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disneyprincemuke · 6 months

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best years * fem!driver

growing up in a predominantly male environment, she only ever had two friends she could count on. this is what it was like growing up with oscar and logan.

pairings: oscar piastri x fem!driver, logan sargeant x fem!driver

warnings: -

notes: this was so hard to write for no reason

(series masterlist) | (📂 pre-formula 1)

2013

she leans against the wall behind her, fingers nervously picking at the skin around her nails. she’s the only girl in yet another karting race.

around her are countless boys excitedly greeting their friends, some of whom they have not seen in months from the long break. they would only spare her a quick glance before forming their own circles and talking amongst themselves.

she simply sighs and fishes for her phone in her back pocket. she will just pretend to text blythe, who is all the way back home, hours from where she is.

sure, she had plenty of girl friends from karting when she was growing up. but amidst puberty and coming into their own, her friends had simply moved on to other hobbies and interests — one that didn’t involve pouring your heart and soul onto the race track.

so there she stands, all by herself in the corner.

she feels a presence next to her, prompting her to lift her head. there stands a boy with sandy brown hair and his arms folded over his chest. who she will come to later know as oscar. but not just yet.

beside him is another boy, bright blue eyes with dirty blonde hair. they’re engaged in a conversation, paying no mind to the girl sending several messages to her younger sister without a response.

“okay, gather up, please!”

she would wind up making it into the top 30 that race.

“hey, you made it into top 30!” her mother engulfs her in a tight hug and sways side by side. “i’m so proud of you! you did so well!”

“thank you,” she giggles, pulling back slightly to catch some air. her hand reaches around the older woman’s body to wipe the sweat from her top lip. “are we still getting pizza after this?”

her father laughs, throwing his head back. “you never forget a promise, kid.”

“of course!” she cheers, jumping up as she claps her hands. “can i get a hawaiian pizza?”

“absolutely,” her mother beams, squeezing her on the chin followed by another hug.

she sighs and throws her head back, appreciating the sun that barely burns her skin. she scratches her head and gathers up her hair to pull it into a ponytail.

looking around, she locks eyes with somebody — the same boy from earlier with the sandy brown hair. he’s got the most charming smile, sending it her way along with a thumbs up.

blood rushes to her cheeks as she returns him a thumbs up and a courteous nod.

then he turns away, whisked away by his parents.

2014

“you’re only saying that cause i beat you on the track again,” she answers nonchalantly with an eyeroll. she folds her arms over her chest, scanning the boy head to toe. “it’s okay to lose to girls sometimes. it’s rare, i know, yet here i am.”

“an absolute fluke,” the boy scoffs at her, cheeks red in frustration and fists clenched by his side. “my dad says there’s no space for girls on the racetrack.”

“oh, really? say that to my top 10 finish and you barely making the cut,” she spits, anger lacing every word. “loser.”

his jaw drops. “hey, take that back!”

“bite me,” she grins, “you loser.”

his arm is barely able to land a hit on her shoulder when he stumbles back, a bigger figure blocking her from the frustrated kid. she barely flinched, now shocked at the something that separated her from a minor injury.

“hey, piss off, will you?”

“whatever, dude.”

her saving grace turns around, a small welcoming smile on his face. it’s someone she recognises — slowly becoming a familiar face for her every time she’s on for a karting race. “are you alright?”

she huffs, her fists now clenched by her side. “i had that covered. i didn’t need your help.”

he gives her a tired stare, obviously not biting into her words to be edged towards an apology. he just smiles again. “i know, but i thought i’d end it before a fight happened.”

“what if that’s exactly what i wanted?” she asks, an eyebrow raised as her hands rests on her hips. “you don’t know that.”

“don’t bother,” he chuckles, glancing at the ground before lifting his head to look at her again. “‘grats on the top 10 finish today.”

she narrows her eyes down. “thank you.”

“oscar, by the way,” he says again, hand stretched out toward her.

“(y/n),” she nods at him with a forced smile. she drops both of their hands. “you’re tough to race, oscar. sometimes i just wanna crash into you with my kart.”

“i get that a lot, thank you,” he grins. he points behind her, prompting her to turn around. “the blonde over there’s my friend. that’s logan.”

she nods. “i’ve seen you guys together a couple of times.”

“we go to school together.” oscar pauses. “hey, logan! come over here!”

the blonde, logan, whirls around and jogs over to them without a question. he approaches them with a grin. “oh, hey! you’re the one that passed me earlier! you’re quick.”

“thank you, i like making boys cry.”

“i never said you made me cry.”

“you may as well have.”

“maybe next race if you can do it again.”

“oh, i’ll bet on that!” she grins, giving him a knowing stare.

logan smiles down at her. “we’re going to get pizza after this. do you want to join oscar and i?”

and the rest is history, as they say.

2015

"get off your homework, man," she groans, dragging her feet to where oscar sits on her table. she shakes the boy lightly, but not enough to mess up what he's writing, and pops her head to his side. "i'm itching to go get ice cream."

"let me finish my homework. my mum will kill me," oscar sighs, attempting to wave off the girl from him. "give me like 15 more minutes."

"you said that 1 hour ago," logan says, words muffled by the pillow he's got his face smushed up against. "i'm hungry, dude."

a knock lands on the door before it creaks open, turning the heads of two of three people who rest in her bedroom.

"dalton, dude!" logan grins, patting the empty spot on the bed next to him. "you're home! how was school?"

"i learned math today," the young boy excitedly answers, running over to the american with a giddy grin on his face. he jumps onto the bed, only to be promptly pulled away by his older sister.

"i told you to learn how to knock, dalton," she says in a tired voice. "and take off your shoes before coming into my room. remember?"

dalton looks up at her, wide eyes and lips parted as he tries to remember her words. he nods, bending down to tear off the velcro from his shoes. "i'm sorry, (y/n)."

"that's okay," she smiles, patting his head. "just don't do it again, okay?"

he nods, before hurriedly jumping onto the bed. this time, logan has the blankets up before engulfing the small kid under it with a bear hug. "what kind of math did you learn today?"

"addition," dalton mutters. he turns to look at oscar, who has yet to acknowledge his presence. "oscar."

"hi, dalton," he mutters, head resting in his palm as he focuses on the paper in front of him. "give me a minute, kid. i'll talk to you later, okay?"

"not okay," dalton huffs, arms folded over his chest. he leans into logan's knees and drops his head on the mattress. "i'm hungry, (y/n)."

she grins. "we've got to wait for oscar to finish his homework before we can go get food."

oscar sighs. he drops his pen on the table, turning around to face the room. "i guess i can take a break."

he gives her a knowing grin, rolling his eyes when she proudly smiles at him. he's always had a soft spot for dalton, the small boy filling up the sibling-shaped hole in his heart. "what do you feel like having, kid? ice cream?"

the young boy jumps on logan, prompting the loudest yelp to pass his lips. his arms wrap around dalton as they roll off the bed. logan launches him in the air and catches him immediately, a loud giggle bouncing off the walls of the girl's bedroom.

"i want spaghetti!" dalton cheers. "but you have to make it for us, oscar!"

oscar sighs again. he drops his head. "okay, i'll make some spaghetti."

2016

"happy birthday, (y/n)!" the door swings open, hitting the wall with a thud.

immediately, the girl shoots up from her bed, hair a mess with both of her eyes still closed. "man, what the fuck!"

she rubs her eyes, only to be met by the smug grins of her friends as they saunter into her bedroom with cake in logan's hands and two wrapped boxes in oscar's.

"we said happy birthday," logan says through gritted teeth, "say thank you."

"what time is it?" she groans, pulling the blanket up to her stomach. "isn't it a little too early for you to be terrorising me?"

"1pm is not early," oscar shakes his head in disappointment. "i texted you to be ready by 1! we're catching a movie, remember? we're supposed to go catch mockingjay in theatres."

she frowns. "i'm sorry. i went out with my girls last night," she explains, slowly moving to the edge of her bed. "i can be ready in 15 minutes."

logan holds the cake to her face. "enough yapping. the candle's about 5 seconds from merging with the cake i spent so hard to find," he sighs. "make a wish, scrub."

she looks up at them, daggers thrown just through her glare. she blows out the flame as her two friends cheer softly for her, oscar clapping before patting her shoulder. "okay, let's go catch our movie."

she holds her hands out to the boxes in his hands. "presents first."

2017

"hey, where are you?" oscar's face fills up her phone screen, eyebrows furrowed as he navigates the crowd in the mall. "are you not coming early for the race?"

she bites down on her lip and looks down, briefly avoiding oscar's stare. "i'll still be coming. just not so soon."

"what?" oscar's voice squeaks in disbelief, truly not believing what he's hearing from his friend. "but we always get ice cream before the race. why didn't you tell us you were ditching?"

"it was last minute, i'm sorry," she frowns, glancing at the boy standing next to her. "i'll just see you guys there."

oscar's face immediately drops. "oh, you're with your boyfriend?"

she rolls her eyes. "yes, but i'll still be there for the race. what's the big deal?"

oscar shrugs. "nothing, mate. i'll just see you on the track, (y/n)."

"hey, what is your problem?" she calls out, head tilting at his sudden coldness. "i've got other people to be with besides you and logan, you know. i have other friends too."

"friends, maybe i understand. but this guy?" he chuckles, rubbing his chin as he tries to sympathise with her. he really tries, but it's difficult when the older boy has made his best friend's life miserable in the past 3 months and she's done is defend him.

"mate, come on. be serious. he won't stick around forever - he's a guy."

"you're a guy."

"and i've never ditched you for a girl, have i?"

"i'd understand if you did."

"well, i'm not flakey," oscar spits at her, glaring at her through the camera on his phone. "i'll see you later."

his face disappears, the home screen of her phone now the only thing staring at her with the silence in her living room. she sighs and drops her phone onto the couch next to her.

"you alright, babe?"

she nods weakly, but her heart races in her chest. she's always been very headstrong and stubborn with oscar, but this was the first time he's ever shown a sign of frustration with her.

as deadpan as he usually is, her chest weighs down on the implication this young relationship could have on a friendship that's been going on for years.

"yeah, i'm fine."

"it sucks, i know," logan sighs, patting her head. he's leaned back against the wall, sitting up as she cried into his chest. "we're only 16 - this won't be the last guy you'll be with."

this only made the girl cry harder into his chest. truthfully, he's got no idea what to do. comforting crying people has never been his forte; being more on the sensitive end himself.

"i'll beat him up, though, if you'd like," logan offers lightheartedly. this is progress, at least, cause it made her giggle for a second before she resumed her sobs. "i can take him in a fight."

"don't do that," she laughs through her tears, "yet."

"i'll even take oscar with me."

"no... oscar's mad at me."

"he's not mad at you, (y/n)."

"but i told you that fucker was no good," an australian accent falls upon the room, making her lift her tear-stained face up to look at him. "i hate to be the one to say that to you."

