Don't Worry About Posting Vee! I Have The Same Problem (a Lot Of Thing Happening In Life Plus Writing

what do we think about poisoned reader who thinks its going to die so she confesses her feellings for anakin BUT THEN SHE DOESNT DIE and now has to confront jedis council AND OBIWAN'S JOKES

Surgery

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✯ pairing: Sebastian Vettel x Ex! Reader ✯

✯ content warnings: none✯

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Seb and her didn’t part on the best terms. The breakup had been tense, marked by unspoken words and lingering hurt. She’d moved forward, focusing on her career, he did the same, but some connections never fully disappeared.

Recently, she’d undergone a surgical procedure, something personal she’d chosen to keep private. Only her family and closest friends were in the loop. Yet, somehow, Sebastian had found out through a mutual friend.

The operation had gone smoothly, and now she was resting in her recovery room. Her family and a few friends had been with her all afternoon, their quiet conversation filling the space. She was sitting up, sipping some water and trying to distract herself with their chatter, when there was a knock on the door.

Her best friend opened it, and there he was—Sebastian. He stepped inside with a small bouquet of various flowers in hand, his expression steady but thoughtful.

“Hey,” he said gently, his eyes scanning her for signs of discomfort.

Her family exchanged a few glances before politely excusing themselves to give them some privacy. Seb approached slowly, setting the flowers on the table beside her.

“You didn’t have to come,” she said, though her voice carried no resentment.

“I know,” he replied, sitting in the chair beside her. “I just… I wanted to see for myself that you’re okay.”

She studied him, his calm demeanor making the moment feel less like an intrusion and more like a quiet reunion. “How did you even know?”

“Emma told me,” he admitted, leaning forward slightly. “I wasn’t going to bother you, but… I figured it couldn’t hurt to stop by.”

She nodded, not knowing what to say. He was the last person she would expect, yet for some reason she felt pleased about him caring about her enough to come. 

“So… How are you feeling?” he asked, breaking the almost uncomfortable silence that had been settling.

“I’m feeling fine,” she admitted, as she did not feel any extraordinary discomfort after the surgery, “you guys act as if I’ve been through war,” she joked, hoping to make the moment less awkward.

His lips tugged into a half-smile at her attempt to lighten the mood. It was a classic move of hers, this bantering, and it was both endearing and annoying at the same time. “Oh, you know we worry about you,” he teased back.

Sebastian glanced at the flowers he'd brought, then back at her. His voice lowered a bit. “Seriously, though, are you in pain?”

“I’m fine, Seb,” she repeated with almost playful exasperation.

Sebastian nodded, his expression warm but attentive. “Okay, okay,” he conceded, smiling. Then, as if on instinct, his hand reached out, brushing hers gently.

It was such a natural gesture—Seb had always been tactile, a comforting presence for anyone who needed it. But this felt different, even if he hadn’t meant it to be. His thumb brushed over her knuckles, and she froze for a moment, the familiarity of his touch stirring something in her chest she wasn’t ready to unpack.

Seb adjusted his position in the chair, as if trying to find the right words. “It’s a nice hospital,” he remarked, glancing around the room. “Bright, not too clinical. It suits you.”

She raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. “Are you seriously complimenting the decor right now?”

He chuckled, the sound low and warm. “Maybe. Just trying to make conversation.”

His thumb lingered against her skin for a second too long, and she swallowed, suddenly hyperaware of how close he was despite the chair between them. “Seb, you didn’t have to do this,” she said, her voice quieter now. “You’ve got your own life—things to focus on.”

He tilted his head, his expression softening further. “I’m not here because I have to be. I’m here because I care,” he said simply. “That doesn’t just disappear.”

Her heart gave a painful twist at his words. His words always had that effect, no matter how much time had passed or what they were or weren’t. “You always did have a way with words,” she murmured, trying to deflect the emotions creeping in.

He smiled faintly, his hand still resting over hers. “And you always did have a way of avoiding them,” he replied.

A quiet laugh escaped her lips, and for a moment, the tension eased. “Touché,” she said, her voice lighter.

They sat there for a beat, the sound of distant footsteps in the hallway filling the silence. It wasn’t the awkward tension of earlier—it felt… familiar. Comfortable in a way she hadn’t expected.

Seb’s fingers gave hers a gentle squeeze before he leaned back slightly, as if he could sense she needed space. “Well, for what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re okay,” he said, his voice steady but soft.

“Thanks,” she said, her lips curving into a small, genuine smile. “And thanks for the flowers. They’re beautiful.”

“I figured you deserved something nice,” he said, leaning back in his chair but still watching her closely. “Even if you think we’re all overreacting.”

“Maybe just a little,” she admitted, a teasing spark in her eyes.

“Hey, give me a break,” he said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “I had to make sure you weren’t scaring the nurses with your stubbornness.”

She rolled her eyes but laughed, the sound soft but genuine. “Still as dramatic as ever, I see.”

