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writingsbychlo · 3 months

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PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE | mattheo riddle

summary; mattheo is your slightly toxic, slightly unhinged, but absolutely adoring and completely obsessed boyfriend.

word count; 7077

notes; literally the moment I started watching the PPP music video I was like 'oh it's so matty coded' and this came to mind immediately. I didn't intend for it to get so long, it was supposed to be a short drabble. whoops.

The first time you met Mattheo Riddle, you were just walking out of detention as he was walking in.

Well, being dragged in by Madam Hooch, more like. He had blood on his face, and his knuckles, and he was smirking to himself as a sorry-looking Cormac trailed them inside. His eyes met yours, he’d winked, and you’d both continued to watch one another over your shoulders as you crossed paths, until the door shut.

You were his, from that very first moment.

The following days brought stolen glances across the classrooms and the Great Hall, his arrogant smirks and your shy smiles, and the look on his face that made you blush. You had to see him again, and opportunity presented itself that same Thursday, in Potions class, as Mattheo argued with Snape over… something.

You’d tuned out, preferring to sit and watch him. He was just so pretty when he was mad.

“That will be detention, Mr Riddle.” Snape drawled in that monotonous tone of his, and Mattheo glared across the classroom at the professor, who looked like he couldn't have cared less if he tried. “Unless anybody else has any objections, we can return to—”

Your book hit the ground with a resounding thud. The sound of it echoed around the room, and all eyes turned to you. You weren’t sure what exactly had brought it on, and your friends stared at you, horrified about the disruption. An excuse sat on the tip of your tongue, but then your eyes met those enchanting honey-brown ones, and he was smirking at you once again, a single brow raised.

“Motherfucker.” You squeaked out, and after a pause that felt like it lasted an eternity, your professor sighed.

“Very well. Detention for you, too.”

Your jaw dropped, heat flushed your face, and Mattheo’s smirk stretched into a smile. Another wink, and you were a goner.

That same evening in detention, you’d been punctual and prompt, and he had sauntered in fifteen minutes late, sliding into the chair right beside you. Whispered conversations became jokes and confessions, inching closer and closer together, until you could count every little freckle that danced across his nose, and taste the nicotine and mint still on his breath when he spoke. His eyes held you captive, the stories he told had you on the edge of your seat, and the way his hand slid up your thigh had you burning.

Your first kiss was a month later, when he’d made you promise not to get any more detentions just to see him. Instead, you’d waited outside the classroom, and the moment he’d been out, he’d given you that same flirty grin. Pressed up into the stone wall behind you, with one of his hands beside your head as the other sat on your waist, his tongue had slipped into your mouth. He’d tasted like chocolate and cigarettes, and you’d been intoxicated.

And when he pulled back, his softest smile yet on his face as his hand had taken your own, you’d known that he was yours, too.

“What do you mean you’re going out with Mattheo Riddle?” Your friend hissed, her eyes wide as the two of you huddled close together, ducking along the corridors as you hurried to your next class.

“Well, I mean that he asked me out on a date, and I said yes, so—”

“Don’t be sassy with me!” She scoffed, and you smiled, shrugging. She really had left herself wide open for that, it wasn’t your fault you took the chance she presented. “He’s bad news.”

“Oh, come on. What does that even mean?”

“It means that he’s bad for you. He’s bad for everyone!” Finally reaching the classroom —early, as always— the two of you settled in at your desk, unpacking your books, and still whispering despite the empty classroom you found yourselves in. Not even the professor had arrived yet. “He’s always getting in fights, and he’s always in trouble or detention, and— hey! I bet he’s the reason you’ve been getting a string of detentions lately, huh?”

You had no rebuff to that, heat coating your cheeks but you couldn't hide the smile that grew on your face at the mere thought of all your detention time spent together. “He told me not to do that anymore, that’s why he asked for a date! See? He’s good for me.”

“Oh, gee, what a saint he is.” She muttered, eyes rolling so hard you thought they’d fall out. All humour slowly dissipated between you both, and she frowned and opened her notebook, dipping a quill in fresh ink. As the seconds ticked by, tension grew between you both that you didn’t like.

“Look, I know what people say about him, and the reputation he has, but he’s not like that with me. He’s not been like that with me.” Your hand lifted, scratching your cheek subconsciously. “It’s… not our first date. It’s just the first one I’ve told you about, because I knew you’d react like this. But, if you knew him like I did, you’d understand…”

Your voice trailed off, dreamy with a sigh and she turned to look at you. One of her brows raised as she put down her quill delicately. A beat passed, and her shoulders sagged, a little of the tension slipping free. “He really makes you happy? Because… I’m just worried about you, y’know?”