"fuck off," she sobs, wiping her nose with the sleeve of her sweatshirt. "i already feel like shit."

oscar nods, but he does sit on her other side. sandwiched by the two guys, oscar just fishes for something from his bag. presented to them, three separate pints of ice cream with spoons.

she smiles, passing down the other pint to logan. but she doesn't say anything to the australian who's already opened up his share and has started eating.

she just presses her back to the wall behind her and looks ahead. she digs her spoon into the dessert. "i saw logan with a girl in the hallway the other day."

"hey, what the hell!"

2018

she holds up her phone, grinning to herself as she takes a video. she runs over to the boy zipping up his race suit. "oh, my god! it's logan sargeant, sir! can i have a couple seconds of your time for an interview?"

"(y/n), you made it!" he laughs, wrapping his arms around the smaller girl. "oscar should be around here somewhere."

"i wouldn't miss your first race, of course," she states matter-of-factly with an eye roll. she squeezes his side and leans in as he presses his lips to her cheek. she puts her phone into her pocket. "i'm always your biggest fan."

"you're the president of my fan club, right?" his eyes light up, teasing her as he rests his arm on her shoulder. "i wouldn't accept my fan club if it wasn't you running it."

she shrugs. "maybe, but i'm gonna need you to set me up on a date with max fewtrell."

"i thought you wanted to go out with charles leclerc?"

"he's got a girlfriend."

"i think max has got a girlfriend too," logan chuckles, simply amused by her presence. "tough luck, dude."

"man, i might just die an old maid," she drops her head with a frown.

"oi, what are you doing? the race is about to start," oscar scolds, hands held out as he scolds his friends. he looks at her, eyeing her up and down once more. "you're not dressed yet! it's your first race in a car. let's go, mate!"

"i didn't wanna seem so excited," she shrugs, "i don't know."

"well, there won't be a race if you're not dressed in your race suit, idiot," oscar scolds, pushing her towards the further end of the garages. "come on, i have to beat you again today. my race won't be complete if i don't."

"absolute bitch," she mutters, glaring at the two boys as she walks away. "i'll see you guys on the track - remember to look in your rearview mirror for me."

2019

the three sit in a circle, on her carpeted floor once more. "i'm sorry you didn't get a seat in f3, (y/n)," logan sighs, dropping his head in disappointment. "i can't believe it."

"it's okay." she leans back on her bed and sighs, dropping her head as well. she lifts it up again with a forced smile. "i'll watch you guys all the time, i swear. i'll be your biggest fan."

oscar shakes his head. "you'll get a seat. the season hasn't started yet - someone will pick you up."

she frowns, putting her hand on oscar's knee. "it's okay, oscar," she says softly.

how touching is it to have friends who care about your progression in a sport where you're meant to be selfish?

"you deserve a seat more than anyone i know," he sighs, pulling his legs up into his chest. he rests his chin on his knee. "it's not fair. they're overlooking you. you're so good on the track."

"not better than you, though," she jokes.

he looks at her from the side of his eye. his disappointment never leaves, "you could wind up being better than me. come on."

"there's not a lot of space for girls like me in a sport like this," she smiles slightly, squeezing his knee. "it's okay. i'll be at every single race cheering for both of you. i promise."

oscar furrows his eyebrows, still shaking his head. he's got 3 sisters - he'd be bummed if they were to pour their heart and soul into something and not have the same opportunities.

if he could, he'd simply flip the world upside down.

"don't give up, okay?" he moves his head, now cheek on his chin as he looks at the girl with hopeful eyes. "promise me - you'll be in an f1 car someday with us on tv. racing it out in the pinnacle of motorsport."

"obviously," she grins. "i won't ever let logan beat me."

"now, this is why you didn't get a seat, dude," logan jokes, exchanging a smack on the knee with the girl. "fix your attitude."

"i bet you're glad that i didn't get a seat - i'd beat you over and over in an f3 track."

"you'd have to get a seat to prove that, (y/n)."

2020

"i got you the seat!" oscar jumps onto her bed, grinning ear to ear. he squeezes the girl on her laptop, her head craned slightly to look at him. "you're going to be in formula 3!"

"what did you say?"

"you're going to be racing in formula 3 for the 2020 season, you idiot!" he screams, taking the laptop from her thighs. he closes it gently and puts it down on the ground. "dude, catch up faster!"

her eyes widen as the gears in her head slowly process what the australian has just bestowed upon her ears. her nose scrunched as a piercing scream slowly erupts from her mouth.

she stands on her knees on her bed, holding oscar's arms. "if this is a prank, i'm going to turn you into pastry!"

"it's not, i got you the seat in formula 3!" he screams, shaking her vigorously, jumping on her bed. "dude, you're a step closer to formula 1! i told you to never give up!"

"what do you mean, i never stopped racing!" she says amidst her screams, shaking oscar back as the adrenaline starts to pump through her veins. "i cannot believe it! i'm going to be in a formula 3 car!"

"yeah!" oscar jumps off his bed. "come on, let's go get drinks with logan! he's coming over with a couple of beers!"

she hops off the bed, her body going into his. they stumble back a couple of steps, oscar's back hitting the door with a thud. "dude, we can't just celebrate with a couple of beers. let's go to the club!" she shrieks, smacking his chest.

oscar tilts his head, lips pressed together. "are you sure? you're kind of uncontrollable in the club..."

"yeah, but i have the right to be tonight!" she rolls her eyes, "i just got promoted to formula 3!"

2021

"this formula 2 crap is easy," she mutters, taking her helmet off her head. she trudges towards the two in the red race suits, her balaclava also flinging off her head. "come on, oscar."

"oh, shut up," oscar laughs, wrapping an arm around her. "good job beating me for the first time."

"i made it my life's mission, actually," she whispers, dropping her head. she smiles, throwing her head back to look up at her two friends. "god, this feels amazing!"

"oh, i owe you 50, don't i?" logan frowns at oscar, hands on his hips. "i can't believe she beat you before the season ended. you growin' soft, piastri?"

"i just thought i should let her have one glimpse at beating me before i proceed to do it the rest of our lives," oscar snorts with a smug grin as he looks down at her. "feel it while you can, (y/n)."

she frowns up at him. "i'll beat you for real someday, pastry. i've done it once today, and i'll do it again."

he nods with a proud smile. "don't let that fire go out, dude."

2022

"oh, hold the front door!" she screams into the phone, turning around to smack oscar's shoulder. oscar, who was sitting quietly on her dining table, eating the spaghetti he's prepared for her household. "are you joking, mate?"

logan tilts his head at oscar, only receiving a similarly confused shrug from the australian boy. they both glance at her, confused, at her sudden scream amidst their dinner debrief after having not seen each other for a couple of weeks.

"there's no way! sebastian vettel said that about me?" she screams, smacking oscar's shoulder again.

"oh, you're kidding!" oscar grunts, smacking her hand from his shoulder. she doesn't react towards him, just jumps away to her living room with the phone still on her ear.

"you reckon she's scored a dinner with sebastian vettel with that reaction?" logan teases softly, pointing at the girl rambling away on the phone. "i've got my money on that."

oscar shakes his head. "maybe lewis hamilton through sebastian vettel."

they hear her heavy footsteps approaching the dining area. she simply drops her phone to the smaller table next to her, coming in slightly paler than they'd last seen of her a few seconds prior.

her lips slowly creep and spread into a grin. "i've been promoted to formula 1," she says breathily, her hand coming up to rest on the door frame behind her. she takes another deep breath. "sebastian's going to be race engineer in the 2023 season."

and all hell broke loose in the dining area that night.

taglist: @wcnorris @treehouse-mouse @laura-naruto-fan1998 @mindless-rock @inejismywife @vellicora @leilanixx @meadhbhcavanagh @2bormaybenot @ironmaiden1313 @angsthology

#oscar piastri x reader #logan sargeant x reader #oscar piastri x you #logan sargeant x you #f1 x reader #f1 #f1 x you #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #formula 1 #f1 fem!driver #female driver #formula 1 female driver #formula 1 fem!driver #formula 1 fanfiction #disneyprincemuke #disneyprincemuke imagine #disneyprincemuke imagines #disneyprincemuke f1

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alwayschoppedtaco · 5 months

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bedtime stories ll l.h.

pairing: lewis hamilton x wife!reader

warnings: none, just fluff

summary: the story of your relationship, as told through the bedtime story of Josie Hamilton.

word count: 1.3k

my masterlist

“Josie!” You yell down the hall. “Time for bed!”

“Momma!” You hear a frustrated groan from the playroom where your daughter has taken up residence. “I’m not even that tired.” The three-year-old shouts, making her way out of the playroom and towards where you stand, hands on your hips as you peer down at her tired eyes.

“Baby, if you go to bed, I will tell you a story.” You offer, stroking her curls off her forehead.

“The story of you and dad?” She begs, grabbing your hand from her hair and pulling you towards her room. You laugh at her quick change in mood as you agree to tell the story.

“Okay, but only if you get into your pajamas and get in bed.” Josie agrees to your bargain, slipping into her favorite pair of Disney princess pj’s and jumping into her new big girl bed that her dad had put together for her recently, with the help of Sebastian over facetime.

“Okay, where to start?” You ponder out loud, thinking of your husband and how you should go about telling this story.

“From the very beginning, momma!” Josie exclaims, moving over under her covers so that you could lie down with her.

“Okay, okay.” You scoot in close to her, wrapping your arm around her and beginning your story. “I met your father when I was working for McLaren in 2009, your father was coming off his first championship win in F1, and I had been interning under his lead mechanic.”

“And you guys locked eyes from across the room and fell in love?” Josie interrupts in excitement.

“Not quite.” You laugh, wrapping the covers tighter around her as she settled further into her bed for your story. “I talked to him maybe three times that entire season, he was a hotshot driver and I was an intern, we didn’t have much overlap.

“I was offered a leading position at Red Bull the following year, helping to develop the car that Sebastian won in.” You continue, a small smile forming on your lips as you reminisce. “The next time I spoke to your father was at a party celebrating Sebastian’s championship. He had come with Jenson to celebrate, Jenson never letting up a chance at a party.

“He came off a little snobby to me at first, you can get quite the ego when you are at the top of your sport, and only 1 of 20.” You explain, moving your hands as you talk. “He came up to me and offered to get me a drink, I had only talked to him a few times, but who was I to pass up a drink.

“He ended up asking for my number before he left, and that was that.” You sigh, thinking back to that night and how much alcohol the two of you had consumed, drunken secrets and actions that your daughter wasn’t quite old enough to hear about yet.

“But momma, when did you guys fall in love?” Josie asks, invested in the story.

“I’m getting there, I promise.” You laugh at her impatience before continuing with your retelling. “I stayed at Red Bull, occasionally running into your father at different parties and around the paddock, but it wasn’t until 2013, three years later, that anything happened.

“It was another championship for Sebastian, but by the end of the season Mercedes had offered me a job, and I had talked with Christian and decided that I would take it. And so I was one of the mechanics working on Nico Rosberg’s car. I talked with your father a lot more that year, growing closer and becoming friends. I have to confess that I liked him as a lot more than a friend for the next couple of years, but we were work colleagues first, and I wasn’t going to put my career in jeopardy over a boy.”

“Mom!” Josie exclaims in exasperation, her brown eyes wide with anticipation for the romance. “When do you guys kiss and get me?”