“Only for you,” he quipped, and for a moment, the weight of the past seemed lighter between them.

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✯ authors note: English is not my first language, and I hope you liked it <3

i am always waiting for this fic AND IM HAVING THE DRAMA AND KISSES I NEEDED

Gotta Be You - Charles Leclerc (THREE)

masterlist | promptlist | previous part

Here is part three! And I'm honestly so proud of this chapter! I think it turned out awesome lol <3

↳pairing: charles leclerc x female!gasly!reader ↳word count: 5K ↳warnings: awkward encounters, truth or dare (trust me lol) , jealousy, alcohol, drinking games, talking about feelings ↳side info: friends to enemies to lovers, reader is Pierre's younger sister, reader is Arthur LeClerc's childhood best friend, Charles is her former crush, Charles is a jealous ass sometimes, age gap between reader and Charles (5 years) ↳summary: In which you go on a shared holiday with both your and your brother's friend group, forced to be confronted with your former teenage crush Charles LeClerc yet again. The only problem is? You can't stand him nowadays, until you suddenly can.

*a few days later*

As you stood in the bathroom, tying your hair into a ponytail, the familiar scent of the devil himself filled the small space. You didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. Charles had a way of entering a room without saying a word but still commanding all the air in it. He closed the distance between you two, silently taking his place by the sink next to you, reaching into the cupboard for his hair products.

You bit back a groan, focusing on your reflection. There was nothing inherently wrong with him being there—but him standing this close stirred feelings you desperately wanted to push aside. His presence was overwhelming, in that maddening, familiar way.

Your usual coping mechanism kicked in: sarcasm, sharp enough to keep him at arm’s length.

"Fixing your hair won’t fix your attitude, you know that, right?" you sassed, not entirely sure why you felt the need to say anything.

Charles scoffed, his eyes catching yours in the mirror. His gaze was intense, steady—always knowing too much. "There’s no attitude that needs fixing," he huffed, washing his hands and drying them on the towel with deliberate slowness. "Besides, some people actually put effort into how they present themselves..."

Your head snapped toward him. "Is this your not-so-subtle way of saying I look like shit?"

He rolled his eyes, the corners of his mouth twitching in amusement. "Are you honestly this delusional?"

You threw your hands in the air. "Well, apparently, I am! Because that insult was completely unnecessary." You crossed your arms, leaning back against the sink with a challenging glare.

Charles shrugged, unfazed. "First of all, you started it. I didn’t do anything until you found it necessary to attack me." His voice lowered slightly, holding that aggravating calmness. "And besides… you and I both know that wasn’t an insult."

You narrowed your eyes. "How was it not an insult? You basically said I don’t put effort into how I look."

He inched closer, his movements slow and deliberate. Before you could register what was happening, his hands were on either side of you, gripping the edge of the sink. His chest hovered just inches from yours, effectively trapping you in place. His cologne wrapped around you, sending shivers down your spine.

Your breath hitched as his gaze flicked from your eyes to your lips before snapping back, locking onto yours like he was daring you to look away.

"Chérie, don’t act like you’re unaware that I think you’re hot," he whispered, voice low and rough. "You don’t need the effort."

Your heart thudded violently in your chest. For a split second, your gaze dropped to his lips—damn it. Realizing your mistake, you forced your eyes away, breathing through the sudden rush of heat.

You steeled yourself and met his gaze again. "Charles, quit playing games and get out of my face," you said through clenched teeth, though your voice wavered ever so slightly.

His eyes swept over you one last time, lingering on how you were still pressed against the sink, tension radiating between you like a live wire. His jaw clenched.

What the hell is he thinking?

Charles shifted back slightly, but something held him there, still too close for comfort. He exhaled sharply, as if wrestling with himself.

"What changed?" he asked quietly, voice strained.

Your brows furrowed. "What the hell are you talking about?"

He sighed, shoulders tense. "What did I do that made you hate me so much?" His voice softened, tinged with something dangerously close to regret. "What changed?"

Before you could answer—or even begin to process what to say—someone cleared their throat at the doorway.

Charles jumped back like he’d been burned, stumbling a step before retreating to sit on the edge of the bathtub, his gaze fixed firmly on the floor. You turned your head sharply, locking eyes with Arthur, who stood leaning against the doorframe with a massive, knowing grin.

"I came to ask if you’re ready for game night," Arthur said casually, though his smirk betrayed every innocent intention.

You let out a slow, steadying breath, forcing yourself to relax. "Yeah, coming," you muttered, pushing off the sink and brushing past him.

But before you crossed the threshold, something tugged at you. You rested your hand on the doorframe, glancing back at Charles. His head lifted, eyes locking onto yours with a silent intensity.

"As for what changed?" you said quietly, voice sharper than you intended. "The fact that you have no idea says enough, Charles."

With that, you walked out, catching up to Arthur as he fell into step beside you, still grinning like an idiot.

