Hello! My name is Cherry, and I am a 21 year-old nurse from Europe. I have a wide range of interests that include all things Formula 1, House of the Dragon, Peaky Blinders, The Hobbit, Criminal minds, football, DnD and array of other interests.
I post semi-regularly, focusing mainly on social media alternate universes (AUs) and one-shots, and as of recently, some series' as well. If you put in a request, be warned it may not be posted on time, since I am very busy with college.
Regarding my taglist, i would like to ask that you submit your name in the google form provided with most of my works or this post since comments are hard to keep up with for me.
ASKS/REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!
FANDOMS I WRITE FOR:
Formula 1
Football players
Criminal Minds
NCIS
Peaky Blinders
House of the Dragon
A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms
The Hobbit
Vikings
The Walking Dead
I am open to writing about real people, such as actors, musicians and others... just send a DM or ask!
WHY DO YOU THINK IT TOOK ME SO LONG? (Toto Wolff)
none yet
ROOKIE MISTAKES (Fernando Alonso)
NUMBERS AND COMFORT (Toto Wolff)
SAY CHEESE! (Toto Wolff)
BY THE BOOK (Max Verstappen) [SMAU]
SMELLS LIKE CINNAMON part one (Ewan Mitchell)
SMELLS LIKE CINNAMON part two (Ewan Mitchell)
BUSSINES ONLY (Daniel Ricciardo) [SMAU]
HARMONIES (Daniel Ricciardo) [SMAU]
ROSES AND VIOLAS (Daniel Ricciardo) [SMAU]
UNEXPECTED (Daniel Ricciardo) [SMAU]
SIP THE GOSSIP (Daniel Ricciardo) [SMAU]
HONEY, ARE YOU COMING? (Daniel Ricciardo) [SMAU]
READ YOUR DIARY (Daniel Ricciardo) [SMAU]
STAR-SPANGELED BANNER (Fernando Alonso) [SMAU]
FEAR FOR NOBODY (Fernando Alonso) [SMAU]
A PICK-ME-UP (Toto Wolff) [SMAU]
MAMÁ Y PAPÁ (Toto Wolff) [SMAU]
IT'S A... ROOKIE (Toto Wolff) [SMAU]
SOLOVEY part one (Arthur Shelby)
SOLOVEY part two (Arthur Shelby)
SOLOVEY part three (Arthur Shelby)
SOLOVEY part four (Arthur Shelby)
SOLOVEY part five (Arthur Shelby)
TETHERED BY SHADOWS prologue (Aaron Hotchner)
TETHERED BY SHADOWS part one (Aaron Hotchner)
TETHERED BY SHADOWS part two (Aaron Hotchner)
none yet
TAGLIST FORM:
just so i can be a bit more organised
please write your username<3
description: coffee is a morning ritual that toto can't skip... so when a new bakery opens near the mercedes-amg HQ, he can't help, but pay a visit...
faceclaim: Anne Hathaway; various pinterest girls
a/n: OK this is a little something thats been in my drafts for a while, but i never got the chance to post it... its of course a continuation of my toto x bakery owner reader SMAU, but an update on their life!!
also, i realized i didnt do enough research back when i was writing the OG parts, so ive made some changes in this one regarding her locations!!
so enjoy!!
interacting is highly appriciated!!!!
sfos_bakery
liked by user1, user2 and 621,543 others
sfos_bakery both our locations have been refreshed! both got some new colour and stuttgart even got a new seating area!!
user1 The Stuttgart location was already my favorite study spot, but that new seating area? I’m never leaving. ☕️🌿
user2 Found this place by accident today! Best brownie I've had in Germany!!
view other comments
y/nsweets
liked by kimi.antonelli, toto_wolff and 985,641 others
y/nsweets new member has joined the family!! welcome kimi!!! @.kimi.antonelli
kimi.antonelli thank you!!
liked by y/nsweets
user3 and it is all too much for little kimi antonelli...
user4 she's just collecting these drivers like pokemons!! she's adopted them all
user5 singlehandedly expanding the Wolff pack fr
view other comments
y/nsweets
liked by lewishamilton, toto_wolff and 995, 347 others
y/nsweets mrs. Wolff at last... @.toto_wolff <3
toto_wolff my world... ich liebe dich <3
y/nsweets ich liebe dich auch!!!<3
georgerussell63 congratulations!!!
y/nsweets thank you georgie!
user6 he's signed so many important contracts, but this is the one that matters the most!<<33
user7 omg you're so right!!!
user8 that last photo!!
post 1
y/nsweets
liked by kimi.antonelli, georgerussell63 and 852,149others
y/nsweets My favorite view<3 and the mountains weren't bad either...
user9 UGH!! imagine having Toto Wolff as your personal ski instructor… I would 'accidentally' fall every 5 minutes
user10 ok but how is she actually this pretty in a puffer jacket?? i look like a literal thumb when i go skiing 💀
user11 fr like… leave some beauty for the rest of us pls. she singlehandedly outdressed everyone on that mountain lol
user12 mrs wolff era suits u SO well omg
user13 imagine being this rich and this hot i am actually going to pass away
user14 the way he looks at her 🥹 my heart
view other comment
sfos_bakery
liked by toto_wolff, y/nsweets and 785,243 others
sfos_bakery HELLO OXFORD! We are spreading like wildfire! A new location has just opened it's doors in Oxford, UK... The perfect spot to study or hold a gossip sesh, the choice is yours!
user15 WAIT OMG!! she opened up a new location right after renovating her other two!? ICONIC!!
user16 oh the pink in the story was a hint!! the interior is GORGEOUS!!!
user15 and it matches the other two locations perfectly... almost the exact same tiles just different colors!!
toto_wolff congratulations! ❤️
sfos_bakery thank you, boss man!!!
mercedesamgf1 congrats on the new branch, mrs. wolff!!
y/nsweets thank you, bebe!!<<33
georgerussell63 carmen and i are coming over next week!! congrats!!
sfos_bakery we can't wait to see carmen... you too, i guess...
georgerussell63 brutal...
view other comments
sfos_bakery
liked by toto_wolff, y/nsweets and 963,156 others
sfos_bakery madame Wolff trying out new recepies for the Oxford spot!! @.y/nsweets
y/nsweets send me that second photo STAT!!!
sfos_bakery YES MA'AM!!
user17 omg toto is such a lucky man!!!
user18 RIGHT?! she can bake and is beautifull as HELL!! WHAT MORE COULD A MAN WANT?!
user19 are these going to be Oxford exclusive ooorr??...
user20 im assuming so...
toto_wolff my beautiful wife...
sfos_bakery aaww boss man, you're too cute...
toto_wolff don't patronize me… especially since you still haven't explained how a professional manages to drop an entire latte on my lap...
sfos_bakery oops...
view other comments
y/nsweets
liked by toto_wolff, lewishamilton and 989,957 others
y/nsweets CEO by day, my favorite person to annoy by night <3 @.toto_wolf
toto_wolff i’d let you annoy me any time of day❤️
y/nsweets love you too <3
user21 OMG they’re both so hot!! Literal power couple!!
user22 imagine going to a club and seeing these two… I’d turn and walk out cause there is no competing with these two!!😩
So I’m writing a akotsk fic with an original character, an original kingdom and a whole lotta original stuff related to that, but I need a pairing so vote on which one you want to read the most!!!
Also Baelor doesn’t die, because I say so!!!
choose your pairing!!!
Heir!OC x Baelor Targaryen
Heir!OC x Maekar Targaryen
Heir!OC x Aerion Targaryen
Heir!OC x Duncan the Tall
Voting ended onMay 5
Most of the people I asked irl are leaning towards Baelor, but I wish to ask the masses!!
please interact with this post in any way, besides just voting!!! your suggestions and comments mean a lot to me, questions as well!!!
a/n: just a disclaimer, this work does revolve around an OC! I will be adding warnings chapter by chapter!
pairing: Aaron Hotchner x OC
synopsis:
She was never meant to be part of a story, besides the one she was writing... But when fiction bleeds into reality, and old wounds stir beneath the surface, lines begin to blur...
In the presence of monsters - seen and unseen - how do you know who's pulling the strings?
warnings: mention of murder and trauma, panic attack, anxiety, emotional distress
<prev …|… next>
The button-up shirt she wore felt far too tight. Her feet hurt from the heels she chose to put on. Cassandra's voice seemed to annoy her beyond belief, even though she talked in a whisper.
It was fifteen minutes before four, another book signing looming close. She could hear the chatter of fans and presses alike, making her dread going before them even more.
"Hey, J, we're starting a little early. Everybody is already here." Cassandra said, getting up from her chair. Jelena sighed, getting up as well, and turned to her manager.
"Cass, how many of these do we have left?" she asked, picking up her bag.
"3 maybe? I'm not sure... There are a few requests in my inbox, but we can stop at what is booked already..." Cassandra answered, turning to Jelena.
"Yeah, I'd like that... There is so much to do already, I want some time for myself... Go to the cabin maybe..." she said back, straightening her back before going in front of the crowd. She smiled and waved at the people. They cheered and clapped, the cameras flashed. Jelena, like always, felt exposed.
"And the author of 'The Godless Carnival', Jelena Esma Barlow!" The announcer said, before taking his place in the front row.
"Hello everyone, thank you all so much for coming. If you're here, it means you obviously liked the book..." Jelena started, earning a few chuckles from the crowd.
"Or alternatively, you want to know what kind of person would think of the things written in the book... But then again, you could ask that even if you did like it." She finished, the crowd laughing and clapping.
It took all of 20 minutes for Jelena to get tired of the situation. She understood them, of course. They have questions only she can answer, but nevertheless, it annoyed her.
"Hey, J, might wanna smile a little, you look like you might kill someone any second..." Cassandra whispered in her ear.
