seb's wife. You've never experienced this level of hustle and bustle before. It's a bit overwhelming, but you'll manage—for Charles.

“Didn't he tell you?" Arthur asks, puzzled, as you respond with a questioning look. "Mom’s in the grandstands. He couldn't get her a paddock pass."

"Unbelievable," you mutter under your breath. "Is he still in his driver’s room?" you ask. Arthur nods, grinning as he already anticipates what's about to happen next.

You make your way to Charles driver’s room in what you can say is the fastest walk you have achieved in your life.

“Leclerc” you say in a stern tone of voice knocking at the door of the room.

He opens the door, taking you by the wrist to pull you in before closing it behind you. He already knows why you're here, but a playful smile spreads across his face at the sight of your annoyed expression.

"Arthur is such a gossip," he says, his tone teasing. You resist the urge to slap him, recognizing that playful tone he always uses when you’re annoyed. He enjoys it—he really does. You look so cute when you're angry, with your hands on your hips and your mouth twisted in a grimace.

"You let your mom sit alone in the grandstands," you nearly scream, and he looks at you, guilt written all over his face.

"She decided to come too late," he tries to explain, already aware it won't help his case. "I was out of paddock passes by then."

"I could have given her mine," you interrupt, and he smiles adorably at you. Of course, you would have given yours to his mom. You were probably her favorite, even above her three children.

"I'm going to sit with her," you declare firmly, the smile on his face morphing into a mischievous grin as he reaches for a piece of paper from one of his drawers and hands it to you.

Charles Leclerc knows you all too well, always a step ahead, as if he can read your mind and predict your every move and decision before you even make it. It used to be unsettling, but now it's like second nature.

"Cheer for me, ange," he says, handing you the GP ticket for the seat next to his mom.

He walks you to the exit of the Ferrari motorhome, kissing your forehead before reluctantly letting you go, only after you assure him that you won’t make it to your seat on time if he doesn’t release you quickly. He stands there, watching you walk towards the paddock access, turning around to give him a small wave before disappearing from his sight.

"Is that your girlfriend?" Seb asks, observing the dreamy smile on his face.

"I wish," he murmurs wistfully.

2022

On your twenty-fifth birthday, you find yourself grappling with a quarter-life crisis like any other twenty-something human in the world. No one can say a single thing to you, whether good or bad, without potentially bringing you to tears. It's as if no words seem capable of consoling you.

So, seeing your fragile state, you decide not to celebrate your birthday this year—a decision you come to regret the day before your birthday when you attempt to arrange a small dinner with your loved ones, only to discover that they have already made plans. While you understand their commitments, it doesn't prevent you from breaking down in tears at Charles's apartment, clinging to one of his blankets as you indulge in birthday pancakes, he's prepared for you.

"Please, ange, don't cry. You're breaking my heart," he murmurs softly as he gently wipes the tears from your cheeks with his thumb. "We can still plan something for tomorrow. My brothers will be free, and my mom would cancel anything for you. Your family has already said yes," he suggests, trying to lift your spirits with solutions.

"It's just not the same. My birthday is today," you whine, pushing the empty plate aside before snuggling closer to Charles's side.

"What about we celebrate just you and me? How does that sound?" he suggests, but you only bury your face further into his side. "We can go have dinner at that restaurant you love, the one with the plants hanging from the ceiling."

He senses your thoughts as your whimpers die down, and you peek one eye out from his shirt. "Can we get gelato too?"

"Yes, of course! Whatever you want, Ange," he agrees, gently removing the strands of hair that cover your face.

After catching a few episodes of Bridgerton, you head out from his place, planning to shower and get ready back at your own spot for the dinner ahead. There's a promise to reunite later, this time at your apartment.

He stands outside your door, holding a small box between his hands, playing with the corners of the envelope. It's your gift, meticulously chosen to be perfect for you, the only one that always takes him a lot of time to select. As you open the door, he admires one of his favorite dresses of yours, a stunning green shade that makes your skin glow.

You finish putting on your earrings, giving him an apologetic look for the lateness. "I just need to put perfume on, and I'll be ready."

He nods and watches you step inside your room, leaving him alone in the living room. His eyes wander over your walls adorned with pictures of you and your family, a few with friends you've made over the years. But his gaze always returns to the picture standing above your fireplace—a moment captured where he's holding you close, hand at your waist and the other at your head, bringing you in for a kiss on the cheek. You have a playful look on your face, but he remembers the joyous laughter that followed, the day he realized he was in love with you.