“I promise I am getting there, you just have to be patient. If I wasn’t patient then I never would have gotten you.

“Anyways, I stayed at Mercedes for a while before my dream spot at Ferrari opened up and I left Mercedes in 2015. I was at my dream job, back working alongside Sebastian, and finally starting to realize I wanted to settle down.” Josie is trying to keep her eyes from closing, fighting against the sleepiness she is feeling.

“Maybe this story can be ended tomorrow, hmm?” You suggest, noticing the tired eyes and her yawns.

“No!” Josie quickly exclaims. “I can stay up, I want to hear this!”

“Ok,” You smile fondly, continuing your story. “Well anyways, I was working with Sabastian, who had become a good friend of mine while I was at Red Bull, and he had suggested that he set me up on a blind date.”

“I was hesitant at first, not wanting a date disaster, but Sebastian wouldn’t stop pestering me about it so I finally caved.”

“And you had the best date of your life with dad?”

“Oh no, it was probably the worst date I have ever been on!” You exclaim, laughing at the memory. “He showed up half an hour late, didn’t even apologize! I had half a mind to leave at that instant, but I couldn’t think of a good enough excuse!”

“Hey now, I made it up to you eventually.” Lewis pipes up from the doorway, having arrived at some point in your story without either of you noticing.

“Daddy! Come sit with us and listen to the story.” Josie says through a yawn, rubbing the sleepiness from her eyes.

“Okay, princess.” Lewis settles himself on the other side of her, stroking her hair comfortingly, knowing that it usually puts her straight to sleep.

“Continue momma.”

“Okay, well as I was saying, Sebastian set me up on the worst date of my life.” You repeat yourself despite your husbands disagreeing stare. “He arrived late, didn’t apologize for it, and by the end of the night I just wanted to get home and call Sebastian to complain.”

“Why did you go out with him again then?”

“He offered to walk me home, and somehow saved the entire night on that half mile walk.” You explain. “He finally apologized, explaining how nervous he was that he couldn’t pick out which tie to wear that night, he was so nervous that Sebastian called me the next day to tell me your father had called him five times to get his opinion on tie color and which type of knot he should use!”

There is a small smile on Lewis’s face as he watches you tell the story, remembering how sweaty his palms were over the thought of messing things up with you.

“I brought her flowers to make up for everything the next morning, I felt horrible for making a fool of myself.” Lewis laughs thinking of how much remorse he had for being late. “I brought her a bouquet everyday for a week to show her how sorry I was.”

“And it finally worked, cause I agreed to a second date.” You tell Josie. “Best decision I ever made.”

“Three years later I asked her to marry me”

“And then we got you.” You finish, looking down to see Josie’s eyes are closed, her breathing even.

You and Lewis carefully make your way out of her bed, closing the door to her room before making your way to your room.

“It really was my best decision to say yes to that second date.” You say settling into your bed and opening your arms so Lewis can cuddle with you.

“It was my best decision to get the ring after the third date.”

#lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x wife!reader #lewis hamilton x you #formula 1 x reader #f1 x reader #formula one x reader #wife!reader #x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #lewis hamilton #formula 1 #mom!reader #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton fanfic #mercedes #formula one #f1 #alwayschoppedtaco

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perioddramasource · 2 months

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FATHER BROWN (2013 - Present) Season 11, Episode 9: The Dead of Night

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daydreamingleclerc · 2 years

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dress - mick schumacher

summary: in which, you and your best friend mick end up in bed together after one of his parents lavish parties.

warnings: oral (m rec), fingering, a lot of make out sessions, michael being cheeky (because yes, michael and corinna are in this - as if 2013 never happened), protected sex, mick being a boob man, swearing, a lot of pining & anticipation, that’s it i think ?? not been proof read

requested: no

notes: based on the song dress by taylor swift. theres a lot of taylor swift song references in this :)) see if u can find them !! good luck !! this was one of my favourite pieces to write and i’m so happy with how it turned out <3 enjoy xx

“here she is,” michael greeted as you walked through their front door, “our beautiful girl!”

as soon as you saw the older man you smiled, running to him and allowing him to hug you tight. his skin was a gorgeous shade of golden brown, matching that of corinna’s, which you noticed when she came and stood beside her husband. you hadn’t seen the pair of them for almost three months due to a ridiculously long awaited cruise they’d finally had the chance to go on, and when they arrived back it coincided with the two week break from triple header weekend; so naturally, they hosted a party.

“i’ve missed you both so much!” your voice was muffled into michael’s torso, the man refusing to let go and leaving his wife with no choice but to integrate herself into the hug somehow. “how was the bahamas?”

“gorgeous, as expected,” corinna smiled when you all eventually pulled away from one another, and as she began to talk about the trip, gina snuck up behind you and wrapped her arms around your shoulders. “how’s your mum and dad?”

as mick left the dining room, he could see you in the reflection of the mirror in the hallway, wearing a gorgeous shimmery black dress he’d never seen you wear before, and he noted how delicate you looked with red accessories in your hair. as he walked through to greet you, he noticed a faint shake in his hands with anticipation as he held the gift he got you from italy.

“they’re okay i think, i haven’t seen them much since i moved out but they’re sorry they won’t be able to make it,” as you spoke, you heard shuffling from the dining room, and you stuttered in an attempt to finish your sentence. the smile on your face grew even wider at the sight of mick standing in his parents doorway, “hey, mickie.”

“hi,” he blushed softly at the nickname, despite the fact that you’d called him it for years. the way he looked at you made you blush, and your cheeks almost turned the same shade of red as the clips in your hair. “i can’t believe you’ve been standing in the hall for almost five minutes and nobody’s complimented your dress yet.”

he leaned forward and his mother shuffled to the side as he left a kiss to your cheek. his fingertips burned through the material of your dress and left blisters on your skin as he held onto your hip for balance, but his lips on the apple of your cheek felt like hot, trickling lava.

“do you like my dress?” you asked him when he pulled away from you, his fingertips still firm on your hip. in your peripheral vision, you could see corinna, michael and gina all swapping looks, and you knew then that they knew the thoughts whirring around in your mind.

mick was at a slight loss for words when you asked the question, the innocent tone of voice you offered him was one he wasn’t expecting. “mhm, i think it’s.. you.. uh, it..” mick took a second to compose himself and you giggled like a schoolgirl in front of her crush; and that's when the thought crossed your mind for the first time that night – was mick nervous to be in your presence?

“i think what my son is trying to say, is that you look gorgeous, Y/N.”

michael’s hands braced on mick’s shoulders, and mick rolled his eyes sarcastically at his father so that only you could see it while his cheeks once again turned red. you smiled at michael and gazed over at mick, a younger, perfect cross between himself and corinna. “thanks, dad,” mick hummed, “i was gonna get to that point eventually.”

“just thought i’d help you out, sunshine,” michael patted him on the back, but before he walked away he whispered something into mick’s ear and he smirked before swatting his father away. “Y/N, my darling, i’ll see you when the parties started, okay?” you nodded, a look of confusion formed between your eyebrows, “and for the love of god, make sure my son looks reasonable!”

it was at that moment you realised mick was just wearing grey sweats and a t-shirt, and mick coughed when he noticed your eyes lingering a little too long. you shifted awkwardly, your heels already making your feet ache, and the hallway felt smaller now that it was just the two of you inside. lately, whenever you found yourself in mick’s presence you felt inferior, as if you’d lost all modes of communication, caught up in some silly little schoolgirl crush on your best friend to even speak to him and you found it embarrassing.

“i got you a present while i was in monza,” he stated finally, when he thought his parents and gina were retreated as far as possible. “i know you said that all you want from each different country is a small little memoir, but i saw this and i couldn’t leave it.”

the corners of your mouth upturned as you took the box from his grip with shaking hands. you weren’t sure what was in the box, but knowing that mick saw something sentimental and thought of you made your stomach do backflips. you flipped the lid of the box carefully and as you did so, mick helped, taking the sleek black lid and placing it on the floor beside him.

you pulled the tissue paper from the top, and gasped when you saw what was inside the box. a complete set of jewellery with your birthstone in the middle of each, surrounded by white diamonds - a necklace, bracelet, earrings and a ring with a little note tucked underneath it.

Y/N, i saw this and thought of you. you’re my favourite gift, all my love, mick x

your heart skipped a thousand beats at the sentiment, and when you looked at the note you questioned it again - was he writing you love notes now?

“mick…” you breathed, overwhelmed at the jewellery in front of you. mick just smiled, admiring your beauty fondly as your attention stayed consistently drawn to the shining possession.

“do you like it?”

“i love it,” you looked up at him now, and his gaze caught your eyes as you showered one another in silent, yearning love. his breath hitched when you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and hugged him, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. “thank you so much.”

he wished he could stay in this moment forever, the warmth of your arms around him, the slight stickiness of your lipgloss on his cheek as you pulled your lips away from his skin. everything was so perfect for those few seconds, and he wanted to frame the mark of your lipgloss on his cheek and engrave it with your name delicately.

“i’ll help you put it on, if you like.”

you spun around to face the mirror, holding out the box for mick to take the necklace so he could clasp it around your neck. he wondered if you could see his shaking hands in the reflection as he picked up the thin chain – you could, but you chose to ignore it. “is it the right way around?” he asked, double checking before he did the clasp, and all you could do was nod.

he looked so at peace behind you, so unknowing of your own tangled, messy feelings for him and you figured it was better that way. he didn’t need to be wrapped up in your bed as well as in your head when he still had the rest of the season to finish.

“there.” he smiled, releasing a breath he didn’t realise he was holding when he succeeded in clasping the necklace. you admired it, stepping closer to the mirror so you could watch it glisten under the light. it was far too expensive, almost something mick would’ve bought for his mother, or his sister or a girlfriend. your breath hitched again and your mind wandered – he wasn’t falling for you too, was he?

“turn this way and i’ll do the bracelet for you too.”

you did as he asked, doing a one eighty so you faced him now, one hand firmly gripping at the box while you tried to keep the other one still in front of you. the silver chain of the bracelet was slightly thinner than the chain on the necklace, and mick’s eyebrows furrowed together as he attempted to wrap it around your wrist.

“is this okay?” he asked, giving it a little wiggle to make sure it didn’t get too tight.

“mhm,” you nodded, a smile on your lips, “what did your dad whisper to you earlier?”

“oh.. nothing for you to worry about,” he said, the half-smirk on his lips soon fading so the all too familiar schumacher crease could form between his eyebrows, one thing that all four of the schumacher’s seemed to do when they were either confused, angry, or focussed. “he was just being dad, you know how he is.”

after a few more moments and a giggle from the pair of you when mick thought he’d clasped the bracelet together, he finally did so. you cheered softly, raising your hand in the air and expecting mick’s to fall to his side – but it didn’t. he didn’t really know what came over him in that moment, but he pulled your arm down softly once again to inspect his handiwork, thumb grazing your soft skin as he ran it along the diamonds surrounding the birthstone.

it was so quiet in his hallway, a pin could’ve dropped and caught either of you off guard, only it didn’t. mick looked up at you, his adams apple bobbing as if he was going to speak, and the lump in your throat expanded and your tongue felt dry as he leaned in closer to you. his hand ran higher up your arm and his fingertips set your skin alight in goosebumps at the tenderness of his touch.

his breath was shaky when you felt it on your face, his lips inches apart from yours. repeated backflips danced within your stomach when his free hand rested on your cheek and you fluttered your eyes closed, both of you expecting this to be your perfectly timed, golden moment. mick’s lips were so close to yours that you could almost feel them, and as he looked down at you waiting patiently, with shaky breath and an eager etherealness about you, he truly admired your beauty.