"Ah, I'm sorry... I'm just feeling a little off, that's all..." Jelena whispers back, shaking her head.
"Jelena, I can see... Wanna take a break?" Cassandra asked, lightly touching Jelena's hand.
"No, no... I'm fine. Just... let's get through this and..." she sighs.
"I'll go home then... Rest up for a few days."
"You sure?" Cassandra asks.
"Yeah, yeah..." Jelena smooths her hair back, tucking a stray hair behind her ear. Her hands shake slightly, something that hasn't stopped for a very long time.
The signing continued and Jelena's attention seems to wear thin with every second that passes. Cassandra noticed that, she noticed every time Jelena's gaze would shift to the back door.
"Jelena, please... You need a break... Let's just leave early... 10 minutes isn't going to ruin your reputation..." Cassandra whispered to Jelena. She shook her head.
"Cass... I need to finish this... I'd rather be here than rotting in my bed..." Jelena whispered back to her. Cassandra shook her head, surrendering to Jelena's stubborn nature.
"Miss Barlow!" a reporter's voice cut through the silent debate between the two.
"What can you tell us about the inspiration for your book. Were you inspired by the ongoing string of murders in the area?" As the words left his mouth Jelena stopped breathing.
"What murders?" she asked quietly, disbelief and something else evident in her voice. A lump formed in her throat and sudden tears brimmed her eyes, her body tensed up.
"I... I need to go..." She stood up, her legs shaky and weak. The chair she was sitting on fell behind her and her wobbly legs took her to the back door.
Her breath became shallower, shorter, until it felt like she couldn't longer breathe. The door closed behind her and her legs gave out. The tears that formed in her eyes finally fell down her cheeks and a sob wrecked her body.
"Hey Jelena..." a voice, Cassandra's voice, came through the door.
"The FBI is here to see you..."
a/n: next part is out! Let me know how you’re liking it so far and ask anything you want to know!
a/n: just a disclaimer, this work does revolve around an OC! I will be adding warnings chapter by chapter!
pairing: Aaron Hotchner x OC
synopsis:
She was never meant to be part of a story, besides the one she was writing... But when fiction bleeds into reality, and old wounds stir beneath the surface, lines begin to blur...
In the presence of monsters - seen and unseen - how do you know who's pulling the strings?
warnings: none, this one is pretty short, just a bit of a filler….
<prev …|… next>
The light of the candle flickered, the yellow tinge softening its shadows. Black ink stretched across the lines, gently moulding into cursive letters beneath her pen. The old clock, the one her mother insisted she take, quietly ticked in the corner.
Outside, rain poured onto the streets of Manhattan. People ran around frantically, trying to find shelter, to hide from the sudden downpour. None of it bothered her.
Her manicured hand wrote words faster than her mind could think of them. She just kept going. Word after word, page after page. It seemed as though the pen had a mind of its own, writing and scribbling thing that only ever seem to come at night.
The quiet soothed her. No loud noises, no nagging voices. Just her and the silence. Her and the sketches littering any available surface of the room. Her and the flickering light of two, almost burnt out, candles.
Her eyes slowly moved over to the large window. The rain, now slow and gentle, tapped against the glass, creating an irresistible symphony.
The calmness of the moment was broken by her phone. The ringtone wasn't particularly annoying, at the end she's the one who chose it. But in the calmness of the night, it sounded far too loud.
"What do you need Cass?" Her tired, soft voice spoke first.
"Jelena! We got the confirmation e-mail from Lincoln Center. Wednesday at 4PM." Cassandra's cheery voice rung out in Jelena's ears.
"Jesus, Cass! Quiet down," she whispered.
"That's good... I got time to get my clothes dry-cleaned. Come tomorrow around 9. And bring breakfast!" Jelena continued before ending the call with her manager.
A sigh left her lips. The meet ups and signings and the press were all taking a toll on her. She was exhausted from the interactions, all the talking and smiling.
Of course she was happy. Her latest book was doing amazing, the constant string of praises not ceasing even for a moment. But the anniversary was closer day by day, and Jelena could feel the heavy blanket of dread slowly coming down on her.
a/n: first few chapters are gonna be on the shorter side, so be prepared!
a/n: just a disclaimer, this work does revolve around an OC! I will be adding warnings chapter by chapter!
pairing: Aaron Hotchner x OC
synopsis:
She was never meant to be part of a story, besides the one she was writing... But when fiction bleeds into reality, and old wounds stir beneath the surface, lines begin to blur...
In the presence of monsters - seen and unseen - how do you know who's pulling the strings?
warnings: nothing in this one, expect more in the upcoming chapters
… next>
"The shadows do not chase me.
They wait, patient and faithful,
for the moment I forget they are mine."
She remembered the sound of rain on the window more than the voices behind her.
Her parents were speaking in hushed tones, too soft for her to make out the words, but sharp enough for her chest to tighten. She sat at the piano bench, her small legs not yet reaching the floor, fingers hovering above the keys.
She was only seven years old, but the music had long since stopped being hers. Each note was a test, each pause a judgment. Her father's expectations, her mother's corrections, the weight of brilliance pressed against her tiny shoulders.
When the rain grew heavier, she played louder. Not for them... Never for them... But for herself. To drown out the silence. To feel something that wasn't fear or failure.
Later that night, when the house grew quiet, she crept back to the bench. In the dim light of a single lamp, she pressed her hands to the ivory keys, not to play, but to hold them, as though the cold smoothness could tether her to something real, something safe.
a/n: so a new series has begun, it’s been in the works for a while now, but I finally got the time to edit and refine the vision!!! Thank you for reading and feel free to comment and ask questions!!
Toto Wolff x wife reader feat their son, Jack. Him getting back home and walks into them building a pillow fort. Trying to make sense while failing and have Jack put him to work. Do however you want. Fluff, suggestive. Thanks!! :))
With prompts: 1)"This isn't what I signed up for"
2)"Please, don't tell me I did something stupid."
A/N: OMG, this embarrassing…. I wrote this req almost right after it came in and then I forgot about it…. And I was looking through my drafts and found it and kinda just froze, cause it isn’t exactly recent… but I’m back now and hope you enjoy it!!!
Feel free to comment and/or leave requests!!
YES YOU DID! //TW\\ one shot
pairing: Toto Wolff x wife!reader
description: After coming back from work, Toto expects to change and just relax in bed with his wife, but their son had other plans….
word count: 809 words
warnings: none, domestic stuff, light suggestiveness, family fun, little jack being a boss
The warm light of the tall lamp illuminated the living room as pillows and blankets rustled and chairs scraped against the floor. Light giggles echoed through the room, while keys jingled outside the front door.
A soft thud and the scrape of shoes sounded in the foyer, before Toto's soft voice came.
˝Schatzi?˝ He asked hesitantly, slowly walking away from the door. His slippers glided across the floor as he made his way to the living room.
˝Schatz, where are you? Have you and Jack eaten yet?˝
˝We're in the living room!˝ Your voice came and as he rounded the corner, he was met with quite a sight.
You and Jack kneeling on the floor, sorrounded by heaps of blankets and pillows, some even brought from your bedroom. Jack's face lit up seeing his father in the doorway, quickly rushing to hug and greet him.
˝Papa! You're back!˝ He yelled and hugged him, making Toto smile and lift him up.
˝Hi, buddy... What's happening here. hm?˝ He asked, kissing his sons cheek. You stood up from your spot on the floor and walked over to the two.
˝Jack wanted to build a pillow fort so we could watch a movie once you came back...˝ You stood in front of Toto, one of your hands cupping his cheek. His free hand wrapped around your waist, his forearm pressing into your lower back, pulling you closer to him.
˝Really?˝ He asked, leaning down closer to yor face. You smiled and hummed an answer. Toto smiled back, gently pressing his lips to yours. A small sound of disgust came from Jack, before Toto pulled him close to kiss his cheek again repeatedly. You laughed at the show, your hand now resting on the one holding Jack up, the other gently massaging his shoulder.
˝Want to help us, papa? So we can watch the movie sooner!˝ Jack's excited voice spoke. Toto laughed, deep and quiet.
˝Sure, buddy. Just let me get changed and I'll be right down.˝ He put Jack down and gave you one last kiss before he made his way to the bedroom.
Half an hour later, the living room was even more of a mess. Toto was sat on the floor, legs clad in a pair of plaid pyjama pants and sprawled out over the carpet. He rested his back on the couch, as your hands drew lazy shapes on his shoulders and arms. The fort was half built, one of the large blankets draped half way over the couch, while throw pillows served as makeshift pillars.
˝Papa, come on! We have to finish this!˝ Jack comanded his father, taking another pillow to add to the fort.
˝This isn't what I signed up for...˝ Toto whispered and you laughed.
˝Oh stop being dramatic and go help out our son…˝ You whispered in his ear, your teeth scraping his ear lobe gently. He groaned and leaned back into you, making your hands slide from his shoulders to his chest.
˝I'd rather be doing something else right now, Schatzi...˝ He whispered in your ear, making you shiver.
˝The sooner you help him, the sooner we'll be alone...˝ You said, pushing him forward. He sighed and went back to helping Jack.
A little while later, all three of you were lying in a heap of pillows inside the fort, the TV glowing infront of you. Jack was asleep on Toto's chest and you tucked into his side.
˝Schatz...˝ Toto's quiet voice sounded. You hummed.
˝I'll take Jack up to bed...˝
˝Ok... Come back then...˝ You answered quetly, stretching out. He smiled and kissed your temple, before getting up and walking away with Jack in his arms. The boy slightly stirred, mumbling incoherently.
˝Shh, buddy... We're going to bed now, ok?˝ Toto whispered and the boy nodded, nuzzling into his father's neck.