“I know, and I love you for that. But I just need you to be happy for me right now.”

“He’s going to break your heart. He’s going to make you cry, and hate the world, and I don’t like that.”

Your hand slipped to hers, taking it in yours and squeezing. Flicking through your mind was the confidence brought on by every sweet word he whispered in your ear. All the soft kisses and touches. They didn’t know the kindness, and the devotion, and the loyalty.

How could they, when they never gave him a chance? But his friends did, they saw the same side of him that you did. The version of him that would defend their name, and stop at nothing to make them happy. The version of him that didn’t believe the lies and the rumours, and never even looked at any other girls.

They didn’t know how funny he was, how secretly cuddly he was, or how he just craved a little attention. They didn’t see him on the nights he’d sneak into your dorm just to crawl into bed and hold you, or the flowers he’d drop off outside your door. They didn’t see the love-hearts written on the corners of his notes in class or the way he got grumpy if he went too long without affection.

You had good taste. You knew you did. It was just a shame nobody else saw it.

“He won’t, I know he won’t.”

“I hope for your sake he proves me wrong.”

Mattheo was nothing if not a sweet-talker. He’d spent the morning covering you with kisses, and whispering into your ear about the date he would take you on tonight. By the end of the day, you’d been kissed on every inch of your face, and the husky tone of his voice was still ringing in your ears as he bid you goodbye, and promised to pick you up in a few hours.

He’d been right on time, too. Knocking at your door at seven on the dot with flowers in hand and a whole new batch of compliments rolling off of his tongue. Gods, did Mattheo love to make you blush. Everything from looking you up and down seductively, to telling you that you were the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen, he did it all.

He kissed you like you were the only woman in the world, like he wanted you to feel his love and devotion as much as he spoke the words, and you melted into him every time. Whether it was a brush of his lips over your own, or his hands grasping at your body, pulling you so close you nearly fused as his mouth claimed yours, he did all of it so passionately.

Now, he was kissing your knuckles, guiding you toward one of the more expensive restaurants in Hogsmeade, one you’d never been to before, and grinning at your expression.

“Matty, this place isn’t cheap!”

“Nothing will be good enough for my girl, but certainly nothing cheap. For now, this is the best I can give to you.” Tugging you in close, the two of you stood outside of the beautifully decorated little building, and he nudged his nose against yours. “One day, I’ll take you all around the world, to eat the best food with the best views.”

“Oh…” Your hands settled on his face, thumbs rubbing across his cheeks as he smiled, and you pressed a kiss on his lips in gratitude as words seemed to escape you entirely. “I love you.”

“I love you more, pretty girl.” His arms were tight around your waist, not quite ready to go yet, and his lips parted like there was something more he had to say. “Listen, when we get in there, I just have to speak to one of the workers real quick, okay?”

“Okay.” It didn’t seem all that concerning to you, and with a final kiss to your lips, he was holding open the restaurant door for you. His hand was warm in your own as he led you through the building. But then he was guiding you right past the hostess station, and you glanced back to it, but his feet never stopped moving, and you hurried to keep up with him.

Past tables and other workers, your jaw dropped with a soft gasp as he let himself into the back of the restaurant.

“Matty, I don’t think we’re allowed back here…”

“Don’t worry about it, baby.” Mattheo smiled, leaving another kiss on your cheek as he let go of your hand. “Wait here for me, ‘kay? I just need to speak to one of the chefs.”

With that, he was disappearing into the kitchens, and you leaned back against the wall, staring at the clock opposite you. Seconds ticked past, turning into minutes, ten of them, to be precise, before the shouting started. Mattheo was yelling, you’d know his voice anywhere, and when you poked your head around the doorframe and into the kitchen, it was to find him holding a vaguely familiar-looking chef by the collar, and slamming him into a wall.

“Mattheo!”

Your voice fell on deaf ears, as the two began to push. Mattheo’s back hit the counter behind him, a sickening smack and a grunt of pain, before the two were throwing fists. Every crunch of bones on skin and every rattling sound of a body hitting the workstations and countertops made your stomach turn. You covered your ears, turning your back on it all and shaking your head.

You didn’t need to see that.