He glanced sideways at you, suppressing a laugh. "You two really have a thing for getting caught in bathrooms together, huh?"

You rolled your eyes. "Don’t start."

Arthur chuckled. "Well, let’s just say... I did put my money on you two hooking up this holiday, but I didn’t expect you to get that intimate that fast."

"First of all, nothing happened," you snapped, face heating. "And second, it wasn’t what it looked like."

"That’s what they all say," Arthur teased. "But to me, it looked like my brother had you pinned against the sink pretty damn convincingly."

You groaned. "He did not have me pinned—"

Arthur raised his eyebrows. "Oh? Because you being pressed against the sink while he boxed you in with his hands definitely looked like pinning from where I was standing."

"Fine," you admitted, throwing your hands up. "It looked exactly like that, but it was not for the reason you so desperately hope it was. So shut your mouth before I call your mom and tell her what happened to her couch." you said, referring to the time you caught Arthur and his former girlfriend having sex on his mom's new couch.

Arthur’s grin dropped instantly, his hands shooting up in mock surrender. "Alright, relax, no need for threats!" he laughed, shaking his head as the two of you headed downstairs.

As you and Arthur walked into the living room, you couldn’t help but laugh at his teasing, shaking your head in mock exasperation.

"I’m still putting my money on it, though," Arthur added with a mischievous grin, his voice light but teasing.

Before you could respond, Dennis looked up from where he was lounging on the couch, eyebrows raised in curiosity. "Putting your money on what?"

Arthur didn’t miss a beat. "That she’ll hook up with Charles before the end of this trip," he declared confidently, shooting you a knowing smirk.

Dennis let out a deep chuckle, sitting up straighter. "Oh, definitely. There’s no doubt in that," he agreed, his tone playfully conspiratorial.

You groaned dramatically, throwing your hands in the air. "Seriously? You’re both delusional."

Arthur shrugged. "Just calling it like we see it. The tension could be cut with a knife."

Dennis nodded sagely, as if offering expert commentary. "It’s practically inevitable."

Rolling your eyes, you grabbed a pillow from the nearest couch and tossed it at Dennis, who dodged it with practiced ease, laughing.

"You two are ridiculous," you muttered, fighting back a smile as they continued to exchange amused glances like co-conspirators.

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Tonight, the sky outside was pitch black, the faint sound of waves crashing in the distance as the group gathered in the living room. Sprawled across the plush couches, each of you with a drink in hand, the night carried an air of relaxed intimacy. The warm light of the room and the subtle buzz of alcohol created the perfect atmosphere for a game that was bound to stir up some chaos.

It was Inès who first suggested it, her eyes sparkling mischievously as she leaned forward, waving her drink for emphasis. “Okay,” she announced, her grin widening. “Let’s play ‘Never Have I Ever.’”

There was a mix of groans and laughs, but no one protested. As the alcohol worked its magic, the group quickly fell into the rhythm of the game, starting with tame questions.

“Alright,” Inès began, her tone playful. “Never have I ever made out at work.”

A beat of silence followed before all the boys raised their glasses almost simultaneously, their movements earning a round of laughter.

“I should’ve guessed,” you said, shaking your head as they took their sips.

The game continued, the questions growing more personal but still lighthearted. Dennis asked if anyone had ever called in sick to work when they weren’t actually sick, which prompted a unanimous drink from nearly everyone. Joris, with his usual antics, asked if anyone had ever gotten so drunk they couldn’t remember anything, earning another flurry of laughter as most of the group took a sip.

Then Kika piped up, her eyes sparkling as she leaned back against Pierre with a devilish grin. “Okay, my turn,” she announced, her voice dripping with amusement. “Never have I ever made out with my brother’s or sister’s best friend.”

The room broke into a chorus of gasps and giggles as everyone’s eyes darted around, scanning for raised glasses other than the obvious ones. Pierre groaned, shaking his head with a laugh as he lifted his drink and took a sip.

“You just want to get your boyfriend drunk, don't you?” Dennis teased Kika, his grin widening as he, too, raised his glass and took a sip.

Kika laughed, and looked at Pierre, who shot Dennis a playful smirk. “You did too, I see?”

Dennis chuckled, not bothering to deny it. “Yeah, can't deny that.”

Kika raised an eyebrow, her gaze flitting around the room. “Alright, anyone else want to confess?”

You stayed silent, hiding your smirk behind the rim of your glass as you watched the game unfold. The question might not have been directed at you specifically, but the implications swirling around the room were impossible to ignore, clearly an indirect question to see if you actually ever made out with Charles, which bummer to them, you didn't.

The game was already proving to be far more chaotic than you’d anticipated. The group sat sprawled out on the plush couches in the villa’s living room, drinks in hand and laughter filling the air. You’d already survived a few rounds of lighthearted questions—some borderline embarrassing—but when Dennis sat forward, his mischievous grin spelled trouble.