You sighed melting into the blankets and pillows, letting your limbs streatch as the please. Time passed and Toto hadn't returned from putting Jack to bed, making you frown. You didn't notice him walk in, until he spoke.
˝Please don't tell me I did something wrong.˝ He said softly, standing above you, looking at your frowning face.
˝You didn't return soon enough...˝ You pouted, making Toto smile. He slowly made his way towards you, only to drop to his knees, right between your legs. His hands slid up your calf, gripping your knee.
A little scream left your throat as he pulled you closer, your legs wrapping around his waist. He gripped your hips tightly, leaning down to whisper in your ear.
˝I can think of a way to make up for it...˝ He said, kissing your jaw and down to your shoulder. You giggled sliding your arms around his neck, tangling a hand in his hair.
A/N: Hellou everyone!! So this is a story I wrote back in like 2022 during Covid, but because of the writing style I used back then, I decided it needs an IMMEDIATE revision… it was originally posted in Wattpad, but with the rewrite, I feel it deserves a spot on my tumblr…. Hope you guys will enjoy it!!
pairing: Arthur Shelby x OC
description: In a world where war leaves no space for love, a sliver of it managed to crawl into the hearts of two most unexpected people. In the most unexpected time.
type: series
word count: 1121 words
< prev + next >
November 1918
The war was over. Victory was ours. But as we sat in the trench, the celebration felt like a distant echo. The air was thick with the smell of gunpowder and damp earth, but now mingled with something heavier: grief. Around us, men cheered and sang, their voices rough and strained, their laughter hollow. But for Arthur and me, the silence was louder.
Arthur had draped his jacket around my shoulders, shielding me from the chill that seeped into the very marrow of our bones. My head rested against his shoulder, the weight of exhaustion making my eyelids heavy. His arm was firm around me, grounding me in a way that felt like an anchor in the chaos.
"Here," I murmured, pulling my last pack of cigarettes from my pocket. Opening it, I stared at the two remaining sticks. A strange pang hit me—loss, maybe, or just the realization that even something as small as this was coming to an end.
Arthur glanced down, his lips quirking into a small smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Last two, eh? You sure you wanna share?"
I chuckled softly, placing the box in front of him. "Take one, Arthur. It's not like I'll need it tomorrow."
He laughed, a deep rumble that made my chest ache in the best way. "Alright then, love. If you insist." He took a cigarette and lit it with practiced ease, then handed me the match. His smile lingered, a small comfort in a night that felt endlessly heavy.
As I lit my own cigarette, I found myself watching him. That smile of his—it had kept me going through the worst of it. His smile, his voice, the way he'd sit beside me in the quiet, even when words failed.
And now, in this fragile moment of peace, I realized something I had been too afraid to admit to myself before.
I loved him.
I loved Arthur Shelby.
The thought both terrified and comforted me. I drew in a deep breath of smoke, letting it linger in my lungs before exhaling slowly. My gaze drifted upward, to the night sky.
"Is this how you plan to spend the night, eh? In my arms with a cigarette in hand?" Arthur's voice broke the silence, teasing yet soft.
I smiled, leaning into him a little more. "If you wouldn't mind, I'd like to spend the rest of my life like this. Are you bothered?"
"Bothered?" he repeated, his voice filled with mock indignation. Then, softer, "Not one bit, love. Truth be told, I wouldn't mind either. Forever doesn't sound so bad."
I turned to look at him, my chest tightening at the way he was looking at me. There was something in his eyes—a warmth, a tenderness that I wasn't sure he even realized was there.
Before I could think better of it, he leaned down, his lips brushing mine in a kiss so soft it almost felt like a dream. For a moment, I froze, shocked, but then I melted into him, my hands coming up to rest lightly on his chest. His lips were rough, but the way he kissed me was anything but. It was gentle, almost hesitant, like he was afraid to break me.
When we parted, my breath came in short, uneven bursts. His smile faltered, replaced with a frown.
"Did I... did I do something wrong?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
I shook my head, a soft smile curving my lips. "No. Everything's perfect. You're perfect."
His eyes searched mine, and for a moment, the world around us faded away. "I love you, Monica," he said, the words so quiet they almost got lost in the night.
A lump formed in my throat, but I forced myself to speak. "I love you too, Arthur. So much."
We kissed again, slower this time, savoring the moment as if it would be our last. His hands rested on my hips, grounding me, while mine cradled his face. The kiss was broken only by my need to sneeze.
Arthur chuckled, his hand coming up to steady me. "You alright, love?"
"I... I have to sneeze," I said, trying not to laugh. "Your mustache tickled me!"
That earned a proper laugh from him, deep and genuine. "Well, if it bothers you that much, I could always shave it off."
"Oh, hell no!" I exclaimed, grinning.
A Few Weeks Later
The dock was bustling with activity, soldiers reuniting with their families, others boarding trains to return to places they hadn't seen in years. The war was over, but the scars it left behind were still fresh.
Arthur's hand rested lightly on the small of my back as we walked toward the train station. John was cracking jokes, his laughter carrying above the din, but it felt forced. Tommy and Freddie joined in, their smiles thin and brittle. It was all a performance, a desperate attempt to keep the grief at bay.
When we reached the platform, I stopped a few paces behind the others, my footsteps faltering. Arthur turned to me, his brow furrowing in concern.
"This is where we part, hm?" I said, my voice barely audible over the noise.
Arthur's face fell, his grip tightening on his bag. "Part? What d'you mean, love? You're not coming to Birmingham with us?"
I shook my head, my hands clutching the edges of my coat. "I can't, Arthur. I have to go back. My house, my pets... even the family that doesn't care about me. I left so much behind. As much as I want to stay, I can't just leave it all behind forever."
His hands moved to my hips, his touch both grounding and heart-wrenching. "Monica, listen to me. I get it, I do. You've got a life waiting for you. But... just promise me one thing."
"What?" I whispered, my voice trembling.
"Promise me you won't forget. Don't forget me, or what we had."
Tears blurred my vision as I looked up at him. "Oh, Arthur... I could never forget you."
He smiled, though it didn't reach his eyes, and I saw the tears he was trying so hard to hold back. "Good. That's all I need to hear."
We stood there for a moment, neither of us willing to let go. When he leaned down to kiss me, it was slow and bittersweet, a goodbye in the form of a kiss.
When we finally parted, our foreheads pressed together, I whispered, "I love you, Arthur Shelby."
"I love you too, Monica Winchester," he replied, his voice breaking.
He stepped back, slinging his bag over his shoulder. With a salute, he said, "Lieutenant."
I returned the gesture, my voice hoarse. "Sergeant Major."
Arthur hesitated, his eyes lingering on me one last time before he turned and boarded the train. As it pulled away, I stood frozen, watching him disappear into the distance.
Tears streamed down my face as I whispered to the empty air, "Goodbye, Arthur."
A/N: Hellou everyone!! So this is a story I wrote back in like 2022 during Covid, but because of the writing style I used back then, I decided it needs an IMMEDIATE revision… it was originally posted in Wattpad, but with the rewrite, I feel it deserves a spot on my tumblr…. Hope you guys will enjoy it!!
pairing: Arthur Shelby x OC
description: In a world where war leaves no space for love, a sliver of it managed to crawl into the hearts of two most unexpected people. In the most unexpected time.
type: series
word count: 1177 words
< prev + next>
December 1917.
The trench was unusually quiet, save for the occasional shuffle of boots or the distant echo of artillery in the cold night. Monica and Arthur sat together on his bedroll, a cigarette in each of their hands, the soft glow of the embers casting fleeting light on their faces. Smoke hung heavy in the air between them, mingling with the frost of their breaths. The silence wasn't uncomfortable; it was the kind of quiet that felt rare, almost sacred, in a place where noise often signaled death.
Arthur broke the stillness, his voice low and gravelly. "Are you thinkin' about somethin', love?"
Monica took a slow drag of her cigarette before answering, her voice steady but distant. "No, not really. You?"
Arthur smirked, turning his head to look at her. "About you, actually."
That made her laugh—a soft, unexpected sound that seemed to cut through the heavy atmosphere. "Oh, really? And what about me has you thinking so hard?"
Arthur's smirk widened as he leaned back against the dirt wall. "Just wonderin' how you ended up here, that's all. A perfect angel like you, in the middle of this hellhole, laughin' in a trench with a soldier's arm around you?" He chuckled, shaking his head as if the very idea amused him.
Monica rolled her eyes, though a small smile tugged at her lips. "Perfect angel? Hardly."
"You laugh, but I mean it," Arthur said, his tone dipping into something softer. "You're not like anyone I've ever met, that's all."
Monica stared ahead, her smile fading just slightly. She shrugged, trying to keep her voice light. "Let's just say life has a funny way of putting people where they're needed."
Arthur raised an eyebrow at her cryptic response but said nothing. The air between them shifted slightly, his curiosity piqued, but her aloofness made it clear she wasn't about to share more.
As their laughter quieted, the surrounding murmurs of soldiers grumbling about the noise made both of them chuckle. The brief moment of levity was welcome, but it didn't erase the tension that lingered beneath the surface.
The bitter cold bit through their uniforms as the night dragged on. Monica sat next to Arthur near the small fire that flickered weakly in the trench. A flask rested in her hand, and a cigarette dangled loosely from her lips. Around them, the men huddled together, trying to stave off the chill.
Monica had wrapped a threadbare blanket around her shoulders, the corner of which Arthur had tugged over himself. His hand rested lightly on her hip, not in any overtly affectionate way but in a manner that felt steadying, grounding—like he was trying to keep her anchored.
The silence between them stretched long, heavy with the unspoken weight of the past few months. Monica finally broke it, her voice quiet and tinged with melancholy.
"When Joseph was an old man,
An old man was he,
He married Virgin Mary,
The Queen of Galilee..."