“Shall we go?” you ask bringing him out of his daydreams.

“Actually, I was going to ask you to open my gift first” he handles you the box his fingers brushing yours. “You need to read the paper first” he says, and you nod unfolding the paper sheet attached to the box.

He seizes the moment to admire you, your beautiful, expressive eyes focused intently on the paper while your pink, rosy lips nibble with concentration. God, he just wants to cup your face in his hands and taste them, a desire he's harbored for years now. He wonders how much longer he can resist.

"You bought me a star," you say, catching him off guard. He only nods, momentarily unable to trust his voice.

"Look inside the box," he finally manages to say, urging you to open it.

Inside the box lies a delicate silver star necklace. You take a moment to admire it before carefully lifting it out, holding it between your fingers to inspect it. That's when you notice two sets of dates engraved on the back.

"The day the star was born and its coordinates," he explains. "May I?" You nod, allowing him to fasten the necklace around your neck. His warm fingers against your skin feel comforting, and once he's finished, he takes a moment to admire how it rests against your chest.

"The reservation," you choke out, your mind foggy after being under his gaze for so long.

Of course, Charles had orchestrated a surprise birthday dinner with all your closest friends and family, despite your decision to cancel all birthday celebrations. As the evening unfolded, you found yourself stealing glances at him more and more frequently. He sat beside you, his hand resting on your thigh, and suddenly, the weight of the necklace around your neck felt heavier as the realization dawned upon you: you were in love with Charles Leclerc.

2023- December

Your friends were on the brink of insanity (more so than usual). The tension had reached new heights throughout the year, yet neither of you seemed to grasp the obvious.

Joris was tempted to dive off the yacht every time Charles not-so-subtly stole a glance at your ass, or vice versa. Meanwhile, Andrea found himself uncomfortably caught between your flirtatious gazes and the prolonged silences that followed. And as for your moms, they were simply tired of arriving at your houses only to find the two of you cuddled up together on the couch, fast asleep.

And yet, every time someone dared to ask, "Are you two more than friends?" The response was always a dismissive, "We're just friends." you brushed off any insinuation, insisting it was all normal behavior. But with each passing moment, it became increasingly evident that you were simply avoiding the truth.

God, please have mercy on them.

2024 – May, 26

After the celebrations subsided and the echoes of sobs and cheers faded into the night, you found yourselves back in Charles' home, seated beside him on the familiar comfort of his couch.

In the soft glow of a small desk lamp, the two of you sat in silence, each lost in your own thoughts. Tears stained your cheeks, remnants of the emotional rollercoaster of the day, while Charles' face was cleansed, washed free of any traces of tears.

“I won” he murmurs softly.

“You won” you echo, your voices intertwining in the quiet of the room. "Are you heading out to celebrate?" you inquire, twirling your pasta absentmindedly.

"Yeah, I think so. Do you want to come with me?" he asks, his eyes hopeful, like a puppy waiting for you to accept.

"Only because it's Monaco," you reply playfully, rising from your seat and reaching for his empty plate.

He shadows your every move, a constant presence since the day he first met you. He stands by your side as you rinse the dishes and load them into the dishwasher.

"I know you want to do it, just go for it," you encourage him. And with those words, he begins to recount every detail of his race, starting from the very beginning. He recall the morning when he woke up to breakfast with you, his mom, and his brothers, though he conveniently leaves out the part about how breathtaking you looked in just a tank top and shorts.

You lean against the kitchen island, watching him talk, and memories flood back of all the times you've been in this exact position. Charles has evolved over the years—his looks have changed, and he has matured in many ways. Yet, whenever he talks about racing with you, he reverts to being your Charles, brimming with passion and a light bright enough to illuminate the entire world.

You’re well aware this isn’t the first time you’ve noticed, but Charles Leclerc has the most captivating eyes you've ever seen. Sometimes, they shimmer with a beautiful shade of green flecked with honey; at other times, they resemble the majestic blue of Niagara Falls. Regardless of their hue, you find yourself utterly mesmerized, able to admire them for hours, even days, lost in their beauty.

He makes you feel valued, seen, safe, and adored. You must have been staring at him for a while because he looks at you with a curious expression, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "You, okay?" he asks.

You can't resist anymore; you're done holding back. The next thing you know, your hands are gripping the collar of his shirt, pulling him towards you. Rising onto the balls of your feet, you meet his lips for the first time. He tastes of champagne and chocolate, so sweet and intoxicating that it’s instantly addictive.