“Okay,” Dennis announced, his voice cutting through the chatter. “Y’all ask boring questions. Let’s spice this up.” He took a dramatic pause, letting the tension build before smirking. “Never have I ever gotten off to the thought of someone in this room… since we arrived here.”

A ripple of laughter broke out immediately. Kika, sitting snugly next to Pierre, was the first to respond, raising her glass with a playful roll of her eyes. “Well, I think I better drink, because let’s be honest—no one would believe me if I said no, considering my boyfriend is literally right here.”

Pierre nudged her with a grin, clearly unbothered by her admission as he sipped from his own glass. “As if the feeling isn’t mutual,” he teased, earning another round of laughter.

Across the room, Gigi tried to be subtle, lifting her glass for a quick sip, but Dennis’ sharp eyes caught her immediately. “Oh, I saw that, Gi!” he exclaimed, wiggling his eyebrows at her.

Gigi flushed crimson, glaring at him. “Shut up, Dennis,” she shot back, though the laughter in her voice betrayed her. “Don’t turn all the attention on me. I’m not the only one who drank!” She gestured toward a few others who had lifted their glasses.

“Oh, I’m not pretending I didn’t,” Dennis said casually, raising his glass again for emphasis. “Because I have zero shame” His eyes flicked toward you for the briefest moment, a sly grin tugging at his lips.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, silently hoping to stay under the radar. But your attempt at blending into the background only seemed to make you more conspicuous.

“Don’t act all shy now, Gasly,” Dennis teased, his tone smug. His eyes locked on you as he leaned forward. “I saw you take a sip. Don’t think I didn’t notice that. Care to enlighten us who the lucky one is?”

Your cheeks burned as every pair of eyes turned toward you. You scrambled to think of a response, your heart pounding in your chest. Finally, you forced a laugh, raising an eyebrow at Dennis. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” you quipped, your voice surprisingly steady despite the heat in your face.

The group erupted into a mix of laughter and teasing comments, but before the attention could shift completely, Arthur piped up from where he was seated beside Charles.

“Alright, alright,” Arthur said, his grin widening as he leaned forward. “We’ve all been so focused on you three, but is no one going to mention the fact that two other people drank as well?” His eyes darted pointedly toward Charles and Joris, his tone dripping with mock innocence. “Hmm, I wonder who those drinks were about.”

Charles stiffened slightly beside him, his jaw tightening as he tried to play it cool. “Don’t drag me into this,” he muttered, taking another sip of his drink as if to distract himself.

“Too late, mate,” Arthur shot back with a grin, nudging his brother’s shoulder. “You drank. That means you’ve got to own up to it.”

Joris, ever the instigator, leaned back with a smug grin of his own. “Yeah, Charles, don’t be shy. Who’s the lucky one, huh?”

Charles rolled his eyes, leaning back against the couch and trying to appear nonchalant. “Not a chance,” he said simply, though the tips of his ears betrayed a faint redness.

You couldn’t help but glance at him briefly, your curiosity piqued. Did he…? No, there was no way. You quickly shoved the thought aside, but the idea lingered annoyingly in the back of your mind.

Meanwhile, Charles’ thoughts were anything but composed. When you’d taken a sip earlier, his stomach had twisted uncomfortably. At first, he’d assumed it was Dennis—the way Dennis was always teasing you, always so close—but then another thought crept in, one that made his pulse quicken. What if it wasn’t Dennis?

The idea of it being about him sent a conflicting mix of emotions surging through him—hope, doubt, and an overwhelming sense of confusion. He was so caught up in his own thoughts that he didn’t notice Joris’ subtle kick to his shin until it made contact.

“Stop staring,” Joris whispered, smirking at his friend. “You’re making it obvious.”

Charles snapped out of his reverie, glaring at Joris. “Shut up,” he muttered under his breath, shifting in his seat.

Arthur, ever the opportunist, caught the exchange and raised an eyebrow. “What’s this now?” he asked, clearly amused. “Charles getting a little distracted?”

“Leave him alone,” Joris said with a grin, though his tone was far from serious. “Poor guy’s got enough on his plate already.”

“Oh, definitely not, he's pestered me long enough about things, payback time” Arthur said, his laugh echoing over the group’s chatter as Charles groaned, clearly regretting his choice to participate

The laughter hadn’t fully settled when Paul leaned forward with a mischievous grin, his drink loosely dangling in one hand. He glanced between you and Charles, his tone teasing as he spoke.

“So, Y/n, didn’t you mention something about the walls here being thin?” Paul asked, clearly enjoying the tension he was stirring. “Hope Charles has been a quiet neighbor. Otherwise, you probably heard everything. Poor Y/n.”

The room erupted into laughter, Dennis and Arthur practically doubling over. Kika smirked, nudging Pierre, who groaned, already sensing where the conversation was heading.

Charles narrowed his eyes at Paul, his jaw tightening slightly before he forced a smirk onto his face. “I’m not a complete idiot, you know,” he shot back. “If I had to… handle things, I’d make sure no one heard a damn thing. Either that or I’d do it somewhere more private.”