Her voice, though soft, carried through the trench, cutting through the cold air like a warm thread. John, sitting not far off, joined her on the second verse, his voice hesitant but earnest.
"As Mary said to Joseph, were walking one day,
To an orchard of cherry trees,
They happen to stray..."
Freddie's voice added to the harmony, low and solemn.
"Then Mary said to Joseph, so meek and so mild,
'Pick me some cherries, Joseph,
For I am with child.'"
Tommy, leaning against the trench wall with a cigarette between his fingers, lifted his head and joined in, his voice steady and deep.
"Then Joseph flew angry, so angry flew he,
'Let the father of your baby gather cherries for thee.'"
Arthur's voice finally joined the chorus, rich and resonant, making Monica glance up at him. His eyes met hers, and for a moment, the world seemed to narrow down to just the two of them, the song and the cold forgotten.
"Then spoke up Lord Jesus from in His mother's womb,
'Bow low down, cherry trees, bow down to the ground.'
And the cherry trees bowed down, bowed low to the ground,
And Mary gathered cherries while Joseph stood round."
As the final verse rang out, their voices softened together.
"Then Joseph he kneeled down, and a question gave he,
'Come tell me, pretty baby, when your birthday shall be.'
'On the fifth day of January my birthday shall be,
And the stars in the heaven shall all bow down to me.'"
When the song ended, there was a long pause, the weight of the moment settling heavily over them. Monica glanced at her watch, the thin hands pointing to midnight.
"Merry Christmas, everyone," she said quietly, her voice carrying just enough to be heard by those nearby. A few murmured replies came in return, some heartfelt, others gruff.
Arthur's hand shifted slightly on her hip, his fingers brushing against hers. "Merry Christmas, love," he said softly.
She tilted her head up to him, offering a small, tired smile. "Merry Christmas, Arthur."
Later that night, Monica and Arthur sat together again, tucked into a quiet corner of the trench. The others had dispersed, some to sleep, others to keep watch. Arthur passed her his flask, and she took a sip, the burn of the alcohol momentarily warming her from the inside.
"You alright?" he asked, his voice low, almost hesitant.
Monica shrugged, leaning back against the wall. "As alright as I can be, I suppose."
Arthur studied her for a moment, his brow furrowed. "You don't let much slip, do you?"
She gave him a sidelong glance, a flicker of amusement crossing her face. "Maybe I just don't have much to say."
Arthur chuckled, though there was no humor in it. "You're a mystery, Monica Winchester."
"And you're surprisingly thoughtful for someone who claims not to think much," she shot back, her tone light but evasive.
He leaned closer, his arm brushing against hers. "I mean it. You've got this way about you—like you're carryin' somethin' heavy but you're too stubborn to let anyone help."
Monica stiffened slightly at his words but quickly masked it with a laugh. "I think you're reading too much into it, Arthur."
"Maybe," he said, though his tone suggested he didn't believe her. "But if you ever feel like talkin', I'm here."
Her gaze softened for a moment before she looked away, staring into the darkness of the trench. "Thanks," she murmured.
The silence that followed was thick with unspoken words, but neither of them pushed further. They sat there, side by side, the warmth of their shared blanket and the soft glow of their cigarettes the only comfort in the cold, unforgiving night.
From a distance, Tommy and John watched the two of them.
"They've gotten close," John remarked, a hint of amusement in his voice.
Freddie, seated nearby, nodded. "At least they've got someone to lean on."
Tommy exhaled smoke from his cigarette, his expression unreadable. "Let's hope they remember where we are. No one's safe here, and gettin' too attached... it's a dangerous game."
The others nodded in agreement, the weight of his words hanging heavily in the air. In the trenches, nothing was certain—not tomorrow, not the next moment. Yet, even amidst the chaos, the small moments of connection and understanding between them were a fragile thread of hope, keeping them human in a place designed to strip them of everything.
A/N: Hellou everyone!! So this is a story I wrote back in like 2022 during Covid, but because of the writing style I used back then, I decided it needs an IMMEDIATE revision… it was originally posted in Wattpad, but with the rewrite, I feel it deserves a spot on my tumblr…. Hope you guys will enjoy it!!
pairing: Arthur Shelby x OC
description: In a world where war leaves no space for love, a sliver of it managed to crawl into the hearts of two most unexpected people. In the most unexpected time.
type: series
word count: 1235 words
< prev + next>
August 1917
The trench was chaos as we scrambled back into its suffocating walls, the sounds of artillery and gunfire fading slightly behind the barrier of dirt and wood. My chest heaved as I pressed my back against the cold, damp earth, gasping for air. Arthur and Tommy were the last to jump in, dragging Nikolai's limp body behind them.
The moment I saw him, my heart dropped. They laid him down gently to the side, away from where the men walked, but it hardly mattered—his body had been brutalized. Nikolai was riddled with bullet holes, his uniform soaked in blood, and his face... I could barely recognize him.
I couldn't move at first, staring blankly at the horrific sight. Then, as the realization hit, a choked sob escaped my throat, and I fell to my knees.
"Nikolai!" I screamed, my voice raw and broken. I crawled to him, gathering his broken body in my arms. Hot tears streamed down my face, blurring my vision as I clutched him tightly.
The world around me blurred into insignificance. My cries echoed through the trench, piercing and heart-wrenching, but the men remained silent. They stood back, some with tears in their eyes, others looking away in discomfort, unsure how to comfort me.
I don't know how long I stayed there, rocking Nikolai's lifeless body. At some point, the sobbing ebbed into a hollow, aching numbness. I began to sing softly, my voice shaky and trembling, but the words were clear. It was a song Nikolai had written—a piece of home, of hope.
"When I go, don't cry for me,
In my Father's arms I'll be.
The wounds this world left on my soul,
Will all be healed, and I'll be whole..."
The words filled the trench, the melody haunting in its simplicity. The American soldiers behind me stood at attention, their grief palpable in the heavy silence.
"Sun and moon will be replaced,
With the light of Jesus' face.
And I will not be ashamed,
For my Savior knows my name..."
When the song ended, I pressed my forehead to Nikolai's bloodied chest, whispering a final goodbye. Slowly, I stood, my knees trembling under the weight of my grief. The soldiers saluted in unison, their faces solemn, before dispersing to give me space.
Only the Shelby brothers remained. Tommy and John gave me respectful nods and walked away, leaving me alone with Arthur.
He hesitated for a moment, then stepped closer, his boots crunching softly in the dirt. "Are you alright?" he asked, his voice low and careful, as though afraid to break me further.
I shook my head, unable to form words. Tears spilled silently down my cheeks as I stared at the ground. Arthur placed a tentative hand on my shoulder, his touch surprisingly gentle for a man so rugged.
"How close were the two of you?" he asked after a moment, his tone softer now.
"Too close..." I whispered through trembling lips. My voice cracked, and before I could stop myself, I leaned forward, resting my forehead against his shoulder.
Arthur didn't pull away. Instead, he wrapped his arms around me, his rough hands pressing against my back as though trying to shield me from the pain. One hand moved to my hair, stroking it gently in a comforting gesture.
"He... he was like family," I choked out between sobs. "We met when I arrived on the ship. We bonded so quickly. He understood me in a way no one else did. And now he's gone. I let myself get attached... and now he's gone."
Arthur held me tighter, his embrace firm and grounding. "It's alright, love. Sometimes you can't help getting attached. You're human. It happens."
I buried my face in his shoulder, letting his steady presence anchor me. His hand slid to my biceps, his grip strong but not overbearing.
"You'll get through this," he said softly, tilting his head to catch my gaze. His thumb brushed away a stray tear from my cheek. "You'll be alright, pretty girl. You're stronger than this."
His words were meant to be comforting, but the way his voice dipped—almost tender—caught me off guard. I didn't register the shift in his tone, too consumed by my grief to process it fully. Yet his proximity, the way he held me, felt... different.
We stayed like that longer than we should have, the line between professionalism and something more blurring with every passing second. It wasn't until Tommy's voice broke through the moment that we pulled away.
"Hey, you two! We need you over here!" Tommy's call rang out sharply, snapping us both back to reality.
Arthur stepped back quickly, his hand falling to his side, though his thumb lingered on my arm for just a moment too long. He offered me a small, almost sheepish smile as I sniffled and tried to compose myself.
"Thank you," I whispered, my voice still shaky.
"You're welcome," he replied, his smile growing softer before we turned and headed toward Tommy and Freddie.
Later that evening, I retreated to a quiet corner of the trench, desperate for solitude. The grief weighed on me heavily, suffocating in its intensity. I sat with my knees drawn to my chest, staring blankly at the dirt walls around me.
"Mind if I join you, love?" Arthur's voice startled me. I looked up to find him standing over me, his expression unreadable but his eyes softer than usual.
I nodded silently, and he lowered himself to sit beside me, draping an arm over my shoulders as though it were the most natural thing in the world. The warmth of his touch was both grounding and disarming.
"How are you holding up?" he asked after a long pause, his voice low and almost hesitant.
I took a shaky breath, staring at the ground. "I don't know. I keep expecting him to walk in, to make one of his jokes... It's going to take time."
Arthur reached into his pocket, pulling out a match as I lit a cigarette. He struck the match and held it steady for me, the flame casting flickering shadows across his face.
"You're right. It does take time," he said, leaning back and gazing up at the darkening sky. "But you've got to find your way to cope. Bottle it up, and it'll only get worse."
I exhaled a plume of smoke, nodding absently. "I'll figure it out eventually... I think."
We sat in silence for a while, the quiet settling between us like a fragile truce. His arm stayed around me, and though it felt too intimate, too close, I couldn't bring myself to pull away. For the first time since Nikolai's death, the weight on my chest felt just a little lighter.