There's something undeniably magical about kissing Charles Leclerc. Perhaps it's because it's your first time kissing each other after a long time of yearning, but it's mostly the way he kisses you—tenderly, frigid at the edges and with such care. It transports you back to high school, where every love felt like an explosion of giggles and butterflies in your stomach.

The tension in the room was palpable, thick enough to suffocate you both after you parted ways. Charles's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, his breath coming unevenly.

When you opened your eyes, you saw his cheeks flushed with a radiant pink, his eyes wide with surprise. Normally, you would have teased him for being so flustered, but a quick glance at his slightly parted lips made you cringe inwardly.

"Sorry," you offered weakly, your voice barely above a whisper as you attempted to escape the kitchen. However, his arms rested on the kitchen island, trapping you in place.

"Again," he said, almost breathless. "You caught me off guard." He swallowed hard, his nose now mere inches from yours. "I didn’t do it right. Please, let me try again."

And who are you to deny him? You lean in, pressing your lips to his once more. This time, he isn't caught off guard. He steps closer, pulling you in tightly. The tips of your noses brush together, and you feel his hands slide to the back of your thighs, lifting you effortlessly to sit you on the kitchen island. He gently opens your legs and steps between them.

You gently push him back, whispering, "Wait," as you step off the island. His eyes widen with concern.

"Did I do something wrong?" You shake your head, offering a sheepish smile.

"No, not at all," you assure him. "Let's go to your room." He follows you without hesitation.

Charles short-circuits for a moment, watching you sit down on his bed. Sensing his hesitation, you stretch out a hand, pulling him closer. As he bends in front of you, you catch his lips with yours once more. He only needs a second before he regains control, responding with fervor, his movements sure and confident.

“God, you are so pretty, I can't think straight,” he murmurs. You open your mouth to mock him, but he interrupts, parting your legs with his knees before kneeling between them.

“So pretty,” he repeats, his voice low and reverent, as he massages your bare thighs with tender, his hands slipping under your skirt hiking the material higher “fuck beautiful you are so wet” his fingers graze your soaking panties, drawing a gasp out of you, lithe fingers rubbing and pitching your clit through the thin fabric.

“Fuck” you whisper under your breath “Charles please.”  Seeing you grow purely frustrated was utterly amusing to him. The way your eyebrows curl and furrow, jaw slightly tensing.

“Tell me what you want” he commands, kissing all over your inner thighs. moving a thumb to press in between your folds against your panties.

After that his kisses got closer to where you craved him kissing at the outskirts of your panties, moving to lay the flat of his tongue against your clothed pussy just to feel you twitch under him.

“Charles please, need you to­— eat me out” you huff out in a short singular breath. He lifted his head and began to peel your panties off of you sliding them all the way down your legs using his mouth.

“Whatever you want Ange” he says in a low gruff. The moment he finally hovers his mouth over your sopping clit Charles gently strokes a thumb up and down opening you up to slowly create a single lick to make you whimper.

One taste and he was hooked, you tasted so fucking sweet on his tongue he was pushing forward tongue-first and nose- deep into you occasionally prod against your entrance. You slumped back against the bed, trying not to close your legs at him at this point.

“God, ange, you taste so good," he murmurs, his breath hot against your folds. Just when you thought your situation couldn't get any more intense, he starts speaking into your pussy proving you wrong.

The room filled with the sounds of your overzealous moans and the noises Charles tongue made, sliding his tongue between your folds, sucking and nibbling “Look at her” he breathes broken away from your cunt, watching the way you twitch for him to return his tongue to you. “How’s it feels, ange?” You stare at him mesmerized as he spit on your pussy legs squirming a bit.

“Good” you gulp nearly choking on your own saliva.

“Uhm just good?” his gaze flicks up to you. Catching you with such an expression of pure needs, His eyes hungry on yours as he tips his head to the side “talk to me pretty girl.” He’d tease, bringing a long suck towards your clit. You let off a moan once he playfully nibbles near that particular spot with his teeth.

Your lip’s part and a breathy sigh escapes you “please” your voice almost gone.

“Can’t hear you amour” he takes two fingers and presses them against your pussy lips before spreading them apart glancing down a pretty cobweb of his own spits and nice wad onto your pussy

“Please Charles” Charles gives your cunt a sweet little kiss and he feels it start to hastily pulse from it. He knew you were getting close. “don’t be mean please.”