Eventually, the other chefs stepped in, dragging Mattheo out of the backdoor. When it was all over, you apologised profusely as you hurried through the kitchen to follow after him, hopping over the boy he’d beaten half-senseless who was groaning on the floor.

Stepping out through the backdoor, Mattheo was pacing, spitting a bloody mouthful out onto the floor, and his head snapped up in your direction. Only when he realised who it was did his gaze soften, and he wiped his palm across the back of his mouth.

A few seconds of silence passed as the shock settled and you checked he was okay, and when he reached for you, you turned from him. Storming away down the alley, you heard his frustrated groan behind you, the sound of him kicking a trash can, before he was hurrying after you.

“Okay, I know that wasn’t how the evening was supposed to go—”

“Oh, it wasn’t?” Your laugh was so dry it almost made your chest hurt, and you didn't even bother to look back at him as you began to walk back through Hogsmeade.

“I fucked up, I know—”

“Understatement of the century.” You muttered, ignoring his attempts at excuses and explanations as you wove through the streets. People offered you both funny looks, no doubt because of the blood running from his nose as he tried to stop it, the pair of you mid-argument.

When you reached the edges of the town, Mattheo fell into step beside you, his hand skimming down your back, burning into you through the thin fabric of your dress. A dress that had been a damn waste to put on.

“Don’t touch me.” You hissed, slapping his hand away from your lower back, and he whined.

“Oh, come on, baby. I’m sorry.”

“You’re not sorry! You planned this, and told me we were going on a date!” Your arms crossed over your chest as you stomped back out of the small village, beginning the walk back towards the school. “You lied to me!”

“Woah, now! Hey! I never lied! I fully intended to—” He huffed as you continued to walk ahead of him, all but speeding in your heels until you wobbled, and he cursed under his breath, catching you to steady you. Spinning you around, he tipped your chin up with one finger. “Listen, pretty girl. I never meant for all this to happen, okay? I meant it when I said I’d made us a reservation. I just figured I’d go and get my money from this guy, maybe even let him off a few galleons so he’d give us better service, and then we’d have a nice date. I didn’t expect him to start a fight!”

“He didn’t start the fight, you did!” You poked a finger into his chest, and he winced. Obviously, you’d found a bruise by mistake. Smoothing your palm over it in way of a silent apology, his hand cupped yours, holding it over his heart. “You said ‘Let’s take this outside’.”

“Okay, well, I was calling his bluff. I didn’t expect him to actually take me up on it!”

Your jaw tightened, and your lip wobbled. You felt ridiculous, you’d gotten all dressed up, and you were hungry, and he’d let you down. At your expression, his own face crumpled, and he sighed sadly as he cupped your cheeks.

“Please, baby, don’t cry because of me. You look so pretty, you did your makeup so nice, I don’t want you to cry because of me. Let’s just go back and find somewhere else to eat, yeah?”

“I don’t want to, and we can’t! You’re dirty and bleeding, and you’ve got a black eye coming on. We can’t go anywhere.” You muttered, crossing your arms. He leaned in, kissing the corner of your mouth.

“I’m sorry. I love you, more than anything. I really didn’t mean for it to go like this. I won’t let it happen again.”

“Promise me.” You huffed, gaze finally returning to his, and he nodded emphatically. “No more acting stupid in front of me.”

“I promise, sweet girl. I’ll never mix business with pleasure again, okay? When I’m with you, it’s all you.”

Just like that, he had your walls crumbling. How could you stay mad at him, when he smiled so sweetly, and made you feel so special? You gave in, one hand lifting to his cheek, touching gently at the swollen skin around the cut on his face. He hissed and pulled back, and your frown only deepened. “C’mon, you can come to my dorm, I’ll clean you up.”

“You’re gonna’ clean me up?” His smile was like that of a puppy, taking your hand happily and guiding you back along the path. “I tell you what, I’ll force Nott to sneak into the kitchens and make us some pasta, in exchange for the room to himself tonight, how’s that?”

“And where will you be sleeping?” You smirked, and he matched it, shrugging.

“I don’t know. Maybe the cold, stone floor in front of the common room fireplace.” Your eyes rolled, and he dipped his head, leaving a kiss on your neck. “Or maybe, my loving girlfriend will let me stay over, and I’ll make it worth her while…”

“I don’t want to look at your battered face.”

“Put a pillow over my head and get on top, then.” He snickered, and your jaw dropped.