October 1917
Arthur sat on a stool, wincing slightly as I cleaned a small gash on his cheek. His hands rested on my hips, his fingers gripping lightly each time the sting of antiseptic hit.
"Thank you, love," he murmured once I finished, his voice soft but earnest.
I smiled faintly, tossing the bloodied cloth aside. "You're welcome, Arthur."
Our eyes met for a moment longer than necessary, and I felt the now-familiar spark of something I couldn't quite name. He squeezed my hips gently before letting go, stepping back to put distance between us.
"See you tonight?" he asked, his tone lighter now.
I nodded, my heart heavier than I cared to admit. "I'll bring the cigarettes."
"Good girl," he said with a grin, ruffling my hair before walking off.
As I watched him go, I couldn't help but feel that the lines between us were shifting again—and I wasn't sure how much longer we could ignore it.
A/N: Hellou everyone!! So this is a story I wrote back in like 2022 during Covid, but because of the writing style I used back then, I decided it needs an IMMEDIATE revision… it was originally posted in Wattpad, but with the rewrite, I feel it deserves a spot on my tumblr…. Hope you guys will enjoy it!!
pairing: Arthur Shelby x OC
description: In a world where war leaves no space for love, a sliver of it managed to crawl into the hearts of two most unexpected people. In the most unexpected time.
type: series
word count: 1047 words
< prev + next>
June 1917
The air was heavy with the damp scent of earth and sweat, the trench walls towering around us like the confines of a prison. Soldiers shuffled about, their faces smeared with dirt and fatigue. Despite their exhaustion, many cast sidelong glances my way—some curious, others clearly skeptical.
I walked beside Colonel Nikolai Miranda, keeping my expression neutral and my shoulders squared. Nikolai, as always, exuded calm authority. He was more than aware of the tension my presence created and made sure to project an aura that warned others to hold their tongues.
"Eyes forward, men," Nikolai barked at a pair of soldiers gawking too long. His tone was sharp enough to make them flinch and return to their tasks.
We'd spent weeks aboard the ship preparing for this deployment, and Nikolai and I had developed a mutual respect for each other. Despite my unusual circumstances, he treated me as an equal—a rarity, even in my time. I had grown to appreciate his professionalism, and while the soldiers aboard the ship had eventually adjusted to my presence, I knew the trenches would be a different story entirely.
As we wound our way through the labyrinth of mud and wooden planks, Nikolai and I approached a small group of soldiers gathered near a command post. Four men stood together, their conversation cutting off as we approached.
"Step aside, gentlemen. We're here to speak with your sergeants," Nikolai said, his tone firm but not aggressive.
The men turned to face us, their expressions guarded. One of them, a man with piercing blue eyes and a commanding posture, stepped forward. "You're the colonel, then?"
"That's correct," Nikolai replied. "Colonel Nikolai Miranda." He gestured toward me. "This is Lieutenant Monica Winchester. We're here to assist."
As Nikolai introduced me, I took the opportunity to study the men. The blue-eyed one had an air of authority, his stance rigid and his expression serious. Beside him was a man with tired gray eyes, a neatly trimmed mustache, and an older, weathered look that spoke of years of experience. Despite his age, he carried himself with a quiet intensity that was hard to ignore. The third man looked younger, his expression relaxed and his grin almost cocky, while the fourth man, who resembled the blue-eyed one in age, appeared more subdued but equally serious.
"I'm Sergeant Major Thomas Shelby," the blue-eyed man said, offering a handshake.
"John Shelby," the younger man said with a nod. "Cavalry, but I report to Thomas. He's my brother."
"Sergeant Major Freddie Thorne," added the fourth man, his voice level and professional.
Finally, the gray-eyed man stepped forward, his gaze sharp but not unfriendly. "Sergeant Major Arthur Shelby," he said. His handshake was firm, his voice deep and steady.
I returned each handshake, keeping my expression neutral and my tone measured.
"It's good to meet you all," Nikolai said, breaking the silence. "Lieutenant Winchester and I will be coordinating with you on the upcoming operation. She'll be staying with the troops to provide support."
Arthur's gray eyes lingered on me for a moment before he nodded. "We'll see to it that she's treated with the same respect as any officer."
The statement was professional, but his tone carried a hint of curiosity, as if he was still trying to make sense of my presence.
The sergeants led us deeper into the trench, pointing out key locations and briefing us on their plans. Their efficiency was evident, and I noted that the soldiers under their command seemed well-organized despite the chaos of war.
As we walked, I introduced myself properly, explaining my military background in broad terms. I avoided any mention of my true origin—no one but the American command knew the truth about my mission or the time machine that had brought me here. The operation was classified at the highest level, and Nikolai had been briefed to treat it as a standard deployment to maintain secrecy.
The conversation remained strictly professional until John, ever curious, finally broke the formality.
"If you don't mind me asking, Lieutenant, how does a woman end up as an officer? Nurses, sure, but I've never heard of a woman holding a rank like yours."
His tone wasn't mocking, just genuinely curious. I chose my words carefully, maintaining the narrative we'd crafted for situations like this.
"Well, it's a long story," I began. "I grew up on a farm, raised by a Ukrainian mother and an American father who was a Sergeant Major in the army. I worked hard, learned discipline early, and followed in my father's footsteps when I came of age. Over the years, I worked my way up the ranks."
John tilted his head, still intrigued. "You must've had to fight harder than most to get where you are."
I allowed a faint smile. "Hard work is the same for everyone, Sergeant. My training and determination got me here, just like anyone else."
Freddie, who had been listening quietly, spoke up. "Still, it's impressive. I've never seen anything like it."
Arthur's voice cut through the conversation, low and steady. "Impressive or not, she's here now. Let's focus on the mission."
I gave him a brief nod of acknowledgment. "Agreed. My role here is to assist, not to be a distraction."
We reached a quieter section of the trench, and I took the opportunity to pull out a small box of cigarettes. "Cigarette, anyone?" I offered, holding the box out.
Freddie, John, and Thomas each took one, while Arthur waved me off. "No, thank you. I prefer cigars."
I raised an eyebrow, allowing myself a moment of levity. "A refined gentleman, then."
Arthur's lips twitched in what might've been the hint of a smile. "Something like that. But I don't recognize the brand—'Marlboro,' was it?"
I lit my own cigarette, taking a slow drag before replying. "It's not surprising you don't. It's an American brand, not common here."
John grinned. "A whole box of smokes? You're already shaping up to be the most popular officer here."
Freddie chuckled. "No complaints from me."
Even Thomas allowed a small smirk, though he quickly masked it with a professional demeanor.
Arthur, ever the serious one, crossed his arms and leaned against the trench wall. "Enjoy it while it lasts. We've got work to do."
The camaraderie lightened the tension for a brief moment, but I knew it wouldn't last. As much as I wanted to earn their trust, I was acutely aware of the weight of my mission—and the secrets I carried.
Toto Wolff with wife reader. Anniversary gift & celebration for them. With their son, Jack. Up to you how it goes. Fluff and romantic . Thanks!! :))
a/n: considering i didn't have time until now to write, bcause ya know college, i immediately got an idea when i saw the request of how the story should go and wrote it in like two hours, don't think i ever wrote anything so quickly, hope you enjoy it!!<3
SAY CHEESE! //TW\\ one shot
pairing: Toto Wolff x wife!reader
description: Usually, anniversary in the Wolff household are not celebrated, sickness, work or both tend to take up space. Now that they managed to have a peaceful anniversary, they’re going to make the best of it.
word count: 1957 words
warnings: none, the Wolff's being adorable, Toto being a prick (lovingly), a little suggestive
If it were up to you, you wouldn't wake up today even if you were to be dragged out.
It was your wedding anniversary, a day you always got off. A day to relax with your husband and son. But in the last few years, you didn't get to celebrate. Each year someone had to be sick or work had to be short-staffed.
So now, as you felt the bed next to you dip, a groaned escaped your throat. An arm slowly wrapped around you and lips lightly brushed your neck. Turning around, you were met with your husband's smiling face.
˝Good morning schatzi...˝ he said and pressed a light kiss to your lips.
˝Please, tell me no one is sick...˝ you mumbeled. He laughed.
˝Not this year, love. Although I think Jack is sick of sitting in the kitchen alone, while I'm here waking you up...˝he said and started pressing kisses all over your face. You giggled and wrapped your arms around his waist.
˝Come on, Jack wants to show us something and we both have to be there to see it.˝ he said, pulling you up. You groan in protest.
˝Can't he come in here and show us...˝ you heard Toto laugh as he kept pulling you out of the bed.
˝Get up, schatzi...˝ he softly said as you stood up. He wrapped you in his arms, whispering in your ear.
˝Happy anniversary, love...˝he said, kissing your temple.
˝Happy anniversary to you, too...˝ you whisper, cupping his cheeks and pulling him in for a sweet kiss. You felt him hum against your lips, pulling you closer by the hips. The moment was broken by a shrill yell of both your names and you sighed.
˝As much as I love that kid, I sometimes wish we remained child-free...˝ Toto laughed and pulled you closer.
˝Don't say that... You know he's impatient...˝ he smiles into your skin.
˝Like his father...˝ You say, giggling.
˝I'm not denying anything... But, from what I remember, his mother was very impatient to get me to bed on our wedding night... Or any other night, really...˝ he teases and you smack him on the chest.
˝Such atrocities come out of your mouth when you are no different...˝you say, making him laugh.
˝Now, let's go see what our son needs from us, hm?˝ with one last kiss, the two of you make your way down to the kitchen.
The sight you were met with was beautiful. The kitchen island was filled with food and your son sat at the end, practically vibrating with excitement.
˝Mama, papa!!! You're up!!˝ he said, running up to hug you.
˝Happy anniversary, mama!! Papa explained to me this morning why it's important!˝he gushed as he kissed you on the cheek, smiling. You turned your gaze to Toto and were met with a soft expression.