He looks innocently at you one finger finally starting to sink deep into you watching the way your cunt greedily swallows it. He lets out some breathy little sound as he slips a second finger into you, slow against your walls sliding in and out watching the sheer coat of your taste gather along his fingers.

Your back arches up off the bed as his fingers curl upward against your walls, feeling the way you squeeze around him “Charles I am gonna..I” his fingers increase in speed looking up at you while latching his lips to your clit again.

Charles swears you are the most perfect thing to ever grace his presence- head thrown back, eyes glossy moan after moan of his name leaving your bitten lips, and pussy making the obscenest sound every time he slides his fingers in you.

“Yeah baby, there you go, you are s’close, c’mon ange give it to me” he utters softly, tongue slipping out to swirl around your clit “Lay it on me.”

His tongue darts around to the left of your clit and you’re moving your hand down to his hair to pull him closer “Cha-Cha…. too much, ah please,” you cry as your eyes meet his and you watch his pink tongue flick up and down over your clit. He’s so fucking messy and it’s driving you over the edge.

“Cum f’me- cum ange” and there you are. Gasping, sputtering as he drags the orgasm out of you. Your head tosses back, and he continues to stroke you through it. “That’s my girl you look so fuckin’ pretty messin’ my fingers.”

Hand departing from your pussy while you lay there panting, his body lifting and fingers dropping to get his pants off “Not done with you yet. I've been waiting to fuck you forever," he murmurs.

"You're going to miss the party," you gasp between heavy breaths, propping yourself up on your elbows.

“I’ll be quick” Any counterargument you might have had is swiftly cut off by Charles cock pressing in between your warm folds.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅

You arrive fashionably late at the party, almost surprised you made it at all. Charles's arm wraps snugly around your waist, his murmurs tickling your ear from time to time. Lorenzo shoots you a knowing grin from across the club, raising his glass in a silent toast, and you can't help but feel a flush of warmth spread through you.

"Finally grew the balls to confess," one of Charles's friends pats his back, and you chuckle, holding your cup between your lips.

He gazes at you in awe, taking the cup from your lips and replacing it with his own, planting a kiss on your nose before pulling away. "She kissed me first, for your information. Couldn't resist my charm," he says proudly to his friend, and you gasp indignantly.

The night ends in the blink of an eye, but as you wake up curled up in Charles's arms, you couldn't be happier. Gazing at his peaceful slumber, you admire the contours of his beautiful face, tracing each line with your finger.

"A picture would last longer," he says with a hoarse voice, eyes still closed as he pulls you closer.

"Ah, cockiness doesn't suit you, cœur," you tease, burying your face in his chest, which rumbles with a steady laugh before you both drift back to sleep.

Formulamoons, please do not plagiarize, repost, translate to other sites, or recommend my content outside of Tumblr.

blah blah blah proper name place name backstory stuff… whatever you say gorgeous

Me every so often with bananas, then I get told off for overd*sing bananas, apparently a legitimate thing if I did it a lot

sometimes you dont eat fruit for awhile and then you eat some fruit and you're like oh fuck its fruit

Oh how i love this series

real people masterlist

18+

you're popular among horror fans. he's well-respected among film critics. though you work in the same industry, you couldn't be more different - but your managers think a pr romance is just what your careers need.

series warning: actor!bucky x f!actress!reader, mature themes, fake dating, enemies to lovers, bucky is an asshole, angst, smut, slow burn (or at least my attempt at a slow burn).

updates every friday.

intro

chapter one

chapter two

chapter three

chapter four

chapter five

chapter six

drabble: caught

chapter seven

chapter eight

unfortunately i Do feel better when i clean my living space and eat enough fruits and veggies and go outside and generally remember i am a mammal :| real pity that knowing this does not make it easier to do those things

Fair Play

Oscar Piastri x Reader x Logan Sargent x Liam Lawson

Genre: fluff and crack (Look! I can write fluff!)

Summary: The quartet try to have a fun night out which lands them a trip to the emergency room.

Warnings: a hospital trip and Liam being an absolute menace

Notes: For @bad268, I hope you like it! I would like to point out that I've been to maybe two fairs in my life so this might be inaccurate.

Masterlist // Request Form // My Website // buy me a Ko-Fi

Going to a fair is not something the group gets to do often. The racing season keeps them all busy. The quiet moments are few and far between.

But it's summer break, and they have time to indulge themselves for a night. A nice relaxing night to forget about things and just enjoy each other's company. Like nothing could possibly go wrong.

How wrong they were.