“Y/N, darling are you – oh,” michael’s voice caused the pair of you to repel like magnets, with mick sliding as far away from you as he possibly could, but by that point it was too late. you could feel him all over you, and your touch stung his skin in the most addicting way possible; and now his father knew all about your feelings for one another. michael just rested against the doorframe, a smirk draped across his lips. “sorry, was i interrupting?”

as the party drew to a close at nearly two a.m the following morning, anxiety rose in your body at the thought of staying the night. it wasn’t uncommon for you to stay with mick and his family, you’d been doing it since you were twelve, when he had a stupid buzzcut and you bleached your hair a horrible shade of blonde.

your parents lived too far away for you to walk, and michael had already made up a bed for you. it would be rude of you not to stay.

“you okay?” gina asked, poking her head around the bannister of the staircase and catching you before you could scurry off. most of the people you were really friends with had left, and your feet were almost blistering by that point, and all you wanted was a nice, comfortable bed.

mick noticed the interaction from his place on the sofa, wedged between sebastian and an almost passed out max. you’d kept your distance from one another, giving each other enough space so you didn’t feel overwhelmed, but knowing that no matter where you went or who you spoke to, all roads led back to one another. everybody knew about your feelings for one another bar the two of you, and for everybody at the party, the tension was infuriating.

“mhm, fine,” you smiled, “just tired.”

“Y/N,” gina hummed, stopping you from walking away once more. mick leaned forward in his seat, attempting to make out what was said between you both, “he likes you too, in case you were wondering.”

gina watched as your lips curled up into a smile and your cheeks lit up, and mick noted that from his spot on the sofa your smile reminded him of a mirrorball, the brightest thing in the room, no matter where you were.

“she’s not gonna reject you if you tell her mick,” sebastian whispered, his words muffled slightly to blend in with the tone of drunken, slurred conversation around him, “that’s the face of a girl in love.”

as soon as you got into the spare bedroom, you knew you’d have to go and find mick. despite michael setting up the spare room for you, he’d forgotten to ask either of his children for a spare set of clothes for you to borrow as pyjamas.

can i borrow some clothes? you shot mick a text, your dad forgot to ask gina for anything and i don’t want to bother either of them :))

so you’re bothering me? mick replied, with a laughing face and a winky face, i’m kidding, you can come and pick some clothes out if you like x

mick’s bedroom wasn’t too far away from the spare room you were in, but even now after years of coming to the schumacher residence, you still found yourself getting slightly lost. your feet were working faster than your mind, your heart racing as you got to mick’s bedroom door.

“guess who?” you peeked your head round the door, and found mick hanging up his red blazer on his wardrobe door. his white t-shirt was draped over his shoulder and you averted your eyes when you noticed he was shirtless.

“hey, babe,” mick smiled, slightly inebriated and you blushed when he called you babe. “come in.”

immediately you planted yourself on his bed, flopping down on it and laying down flat across the width of the bed, your head dangling down the other side of it. you spotted a picture of you and mick on his bedside table taken about three months prior after he got his first points in silverstone, your cheeks smushed together and the both of you absolutely drowning in champagne. your hands were wrapped around his shoulders with one planted firmly on his cheek, and your smiles were ear to ear.

“i didn’t know you got this framed,” you sat up, holding the frame in your hands delicately, “i love this picture.”

“we look so happy,” mick hummed, taking a seat down on the bed beside you. he opened his mouth to speak, to confess his feelings in an almost shakespearean type of way, but he avoided them once more and stood up, “i picked out some clothes for you, they’re your favourite ones.”

you sat up straight and took the pile of clothes from his hands — he really gave you everything you loved so much, one of his black hoodies with a matching pair of tracksuit bottoms, a haas shirt with his name and number on the back, and some fresh boxers and socks for you to wear in the morning.

“thanks mickie,” you smiled. he sensed that you didn’t want to leave, and you sensed that he didn’t want you to leave either. you tried everything in your power to avert your gaze from his naked torso. “you look tired.”

he couldn’t help but laugh at that, but he wasn’t sure why. “i am,” he noted, “you still look gorgeous.”

“mick, stop,” you blushed and averted your gaze from him completely, “you really don’t know how it makes me feel when you say that stuff.”

you shifted on the bed, and his hand slipped under yours, thumb stroking your hand and igniting goosebumps across your skin. he leaned across and pressed his lips to your cheek, lingering there a little too long before resting his forehead on your temple. your temperature spiked drastically, the room feeling small as you felt sweltering hot.

“are you sure?” he whispered, “cause i think it makes me feel the same when you say that kinda stuff.”

you turned to face him, and as you did your breath hitched, but this time you didn’t hide it. your foreheads were now touching, lips so close together you could almost touch them, but you were both holding back.

“i should.. uh, i should—”

“—you don’t have to go.”

mick’s hand clung onto yours as you got up to walk away, and when he stood up and pulled you closer to him, you didn’t even hesitate. the clothes fell to his bed and the two of you finally had a moment alone, without distractions, without humor. just you.

“you’re like a drug to me, Y/N,” he said. “you make me feel so… stupid.”

“stupid?” your heart almost sank to the pits of your stomach at the words, but then mick’s hand came to your face and his thumb stroked your cheek.

“okay, maybe that was the wrong…” mick composed himself, “i love you, Y/N. i’m so stupidly in love with you that it physically hurts me everytime i see you because i just wanna — fuck — i just wanna shout it from the rooftops.”

you weren’t quite sure what to say or do in that moment, but all you knew was that you felt the same. in a world of billions of people, a life full of thousands who you almost definitely hadn’t met yet, mick was your one person, and you were going to make sure that counted for something.

“i love you too, mick, you stupid idiot.”

finally, as if the stars aligned, mick’s lips found yours in a soft and tender kiss. you couldn’t help but smile into it, melting into his touch because the comfort you felt wrapped in his embrace was a comfort like no other. neither of you wanted to pull away, the kiss was something out of a fairytale that you feared you were dreaming, and mick feared that you would walk away and never come back.

“stay with me tonight,” he whispered, and when he backed you into the wall you didn’t protest. you’d dreamed of this moment for months. “dad’s probably gonna be relieved, he’s never been any good at making the beds.”

the way mick’s nose scrunched up when he told a joke always got to you, and today you really felt it. a laugh bellowed from your mouth, and he rested his forehead on your shoulder as you laughed so hard at his joke — which wasn’t even remotely funny — you almost cried.

“so, do you wanna stay?” mick asked in a moment of hushed silence.

you leaned in close again, fighting the surge of hormones swimming through your veins – there was so much you were desperate to do, the ache to feel him hit hard inside your stomach and now the feelings were confirmed it was even stronger. the kiss was stronger this time, needier as you caved into his touch, allowing him to pull you in close and merge your bodies together.

mick furrowed his eyebrows as you pulled away, pushing him back a few steps as he kept his eyes on you. after hours of pain, you kicked off your shoes, curling your toes into the soft, plushy carpet of mick’s bedroom floor, and made sure his eyes were on you the entire time.

“i only bought this dress so you could help me take it off,” you said, reaching your arms around to your back and tugging at the zip, “can’t get out of it on my own.”

mick smirked, moving behind you but readjusting you so you could face his bedroom mirror. his lips trailed along your neck, his kisses hot and tender as he tugged the zip down your back slower than you’d expected. “mick…” you breathed, the anticipation inside of you bubbling with every tingle his lips left on your skin.

“i know, darling,” he hummed, the dress finally pooling at your feet. mick’s breath hitched when he noticed the lack of a bra, and he fought all his hormonal urges now – desperate to lean around and feel them in his hands, to listen to the noises leaving your mouth as you reacted to his touch. “god, you’re fucking beautiful.”

he grabbed at your chin, turning your face towards him and kissing you. your entire body reacted to his touch, igniting in goosebumps as desperation to feel him overcame you. “please, mick,” you whispered, “i need to feel you.”

he nodded, pulling his lips from yours and admiring you for a moment with a gentle smile. you leaned down, pushing your lacy underwear down your legs and stepping out of it when it pooled at your feet, and there you stood, completely naked in front of your best friend. mick never thought he’d see this day, and in a whirlwind of hormones he swept you from your feet and onto the bed, a giggle tumbling from your lips.

“what do you want, angel?”

“you,” you whispered, running a hand up and down his toned torso, “all i‘ve ever wanted is you, mickie.”

his hand ran down your stomach, fingers leaving a string of shivers in their wake as he danced them along your pubic bone. he leaned right down until he was face to face with your pussy, pressing a single kiss to your clit and circling his thumb around your entrance.

“mickie, no teasing,” you pouted. mick laughed as he rose back up, pressing a kiss to your lips and getting lost in you.

“why not, babe?” he raised an eyebrow.

“‘s no fun,” you pouted again, and mick’s heart fluttered. he pressed kisses to either side of your lips until eventually they curled up into a smile, and as you began to smile he pressed two fingers inside of you, curling them inside of you softly.

your breath stilled for a minute, allowing you time to adjust to the thickness of his fingers and their prominent ridges. mick’s eyes fixated solely on you as you reacted to everything he gave you, the way his fingers curled inside of you left you on the verge of a moan every time. he sensed it, and wanted nothing more than to make those filthy sounds leave your mouth, “come on, baby,” he drawled, kissing the spot where your jaw and your ear connected, “let me hear those noises i’ve dreamed about.”

he inserted a third finger and his thumb stroked your clit, and you gasped at the feeling. your back arched off of the bed and you wrapped an arm around mick’s neck, while he watched you with a partly open mouth and hooded eyes. “fuck, mick, your fingers they…” you couldn’t finish your sentence, brain clouded with the feeling of his fingers, “you feel so… fuck!”

when his fingers hit the spot you moaned, body quaking as he continued to coax an orgasm from you, and you weren’t sure how long you could hold it. “are you gonna cum for me, baby?” mick asked, his forehead now pressed against yours, “i can feel you clenching around my fingers, let go, angel.”

it didn’t take long for your orgasm to wash over you, with a strangled cry of mick’s name that he muffled with his lips on yours – because yes, his parents house was big, however it wouldn’t have surprised him if the guests were all listening in.

you laid underneath mick, a soft pant leaving your mouth as you regained your breath, and as he re-situated above you, you noticed the tightness within his trousers. the material was strained, so much, in fact, you feared that the hem would split straight down the middle. “can i help you with that?” you asked him, climbing up onto your knees so you were now at his height on the bed. mick tucked some hair behind your ear and your knees almost buckled. “please, mickie.”