“Matty!”

You brushed your fingers through Mattheo’s curls, and a sleepy rumble emanated from him. He nuzzled in a little closer. The tip of his nose rubbed your sternum and his arms tightened around you. He pressed a lazy kiss to your skin through your tee, melting into you further with the sigh he let go.

You’d spent all day dozing on and off together, lounging in bed, and watching movies. You’d dragged yourself up at some point to grab a book, an attempt to be productive, but Mattheo had quickly put an end to that as he dragged you back into the sheets. Now, the evening was rolling around, the sun was setting, and the stagnation of the day was beginning to become bothersome.

With another huffed-out sigh, Mattheo lifted his head, a frown on his lips as your hand slipped down to his cheek. He was sleep rumpled, a crease across his cheek from where he’d been lying on you, and you rubbed it soothingly.

“I could do with some fresh air,” He eventually mumbled, twisting his head to kiss the palm of your hand. “Let’s go for a walk or something.”

Your heart stuttered in your chest. Lately, he’d been getting into all sorts of arguments and fights. Never with you, no, your little disagreements ended with him conceding and kissing you senseless. But, he’d been drawing a lot of extra attention to himself lately, and it wasn’t all that positive. You weren’t so keen to have another date ruined by his fighting or being dragged off to detention.

“Maybe the courtyard?”

“We could stay here?” You suggested, and he pursed his lips, shaking his head.

“No, I want to go out. You don’t have to come, baby. I’ll just go for a smoke break, I’m sure Theo is knocking around here somewhere.” With that, he hauled himself up from the bed, and you watched him go. Stretching out muscles that hadn't been utilised all day, you bit your lip, tangled up in the sheets still as you watched him fetch a fresh t-shirt and tug it on, before searching for a pair of jeans.

You couldn't very well let him go alone, if he did, he’d smoke, and you hated that. But if you did go with him, you’d spend the whole time trying to stop him from riling up the Gryffindors he seemed to be having so many problems with recently.

He found a pair, tugging them up his legs and buttoning them at his waist. He was determined to go then, and you rolled over to prop your head up on your arm.

“I really can’t convince you to stay?” You teased, sneaking a bare leg out from under the covers that led all the way up, and giving him a flash of what else lay underneath. Rolling onto your stomach and letting the sheets fall, his eyes fell straight to the skimpy little bit of lace you’d donned earlier, barely classifying as underwear at all.

He groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. “I’m gonna’ need a few more hours before I can go again, pretty girl. No matter how much you tease me with that little thong of yours.”

It was futile, once his mind was set, it was done. “Alright, fine.” You murmured, lips puckering as he leaned over the bed to give you a quick kiss. “I’ll come with you.”

“You will?” His face lit up, and guilt instantly flooded you.

It wasn’t necessarily his fault. It was just a part of his culture. He’d been raised on impulsivity and violence and arguments. You knew all about his home life, his childhood and his upbringing. He’d had a rough time of it, the grizzly truth unveiled to you between late-night kisses and midnights at the tower as he smoked. You were surprised he even possessed the limited emotional functions he did, unlike his brother. You were supposed to guide him, to help him see better, to love him right and show him the purity of it.

He tugged on your hands, an excited smile on his face as he helped you out of the sheets. He found your denim skirt on the floor, holding it out for you and letting you balance on his shoulders as you wobbled into it.

“How about the forest, instead?”

At least there would be fewer people there. He nodded his head, swiping a kiss to your cheek as he mumbled a spell to set the bed off on making itself. “Whatever you want, baby.”

“I could do with some fresh air,” He eventually mumbled, twisting his head to kiss the palm of your hand. “Let’s go for a walk or something.”

“Maybe the courtyard?”

“We could stay here?” You suggested, and he pursed his lips, shaking his head.

He found a pair, tugging them up his legs and buttoning them at his waist. He was determined to go then, and you rolled over to prop your head up on your arm.

He groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. “I’m gonna’ need a few more hours before I can go again, pretty girl. No matter how much you tease me with that little thong of yours.”

It was futile, once his mind was set, it was done. “Alright, fine.” You murmured, lips puckering as he leaned over the bed to give you a quick kiss. “I’ll come with you.”

“You will?” His face lit up, and guilt instantly flooded you.

“How about the Lake, instead?”

At least there would be fewer people there. He nodded his head, swiping a kiss to your cheek as he mumbled a spell to set the bed off on making itself. “Whatever you want, baby.”