˝Papa and I made breakfast! I helped with the eggs!!˝ he said happily, pulling you towards the counter.
You lifted Jack onto his chair and took your place at the counter. Toto placed a plate in front of you and you smiled at him. The waffles were shaped into hearts, and adorned with wild berries and cinnamon. He winked in your direction and you rolled your eyes.
˝What's the plan for today, hm?˝ you asked, taking a bite of your waffles.
˝I planned a photo shoot and thought we could go to the park a little... Then, your mother is picking Jack up and we are going out for dinner... Made our reservation a few weeks ago...˝ Toto said, sipping his coffee. You smiled. He turned to Jack and smiled at our son.
˝You said you had something to show mama and I something...˝ Our son smiled wide and jumped off his chair. He pulled out a piece of paper from his school bag.
˝SEE! I drew us at school! Here is papa, this is me...And here's mama!˝ he said with a wide, toothy grin. You smiled and lifted him up into your lap.
˝Look at you! You've gotten better at drawing honey. And you even managed to capture daddy's messy hair...˝ you kissed your son's cheek and looked up at your husband. He was smiling and shaking his head.
˝Good job, buddy. And don't listen to mama, she's just jealous of papa's perfect hair.˝ he moved to kiss your son's forehead, wrapping his arms around you both. You laughed at him, leaning up to kiss him. He smiled, leaning down and pressing his lips to yours.
˝How about we get ready for our photoshoot, hm?˝
˝I think that's a good idea... You two get dressed while I do my hair and make-up, then I'll get dressed and we can leave.˝ you said, putting Jack down. You gave Toto another kiss and went into the bathroom.
After about an hour, you walked out of the bathroom, wearing one of your favorite dresses and a subtle pair of heels. You could feel Toto checking you out as you finished getting Jack ready.
˝Jack, isn't mama looking absolutely stunning, hm?˝ Toto asked as he wrapped his arms around your waist, lightly kissing your neck. Jack nodded vigorously, smiling wide. He laughed at his reaction, before whispering in your ear.
˝Can't wait to have you all to myself tonight...˝
You laugh at his suggestion, swatting at him.
˝Behave yourself... And stop crinkling my dress!˝ Toto smiles and moves away.
˝Ok ok...˝ he mumbles, leaving a light kiss on your neck.
The pictures were perfect—absolutely perfect. Jack's smile blinded anyone who looked at them, and Toto and you looked as gorgeous and in love as always.
After the shoot, the three of you made your way to a fancy brunch place Toto picked out saying: 'It would only be right if we went out and had a little snack while we're dressed up'. It was located in the middle of the park, surrounded by beautiful trees and colorful flowers. Jack got waffles and a hot chocolate, a little treat for being good at school. The two of you had coffee and a piece of cake to share, something you have done ever since your first date. It confused your son as to why you two had to share a piece, to which you smiled and told him 'He'd understand later'.
At home, your mother waited for you to return. She made herself coffee, took some of the waffles from the morning, and turned on her favorite show to watch.
˝I see you made yourself right at home, hm?˝ you giggle as the older woman turns to you. She smiled and stood up, hugging you once she came close enough.
˝Of course I did. Happy anniversary, my sweet girl... And you too, Toto...˝ she hugged Toto as well. She turned to Jack who ran into her arms.
˝And my handsome young man! How've you been, Jackie, hm?˝ your son giggled and hugged her, starting to ramble on about school and new kids he met. As he spoke, your mother subtly moved to the front door, winked at you, and left without a word.
˝So? Are you going to get ready for dinner?˝Toto asked and you looked down at your dress. He smiled.
˝I would suggest you change into that pretty red dress I got you to wear recently... It'll be more fitting...˝ he moved closer to you, grabbing your hips and kissing your neck. You hummed and raked your fingers through his hair.
˝I will if you let me go...˝ he chuckled at you and let go of his tight grip on your hips, letting his hands linger. You smile, making your way to get ready for the second time that day.
A little while later you walked out, red carpet ready. The wine red dress, black heels and sharp makeup... Toto was stunned. He knew you'd look gorgeous, but this was... Something extraordinary.
˝Mein Gott, schatzi... I don't even want to go out now...˝ he said, awe struck. You giggle and walked over to him. He grabbed your waist and smiled down. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you get on your tip toes and kiss him, his hands sliding down to your ass. You gasp, smacking his chest.
˝Toto!˝you say and move away from him. He huffs and smiles at you, grabbing both your coats. You stand with our back to him as he helped you get the coat on. Making your way to the car, Toto held the door open for you as you stepped into the Mercedes.
At the restaurant, he reserved a table in the corner of the balcony, looking over the vineyard. The candles on the table glowed romantically, casting a warm light onto your faces. Toto smiled warmly as you looked on over the railing.
˝Enjoying the view, love?˝ he asked softly, a hand coming closer to rest on yours gently. You turn your head to him and smile.
˝Yeah... I don't remember the last time we had any time just for us... Or the last time we celebrated our anniversary...˝ you answered and Toto laughed.
˝Remember when we did this once a week?˝ he asked and you laughed, tilting your head down.
˝Yeah... Can't believe that we came down to going on dates once in a blue moon... But I'm happy...˝ You say, smiling softly. Toto brings your hand up to his lips, leaving a soft kiss just as the waiter came with your wine. You giggled and thanked the waiter.
˝I love you, Toto...˝
˝I love you too, schatzi...˝ he smiled and kissed your hand once again. You smiled at him as well, moving your hand to cup his face.
The two of you spent the evening feeling more relaxed than ever, finally having a moment to properly talk. Everything was the topic. Work, friends, annoying family members... After dinner, you went out for a walk.
˝You know what this reminds me of Toto? Our first date...˝ you reminisce and giggle. Toto's laugh rings out, his head thrown back.
˝Mein Gott, I completely forgot what happened that night...˝ he whispered. He looked over at you and his eyes went wide. You giggled at him, seeing his reaction.
˝I was waiting to see if you would spill wine on my dress again... The red dress, vineyard date, a walk in the part after... trademark Wolff date... I didn't want to say anything to see if you'd realize... Seems you ARE getting old...˝ you laugh and stand in front of him, still holding his hand. He gasps and starts laughing.
“You are only 4 years younger than me, that makes you old as well!” Toto said, making you laugh.
The two of you soon reached the pond in the parks centre. The moon’s reflection shimmered on the waters surface, the air was crisp and the crickets created a subtle noise in the background. You shivered and Toto immediately wrapped his suit jacket around you.
“Can’t have you catching a cold now, hm?” He said, kissing your head. You smiled and shuffled closer into his side.
Your brows furrowed as you felt something hard press into your waist. You backed away and put your hand into the inner pocket of his jacket, pulling out a velvet box. You looked up, only to be met with your husband, smirking down at you.
“Open it, schatzi…” he said quietly. Your manicured fingers fiddled with the little latch and as the box opened, it revealed a beautiful silver necklace with light green gems.
“Toto…” you whispered and felt his arms wrap around you.
“Happy anniversary, my love…” he whispered back and lightly placed his lips on yours, capturing you in a gentle and loving kiss.
A/N: Hellou everyone!! So this is a story I wrote back in like 2022 during Covid, but because of the writing style I used back then, I decided it needs an IMMEDIATE revision… it was originally posted in Wattpad, but with the rewrite, I feel it deserves a spot on my tumblr…. Hope you guys will enjoy it!!
pairing: Arthur Shelby x OC
description: In a world where war leaves no space for love, a sliver of it managed to crawl into the hearts of two most unexpected people. In the most unexpected time.
type: series
word count: 1347 words
< prev + next>
I stood silently, gripping the worn handle of my small suitcase as I gazed up at the imposing machine before me. Its intricate design glimmered under the bright lights of the hangar, a mesh of steel, glass, and humming circuitry. The air thrummed with the soft vibrations of the machine's energy, an otherworldly sound that sent shivers up my spine. This was it—the culmination of months of preparation and briefings. This machine was my gateway to a time long past, to a world of war and uncertainty.
On either side of me stood the general and the colonel, their faces set in stoic resolve. The general, tall and imposing, broke the silence, his voice tinged with a hint of finality. "Lieutenant Winchester, this is where we part for a while," he said, his tone calm but firm. He saluted me, a gesture of respect and farewell.
I returned the salute with equal precision, turning to face them both. "Yes, sir. I suppose it is," I replied, my voice steady despite the knot forming in my stomach. "See you in some time." The faint play on words felt almost cruel as I glanced back at the machine.
Taking a deep breath, I stepped forward, my boots clicking against the cold metal floor. I hesitated as I reached for the door, my hand trembling slightly as it hovered over the handle. For a moment, doubt threatened to overwhelm me. What lay ahead was entirely unknown. But I couldn't afford hesitation now. With a sharp inhale, I grasped the handle, turned it, and stepped inside.
Somewhere in the Atlantic Ocean, 1917.
The first thing I noticed was the cold. It bit into me, sharp and unrelenting, as if the air itself sought to pierce through my skin. My eyes fluttered open, and the world around me slowly came into focus. The sound of waves crashing against metal filled my ears, mingling with the creak of wood and the low murmur of voices. I wasn't in the sterile confines of the machine anymore. No, I was somewhere else entirely.
I was on a ship. A navy ship.
The deck stretched out before me, damp with seawater and bustling with activity. Men in WWI-era uniforms moved with purpose, their faces worn and grim. The ship swayed gently beneath my feet, the movement disorienting but oddly grounding.
"Hey, you there!" a voice barked, sharp and authoritative. I turned toward the sound to see a group of men marching toward me, their eyes fixed on me with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion.