“you don’t have to if you don’t-”

“-lay back, mick.”

he did as you asked, helping you untug the belt from it’s loops and shimmying out of his red trousers. the sight of his boxers begging to be pulled down was a sight you were going to have a lot more fun with in the future, but right now, you needed him like air in your lungs.

once mick was comfortable, you tugged at the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down inch by inch until his cock sprung free. it was bigger than you’d expected, all your wildest dreams had never prepared you for this moment.

you circled your tongue around his head and chuckled when he took a sharp intake of breath and wriggled. “see, it’s no fun when people tease.”

“i hate you.” he threw his head back in a laugh, gasping sharply again when you took him into your mouth and bobbed your head a few times.

“you said you loved me earlier, so which is it, mickie?” you questioned, repeating the action and taking his dick further into your mouth, using your hand to work what you couldn’t take.

“you’re a menace, Y/N,” he noted, bunching your hair into his hand as you took him further, “gonna have my – fuck – my work cut out now that you’re my girlfriend, aren’t i?”

the words left his lips and you didn’t even pause – in fact, they stirred you on even further. you smiled with your lips still wrapped around his cock, and the single word gave you a boost. mick leaned his head back, bucking his hips up into your mouth as your throat constricted around him, and he fought off the urge to just fuck your face then and there.

mick lifted his hips and you pushed your face down further, meeting him halfway when your nose touched his pubic bone. you stayed there for a minute, content in breathing as best you could through your nose before rising and breathing deeply for air in your lungs.

“we should’ve done this years ago.” he said, bringing a hand to your face and cupping your cheek, rolling you over so you were now on your back, looking ethereal buried between the pillows.

“years ago?” you questioned, a small blush coming to your face as mick’s lips worked on your chest, his fingers squeezing the fleshy skin of your boobs. he looked so content amongst them, and you knew then he was a boob person.

“yeah, i’ve been fantasizing about this — about you — since i saw you in that red bikini when we all went on holiday a few years back,” mick said in between kisses and licks to your nipples, all of which made you wriggle and shiver and he smirked, “remember?”

you nodded, bringing a hand to your new boyfriends face and admiring his gorgeous, doll like features; his usual stunning clear, sea blue eyes were now almost three shades darker with lust and it made your heart pound.

“you’re the most beautiful girl i’ve ever seen,” he whispered once his escapade on your chest had ended and he rose back to your face, “you’re funny, you’re kind, you’re talented, you have an amazing rack,” he said, and you couldn’t help but laugh, your eyes almost welling with tears. “i love you, Y/N.”

“i love you too, mick,” you kissed his lips softly, “do you have anything?”

he nodded, leaning over to his bedside drawer and pulling out a string of condoms. you admired his torso, running your hands down it as your eyes fixated on his dick, twitching with anticipation at what was about to happen.

he rolled the condom on, and leaned in close. his lips had a faint taste of blueberries, which suggested to you that that was the lube on the condom he’d chosen. as you kissed, he lined himself up with you expertly and pushed himself inside of you.

a gasp tumbled from your lips at the contact, how he stretched you out so perfectly with no discomfort, no pain, just a desperate aching need for more of him. even mick let out a breath at how good it felt to finally be buried inside of you after so many years of wishing and wanting, all of the silence and patience of desperation, the pining and anticipation that had built up from this night alone.

“god, mick…” you whimpered, “you feel so good.”

“so do you, angel,” he stuttered, “so tight and warm, all for me.”

you braced your hands on the back of his neck, running the pads of your fingers along the short hairs at the nape & instinctively, mick’s forehead rested on yours. his eyes travelled down to the spot where he slipped in and out of you, and god, the noises leaving your mouth almost made him cave completely.

“so responsive,” he muttered to himself, his lips catching your chin as he brought his eyes back up to yours, “just how i imagined it.”

you whimpered once more at his words, clenching around him as he slipped in deeper. mick has never felt so in love as he did in this moment, and he wished to stay in this moment with you forever.

“mick, ‘m close,” you said, almost embarrassed to ask him if he could topple you over the edge, “need more.”

“what do you need, darling?” he questioned, kissing along your jawline as his hips sped up, only slightly, but it was enough for you to nod. “need me to help you?” when you nodded again, mick’s nose bumped yours, “tell me how, pretty girl.”

“you know how,” you mumbled, and mick laughed.

“i’m not telepathic, baby,” his nose bumped yours again and you fluttered your eyes open, “tell me how.”

instead of telling him, you brought one of his hands to cup at your clit, and when he swiped his thumb across the sensitive bud, you nodded. mick momentarily paused just to wrap one of your legs around his waist, and then brought his thumb back to focus its attention on your clit.

“jesus,” you threw your head back, the combination of mick’s hips thrusting back and forth into you, his thumb on your clit and his lips on your neck almost sending you into overdrive. “mickie, please.”

mick’s dick began to twitch as you clenched around him, and he knew he wouldn’t last much longer. “go on, angel,” he whispered, “cum for me.”

you didn’t need telling twice.

“oh, fuck, mick!” you moaned, bringing his lips to yours to muffle the noise trickling from your lips. the wetness that now cocooned mick as he slipped in and out of you made him cave, and within seconds of your orgasm, he hit his own.

“oh, fuck, Y/N,” he groaned, his hips stilling almost completely as he released into the condom.

the pair of you lay there in that picture — mick on top of you, his head laying on your chest with your hands combing through his hair — for a while as you caught your breath.

his fingers began to trace shapes on your hips, and as the pair of you spoke aimlessly about things — what charles had drunkenly said about mattia binotto at the party, the way max almost passed out after one to many jagerbombs, how much mick’s parents believed you two were betrothed by some higher power to be with one another — the sun began to rise.

you snuck down the stairs in the shirt mick had let you borrow and a pair of his boxers and you assumed that you were the only ones awake seeing as it had just gone seven, but that was an incorrect judgement.

mick rested his head on your shoulder and wrapped his arms around your waist as you made coffee, and michael coughed in the doorway.

“thank god you two finally did something last night,” he ruffled mick’s hair and kissed your cheek, “now your mother owes me breakfast.”

“you bet breakfast on us having sex last night?” mick raised an eyebrow at his father, and you buried your head into his shoulder out of sheer embarrassment. michael clearly didn’t expect his son to be so forward.

“no, we bet breakfast on the two of you admitting you loved one another,” he stole his son’s coffee cup from the side and slid onto his designated chair on the island, “but you had sex, huh?” michael raised an eyebrow with his signature schumacher smirk, and sipped the coffee from mick’s mug.

“oh, fuck off, dad.” mick flipped his father off, nuzzling his face back into your neck and relishing in the sound of your giggle.

#mick schumacher #mick schumacher x reader #mick schumacher x you #mick schumacher x y/n #mick schumacher smut #mick schumacher fluff #mick schumacher blurbs #mick schumacher blurb #mick schumacher one shot #mick schumacher fanfic #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 smut #f1 blurb #f1 fluff #f1 one shot

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haveyouseenthisseries-poll · 2 months

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#tv shows #tv series #polls #father brown #mark williams #john burton #sorcha cusack #2010s series #british series #have you seen this series poll

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sarahwatchesthings · 2 months

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No way was Flambeau able to confess all his sins to Father Brown in one go. They had to have taken meal and bathroom breaks. Each session must have lasted hours, with long queues of other sinners standing outside the confessional, tapping their feet and checking their watches.

#father brown #father brown 2013 #hercule flambeau #spoilers

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thetempleofthemasaigoddess · 2 months

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Sweet serenade (part 2)

Bunty Windermere x reader. This is part two of two. Part one is here.

My first Father Brown fic! The Polish resettlement camp mentioned here is the one Suzie lived in, even though it hasn’t been mentioned since season 1. I usually watch Father Brown dubbed in my language, which is why I’m not sure I can faithfully portray the “voice” of the characters, with the appropriate 1950s lingo and all that; any suggestion is appreciated!

Warning: mentions of homophobia.

*****

“Here you go, dear.” mrs McCarthy murmured soothingly as she offered (name) a cup of freshly made tea; seeing the younger woman didn’t react, she put it directly in her hands “Drink it while it’s hot; it will make you feel better.”

(name) nodded numbly, but placed the cup on the table in front of her without taking a sip, before staring helplessly at the two people in front of her; they were all sitting in the presbitery’s kitchen, where Father Brown had had to lead her by hand, since the young woman was still in shock. Completely lost, and all too aware both the priest and his parish secretary knew as little as she did, she nonetheless asked: “How could it happen?”

“It is clearly a mistake, and I’m sure we can find a solution.”

“I really hope so, Father. It… it’s ridiculous! Bunty is not a murderer, anyone who knows her a little would know.” she protested, looking helplessly around her as if hoping to be reassured and, more importantly, to find a proof of her partner’s innocence simply there in front of her “... but the inspector must have reason to think she’s guilty, otherwise he wouldn’t have arrested her…”

A terribly pale mrs McCarthy offered Father Brown a cup of tea, and he thanked her with a nod, too deep in his thoughts to speak; they had already discussed about calling lady Felicia to inform her, since the older woman was her niece’s de facto tutor during her permanence in Kembleford, but Father Brown had decided to wait, in the hope that the matter would be solved quickly.

“What did Mallory say the name of the victim was?” the parish secretary inquired “Thaddeus...?”

“Tadeusz; I’m almost sure it was a Polish name.”

“I don’t think Bunty has any friends among the camp’s residents.”

“What can we do?” (name) wondered; she was still terribly pale and upset, but as she spoke her tone got firm, the focused, lucid look of a woman who had taken a blow and was ready to react “Father, you have already been involved in the Police’s investigations, and you have helped discharge many people they had accused unjustly. You think you could do the same for Bunty? I could help you… investigating…”

“I’ll do everything I can, since I am as sure of her innocence as you are.” the priest reassured her, doing his best to hide how upset he was himself; he had been able to prove the innocence of many accused the Police had already put behind bars, but the fact that this time it was a personal friend, a young woman who had been entrusted to his custody, did make things different “But before deciding what to do, I think we’d better wait for our guest…”

“A guest? Who do you…?”

The doorbell rang. “... who has just arrived.” the priest concluded with a smile; mrs McCarthy went to the door, returning a moment later accompanied by sergeant Goodfellow, his face gloomy.

“I don’t have much time, Father.”

“What can you tell us, sergeant?”

Goodfellow sat with the others and accepted a cup of tea; he retrieved a notebook from his breast pocket. “The victim’s name was Tadeusz Chodakievicz.” he explained, without stumbling on the difficult to pronounce name “Twenty-nine years old, unemployed, resident of Kembleford’s Polish camp. His brother didn’t see him this morning, went looking for him at home, and found him lying on his bed; he had been shot twice in the face, and since there are no signs of a struggle we believe he was attacked as he slept.”

“What a vile behaviour.” mrs McCarthy pointed out grimly; she was now busy pouring some tea for herself.

“When was this man killed?”

“In the early hours of last night, according to the coroner, even though he said he can’t be sure before examining the body.”