It would surely end badly, something or someone would send him into a spiral. But, until that happened, you wanted to soak up every second of that smile on his face, that you put there so easily. How anyone could think he was bad, when he smiled so sweetly, was beyond you.“Baby, wake up.” The words were mumbled tenderly into your ear, and you groaned a little at the hand gently shaking your shoulder. “Come on, pretty girl, open those eyes.”

“What, Matty? It’s the middle of the night.”

“I know, that’s why it’s the perfect time!” Excitement tinged his voice, and as you forced your eyelids open, you found him standing at the edge of your bed, wand lit up dimly, and your coat in his hand. “Get up, baby. We’re going for a walk.”

“Now?”

“Yes. You don’t think the stars and the moon are romantic? Isn’t there just something… better about the night?”

Your smile was against your will, sitting up slowly and swinging your feet out of the bed, suppressing a yawn. “You’re lucky I wore full pyjamas to bed tonight.”

“You mean I could’ve walked in here to find you naked?” He clasped a hand over his heart, letting out a pained groan. He handed you his wand to hold, before dropping to his knees before you.

“No, you perv! I meant that I’m wearing full-leg pyjamas, not my shorts!”

He only snickered to himself, while navigating your trainers onto your feet and tying the laces up for you. Once they were secure, he took his wand back, sliding it into his back pocket and clasping your hands in his own. With a kiss on your lips, he wrapped the warm coat over your shoulders. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be, Matty.”

He grinned at that, taking your hand, and leading you through the silent halls. Twigs snapped under your feet as you crossed the courtyard together, giggling and shushing each other, and you had to admit that he was right. Both the adrenaline of it all, and the beauty of the scenery, made for the perfect blend of excitement and romance.

As you cleared the school building and began to make your way out across the fields, Mattheo’s arm looped around your waist, supporting you through every dip and hole in the grass, never letting you so much as stumble.

“Nearly there.” He whispered into the cold night air as you approached the quidditch grounds, the different house flags blowing gently in the summer breeze.

“Nearly where? I thought we were just going for a walk.”

He didn’t reply, and only a couple of steps later, the barely concealed voices of several of his friends carried across the pitch towards you both. “Mattheo Riddle, I swear to Merlin, if you’ve brought me along on one of your ridiculous schemes—” You shrieked, cutting yourself off as one of the Weasley’s firecrackers shot past your head, between the two of you, and Theodore’s laughter echoed out, following it.

“Oi, Nott, watch it. If that’d hit my girl, the next thing to be hit would be your face on the fuckin’ concrete.”

“Relax, she ducked! No harm, no foul. Right, principessa?” Theo smirked, seeming to appear from the shadows as he sparked his lighter, and brought the flame to the end of his cigarette. Lorenzo was there too, a bag over one shoulder that rattled suspiciously as he came towards the three of you, and your arms crossed protectively over your body.

“Matty, what is this?”

“Don’t flirt with my girl in Italian.” Mattheo glared at his friend, but it soon melted away as he was handed the cigarette, and Theo tucked his hands into his pockets, appraising you.

“This, bella, is revenge.”

“What did I just say about the Italian—?”

“Why do you need revenge?” Your words crossed Mattheo’s who only huffed, but remained quiet as he passed the cigarette beyond you to Enzo. Nobody answered, and your boyfriend shuffled from one foot to the other as your narrowed gaze turned on him. “Mattheo.”

“The Gryffindors were talking shot about our upcoming game, and McLaggen and his mates thought it’d be funny to charm all our jerseys pink for practice, so we’re just getting even.”

“Why do I get the feeling that whatever you’re about to do is far beyond ‘even’? Pink jerseys don’t seem equal to… whatever you’re doing here. I want no part of it.” You spun on your heel, but didn’t get very far, not even a single step, before Mattheo was wrapping an arm around your waist, and pulling you into himself. You jabbed a finger into his chest, putting the full heat of your wrath into your stare, “You said we were going for a walk!”

“We are! We did. Look, this is gonna’ be fun, you’ll see. I know how much that one Gryffindor chick has been pissing you off lately. I'm getting revenge for you too, here!” He cupped your cheek, running his thumb over your lips, before planting a kiss there. “I’m avenging you, baby.”

He took your hand, pulling you along behind him with the kind of infectious excitement that made you smile, even when you didn’t want to. Sitting down on one of the benches, you watched with an amused smile at the way he and his friends whispered conspiratorially amongst themselves as they thought through just what they might do.