The laughter grew louder, Dennis nearly choking on his drink. “Good to know you’ve got a strategy, mate,” he teased, wiping his mouth.

You couldn’t help but feel heat creeping up your neck at the implication. The idea of Charles trying to stay quiet, and worse, the thought of actually overhearing him, made your stomach twist in ways you didn’t want to unpack. Not that you’d ever admit it.

“Well, I’m glad I didn’t hear anything,” you retorted, forcing a grin to hide your flustered state. “Because if I did, I’d probably have hearing damage.”

Charles turned to you, his smirk sharpening as he shot back, “As if I’d want to get off with you right outside my room.”

The room went silent for half a beat before Dennis, never one to miss an opportunity, leaned forward with a wicked grin. “No,” he said, drawing out the word for effect. “Because you’d prefer her in the room, wouldn’t you?”

The laughter that followed was deafening. Dennis clinked his glass with Paul’s, who was shaking his head but laughing just as hard. Charles, on the other hand, turned beet red, his face almost matching the color of his drink.

You weren’t any better, your face burning as you buried it in your hands. “Dennis, I swear to God,” you muttered, though your voice was muffled by the roar of the group.

Pierre groaned, his expression one of pure disgust as he rubbed his temples. “Okay, are you done? Because we are so not dragging my baby sister into Charles’ dirty fantasies.”

Arthur, always ready to escalate things, grinned and leaned back in his chair. “We don’t have to drag her into anything, Pierre,” he joked. “Charles probably already does that himself.”

The laughter doubled, filling the room with chaos as you and Charles sat frozen in mortification. Kika had tears streaming down her face from laughing, while Joris clapped a hand on Charles’ shoulder, grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

Pierre glared at the group, clearly over it. “I don’t even want to know,” he muttered, waving a hand dismissively. “Can we just move on before I lose my mind?”

The group slowly settled, though the smirks and giggles lingered as someone suggested the next round of the game. But despite the conversation moving on, you couldn’t help but feel Charles’ gaze flick toward you now and then, and you hated how much your heart raced when it did.

Meanwhile, Charles couldn’t stop replaying Dennis’ comment in his head. The idea of you in his room—or worse, of you thinking about him in that way—had lodged itself in his mind, refusing to budge. He shook his head, trying to focus on the game, but it was no use.

Neither of you wanted to admit it, but the seed of thought had been planted, and it was impossible to ignore.

The game moved on, the attention shifting away from Charles and you for the moment, but the tension hung in the air like a spark waiting to ignite. Charles stole another glance at you, his thoughts still tangled in the what-ifs. And as for you? You couldn’t help but wonder if you were indeed the one that had made him drink in the first place.

It was Joris who leaned forward next, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “Alright, never have I ever kissed my best friend.”

The room buzzed with anticipation as everyone exchanged curious glances. Inès was the first to raise her glass and take a drink, earning a few cheers and teasing remarks. But it was the way both you and Arthur looked at each other, simultaneously bursting into laughter, that drew all the attention. Without hesitation, the two of you clinked your glasses together dramatically and downed your drinks in one go.

Charles raised an eyebrow, his perplexed expression giving him away. “Wait—you and Y/n kissed?” he asked, his gaze flicking between the two of you, his tone tinged with disbelief.

Arthur let out a laugh, leaning back casually. “Jealous much?” he shot back, his grin widening when he saw the flicker of annoyance cross Charles’ face.

Charles opened his mouth to protest, but Arthur cut him off with a chuckle. “Relax, I’m just kidding.”

Despite his brother’s reassurance, Charles still looked a little dumbfounded, his confusion—and something else he wouldn’t name—lingering. Kika, always one to stir the pot, leaned forward with a smirk. “Okay, I’m curious now. What’s the story?”

You laughed, shaking your head as you waved a hand dismissively. “There’s not much of a story, honestly. Happened a few times. We were both hopeless and single, and we figured, why not? It was just for fun. Turns out we were terrible at it.”

Arthur nodded in agreement, still grinning. “Massive failure. Zero chemistry. The kiss sucked, and we both agreed never to try again.”

“And the other times?” Kika pressed, her curiosity clearly piqued.

“Oh, just Truth or Dare,” you replied with a shrug. “Happened once or twice when we were younger. Nothing serious. More like a punishment than a kiss, honestly.”

The room erupted into laughter, with Inès nearly choking on her drink as she laughed the hardest. “I can so picture your disgusted faces,” she managed between giggles.

As the laughter died down, Inès perked up, her eyes glinting with mischief. “Speaking of Truth or Dare,” she said, her grin widening, “we should switch to that. Way more interesting than this.”

The group exchanged glances, a ripple of excitement building at the prospect of what chaos Truth or Dare might bring. You couldn’t help but glance at Charles, whose expression was still unreadable, though his gaze lingered on you for just a second too long before he looked away. Whatever this next game would bring, you had a feeling it wasn’t going to get any less intense.