“What does Bunty have to do with all of this?” (name) wondered, talking for the first time, her voice barely above a whisper; Goodfellow looked at her, compassion in his eyes.

“As we searched Chodakievicz’s room, we found a women’s handbag under the bed. Inside there were a few cosmetics, an empty wallet… and miss Windermere’s personal documents.” he explained.

(name) seemed to perk up suddenly. “Her handbag?” she inquired “Is it a leather one, blue? And do you know if this man owned a moped?”

“Yes, that’s the one, and while Chodakievicz himself didn’t own a moped, his brother did, and he borrowed it often.”

“That handbag was stolen from Bunty! I remember it well, it happened six months ago, the day after she arrived in Kembleford. A man on a moped, who neither she or I, who were nearby, could recognize, mugged her and took the handbag away. Do you remember, Father? I’m sure Bunty told you.”

“I remember well.” the priest agreed “If memory serves, the handbag had been a gift from lady Felicia.”

“Exactly. Clearly this Tadeusz was the mugger, and after the theft he kept the handbag instead of throwing it away. Sergeant, you need to tell the inspector immediately!”

Unfortunately, Goodfellow looked much less hopeful than (name). “Did miss Windermere report the theft of her handbag?” he inquired, and when the young woman shook her head in response he sighed “In that case unfortunately it is impossible to prove the fact ever took place, even with your testimony; looking at the facts, one could argue that miss Windermere snuck in Chodakievicz’s home, killed him and forgot her handbag there when she left.”

“It seems an extremely naive behaviour for a killer.” Father Brown pointed out “Also, I think anyone who is, or was, acquainted with either Bunty and this man can attest the two of them didn’t know each other, and had nothing in common; there would be no reason for his murder.”

“I agree, Father, and I’m not saying miss Windermere is guilty; but at the moment she’s the only suspect, and… well, inspector Mallory doesn’t seem willing to look for another one.”

(name) swore under her breath; no one reacted.

Goodfellow hesitated for a moment. “She lives here, am I correct?” he asked, and mrs. McCarthy nodded.

“Yes, Bunty occupies the spare room on the first floor.”

“In that case… Well, is there someone who could testify about her whereabouts last night? Did you hear, or even better see, her get up for a drink of water or something like that? After all the Polish resettlement camp is across town; can you attest that miss Windermere was in her bed… or somewhere else?”

An unpleasant, embarrassed silence fell on the room. Father Brown’s gaze was fixated on his knees, the face of a man deep in his thoughts; mrs McCarthy looked questioningly at (name), the younger woman got the hint and blushed furiously.

“I’m afraid we are both heavy sleepers, sergeant.” the priest answered in the end, already asking for forgiveness for that small lie in his heart “So even if Bunty had risen to go to the toilet or fix herself something to eat, we didn’t notice.”

“I see. Well, I’m sure that if miss Windermere is innocent, which I don’t doubt, it’ll come out, and we’ll find the true killer.” Goodfellow replied, even though he didn’t look more convinced than Father Brown or the two women next to him; he thanked mrs McCarthy for the tea and left, explaining he had to be back at the station before Mallory wondered where he was “There is no need to accompany me, I know the way.”

As soon as she and her friends were alone once more, (name) sobbed - just once, as if she were determined to keep herself in check, allowing herself only the smallest sign of weakness. “I can’t believe it, this is a nightmare… and it’s all my fault…”

“This is not true.” mrs McCarthy corrected her, taking the younger woman’s hand in her own “At all.”

“Well, not in the sense that I killed that man, clearly, but if it weren’t for me, you and Father Brown could attest to Bunty’s alibi, say that she was at home as usual. You see, last night we… we had a…” (name) stammered, still red in the face; she was almost sure neither Father Brown nor mrs McCarthy would reprimand her, at least while they had a much bigger problem at their hands, but she had never felt uneasy about having to discuss her preference for partners of her own gender before, and it was not a pleasant sensation.

Father Brown was quick to come to her rescue. “The details of your relationship with Bunty only concern the two of you, and I wouldn’t want to judge you in any case.” he reassured her kindly “Right now we have to find a way to help her. I must ask you: was Bunty with you the whole night?”

(name) could have attested for every single moment of those nine hours, since she had spent most of them holding Bunty in her arms.

“Oh, yes; she came to my house just before ten o’clock, and stayed with me until this morning, when we both left early to go prepare the shop for the opening… which I imagine will have to be postponed now.” she reflected with a sigh; proving Bunty’s innocence was of course more important than anything else, but the young woman was heartbroken, already sure she would have to cancel, rather than simply postponing, the event. Just that morning, she had thought she had it all; a lovely partner by her side, even though their relationship was still mostly a secret, and her own business about to be officially inaugurated, and now…

Now I feel just like the day I lost mom and dad. God, it hurts so much.

“So no one could have seen Bunty near the Polish camp last night.”

(name) opened her arms, helpless. “Unless someone lies about it, whatever the reason, or she is secretly able to be in two different places at the same time, I would say no.”

“This is already important for us. Now… I’d like you to go to her.” Father Brown instructed her “I’m sure Bunty has never needed the comfort of a friend like she does now. Also, the two of you could discuss the possibility of telling inspector Mallory Bunty does have an alibi for last night.”

(name) said she wasn’t so sure it would help, since everyone in Kembleford knew she and Bunty were great friends, and what value could such an alibi have? “But I guess it’s worth trying, if only because it could be our only chance to help her.” she sighed as she stood from the table; she looked at the still full, but by now cold, cup of tea in front of her, bit her lip, and inquired: “Where are you going, Father?”

“There is someone else I need to talk to, about… the cleaning.” the priest answered vaguely; he had the sort of look his friends knew well, when he was reflecting deeply on a matter, the keen intelligence few expected from such a meek, unassuming person fast at work “I’ll be back soon, I promise.”

Mrs McCarthy, who was as worried for Bunty as the others, wished to do something to help as well, but Father Brown asked her to remain home; he’d send word in case of need, but in any case they would give the younger woman her love.

He and (name) left the presbytery together; they were meant to take different paths, but a moment before parting she called him. “You know, Father?” she asked, a sad, helpless smile dancing on her lips; Father Brown had known (name) since she was born, and suddenly if felt as if she hadn’t grown much since then - or at least since her parents had died, more than a decade before, and she was still the lonely young girl entrusted to an aunt and uncle who didn’t know what to do with her “I asked her; Bunty. To… go public, to tell people we are more than friends; I don’t think it would come as a surprise to many, I know there are rumours about me in the village. You’ve known me for so long, you know I don’t like hiding… but even otherwise, for her I would have done it gladly. I care for Bunty very much; maybe you… can’t approve…”

Father Brown smiled; he didn’t ask what Bunty’s opinion about the possibility of living their relationship in the open was. “And you have known me long enough to know I am not interested in judging, and even less in condemning. I think you and Bunty were lucky to find each other. Do not lose hope.” he urged her; he wasn’t talking just about the chance of proving Bunty’s innocence and they both knew it. (name) nodded numbly, her expression full of fear.

Ramrod straight, her face held high -the posture of a woman who had nothing to be ashamed of and wouldn’t let anyone persuade her otherwise- (name) marched through the entrance of Kemblefold’s police station; sergeant Goodfellow was once again behind the counter, but inspector Mallory was coming out of his office right then and it was him the young woman addressed, her tone courteous but firm. “Good afternoon. I’m here to visit miss Penelope Windermere.”

“Why?”

“Because I appreciate her company, and I think right now she needs mine.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt you and Windermere enjoy each other’s company, miss (last name).” Mallory replied, his tone heavy with sarcasm and an innuendo (name) pretended not to catch; she had had to contend with that sort of insinuation, people feeling free to openly discuss her personal matters simply because she didn’t feel the need to hide them, for half her life, and by now she knew how to control herself. Until the day I’ll break someone’s face with my fist, she thought; the short, moustached man in front of her seemed an ideal candidate “And I’m warning you, if Father Brown sent you to snoop around, because he’s carrying out an… investigation of his own…”

“No one sent me, inspector; but, correct me if I’m wrong, I’m pretty sure that according to the law any prisoner has the right to receive two visitors per day, excluding their lawyer and a religious adviser, which means you have no right to send me away. Now, will you show me where Bunty is kept or shall I have to walk around the station until I find her?”

Mallory’s glare suggested he’d want nothing better than to throw her in a cell as well; the inspector didn’t answer but, clearly annoyed, led (name) at the back, to a small but clean cell. He opened the door for her, and “Fifteen minutes, and no funny business.” he warned, before leaving the two women alone.

(name) didn’t bother to lower her voice. “What an idiotic bully! It’s like my mother used to say, the shorter they are the more they feel the need to compensate.” she said, but Bunty didn’t answer; she was sitting primly on the bench, her hands in her lap, staring into the void; she didn’t react when (name) sat next to her, across from a large damp spot on the wall “Hi… how do you feel?”

“Not bad. My room is not exactly the Ritz, and there is no French cuisine-specialised chef like I was promised, but the maid brought back my dress perfectly ironed…

“Stop joking around, Bunty!” (name) reprimanded her, even though she felt about to tear up herself; she had promised herself she would be strong, strong enough for both of them, comforting Bunty and reassuring her that proving her innocence was just a matter of time, but seeing her in that moment, so pale, so small and afraid, made her feel ready to burst into tears.

Bunty smiled at her; joyless, helpless, and hopeless. “What do you want me to do? I’ve been accused of murder, and Mallory says they have no other lead; you will admit I have little to rejoice about.”

(name) bit her lip, reminding herself this was not the right moment to discuss the nature, or rather the secrecy, of their relationship; first she had to get Bunty out of prison, and then they could discuss why the other woman didn’t feel comfortable with holding her hand in public. “You could tell the inspector you do have an alibi.” she suggested.

Bunty’s answer was immediate, and stubborn. “No, I can’t; I can’t tell anyone anything.” she said, and (name) knew there was so much at stake, her partner’s freedom and maybe even her life -a man had been murdered, after all, capital punishment could not be ruled out- and Bunty was innocent, a young woman who had a whole life ahead of her, and compared to that (name)’s own feelings had no importance whatsoever…

… still, it was hard not to take it personally.

(name) sighed. Her resolution lasted exactly five seconds; she felt the most egotistical woman in Great Britain, but she couldn’t help it. “Listen, if you don’t… feel the same as I do, at least for now…” she began, and Bunty looked at her, incredulous; for a moment she seemed to fully forget she had been accused of murder.

“You really think that’s the problem? That I don’t tell anyone, that I don’t shout from the rooftops, that I’m with you… because I don’t care enough? That I don’t care about you?!”

“Well… you always told me you are not the relationship type, and it is true that we have been seeing each other only for a few weeks…”

“Oh, God, (name)...”

Bunty sighed, a hand over her face, then she used it to take (name)’s, eyes full of determination. “It’s true, I’ve never been much interested in boyfriends or stable relationships.” she admitted “But it’s also true that before coming to Kembleford I had never met anyone like you. You… you are special, (name); very special, for me. I’m sorry if I never proved it to you like you deserved.”