That innocent adoration you had didn’t last long.

You’d been expecting a few stink bombs in lockers and foul-smelling potions tipped into the shower drains that would stink for weeks. Maybe even a hex or two for inconvenience. A shriek burst past your lips as another of Theodore’s rockets shot past your head, screeching as it went and your hands clasped over your ears.

He was letting them off, inside. Glitter exploded everywhere, the few flaming pieces of ash sprinkling down eroded holes in the towels and jerseys hanging on hooks around the locker room. Glass shattered somewhere, and Theo all but howled with laughter as the rocket shot off into the night sky to fizzle out with a colourful bang.

Enzo was spray-painting something on the walls in the shower room, following his rude and physically impossible message spray-painted on the inside of the door that he was still snickering to himself about.

Mattheo was systematically unlocking all of the cupboards, and placing a different bad-luck hex on every single piece of equipment. After leaving a sporadic spiral-dive hex on one of the brooms and putting it back, you’d had enough.

Sweeping your hair out of your eyes, you stood, making your way over to his side. “Matty…”

“Yeah, baby?” He was distracted as he mumbled his response, careful wand-work as he charmed one of the beater’s bats to flop like wet spaghetti every time they tried to hit something.

“Mattheo.”

At your tone, and the use of his full name, he looked up. He took in the nervous expression on your face, the sad and pouty frown on your lips, and sighed. “What’s the matter?”

“Don’t you think this is a bit much?”

“They were talking shit about us!”

“You're risking really hurting someone, though!” You gestured around, from his handiwork to the broken window and glass fragments on the floor. “You’re actually damaging school property!”

“A few spells will have it cleaned up in no time. Don’t be dramatic.”

You gaped at him for a second, before walking away, turning your back to him and plopping down back onto the bench with a huff. Behind you, you heard him kick something, swearing under his breath, before he stepped back into your sight. When you didn’t look up at him, he dropped down to his knees, forcing himself into your line of vision.

He has his puppy dog eyes on, and pressed a kiss to each of your hands as he took them in his own. “I didn’t mean it like that, pretty girl. I just meant… you don’t get it. This is what we do. You’re just too sweet for this, you wouldn't hurt a fly. But this could be so much worse, it’s all a bit of fun, just trust me, yeah? I’m getting them back, for me, and for you.”

“But it’s a lot. And I never asked you to get even for me.” You whispered, and he nodded.

“You don’t have to ask. I protect you, that’s what I do. It’s you and me, baby. For life.” You softened a little at that, and he noticed, his smile growing again as he knelt up, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips. “I won’t do anymore, how’s that? I’ll round up the boys, and we’ll get out of—”

Just then, voices flickered through the room. The angry, panicked shouting of at least six different people, rapidly got louder as they neared the space you occupied. Enzo clambered up onto one of the window ledges, and peered out of the broken glass. “Oh, shit. They know. ‘Least ten Lions, coming this way. And fast. Fucking go!”

The first spell bounced through the open glass, sending shards flying as it caught the last of the jagged spikes still on the frame, just as Enzo ducked out of the way. Theo scrabbled past, and out of the back door, Enzo quickly following, and you jumped to your feet as Mattheo did.

Another spell burst through, bouncing on the locked door, and the muffled voices of your accomplices felt a million miles away as fear struck through your body. The door rattled again, the lock creaking as the half-arsed spell they’d sealed it with threatened to give way. The pounding of your heart in your chest was deafening, roaring in your ears—

Then, a hand clamped down on yours, pulling you along. “Baby girl, let’s go! Come on, what are you doing?”

Mattheo tugged on your hand, like a splash of cold water the jolt he made snapped you to your senses. You stumbled after him, staring at his bouncing curls and the flush of his cheeks as he looked at you, guiding you out of the backdoor and into the night. Stumbling down the hill, the two of you ran so fast you almost fell several times, angry shouts following you out into the night as flashes and flickers of bright spells whizzed past you constantly.

You let Mattheo guide you, running until your lungs burned and your chest ached from your pounding heart, but you’d lost them. You’d lost Theo and Enzo, too. Silence shrouded you both as you finally came to a stop, only the lapping water at the shore of the lake and both of your soft pants to break the heavy quiet.

He turned to you, one hand lifting to tuck some hair behind your ear, and you glared at him as he leaned in to kiss one of your no-doubt flushed cheeks.