The questions escalated slowly, moving from tame confessions to more suggestive dares. Someone dared Dennis to prank call his ex, which he executed flawlessly, much to everyone’s amusement. Gigi had to show the last text she sent to Joris, blushing furiously as everyone gathered around to read it. Pierre, naturally, had been dared to whisper something filthy to Kika, who doubled over laughing and refused to tell anyone what he’d said.

Then it was Paul’s turn, and his eyes gleamed as he scanned the room, finally landing on you. “Y/n,” he called out with a grin. “Truth or dare?”

You didn’t hesitate. “Dare.”

Paul’s grin widened, and the others leaned in, already sensing mischief. “I dare you to kiss Charles.”

The room went dead silent, every eye darting toward you.

You froze for a beat before scoffing loudly. “God, no”

“Oh, come on,” Dennis teased, smirking at you. “A dare is a dare”

“No, ew!” you shot back, shaking your head emphatically. “Anyone else in the world rather than him. I’d rather stick my tongue inside a trash can than kiss him.”

The tension seemed to settle, the group already laughing at your dramatic protests, until Charles’ voice cut through. Low, clipped, and tinged with something that sounded like a challenge.

“That’s not what you told me when you were sixteen.”

The room froze. Even the laughter died instantly.

You stared at him, wide-eyed and stunned, your pulse roaring in your ears. His words hit like a slap, and you could see the regret flicker in his eyes almost immediately.

“That was a low blow, Charles,” Arthur muttered, shaking his head in disapproval.

Pierre leaned back with a grimace, gesturing to the group. “Guess it’s better to call this game quits, non?”

But you weren’t about to let it go. Swallowing the knot of hurt lodged in your throat, you stood, fixing your gaze on your brother. “No need to,” you said firmly. “Dennis is right, a dare is a dare.”

The group exchanged glances, unsure of what was about to happen, but you didn’t stop. The anger bubbling inside you had morphed into something else—something that demanded revenge.

You marched over to where Charles sat, his eyes widening as you closed the distance. Without a word, you reached down, lifting his chin with your thumb, forcing him to look at you.

His breath hitched, his lips parting slightly, but before he could speak, you crushed your mouth against his.

The kiss wasn’t gentle—it was heated, full of anger and defiance. His lips were warm and soft against yours, but the sharp inhale he took before his hands moved to your waist betrayed how caught off guard he was.

Charles froze for a split second, his mind scrambling to process what was happening. But when your tongue brushed against his lips, seeking entrance, he couldn’t hold back any longer.

A low, guttural sound escaped his throat as he kissed you back with equal fervor, his hand sliding behind your neck, fingers tangling in your hair as he deepened the kiss. His pulse was racing, heat surging through his veins, and he struggled to keep himself in check.

Your hands slid down his chest, slow and deliberate, feeling the hard muscle beneath his shirt. You knew exactly what you were doing as your palm settled over the bulge in his jeans, giving it a playful squeeze.

He let out a strangled sound, his body reacting instinctively, and you pulled back just enough to whisper, “I might’ve had a crush on you back when I was too delusional to see you for who you really are, but at least I’m not the one sitting here, a 27-year-old guy, getting hard because he had to kiss his best friend’s baby sister during a game.”

The room erupted. Dennis and Joris were practically howling with laughter, clapping each other on the back. Gigi and Kika exchanged wide-eyed glances before bursting into giggles. Even Arthur had his head in his hands, laughing despite himself.

Charles, on the other hand, looked utterly mortified. His face was beet red, his mouth opening and closing as if searching for words that wouldn’t come.

“Poor Charles,” Dennis teased, grinning wickedly. “Bet that wasn’t the reaction you were expecting.”

Another wave of laughter erupted, leaving Charles sitting in stunned silence. Finally, Charles downed the rest of his drink in one go, standing abruptly. “I need air,” he muttered before making his way out of the room and into the garden.

He pushed open the glass doors that led to the terrace, the cool night air hitting his flushed face like a balm. The stars glittered overhead, but he barely noticed them as he sank into one of the patio chairs, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

His heart was still pounding in his chest, his mind replaying the kiss over and over. He could still feel the ghost of your lips on his, the way your hand had trailed down his chest, resting on him with enough boldness to completely disarm him. And your words—sharp, cutting, and delivered with such venom—they were like a slap in the face.

He groaned softly, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, burying his face in his hands. What the hell had he been thinking, making that comment about you at sixteen? He’d known it was cruel the second the words left his mouth, but he couldn’t stop himself. His insecurities, his regret, his jealousy—it all spilled out in the worst way possible.

The sound of the sliding door opening made him glance up. Arthur stepped out, holding two fresh beers in his hands. Without a word, he handed one to Charles and took the seat next to him.

They sat in silence for a few moments, the only sounds the distant crash of waves and the faint hum of cicadas. Finally, Arthur broke the quiet.