“You’re special to me as well, Bunty. More than anyone I have ever met.” (name) replied; for a short, precious moment true, pure happiness was all her heart could feel. She smiled, using her free hand to cup Bunty’s cheek, before the reality of the danger her partner was in crashed on her shoulders “But then… why don’t you want to tell the inspector you were with me last night?”

“You really don’t know?”

“Don’t tell me you worry about the gossip! Bunty, I’m sorry I have to tell you, but most of the village already suspects we are more than friends.”

Bunty sighed; she had always lived as if she didn’t give a damn about people’s opinion about her, and it was mostly true, but… “I’m not talking about the people here in Kembleford. I…”

She hesitated; Bunty trusted (name), fully and completely, and knew the other woman had the right to know the truth, but simply thinking back at that horrible night of ten years ago still filled her with shame.

“When I was sixteen, there was a young maid who worked at my parents’ place; her name was Merry, and…”

(name) listened to the story intently; hearing about her partner’s old flame, of their relationship and of the disastrous consequences this had had on poor Meredith’s life once Bunty’s parents, or rather her father, had learnt about it, filled her with indignation. “So this is what, or who, you’re afraid of; your father.”

Bunty sighed.“It is. You know, it’s weird; all my life, since I was twelve, I have gone from one guy to the next, I have given scandal more than once… I have dated married men, ended up on the tabloids, and my father… I’m not saying he was happy, I got into trouble so many times, but when he found me with Merry, when he discovered that I… liked girls…”

It still felt weird to say; and scary, as if her father could appear suddenly, make good on his promise of ten years before, and destroy her life.

“... I really thought he would kill me, or at least throw me out of the house. He… hurt me…”

“He hit you?” (name) asked, unbelieving and horrified; she knew already, from what Bunty had told her, that she and her partner’s father were not destined to be friends, but suddenly she wished she could have him in front of her, to tell him what she thought about him “Oh, God, Bunty…”

“Don’t worry, I survived; thank God aunt Fliss stopped him before he could use his belt.” Bunty explained, and shivered; she was now an adult, almost as tall as his father, but the memory of that night still haunted her “But for weeks life at home was… unbearable, and my father looked at me as if… as if he regretted having me; as if he were disgusted of having me under his roof. From then on… we never spoke of it again, but we somehow made a pact: I can do more or less what I want, as long as it’s always and only men. If he knew I was with a girl again, if he only had reason to suspect I did… then I know I wouldn’t be welcome home ever again.”

(name) bit her lip; now they were both feeling guilty. “I’m so sorry.” she murmured “I never wanted to… trouble you…”

“It’s not your fault if my father is… what he is; and I always thought that as long as I remain in Kembleford I can do more or less what I want, since he and my mother would never come here and would have no way to know who I spend time with. Now things have changed; telling the inspector I have spent last night with you could prove I didn’t kill that man, but then the news would spread, the papers could talk about it… and my father would never speak to me again.”

(name) was still unconvinced - and heartbroken; she knew her partner didn’t mean to hurt her, but knowing she was a secret Bunty planned on keeping from her family in London taking advantage of the distance, like the mistresses some rich men bought an apartment for away from their family home, was not pleasant. “Would it be so terrible for you to lose your father’s respect?” she inquired “From what you have told me he doesn’t seem to deserve it, or you.”

Bunty grimaced; she knew (name) had lost her own parents when she was young and couldn’t therefore fully understand her situation, but the question felt indelicate all the same. “That we don’t always see eye to eye doesn’t mean that I don’t want him in my life. I do love my father; and you can’t understand, he was so furious that day… I know he would never forgive me, not to mention he would surely cut me off and I would be left penniless.”

“I’d rather starve than having to hide the truth about my feelings.”

Bunty looked at her, her gaze a mixture of admiration and incredulity. “You really don’t give a damn about what people think about you, do you?”

“I have never hidden what I am, what I want, and what sort of company I like; you may very well say I am used to gossip, since I kissed the girl who sat next to me in geometry during recess when I was thirteen and she told the whole class.” (name) replied with a shrug; she had had her heart broken so many times she had lost count and having people she was fond of suddenly start to avoid her wasn’t pleasant, but she had always known she had nothing to be ashamed of “When I was still a child I promised myself I would let no one stop me from living my life, no matter how painful the consequences would be; also, I found out that making people face an uncomfortable truth is a good way to find out who your friends really are, and who you can live without instead.”

“Lucky you…”

(name) pointed out softly it was not a matter of luck, rather of choice, which in her case had been a forced one, given the loss of her parents, while Bunty had the possibility to actually decide what to do. “You are intelligent, resourceful and went to good schools. You would probably have to do without the comfort and luxuries your family grants you, but you could find a job to support yourself, and then no one could blackmail you anymore, economically and morally both; wouldn’t it be nice, not to have to hide anymore, and spend money you have earned?”

“(name)...”

“You could come live with me, until you can pay rent; you know I’d be happy to have you. Believe it or not, I know it would be painful to cut ties with your parents, because you love them despite everything, but Bunty, think about it… you really think it’s worth it, since your father doesn’t accept you for what you are? Everything you ask for is being free to love; what’s so wrong about that?”

Bunty didn’t answer; she sighed, looking at her hands, too scared she was going to be sentenced to death to reflect on whether her parents’ financial support, and love, was worth hiding the truth about her and (name)’s relationship. “Well, according to what the sergeant told me, at least now I know what became of my blue handbag.”

“Well, that’s a relief…”

“You think I’m making a huge mistake, don’t you?”

(name) sighed, and admitted that yes, she did; she had been in the cell for five minutes and already felt the claustrophobia creeping in. Bunty would spend the rest of her life behind bars, or even lose her life, she thought, while the real killer got away; and worse of all, there was nothing she could do to help, since even if she went against the other woman’s desires, the alibi provided by a dear friend would never satisfy a jury.

“But the choice is yours; and in any case, I doubt it would make much difference.” she pointed out “But don’t worry, we’ll find a solution; Father Brown is already working on it.”

Bunty made a valiant effort to laugh. “If the Father is at it I’m in safe hands.”

“I’m glad you think so. Now, is there something you want me to bring you? A book, or a sweater.” (name) proposed; she just wanted to be useful, to bring comfort to her partner, no matter how small or inconsequential her effort could be. Bunty shook her head; there was nothing she needed, just…

“Would you please hug me?” she asked, her voice small; the two of them had done much more than hugging, but that was everything the young woman needed at that moment, and she had never needed it more. (name) didn’t answer; she simply opened her arms and held Bunty tight, and the two of them remained in that position, still but holding on to one another, and parted, not without regret, only when inspector Mallory came to tell them the time at their disposal had run out.

Maksym was sitting on a bench next to the caravan he shared with his family, in the heart of Kembleford’s Polish camp, with an English grammar book open on his lap; nevertheless, study seemed to be the last thing on his mind.

“I thought we had gone over that chapter last week.” Father Brown pointed out gently as he approached, and the boy jumped to his feet, suddenly on edge as if he had been caught while he committed a terrible crime… or he felt guilty for some reason. Only then the priest noticed that despite the warm, sunny day, he wore a heavy scarf around his neck.

“Oh, God, I didn’t finish cleaning the sacristy! I forgot, Father, I’m so sorry, I’ll go straight away…”

“I’m not here for that… or to reproach you, whatever the reason. May I sit for a moment?”

“Of… of course.” Maksym answered, still clearly unsure, and went back to the bench as Father Brown sat next to him; the priest noticed the boy was avoiding his gaze.

“At one point I turned and you had disappeared.” he pointed out, trying not to make it sound like an accusation.

“Well… I’m sorry, but I didn’t want to be a bother, since it was clearly a serious matter; and Inspector Mallory doesn’t like us of the camp. Has… has miss Windermere been arrested?”

“Unfortunately she has; but I am confident we can find a way to prove she is innocent. Did you know him? That man, Tadeusz Chod… how do you pronounce it?”

Maksym shook his head; then, perhaps since his interlocutor was a priest, and a person he liked and trusted, and since no one would believed he didn’t know a person who was part of the same eighty-people community as him, he admitted: “Chodakievicz; yes, I knew him, even though we were not friends or anything. A couple of times he took me for a ride on his brother’s moped.”

“Did you like him?”

“He was alright; he didn’t bully younger boys like some other men do.”

“I see. And what about your parents? Did they know him?”

Maksym didn’t answer; he had hunched his shoulders, as if trying to make himself as small as possible, to disappear, to make his interlocutor forget his presence. Looking at him, Father Brown’s heart filled with pity; confession was supposed to make a person feel better, relieved, but the boy next to him was aware of the implications his words could have, and he felt no joy in pressing him, even if it meant helping Bunty.

“And isn’t it a bit too warm for a scarf? Does your throat hurt?”

“Father, please, let it go…”

“Let me see, Maksym.”

For a moment, the boy looked sorely tempted to make a dash; then, looking like a man walking towards the gallows, he did take his scarf off, exposing his neck… and a large, black bruise on the side of his throat. “I think he was aiming for my face, but he was drunk again, and he missed… sort of.” he explained with a sad smile; an hopeless, resigned smile “He had just woken up when I left; it’s better to stay clear of him, until he’s sober again.”

Father Brown, while filled with indignation for that act of violence, decided not to comment - at least for now. “Why did your father hit you?” he inquired once more “Maybe… you asked him a question he didn’t like?”

Silence.

“Did your father kill Tadeusz?”

Maksym answered that he didn’t know - not for sure, at least. “I am a very deep sleeper, and my dad is used to walk silently, shoes in his hand, when he returns home late from the pub, in case my little sister is sleeping; so I can’t be sure if yesterday he left in the middle of the night and to go to Tadeusz’s to… hurt him. It’s possible, but I have no proof.”

“Did your father and Tadeusz know each other?”

“They did, and… well, they didn’t like each other. They played cards, together with the other men of the camp, and Tadeusz always beat my dad. It was stupid, really, it wasn’t a matter of money, just… my dad couldn’t stand the fact that a man much younger than him ridiculed him in front of his friends; they had already come to blows more than once. Maybe yesterday Tadeusz made fun of him because my dad had lost against him again, and then he got drunk, and when I… when I asked him whether he had done something to Tadeusz he didn’t answer, but he hit me…”

Maksym’s smile was full of sadness: he was tall for his age, more mature than men twice as old and he worked already to help support his family, but in that moment he looked lost and scared, like a child begging to be reassured everything would be all right.

“I know what you came to ask me, Father.” he whispered “And I can’t do it.”

“Yes, you can. I dare say you must.”

“You don’t understand. I’m sorry for Tadeusz, and for miss Windermere, I like her and it’s terrible she’s been accused of a murder she didn’t commit, but this is my father we’re talking about! We need him; we have so little money already, and he’s the only one in my family who has a stable job, without him me, my mother and my little sister will starve! I’m ashamed of what he did, and I know he deserves to pay, but I can’t do it, because…”

“... because you love him. Am I right?”