“You are so beautiful.” He whispered, knuckles still tracing up and down your jaw as he stared at you under the moonlight.

“I’m so mad at you for that. I hate running, and panicking, and vandalising. All the things I hate, you just wrapped ‘em up in one.”

He smiled something wicked, and leaned in, to bump his nose with your own. “You love me, though.”

“Debatable, right now.” Your scoff was lost as he pressed soft kisses to your lips, coaxing you into remembering just how much you loved him. You were ashamed to say that it worked, as you parted your mouth a little more to reciprocate.

You felt his smile pressed to your mouth as he did, that hand on your cheek smoothing out, fingers in your hair as he cupped your head, and angled your face for a deeper kiss.

You were once again both panting by the time he pulled away, satisfied and smitten.

“Come on, my angry girl. Let’s go for that walk now, yeah? Just me and you for a stroll around the lake.”

You winced as another cracking sounded out, the echo of Mattheo’s fist against the cocky Ravenclaw’s jaw had your stomach rolling. A boy you’d never much cared about. He was entitled and arrogant, and tended to run his mouth a little too much. He thought he was the best thing to grace the halls of Hogwarts, and a blessing to womankind, and you’d caught his eyes on you a couple of times.

Of course, you’d never mentioned as much to Mattheo, in hopes of sparing him this exact situation. Mattheo didn’t take kindly to lingering gazes, and he didn’t tolerate leering ones at all. He was protective, overprotective, and he was a little bit crazy. He was also in love, and in his opinion, the cat-call the Ravenclaw had given to you and the choice words he’d accompanied it had crossed a line.

And they said Ravenclaws were the smart ones.

So, Mattheo hadn't hesitated. He’d dropped your hand, curled it into a fist, and swung on the boy before he’d even finished smirking at your shocked look.

Now, you were sighing, as he took the Ravenclaw down to the ground, uncaring of the blow to his shoulder as the two rolled over the stone floors. Scuffling and throwing blows, a crowd formed around them, jostling you endlessly from side to side. He was winning, as always, beating the poor boy into the same blue as his house banners, and no amount of pleading on your behalf to just drop it was going to stop him now.

You should’ve been halfway to Hogsmeade by now. You’d never make your reservation, and you’d gotten yourself all dressed up for nothing. Hours wasted on hair and make-up and picking out the perfect outfit for this date, all for Mattheo’s impulsive temper and one gross creep to ruin it.

The two continued to brawl, fists slamming, feet kicking, and blood splattering as the crowd cheered and shouted so loud it was deafening. You’d learnt it the hard way a long time ago that you couldn't do anything to stop him now, not when he got into this state, without risking getting hurt yourself. All you could do was wait, and hope.

Finally, the Gryffindor prefect stepped in. He was a sturdy man, broad-shouldered and thick-muscled, as was his friend, as the two grabbed for one of Mattheo’s arms each, pulling him off and to his feet. Blood streamed from his nose, and he grinned, pink tainting his teeth before he spat at the boy curling up on the floor.

“You be fucking glad they stopped me, because I wouldn't have!”

“For fuck’s sake…” You muttered, the heat of embarrassment crawling up your cheeks as several gazes fell on you. Elbowing his way through the crowd was an equally red Professor Slughorn, but his flush was from anger.

“Riddle! Of course, it’s a Riddle. You can take yourself to detention.”

A whine slipped free from your throat as you crossed your arms over your chest. Mattheo attempted to shake off the two prefects, wiping his nose with his sleeve and wincing at the feeling. He shrugged, “I can’t tonight, professor. I have plans.”

“I don’t care! Detention, now!”

Stepping over the Ravenclaw still whimpering at your feet, Mattheo smiled what you assumed was supposed to be a seductive grin at you as you neared him. With the split of his lip, the stain of dried blood on his face, and the splotchy swelling along his nose and jaw, it didn’t quite hit the mark anymore. You were too angry to fall for it.

“So you’re bailing on our date, again?” Your lip wobbled, arms crossed your chest as you tried to glare at him, but the stinging in your throat betrayed you as your voice cracked.

“Don’t cry, baby, you did your make-up so nice. I’ll make it up to you, I swear.” He leaned in, lowering his voice in an attempt for intimacy, despite the Gryffindors tugging on his arms. “I love you.”