The one in front, clearly the leader, stopped just inches away, his gaze sweeping over me. "Are you the American informant from the future?" he demanded, his tone laced with disbelief.
"Yes," I replied evenly, meeting his gaze without flinching. "That would be me."
The man scoffed, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Look at this, boys," he said, turning to the others. "They sent a woman. I told them to send someone above the rank of lieutenant, and this is what they come up with?" His words dripped with mockery.
I squared my shoulders, my jaw tightening. "I'd like to speak with your commanding officer," I said firmly, my tone leaving no room for argument.
He sneered. "I am the commanding officer here, woman. So how about you show some respect?"
"And I," I shot back, my voice rising, "am a lieutenant. So how about you get me someone higher up, Sergeant?"
The group of men fell silent, their eyes darting between us. The sergeant's bravado faltered, and he took a step back, muttering something under his breath before turning on his heel. He marched off, leaving me alone with his men, who now stood stiffly at attention.
It wasn't long before another figure appeared, striding confidently across the deck. He was tall, with an air of authority that immediately commanded respect. His uniform was immaculate, and his expression, though serious, carried a hint of warmth.
"You must be the lieutenant James mentioned," he said, stopping before me. "I'm Colonel Miranda. It's a pleasure to meet you."
"Lieutenant Winchester," I replied, extending my hand. "The pleasure is mine, sir."
We shook hands, his grip firm but not overbearing.
"I must apologize for the behavior of my sergeant," he said, his tone apologetic but tinged with frustration. "He's an excellent soldier, but he still carries... outdated views. Misogyny, I believe you'd call it."
"It's nothing I haven't dealt with before," I replied coolly, though his acknowledgment was a small relief. "What's important now is that we discuss the mission."
"Agreed," he said, gesturing for me to follow him. "Let's step into my office."
The journey to his office was an experience in itself. The ship's corridors were narrow and dimly lit, the air heavy with the scent of salt and oil. As we walked, the colonel and I exchanged words about modern military tactics and transportation methods, his curiosity evident in the questions he asked.
The soldiers we passed stared openly, their eyes filled with everything from confusion to contempt. I heard muttered insults—words like "whore" and "slut" hissed under their breath—but I kept my head high, refusing to let them see any reaction.
Finally, we reached the colonel's office, a small but orderly space cluttered with maps, charts, and stacks of papers. The leather chair creaked softly as I sat down, grateful for the momentary reprieve from the stares and whispers.
"This kind of treatment would never be tolerated in my time," I said, my voice carrying a sharp edge. "Soldiers behaving this way would be suspended or discharged on the spot."
The colonel sighed, settling into his chair across from me. "Women aren't part of the military yet," he admitted. "Many of these men have never even worked alongside a woman, let alone taken orders from one. It's going to take time for them to adjust."
"Time we may not have," I said pointedly.
We spent the next hour discussing my role aboard the ship and my eventual deployment to the battlefield. The colonel was clear: I would need to earn the soldiers' respect through action, not words. It was agreed that I would be joining them in the trenches, fighting alongside them to recover the documents and complete the mission.
Later that evening, I was shown to my quarters—a small, private room tucked away from the others. It was simple but adequate, with a narrow bed, a wooden desk, and a single oil lamp casting a warm glow over the space.
As I unpacked my suitcase, I found myself humming a song that had been stuck in my head for days.
"If all you young men were fish in the water,
How many young girls would undress and dive after..."
The melody filled the room, lightening the heavy atmosphere. I moved about, placing my belongings neatly into the drawers, the sound of my voice the only company I had.
"You sound just like a solovey, Lieutenant," a voice said suddenly from the doorway.
Startled, I turned to see Colonel Miranda standing there, a faint smile on his face.
"How do you know Ukrainian, Colonel?" I asked, recovering quickly.
"My mother is Ukrainian," he explained, stepping into the room. "My first name is actually Nikolai."
"That's nice," I said with a small smile. "My mother's Ukrainian too. My name is Monica, but my middle name is Yelena."
He nodded, his expression softening. "A pleasure to meet you properly, Yelena."
We spoke for a while longer, discussing the adjustments that would need to be made for my presence aboard the ship. Nikolai admitted that the men were resistant to the idea but assured me that I would have command during my time here.
"It'll be... fun," I said with a wry smile.
He chuckled, shaking his head as he rose to leave. "I'll let you settle in. And don't forget—come by later for a drink."
And with that, he was gone, leaving me alone with the weight of the mission ahead.
A/N: Hellou everyone!! So this is a story I wrote back in like 2022 during Covid, but because of the writing style I used back then, I decided it needs an IMMEDIATE revision… it was originally posted in Wattpad, but with the rewrite, I feel it deserves a spot on my tumblr…. Hope you guys will enjoy it!!
pairing: Arthur Shelby x OC
description: In a world where war leaves no space for love, a sliver of it managed to crawl into the hearts of two most unexpected people. In the most unexpected time.
type: series
word count: 1310 words
next >
The corridor stretched out endlessly before me, its stark white walls illuminated by the sterile, unwavering glow of LED lights embedded in the ceiling. The brightness was almost too much, casting harsh reflections off the polished tiles beneath my feet. Each step I took was accompanied by the crisp, rhythmic click of my polished shoes against the floor, the sound echoing faintly in the otherwise silent space. The air felt still, almost heavy, carrying with it the faint scent of industrial cleaner, sharp and clinical.
I walked with measured precision, my pace deliberate and unwavering. The monotonous setting gave me ample time to gather my thoughts, though my mind raced with curiosity and a touch of unease. This meeting wasn’t routine. The summons had come abruptly, with little explanation beyond an insistence on my immediate presence.
As I neared the door at the end of the hall, the low murmur of voices reached my ears. The indistinct chatter filtered through the heavy wood, punctuated occasionally by a louder word or a burst of restrained laughter. Whatever they were discussing sounded animated. I inhaled deeply, steadying myself. Adjusting the brim of my cap, I smoothed down the front of my uniform, ensuring every button was in place and my insignia gleamed under the fluorescent light.
When I reached the door, I paused briefly. My hand hovered over the cool metal handle before I knocked firmly, the sound reverberating through the room beyond. The chatter inside stopped abruptly, leaving only a charged silence in its wake. I waited a moment, then turned the handle and pushed the door open.
The room beyond was functional, with little effort made toward comfort. A large, round table dominated the space, surrounded by high-backed chairs that seemed too rigid to sit in for long. Fluorescent lights buzzed softly overhead, casting stark shadows on the pale walls. The air inside carried a faint hint of coffee and paper—both familiar, grounding scents in a room otherwise devoid of personality.
Near the door, a group of sergeants stood, their postures relaxed but attentive. As soon as I entered, however, they snapped to their feet in unison, the legs of their chairs scraping loudly against the tiled floor. Their expressions shifted instantly to ones of formality and respect.
“Lieutenant!” one of them barked, his voice sharp and precise.
I nodded, returning their salute with practiced ease. “At ease,” I said, my tone calm but authoritative.
The sergeants relaxed slightly, though their movements remained disciplined. Without a word, they filed out of the room in orderly fashion, their boots thudding softly against the floor as they passed me. I caught glimpses of their expressions—curiosity mixed with deference—but none lingered long enough to meet my gaze. Once they had gone, I turned my attention to the remaining occupants of the room.
Seated around the table were four men, their uniforms adorned with insignias that spoke of high rank and years of service. Their eyes were sharp, assessing, as they watched me step further into the room. I straightened my back, ensuring my posture was impeccable as I approached.
“Gentlemen,” I greeted, nodding respectfully.
The general at the head of the table, a man with graying hair and a commanding presence, gestured toward an empty chair. “Lt. 2nd Winchester,” he said, his tone even but firm. “Please, take a seat.”
I complied, crossing the room with measured steps. As I sat down, I removed my cap and placed it carefully on the polished surface of the table in front of me. The eyes of the men followed my movements, their expressions unreadable.
“I apologize for not arriving sooner,” I began, my voice steady but polite. “I was tied up with some pressing matters. You wanted to see me?”
The general offered a faint, almost approving smile. “Indeed, Lieutenant. And don’t concern yourself about the timing. We anticipated some delays, given your recent workload. However, let’s set that aside. We’ve called you here to discuss an assignment—one of significant importance.”
I raised an eyebrow, curiosity mingling with a touch of apprehension. “What kind of assignment, sir?”
The general leaned back slightly, folding his hands on the table in front of him. “As you may already be aware, there has been an incident involving the theft and destruction of several critical historical documents. While we’ve managed to recover most of them, a key set remains unaccounted for. These documents are not only irreplaceable but hold information of strategic and historical importance.”
“Recovered?” I interrupted, leaning forward slightly, my brow furrowing. “Forgive me, sir, but how do you recover documents that have already been burned?”
The general exchanged a glance with the colonel seated to his right. The colonel, a stout man with a stern demeanor, cleared his throat and leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. His coffee mug clinked softly as he set it down.
“Well,” the colonel began, his tone deliberate, “this isn’t public knowledge, but about a year ago, we successfully tested and approved a machine capable of time travel. It’s a prototype, highly classified. We’ve been using it sparingly to undo certain… disruptions in history, such as the theft and destruction of these documents. The sergeants who just left were delivering some of the recovered items as we speak.”
I blinked, momentarily stunned. “Time travel?” I repeated, my voice laced with skepticism. “You’re saying we have the ability to go back and rewrite history?”
The colonel nodded. “Precisely. However, this technology is not without its complications. Recovering the documents required precision, and while we succeeded with most of them, a critical set from 1917—the year the United States entered World War I—is still missing. That’s where you come in.”
I frowned, my mind racing with questions. “Why me, sir? Surely there are others better suited for this… mission?”