“You’re a dickhead,” he said matter-of-factly, taking a sip of his beer.

Charles let out a humorless laugh, nodding slightly. “I know.”

Arthur turned to him, his expression softening slightly. “That comment, mate—it was out of line. You really hurt her with that one.”

Charles sighed, staring at the bottle in his hand. “I know,” he said again, his voice quieter this time. “I wasn’t thinking. Or maybe I was, and that’s the problem.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue.

“It’s just…” Charles paused, struggling to find the right words. “She makes me feel things I don’t know how to handle. And then when she said all that stuff about how she’d rather kiss a trash can or anyone else but me…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “I just—reacted. Like an idiot.”

Arthur studied his brother for a moment before leaning back in his chair. “You know, it’s okay to feel things. But lashing out like that? That’s not how you handle it. You deserved what she did to you after that comment. Hell, if it were me, I’d have punched you.”

Charles chuckled softly, though there was no humor in it. “Yeah, well, she went for humiliation instead. And it worked.”

Arthur grinned. “Oh, it definitely worked. She got you good. But seriously, Charles, what’s your deal with her? One minute you’re at each other’s throats, and the next, you’re looking at her like…” He gestured vaguely, trying to find the right words.

Charles sighed, leaning back in his chair and looking up at the sky. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “She gets under my skin. Always has. And for the longest time, I told myself it was just because she’s Pierre’s sister, and I shouldn’t feel anything for her.” He paused, his voice softening. “But I do. I have for a few years now.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow. “You’re in love with her.”

Charles didn’t answer, but the silence spoke volumes.

Arthur let out a long breath, tapping the neck of his beer bottle thoughtfully. “You’ve got to stop letting that eat you alive, mate. Either you tell her how you feel, or you let it go. This whole act of yours, pretending you’re indifferent while secretly wanting her? It’s not working. It’s just making things worse—for both of you.”

“I know,” Charles said quietly. “But it’s not that simple. She hates me now. And maybe she has a reason to.”

Arthur gave him a pointed look. “She doesn’t hate you, Charles. She’s angry, sure. And maybe a bit hurt. But hate? No. If she really hated you, she wouldn’t have kissed you like that.”

Charles frowned, replaying the kiss in his mind. The anger, the passion—it had been overwhelming, intoxicating. But there had been something else beneath it, something he couldn’t quite name.

“I don’t know what to do,” he admitted finally.

Arthur clapped a hand on his shoulder, squeezing lightly. “Start by apologizing. And I don’t mean a half-assed apology. Really apologize, Charles. Own up to your shit. Then maybe, just maybe, you can start fixing things.”

Charles nodded slowly, the weight of his brother’s words sinking in. He didn’t know if it was too late to fix things with you, but for the first time, he felt a glimmer of hope that it might not be.

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taglist: @vroomvro0mferrari @fishyfishersticks @prttylight @tempo-rary-fix @suns3treading @a-beaverhausen @formula1fordisaster @janeh22 @leclercdream @sageskiesf1 @ch16les @emryb @vyctorya @asmoothoperator @dilfsaresohot @freyathehuntress @sarx164

Missing You Part 2! Sebastian Vettel x Reader

For my Sebastian Anon, I hope you enjoy! Requests are open, so Ask away!! (This is from Charles's POV/Sebastian's POV)

To say that Sebastian had attempted to not drive the boys mad was... A statement that could be made... Was it truthful? No. Not in any source of the word. From the moment Charles began suggesting things to do, Sebastian would interject with comments on how Y/N would have loved doing it. Had Charles not been dealing with this behavior for a week from Sebastian, he would have thought it was cute that his mentor was this in love. Right now, it was just annoying Charles. But he was trying his hardest not to lose his mind as he quickly glanced at his phone wondering if Y/N had checked her messages yet. Sadly, she hadn't. Charles was still on delivered. "I need help..." Charles mumbled.

With the message sent to Lewis, Charles prayed to whoever was listening that Lewis could help him. Or, at least provide Sebastian with more than Charles was currently doing. Y/N still hadn't read her message, and Charles was trying not to panic about that. If Sebastian wasn't panicking about Y/N yet, it meant that he had been in touch with her recently. He certainly didn't want to ask if Sebastian was talking to her. He didn't want to open that can of worms. Yet, life didn't feel the same. It wanted to torture Charles.... (SEB POV) Sebastian sighed as he turned to Charles, unaware of the two conversations that Charles had while he was lost in his thoughts about Y/N and what she was doing without him while he was stuck racing on her birthday. He was usually so good about celebrating her birthday with her before the races, if one was scheduled. But time had simply got away from Sebastian this time. It made him feel soo small. "Do you think Y/N will forgive me for being away? I know I got her gifts, balloons, flowers... But it's not the same as being here with me, or there with her, you know?" Sebastian asked Charles. Seemingly forgetting who he was speaking too. It was Charles, the chronically single member of the grid. Well, that was a lie, but Sebastian wasn't in the right state of mind to focus on it. "Oh mon Dieu" Charles exclaimed, making Sebastian arch his eyebrow as he looked down at the young Monégasque driver. Slightly offended by Charles's reaction. "It's a valid question! I am here! She is there!" It was at this moment that Sebastian's phone went off making him look down, his eyes growing wide as a smile spread across his face and his fingers quickly tapped against the screen to open the message

Part 3?! Or end it here?!