"Haven't been to one of these in forever." Logan pulls his sweatshirt over his head. The colder air of the night breeze ruffling his hair.

Oscar, determined to stay in his eternal summer, is in his usual attire. "Have any of us ever been?"

"I've been a couple of times when I was younger." Says the female. Liam is spinning her around as they attempt to walk forward. "I was terrible at all the games and never won anything, though."

The three boys stop in their tracks. There is a playful smirk on each of their faces. "I swear, if you three make this a competition, I will lose it."

Liam drops his mouth open in feigned exasperation. "What if the intent is to be corny and win you a prize or something!"

"Well then, that's fine. I won't say no to being spoiled."

Liam hands her off to Logan as they make their way inside. The American is the gentlest of the three. He always makes himself available for comforting hugs.

The boy's beeline straight to where the games are. Not even sparing a glance in the direction of anything else. Typical competitive spirits. Three weeks with no racing means they have to get it out somehow.

She looks at Oscar in a desperate attempt to get his attention. Liam and Logan have launched themselves into another game and are not currently paying attention.

"What do you say to ice-cream, Osc?"

"I say lovely."

The two signal to the other boys and say they'll be back. Already wrapped up in their activity, they pay them no mind. Liam is gesturing wildly with his hands. A good indicator they won't notice they are even leaving.

"I feel like this is a bad idea."

"What is?"

"Leaving them on their own."

Liam and Logan are staring down some kind of bebe riffle shooter game. Not because of the game itself, but because of the prize they could potentially win.

The massive teddy bear sits behind the counter, taunting them. It's begging to be in the arms of another. Specifically, in the arms of their girl. It's begging to be cuddled by her.

"This should be easy for you, Lo!" Liam snickers and takes up a spot. "Being American and all."

Logan rolls his eyes, face completely blank. "Yes Liam, your over used joke is so funny and I'm laughing so hard." He can't keep the straight face for long and both boys end up laughing at themselves.

Liam picks up the rifle and is instructed to take a test shot. He attempts, with nothing to show for it. Logan descends further into laughter.

"Would you like a hand from someone who knows guns?" Liam groans as Logan takes a step forward.

"Maybe it's jammed-"

The plastic gun makes a clicking sound. Logan lets out a yelp and clutches his wrist. "Liam..."

"Logan, listen, we can talk this out!"

"You asshole! You shot me!"

In the distance, the other half is carrying back ice-cream for them. The sudden yelp causes the female to startle and nearly drop the two cones she is holding.

Oscar is somewhere between a laugh and a pained sigh. "I told you it was a bad idea."

She takes another lick from her ice-cream and look directly into Oscar's eyes. "I regret nothing."

Liam is trying desperately to fight back a laugh as the group converges together.

The female ditches her ice-cream in Liams hands and inspects Logans wrist. "You hurt the baby, Liam! How could you?”

“Y/n, he’s the oldest.”

“Doesn’t matter! Liam hurt the baby.” She begins to walk away with the boys in tow. “We’re heading to emergency because I don’t feel like hearing about this from Alex if Logan is hurt.”

Liam is trying to drive while Oscar sits passenger side still holding ice-cream. It’s dripping down his fingers at this point. An entertaining sigh to the two in the back.

Liam looks over at a red light, leans in obnoxiously close, and wiggles his eyebrows. “Hey Osc, can I lick it off your fingers?”

“Liam, I swear to god-“

The light turns green and Liam is once again speeding off to the nearest A&E.

The wait inside is long enough for them to actually finish the melting treat. People give them weird looks, but they are wrapped up in their own little bubble and couldn’t care less.

The nurses all giggle as they retell the story of what happened. The injury is hardly serious, but they wrap it all nice anyway. They ask if Logan would like a band aid at one point and he just groans (he whispered yes right before they left).

“You realize nobody is ever going to believe us, right?” Oscar looks towards Logan’s hand with raised eyebrows.

Logan groans again. “Do they have to? Could be our secret.”

As the female lifts Logan’s hand to her mouth to ‘kiss it better’, she leans over to whisper to him. “I don’t we can hide this one, babe. You have a crayon band-aid on.”

“Yeah, no, I’m telling everyone about this.”

“It was your fault!”

Not even started my degree but i am determined to get a doctorate

Mostly by my incessant need to prove my family wrong, and i absolutely *adore* research & creating things

You Belong Here

Request: Hiii, I love your stories! I dont know if you do things like this but I was wo dering if you could do one about a nonbinary reader. Like, TFW dont know they're nonbinary and reader gets fed up with being misgendered and let's them know and then gets scared they wont like them. You by no means have to!