The general’s gaze remained fixed on me, his expression unyielding. “There have been issues with the time authorities,” he explained. “They monitor all temporal activity to prevent misuse of the technology. They’ve expressed concerns about our operations and insist on dealing with someone of sufficient rank—someone they deem competent and trustworthy. Your record, Lieutenant, makes you the ideal candidate.”
The colonel added, “You’re also uniquely qualified in another regard. Your social and communication skills are well above average, and you’ve demonstrated an ability to navigate delicate situations with composure. This mission requires someone who can negotiate, assess risks, and adapt quickly. That’s why we’ve chosen you.”
I nodded slowly, processing the weight of their words. “Understood, sir. What exactly is the objective?”
The colonel leaned forward, his tone serious. “You’ll be sent back to 1917 to recover the missing documents. Additionally, there is intelligence from that era we need you to gather—details we’ll brief you on before departure. Discretion will be paramount. The mission is time-sensitive and requires absolute precision. Do you understand the stakes?”
“Yes, sir,” I replied firmly, my voice resolute. “When do I leave?”
The general stood, signaling the end of the meeting. “Pack light,” he instructed. “You won’t need much for this mission. A private will retrieve you when it’s time.”
I rose to my feet, retrieving my cap and placing it back on my head. I saluted the group, my movements crisp and practiced. “Understood, sir.”
The officers returned my salute, their expressions grave but confident. Without another word, I turned and left the room, the sound of my footsteps echoing once again in the corridor. As I walked, my mind churned with thoughts of the mission ahead. The idea of stepping into the past—to a time of war, chaos, and uncertainty—filled me with both anticipation and a gnawing sense of unease.
This wasn’t just another assignment. It was a journey into the unknown, and the weight of history rested squarely on my shoulders.
Toto Wolff with wife reader. Doing a hot lap and him being concerned about her driving because usually he's the one who drives. Fluff and fun. Maybe suggestive 🫣 Thanks!! :))
WHY DO YOU THINK IT TOOK ME SO LONG?// TW \\ one-shot
pairing: Toto Wolff x wife!reader
description: Someone else sits behind the ˝Hot Lap˝ wheel...
word count: 464 words
warnings: none, a smidge suggestive, toto doesn't trust your driving abilities
Usually, it's an F1 driver that drives a Hot Lap. Yet, here you were, getting into the driver's seat of a Mercedes AMG-GT for the first time. Your husband, Toto, already sat in the passenger seat, laughing at you.
You hated driving. It was the most annoying part of your day. No, you didn't hate the act itself. You hated the slowness and shitty people on the road. So when Lewis and George practically forced you to do a Hot Lap, you weren't expecting you'd be driving the Supercar.
˝You alright, schatzi?˝ Toto asked as you buckled your seatbelt.
˝ I know you hate driving...¨ He continued. The statement made you giggle.
˝I hate the slowness of everyday driving... But this...˝ You say with a smirk, pushing your foot down on the pedal. The car revs and Toto's eyes widened.
˝... is more my style.˝
The car lunged forward, your hands controlling the steering wheel. Toto gripped anything he could, looking over at you.
˝What do you mean by this is your style?˝ His eyes widened.
˝Watch the turns, love!˝
˝Don't worry, I got my eyes on the road!˝ You giggle, expertly avoiding hitting a wall.
˝I wanted to be an F1 driver, ya know?˝ He looks over again, smiling at you.
˝Ja? I can see that... Maybe I should put in next season...˝ He laughs, making you smile.
˝I'll win you the championship, love!˝ You laugh, making another turn, making Toto lean towards you. He laughs and sits up properly in the seat.
˝I'm looking forward to it!... Watch out!˝ He screams, making you turn suddenly. You grunted.
˝Stop yelling! I know what I'm doing!˝ You purposefully swerve the car, making Toto panic and grab anything he could. You laugh and he huffs.
˝How about... I try to donut˝
˝ABSOLUTELY NOT!˝ Toto screams as you already start turning the steering wheel.
˝Too late!˝ You giggle, turning the car in circles. Toto begins to hyperventilate and you laugh at him again. Slowly, you bring the car on a straight trajectory.
˝You are an idiot! We could have crashed!˝ He screamed as the car came to a stop.
˝But we didn't...˝ You step out, taking the helmet off your head. He follows you, rounding the car to get to your side.
˝This only solidified the fact I'll be driving from now on. I'm not getting in the car if you're driving!˝ He said, making you laugh.
˝But you'll let me ride?˝ You say with a smirk, wiggling your brows. He rolls his eyes and walks faster.
˝Hey!˝ You run to catch up with him.
After a few secounds of silence, you decide to speak.
˝Can I ask you something, love?˝ You ask and he hums.
˝Why do you think I failed my driving test so many times?˝ You ask with a smirk, making Toto turn to you with wide eyes.
description: What's better than spending a perfect autumn day with your perfect boyfriend?
word count: 924 words
warnings: none, Ewan being an absolute sweetheart
The leaves rustled under your feet as you walked through the streets of Derby. You grew accustomed to the way of living here, although it took a while.
˝Want to sit down somewhere, love? Have a drink maybe?˝ Ewan asked, looking over the street.
˝I was thinking we could go and grab lunch once we're done with every task we got...˝ You said, looking up at him.
˝That sounds like a much better option, to be honest...˝He said and lifted your connected hands to his lips.
˝Where we off to next, hm?˝
˝I saw some really cute Doc Martens the other day... Was thinking of splurging a bit...˝ You giggled and he smiled.
˝Ok, let's go then!˝ Ewan exclaims and pulls you towards the store.
After trying on the shoes and getting into a small squabble on who should pay, you having won, Ewan and you finally made your way to the grocery store.
Ewan pushed the cart, while you followed the list and filled it up. Once again, there was a squabble on who should pay, only to have Ewan pay as you reached for your wallet. The older lady at the register smiled at you and giggled as you apologized.
Once you reached your apartment, Ewan unpacked as you went to take care of the laundry and the living room. Once all of that was done, you changed into more comfortable clothes and made your way to the kitchen.
˝What are you makin', honey?˝ You whispered, wrapping your arms around his waist.
˝Just some pasta... I know you really wanted to go to that Italian restaurant...˝ he said, lifting your hand for a kiss. You hummed, resting your head on his back.
˝We couldn't have known they were doing renovations...˝ You hummed and smiled.
˝Thanks, though.˝
˝Anything for you, love...˝ Ewan said through a soft smile.
˝I'll be done in a minute. Set the table, love.
˝Got it...˝ You said, kissing his neck lightly and moving to take out the dishes.
His food was delicious... It always is, he perfected the art of cooking. You weren't even close to his level, but it never bothered him. He loved cooking for you... He loved the excitement and the expression on your face when you enjoyed his cooking.
˝You're staring, Ewan...˝You said through a smile.
˝Mhm... I'm well aware...˝ He said through a dopey smile.
˝What did you plan on making?˝ He asked.
˝A few things, actually... Those apple crumble muffins and cookies, since there will be leftover crumble from one of the recipes... I have to make some sugar and chocolate chip cookies for the Autumn bake sale at college... And, of course, cake of the month!˝ You listed, smiling throughout.
˝Then what are we waiting for? There seems to be a lot to do.˝ Ewan said, standing up and picking up his plate.
˝I'll take care of the dishes and then we can start.˝
Now, unlike cooking, baking was your expertise. Cookies, cakes, and anything sweet always seemed to appear wherever you came. Ewan, on the other hand, was the exact opposite. Whenever he tried to bake something it was either under or over-baked... or flat-out burned.
˝Sweetheart, when does the crumble come in?˝ Ewan asked, sitting at the kitchen island.
˝Not yet... I still have to make the muffin batter.˝ You said, icing the cake in front of you.
˝Hm... When can we eat the cake?˝ He asked, making you smile.
˝Tomorrow. When your mum comes after church.˝ You look up at him.
˝But you can have the muffins once they're done. I'll even leave you some of the cake icing to have with them...˝
˝Thank you, love...˝ Ewan said, standing up and hugging you from behind, resting his head on your shoulder.
˝What are we gonna watch later?˝ He asked while peppering your shoulder and neck with kisses.
˝Arthur and the Invisibles...˝ You hummed, enjoying the contact.
˝The what now?˝ He laughed out. You turned your head towards him, gasping.
˝You've never watched the masterpiece that is that movie?!˝ You asked, giggling as he smiled at you.
˝Not once, my love... I'm glad you'll show me, though...˝ He kissed your cheek and rested his head back on your shoulder. You hum and continue working on the cake.
˝Will you take out the ingredients for the cookies, please?˝ You ask him, leaning to your shoulder to kiss him. He nodded and separated from you, going over to the fridge.
Once everything was baked, Ewan plopped on the couch. You laughed, situating your hands on your hips.
˝What are you tired of?˝ You asked, still smiling.
˝You do realize being an amazing and supportive boyfriend is a tiring job, right?˝ Ewan said, hanging his head over the armrest.
˝Well, my amazing and supportive boyfriend, there are dishes in the sink...˝ You say, leaning down to give him a kiss.
˝While you're doing that, I'll prep the movie...˝
˝Mhm... I'll be quick...˝ Ewan said standing up. He took the apron that hung around you.
Finally, you sat down on the couch, tucking your feet under you. Ewan soon joined you, bringing snacks, including your muffins, and drinks.
˝You ready, love?˝ He said, wrapping an arm around. You pulled the fluffy blanket over both of you, humming and nodding while you did so. You unpaused the screen, the movie's opening title rolling out.
By the end of the movie, Ewan had fallen asleep against you. Rain was falling and hitting lightly against the windows the scented candles the two of you lit a little while ago giving away a faint glow. You sighed, turned the TV off and rested your head against Ewan's.
You loved this. The rain, the faint light, and the scent of cinnamon... And of course, the warmth of having your loving boyfriend so close to yourself.