@ Anakin Skywalker × Female!Reader

— english is not my first language; I'm just trying to practice don't pay attencion to this please

⚠️ mentions of rape and violence

tags: angst and a little of confort

Summary: Someone tried to rape reader while Anakin was on a mission, the last thing that the reader wants, is to talk about it. — ao3

Anakin was coming back from a successful mission, joking around with Ashoka about how many droids they destroyed, a normal habit. He was so excited from coming back home that he couldn't suppress his smile; but Obi Wan, who received them, wasn't happy. 

While the others masters looked like always, serious. Obi Wan looked at Anakin with worried eyes. 

" Is something wrong, Master? " Anakin asked, a little disappointed for not seeing you on the platform waiting for him, he wanted to be with you so bad. Stepping far from the others, finally his master answered. 

" Promise me that you are not going to freak out " Obi Wan pursed his lips, while Anakin frowns with a confused look.

" Why? " Anakin tried it to make a smile to hide his bad mood , if he was going to be sent to another long mission, he was not going to be able to bear it. Obi Wan gave him the look—I'm not going to answer until you promise—. " Okay, I promise. What happened? "

Obi Wan sighs before telling him that in the last gathering you showed up trying to hide some bruises on your body, and when Obi Wan interrogated you about it, you only said that it was nothing. Obi Wan couldn't just ignore it, you were a Senator and if you were in some kind of danger, he should inform it.

And he knows that you are close to Anakin, probably more than you should,  seeing how his padawan left barely he ended the sentence, confirmed his thoughts.

In your room, a sweet cup of tea aromatizes while you're reading papers from work. Your clothes hid the bruises on your skin, even though it had been a few days they still hurt when you pressed them. Knowing Anakin was arriving today, the concerning feeling about how you were gonna pass unnoticed makes you wanna throw out. 

Lying to Anakin wasn't one of your favorites activities, at all. However, telling him the reason for your bruises could ruin everything, could make him hate you. And that was the last thing you wanted. 

Even though you spent the last few days figuring out how to deal with this, when Anakin appeared in front of you, you realized that you weren't prepared at all. Getting inside of your room, Anakin didn't hesitate in grabbing your hand and lifting up the sleeve of your dress, watching the bruises of differents colors caused a huge impact on the jedi. You tried to hide them with your other hand but Anakin didn't allow it. 

" Who did this to you? " His eyes full of anger made you swallow, trying to keep calm.

" It's okay, Anakin. It's not a big deal" with a smile you stand up, your heart beat painfully. This was not going to work. 

" It's not okay, and you know it. Tell me who the person is." He wasn't asking, you avoided his touch, feeling that your disgusted skin didn't deserve to be touched for no one you loved. Maybe If you revealed a little of the truth he would let you forget it. 

" I really don't know" 

But Anakin didn't let you get away, trapping you between the desk and his body, your hand covered by his gentle touch made you wanna cry. 

" How did this happen?" He was so close that you could feel his breath, your eyes down revealed that you didn't want to look at him. Nevertheless Anakin wasn't going to give up "Love, how did this happen?" 

Feeling like you were collapsing, your cheek was held by Anakin, you looked up with a miserable expression.

"Can't we just forget about this? I really don't want to talk about it." You wanted Anakin to hold you close enough to wipe the dirt off your body.  He did, he hugged you around your waist and hiding his head on your shoulder.  After a long time, you finally felt safe.

You weren't prepared to relive that night, and Anakin could feel your pain, promising himself that he would find the person who hurt you and pay for It.

que alguien escriba un fic en el que lando esta celoso y lo va a encarar al club y se termina chapando a franco

📍​méxico, october 2024

okay I just love the idea of Anakin being in love, he is sooo devoted and sincere 😭😭

and I need more fics without fights and problems, just anakin × oc being happy 😫

I want star wars mutuals 😭😭😭

—Busco Mutuals (español)

Mis fandoms: star wars, La bendición del Oficial del Cielo, exo, astro, bangtan

Escribir

Literatura juvenil

Manhuas

dar rb porfa<3

main masterlist \\ f1 masterlist

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𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫?

✩ : the f1 drivers giving more attention to your brother than you

𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭. : max verstappen, lando norris, charles leclerc, oscar piastri, carlos sainz, lewis hamilton + special guest... franco colapinto!

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 : humor, suggestive in some parts

✍︎ : *insert the lion king song here* (no i haven't seen the movie yet 🙃)

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