Masterlist

Story:

"Hey, you seen [Y/N] today? I wanted to see if she'd come help with the supply run", Sam asked as he walked into the Bunker's library. He'd found Cas sitting at the table with a pile of books in front of him, and he looked up at Sam with a puzzled expression.

"Yes", he nodded once, then looked back to his book, leaving Sam standing there.

"Uh, wanna let me know where you've seen her?" He asked, crossing his arms. He was met by a sigh behind the pile of books.

"I'm here, Sam", [Y/N]'s head popped out from behind the pile. "I'm just helping Cas out with this archiving, I can come help in about twenty minutes?"

"Sure, meet out in the garage?" He asked, and [Y/N] gave him a nod and small smile before he left. They looked back down to the book they'd been reading, leaned their head on their hand and sighed again, lazily flicking to the next page.

"Are you alright?" Cas asked, looking up from his book.

"Yeah, I'm fine".

"You seem a bit... annoyed. Do you not want to go on the supply run?"

"No, it's not that", [Y/N] paused for a moment, thinking about whether or not to tell Cas why they had been a bit down since moving into the bunker not that long ago, but then decided they didn't feel up for the conversation, or the potential reaction. "I'm just tired".

He tilted his head at them for a moment before reaching his fingers to [Y/N]'s forehead.

"I said I was fine, Cas".

"You shouldn't be tired, it's only 11am", he closed his eyes in concentration before pulling his fingers back. "You don't have any ailments. Are you depressed?"

"What? No!" [Y/N] shook their head and closed the book they were looking at, before standing up from the table. "Look, can you just help Sam with the supply run? I just want to be alone for awhile". Cas looked concerned, and like he was about to say something else, but [Y/N] cut him off first. "Don't go saying anything to Sam or Dean, I don't need them worrying when there's literally nothing to worry about. I just want a nap, that's it, okay?"

"Alright", Cas didn't look convinced, "but if something is wrong, you should tell one of us, so we can help".

"Thanks Cas, but I don't need help from any of you, I just need a nap". [Y/N] started to walk out of the room, but stopped just as they were about to pass by him, and took a deep breath. They felt a bit guilty for being short with him when he hadn't done anything wrong. "I do appreciate you wanting to help". [Y/N] squeezed his shoulder gently and Cas nodded, the concern still evident on his face, but looked back to his book as they left the room.

***

[Y/N] did actually decide to go for a nap. Partially because they were a little bit tired, but mostly because they hated lying to Cas, and they knew that if Cas asked them how their nap was, and they hadn't actually taken one, he'd see straight through the lie. They'd woken up a few hours later and had just spent a few minutes lying on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. They'd had the conversation many times in their head since they'd met Sam, Dean, and Cas. [Y/N] had never told them their pronouns. The conversation always went south in their mind. They'd told other hunters before and it never once went well. In the hunting world, you either had to be a strong, tough man, or a strong, tough woman. Anyone who didn't fit into one of those two clearly defined roles was ridiculed and never taken seriously by the other hunters, who weren't known to be overly accepting or understanding at the best of times. [Y/N] thought back to when they'd met Garth, not someone who you'd typically think of as strong or tough, and he didn't make it as hunter in the end. [Y/N] knew it was because he didn't fit into the set roles. He ended up being a werewolf dentist. What would [Y/N] end up as if they weren't a hunter? They couldn't think of anything else they wanted to do.

They were pulled from their thoughts by a knock on the door, followed by it opening to reveal Dean's hand on the handle. "Hey, you decent?" He asked before looking.

"Yeah, you can come in", [Y/N] said as they pushed themself up to lean on their elbows. "What's up?"

"Sam said you ditched him earlier, and Cas said you were being weird", he said as he walked into the room. "You good?" He crossed his arms and looked down at them. They sighed and pushed up more to sit up properly, lessening the height gap between the two.

"Yes, I was just tired. I told Cas not to mention anything. I wasn't being weird".

"Are you awake enough for a movie marathon? We're each gonna choose a movie, and Sam picked up your favourite snacks on his supply run". He smiled at them and they couldn't help but smile back.

"Sure, sounds good".