The boy nodded, only once, as if he were ashamed of that as well. “He’s not always bad.” he murmured “It’s the alcohol that makes him do bad things. He treats my mom very well, and he’s usually patient with my little sister, even when she cries all night. Sometimes the two of us go fishing at the brook, and we talk; I like those moments. Also, he’s been in trouble with the law already, when he was younger; if he’s convicted of murder, he… I can’t take that responsibility, Father, I don’t want him to go; I… I’d miss him too much.”

Father Brown sighed, and admitted Maksym’s situation was one no child deserved to find himself in, especially at his age. “I’m sure you’ll do the right thing.” he conceded, and the boy looked at him, clearly surprised.

“That’s it?” he inquired “You’re not going to insist, to tell me that I should be ashamed of myself, because I’m letting an innocent woman take the blame for a murder, and that God will punish me for that?”

“I have no intention of doing that… especially regarding that last point. You’re old enough to decide what to do… and I’ll consider this a confession, which means I’ll never tell a soul.”

“Not even the police?”

“Not even the police. I know how hard this is for you, Maksym, and I’m sorry; but whatever you decide to do, I’ll support you. You have my word.”

The boy nodded silently, staring at the (now closed) book on his lap. He bit his lip, as if searching for the courage to pose a question he didn’t want to hear the answer of.

“Do you think they’ll give him the death sentence?”

Father Brown didn’t answer, but his pained, bitter expression was answer enough. For a while they remained sitting side by side, both lost in their own thoughts, the boy still too young for the responsibility he was about to take, and the older priest who felt guilty for the pain he was inflicting, even though for the best of reasons. In the end, Maksym sobbed, just once, as if aware he had more important things to do than crying and didn’t want to waste any time.

“If he’s awake… and sober… will you help me talk to him?” he asked, and Father Brown nodded, resting his hand on the boy’s shoulder.

“Of course.”

Two days ago

It was early morning when Lucaszek Czarniecki, forty-five years old, labourer by trade, turned up at the Kembleford Police Station, accompanied by Father Brown, walking behind him silently, and by his older son, who held his hand. They all looked sombre, but while the priest seemed pensive, a quiet sort of resignation tinged the face of father and son, making the family resemblance all the more striking.

“It’s going to be alright, tatus” Maksym promised; his father didn’t look like he believed him, but nodded in response.

Today

The grand opening of the Sweet Serenade ice cream parlour took place three days later than expected, but the success was immediate, and undisputed; the whole population of Kembleford, children as well as adults, seemed to be present, and the two local papers had also sent reporters and photographers. (name), wearing a dress the same colour of the shop’s walls, did the honours, personally preparing cones and cups and welcoming everyone. While nervous, the young woman was clearly happy, and every compliment and congratulation she received seemed to put her a little more at ease.

“Here’s your ice cream, father.” (name) said, standing behind the counter, as she handed the priest the cone she had just prepared; many other attendees had been served already, and judging from the many satisfied and impressed faces all around, it seemed like the ice cream shop had already gained many faithful clients “And a lemon and strawberry cup for mrs McCarthy, here you go. Please, take a spoon…”

Father Brown and his parish secretary thanked her and wasted no time before tasting their ice creams, which were as delicious as they expected. “You must be very proud of yourself, (name).” the priest said, and the young woman winked in response; she was wearing an apron over her dress.

“Let’s say I think I deserve it.”

“You want to take a break? I’ll man the place.” Bunty proposed as she joined the other woman; she looked way better, and happier, than two days before, and she shared a smile (name) returned, her eyes full of affection.

“Have you ever used an ice cream spatula?”

“No, but how hard can it be?”

“I’ll show you another time. But I think I can take…”

(name) stopped mid-sentence; following her eyes, the others noticed a group of boys and girls, residents of the village’s Polish camp, who had just entered the shop, all wearing their Sunday best, shy but curious. Father Brown and the three women smiled.

“Maksym, you came!” (name) exclaimed, leaving the space behind the counter to meet the boy leading the group.

“Thanks for inviting us again, miss (last name).” he answered; he was pale, and clearly upset, but there was a trace of relief on his young face, as if he had just recovered from a long illness… even though it would take him years to feel healthy again “Especially after what happened. Hello Father, mrs McCarthy, miss Windermere.

“How are things at home, Maksym?” the older woman asked kindly.

“I think well, all things considered. My father has been arrested for Tadeusz’s murder, but since he spontaneously confessed, he’ll be able to avoid the death penalty. I’ll go visit him every time I can.”

“It was very brave of you to urge him to confess.” Bunty pointed out gently “And I am very grateful you did, since otherwise I would be the one behind bars.”

Maksym smiled faintly at her; clearly knowing he was doing the right thing had not made it easier, and he still felt guilty for convincing his father to leave the family and give himself up.

“Well, you were innocent; and Father Brown made me realise it wouldn’t have been right to let you take the blame for something you hadn’t done. I’m so sorry for what happened; my father told me he doesn’t know you, but he found your handbag in a drawer in Tadeusz’s caravan as he searched for money and he thought that it would make the police think it had been a woman to kill him…”

“No hard feelings, darling; let’s not speak of it again.”

“I have something to say instead.” (name) intervened “Maksym, Father Brown told me he’s very satisfied with you as St Mary’s new cleaner. Do you have any other client besides him?”

“Well… no, actually.” the boy answered, clearly surprised “After all I have just started…”

“In that case, how about you come work with me as well? Here at the shop; you’d have to clean the place a couple hours per day, before and after the opening hours.”

“Are you… are you serious?”

“Of course. I could train you as well, if you want, and you’d still have time to work for other people… and go to school, of course; that comes first.”

Maksym hesitated, torn between joy and embarrassment. “You’re not only offering because my father is in jail, are you?” he asked “And because I helped your friend? I appreciate it, really, but there’s no need.”

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about. I just need someone to do the cleaning around here, and if the shop is a success, like I hope, I’ll probably need an assistant as well. And if in the meantime I can help a hard-working young man support his family, so much the better. But you should know, I’ll make you work hard… and you can eat all the ice cream you want, obviously.”

“That’s amazing!” Maksym exclaimed, beaming at her; he clearly wasn’t just talking about the free ice cream “Thank you, miss (last name), thank you so much. I promise you won’t regret it.”

(name) said she was sure of it, and she and Maksym arranged to meet on the next day; the boy then returned to his friends.

“You did a very good thing, (name).”

The young woman smiled. “As I said, Father, I can’t take care of the shop all by myself; but yes, I’m glad I can help that poor boy, especially since he may very well have saved Bunty’s life.”

Father Brown admitted that at the moment Maksym and his family did need all the support they could get; but they would manage, and the parish would try and help as well.

“On my part, I’m simply relieved I won't have to spend another night behind bars; Mallory wasn’t particularly happy he had to let me go.” Bunty commented “And also, last night I told my parents I am in a relationship with another woman.”

“What?!”

As everyone stared at her, Bunty explained that, since Lucaszek Czarniecki had confessed his crime, it was no longer necessary for her to provide an alibi for the night Tadeusz Chodakievicz had been killed, and consequently that there was no need for her relationship with (name) to become public. “But I decided to do it all the same, since, a very wise woman once told me, a situation like this can help you distinguish between people who actually care about you and people who don’t. Last night I… called my parents to tell them about (name), that we are together and that I don’t intend to give up on her in any case.”

Father Brown looked impressed. “And how did they react?”

Bunty’s smile dimmed. “More or less like I imagined. The way my mother cried, you would have thought I had actually killed someone; and my father told me I am the shame of the family and he doesn’t want to see me at home ever again. I think he’s seriously considering disinheriting me.”

“Considering he has no other children I doubt he’ll actually do it.” an amused voice commented from the shop’s entrance.

“Lady Felicia!” (name), mrs McCarthy and Father Brown exclaimed almost as one, while the woman, elegantly dressed in a strawberry-pink dress with matching hat and shoes, approached; Bunty almost ran to her.

“Aunt Fliss! What are you doing here?”

“I had been planning to come back for a visit next week, but this morning your father called me, and told me about your… confession; I think he expected me to agree with him, and wanted me to try and change your mind. Obviously I made it clear I am on your side, completely and uncompromisingly, and I decided to come earlier… especially because apparently I got here just in time for an important event!”

Felicia, who had patronised the country’s most exclusive clubs and restaurants, looked all around her, impressed. “(name), this is really amazing. You have completely transformed this place, and look at how many people came! You must be really proud of yourself. Congratulations.”

“Thank you so much, lady Felicia.” the younger woman answered, beaming at her “Can I make you a cone? What flavour would you like?”

Felicia left her the choice (“But please, no vanilla.”), and once (name) had left she circled Bunty’s shoulders with her arm.

“Your father will change his mind; give him time.” she reassured her “I don’t think he’ll ever approve of your choice, but deep down he does love you, and I think in the end he’ll come to terms with it, at least about forbidding you from returning home.”

Bunty shrugged; not unlike Maksym, she felt mostly at peace, and a little bitter, knowing her discussion with her father simply couldn’t have gone well. “I really hope so. I’m sorry if he’s angry, and if I made mom cry, but I’ll find a way to go on, and a job to support myself. In any case, I was tired of hiding, you know? It wasn’t fair; (name) deserved better.”

“You both deserve it, darling; and I’m very happy for you both.” Felicia said, resting her hand on her niece’s shoulder. Bunty smiled; it might take years before her parents spoke to her again, but fortunately at least part of her family was on her side.

“Thank you, aunt Fliss; you don’t know how much this means to me.”

Felicia told her niece she absolutely wanted to take her and her girlfriend out to lunch to celebrate, on the next day; Bunty said she was fine with it. “I’ll ask (name).” she promised, before waltzing to her partner, who had gone back behind the counter.

They had been apart only for ten seconds, but (name) greeted Bunty with a kiss on her cheek. “Did I hear her wrong or your aunt called me your girlfriend?”

“She did. Why? Something wrong with it?”

“No, it’s not that.”

(name) handed a client the cone she had just prepared, and then took Bunty’s hands in hers, perfectly aware and unconcerned that many of the attendees could see them, and gossip about it. “That was very brave of you, Bunty; I really appreciate it.” she said; and she really did, so much that now she felt guilty her partner had to confront her own father for her sake “It’s just… I hope you didn’t feel forced to…”

“By you? Not at all.” Bunty answered confidently; the phone conversation with her father had not been pleasant, hearing her mother cry and beg her to reconsider even less, but as she looked at (name)’s grateful and happy smile, she was sure she had made the right choice, one she would never regret no matter the consequences. “In any case, I hope you’re prepared, because from now on you won’t be able to escape.”

“I think I can cope with that.”

There was no need to say more; the two women shared a smile, and then (name) showed Bunty how to use a spatula to prepare an ice cream for her aunt; as they talked, they let their hands brush against each other. Father Brown and lady Felicia, now alone, looked at the two of them for a while, before exchanging a smile of their own.

“As I thought, living here in Kembleford with you was good for Bunty, Father. Just like it was for me.

“I’m not sure the merit is mine.” the priest confessed; he smiled as he enjoyed his ice cream “But I’m glad for them as well.”

#Father Brown #Father Brown 2013 #Bunty Windermere #Bunty Windermere x reader #Emer Kenny #Bellona's stuff

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