"Great", he grinned and clapped his hands. "Come to the Dean Cave in about twenty minutes". He turned on his heels and left the room, a bounce in his step. Dean always got excited about movie nights. It was a nice break from the hunting. [Y/N] got off the bed and headed over to their closet, looking through it for something comfortable to wear. They settled on sweatpants and a t-shirt, but the cool air of the bunker made them decide that a flannel might be a good idea too. They picked one out, similar enough to what Sam and Dean wore, and threw it on over the t-shirt, leaving it unbuttoned to allow for comfortable lounging.

They dragged their feet down the corridor twenty minutes later, still not in the best of moods, but looking forward to hanging out with the boys without having to talk much. Sam's voice was echoing in their mind from the morning though. "I wanted to see if she'd come help", and "wanna let me know where you've seen her". He hadn't meant to hurt [Y/N] at all, and they knew that, but they couldn't help but feel hurt and like Sam and the others didn't really know them, like they were keeping secrets. Cas and Dean were already in the room when [Y/N] walked through the door, and while Dean smiled at them, Cas had that same concern on his face from earlier. They were about to sit down when Cas spoke up. "That's usually where Sam sits".

"Oh, sorry", they said, walking over to another chair. "Didn't realise we had assigned seating", they muttered under their breath. They saw Dean slap Cas on the arm while shaking his head out of the corner of their eye.

"She can sit wherever she wants Cas", he chuckled. "Sammy won't mind".

"Sammy won't mind what?" Sam asked as he walked into the room, a tray of snacks in his hands. He bent down to put it onto the table before sitting down in his chair, kicking his feet up onto a footrest to get comfortable.

"Nothing", [Y/N] said but Dean cut across them.

"She was about to sit in your seat, but Cas wouldn't let her", he chuckled and Sam laughed, his dimples showing.

"Cas, you don't have to protect my chair from [Y/N], this is her home too, she can sit wherever she wants".

"They", [Y/N] corrected them before clapping their hand over their mouth and widening their eyes, surprised by their own reaction.

"Hmm?" Dean asked, not really paying attention as he was looking through the snacks.

"Sorry [Y/N], I didn't catch that over Dean crinkling all the packets of chips", Sam said, sparing a moment to glare at Dean before looking back at [Y/N].

"[Y/N] said 'they'", Cas said. "I'm not sure what it means in this context".

"Dean, can you stop making noise for five minutes so I can hear her talk?" Sam furrowed his eyebrows at Dean who was still in the process of opening up all of the snacks and looking through everything. Dean gave him a look but sat back on the couch, turning to look at [Y/N].

"Floor's all yours, Sweetheart", he said and they cringed at the nickname.

"I'm not 'Sweetheart', Dean. I'm not she, I'm not her, I use they/them pronouns, okay?"

Dean looked to Sam in confusion, not knowing what to say, but Sam just sat there in silence too. When no one spoke, [Y/N] could feel their cheeks heat up in embarrassment, and their lower lip trembled as they pushed up out of the chair and ran out through the door, straight down the corridor to their room, and closed the door behind them. They immediately pulled out their hunting bag and began to haphazardly throw all of their belongings into it. That was it, they messed up, and now the boys were going to kick them out. They were going to lose the only home they'd known in years, the only family they had left, all because they'd snapped. They could barely see through their tears as they zipped up the bag, slung it over their shoulder and headed to the door. When they opened the door they were met with Dean, and Sam and Cas right behind him.

"Where are you going?" Dean asked with his eyebrow raised.

"I need to go", they wiped the tears from their eyes.

"Go where?" Dean asked, his arms now folded, his frame blocking the doorway.

"Dean", [Y/N] sniffed, "I need to go before you kick me out. I can't take that right now, okay? So please, just let me go".

"No one's kicking you out, [Y/N]", Sam said from behind Dean. "We just want to talk. You're clearly upset, just talk to us, explain how we can make it better".

"What?" [Y/N] asked as they wiped another tear away.

"You said you use they/them pronouns. We just didn't know. Why didn't you tell us earlier?" Sam asked.

"You're hunters. From experience, it's not a good idea to share that kind of thing with hunters. It can be dangerous".

"Has someone hurt you?" Dean's jaw clenched as he stepped into the room.

"Not recently", [Y/N] said quietly. "You're really not going to kick me out? I don't belong here".

"Just because you don't belong in a certain category doesn't mean you don't belong here with us", Sam said, following Dean into the room and placing his hand on [Y/N]'s shoulder. "You belong here", he squeezed comfortingly. "Is this why you've been seeming... down since moving in? Have we been making you uncomfortable?" They were avoiding his eyes, but his voice sounded genuine.

They shrugged, and then felt a hand on their arm. Looking down, they could see Dean's hand tugging them towards the bed. "Sit with us, talk to us, tell us who you are". He said, his voice sounding almost pleading. "We don't want you to leave". They looked him in the eyes and could have sworn there was a tear there. He looked genuinely upset at the thought of them leaving, which wasn't something they were used to seeing. They finally looked up at Sam, then Cas, and could see the same concern in their eyes too.

"You know who I am, Dean. I'm still me, I haven't changed. I'm just nonbinary. I don't like being called feminine words, and I don't necessarily like being called masculine ones either. I don't know, it's like I'm neither and both at the same time as being something else entirely. Sometimes I think I'm broken", they confessed, more tears coming out. Sam gently reached for the bag on their shoulder and slid it off, letting it fall to the ground. He then led them to sit down beside Dean, who put his arm around their shoulder and lightly squeezed. Sam kneeled down in front of them and looked up, a serious expression on his face.

"You are not broken. You're [Y/N], and we like [Y/N]. I want you to believe that, because it's true, okay?"

"Okay", they said quietly.

"You may not know this, but this is not my first time on earth", Cas said, walking over to stand in front of them. "I have seen many other societies of humans. You would be surprised by just how many of them had three, or four, or no limit to the number of gender roles one could identify as. I remember one that had no concept of gender at all".

"Yeah, and it's not just in the past either, there are societies that are alive and well today that don't have a binary system", Sam smiled up at them. "I was just reading about it the other day".

"It's a relatively recent concept, only having two genders. You're not broken, you're just living in the modern western society", Cas added.

"Yeah, and if you think about it, being a man or a woman doesn't even mean the same thing in this society as it did fifty years ago. It's a constantly changing thing". They looked to Dean as he spoke. "I'd know, I've time travelled", he winked at them and they chuckled a little, the panic they had earlier now dissipating.

"So, you prefer they/them, right?" Sam asked, and [Y/N] nodded. "Cool, that's what we'll use then".

"You don't think I should give up hunting? I mean, I don't really think I fit the role now that you know. Like how Garth didn't really fit the role".

"Garth?" Sam furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "Garth only gave up hunting when he became a werewolf and fell in love and had kids. Even still he does a bit from time to time when he comes across something. Sure, he wasn't the stereotype you think of when you think of hunters, but he still was one. We worked with him plenty of times, never had any issues other than the fact that he could be a bit clumsy".

"And there was that time he tried to be the new Bobby", Dean shuddered slightly at the memory. "He livened up the place though, it would be boring if everyone was the same and grumpy all the time".

"Yeah, can you imagine a room full of Deans? The fuel of nightmares", Sam grinned as [Y/N] smiled at him.

"You feel up to our movie marathon?" Dean asked, squeezing their shoulder, and [Y/N] took a deep breath.

"Only if I can have Sam's chair", they smiled at them all and they all laughed, looking relieved that they'd managed to convince them to stay.

"It's all yours", Sam grinned, pushing himself up to stand and holding out his hand. [Y/N] took it and he pulled them up. Sam and Cas left the room, and [Y/N] started to follow them when Dean stood up to walk beside them, nudging their shoulder gently.

"Hey, kiddo", he said, and they looked to him. "No one's gonna hurt you again, not while the three of us are around. If someone so much as looks at you the wrong way, we've got your back".

"Thanks, Dean", they smiled at him. As they walked back to resume their movie marathon, [Y/N] felt a weight lift off their shoulders. For the first time, they felt like they fit somewhere, or like they didn't have to fit, like they belonged somewhere, were wanted somewhere, and they knew they were safe and loved. They only hoped that one day, it would be that easy no matter where they went or who they met, but this was a good start. They smiled.

The end

Dean Winchester taglist: @123passwort @janineb86 @k-slla @lyarr24 @candy-coated-misery0731 @jackles010378 @hobby27 @pizzagirlxnsfwx @itburnslikehelltobevega @queenie32 @livingdead-reilly @vmaier12 @littlemadamred @darthysfanfic @dramatic-long-coats @kr804573

Sam Winchester taglist: @123passwort @janineb86 @hobby27 @angelwiththeshotgun @pizzagirlxnsfwx @livingdead-reilly @fuiabarcelos @vmaier12 @littlemadamred @kr804573

Castiel Taglist: @123passwort @janineb86 @hobby27 @angelwiththeshotgun @pizzagirlxnsfwx @vmaier12 @kr804573

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