You sighed, but released your anger, cupping his face softly so as not to aggravate the painful patches further. “I love you too.”

His lips barely brushed your own before Slughorn was grabbing him by his collar, and yanking him away through the crowds towards detention. Once he was gone, the cowering boy on the floor dragged himself to his feet, his friends hauling him away, and he made the wise decision not to even glance in your direction.

Even as the crowd parted and you made your way back to your dorm, the lingering feeling of anger petered out to immense disappointment.

Your reflection was frowning as you stared at yourself in the mirror, pretty outfit and stunning makeup, all going to waste while your boyfriend rotted the night away in detention.

Detention.

The same place where your relationship had started, and a ridiculous idea began to root itself in your mind. Tipping out the contents of your school bag, your books and quills scattered across the bedding, and you repacked it with what you’d need instead.

With a fresh spritz of perfume and a new swipe of lipgloss, you left your dorm, heels clicking against the stone as you hurried yourself along on your mission. The doors were spelled against sneaking out of detention, but sneaking in was surely a different case.

Your suspicions were confirmed as you pushed the door open, the loud creak echoing through the room, but you were granted entry as you stepped inside. The door slammed shut behind you, and yet, Flitwick didn’t so much as flinch from where he was snoozing atop the desk at the front of the classroom. Mattheo watched with widening eyes and tissues pressed to his nose as you walked through the aisles and took a seat beside him at the desk he’d claimed as his own.

“What’re you doin’ here, baby?”

You scoffed at his muffled voice, swinging your bag off your shoulder and onto the desk, before sitting down. Taking his hands in your own, you pulled them back, inspecting the damage he’d made to his pretty face. “It’s date night. I wasn’t going to let you sit in here all alone, when I put effort into looking this good.”

Your whispered words made him grin, and you took the tissues from his hands, dabbling softly at the last of the blood. When it was gone, you rifled through your bag instead, producing a small vial of swirling purple liquid. Upon seeing it, he groaned. “Oh, no, I hate those. They taste gross and musty.”

“Maybe if you hadn't done this to yourself, you wouldn't have to take it.” You uncapped the vial, and as the smell drifted to him, he gagged. You raised it to his lips, and he offered a sullen look but parted them for you to tip it into his mouth. Swallowing it came with a grimace, and you wiped your thumb over his lips to get rid of the sticky residue it left. Within seconds, the swelling on his jaw was going down, the cut on his nose was healing over, and the nasty bruising under his eyes was fading away. “That’s better. My pretty boy is back.”

He blushed at that but offered a cheeky grin, and leaned in to kiss you sweetly. Before his lips could meet yours, you swerved, and he grunted unhappily as his mouth landed on your cheek instead.

“You’re not kissing me while you still taste like that gross potion.”

“Typical.” He mumbled, but left a few more peppered kisses along your jaw. You worked as he did, laying out the various snacks you’d brought with you along the table, and as he caught sight of the chocolate frog, an excited gasp slipped free. He snatched the frog up quickly, tearing off the foil wrapper and snapping off a leg.

He lifted it to your lips, always offering you the first bite, and you let him feed it to you while he watched on. Happy you’d taken it, he snapped off another, dropping the chunk into his mouth and chewing happily.

“God, I love you so fucking much,” He sighed as he finished eating, finally leaning in to claim this kiss he had been denied earlier. “I’m gonna’ marry you someday.”

“Yeah, and you’ll probably get yourself arrested on the big day.” Your voice was bitter but your smile was the same as whenever he talked of his plans or your joint future. He knew you were bluffing too, closing the gap between you both once again, and nipping gently on your bottom lip.

“I always come back to you though, baby.”

That made you kiss him properly because you had no retort to offer. It was true, he always found his way back to you. He was crazy, reckless, and impulsive, but he was in love with you, and he didn’t care to hide it.

Not from the others in the detention room, not from the people in the halls, not from anyone on this earth. It was the two of you together, he’d never leave you behind or let you down, and you could trust him in that.

So, maybe he did prove ‘em right. But he also proved you right. Mattheo Riddle was so much more than they all said he was. He was loyal and loving, and he was yours.

#mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle/reader #mattheo riddle/you #mattheo riddle x you #harry potter #slytherin boys #benjamin wadsworth x reader #benjamin wadsworth/reader

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luveline · 7 months

Note

If you’re still up for requests — could you maybe do one where peter or remus comes home after a visibly bad day and the reader misinterprets his behavior and assumes he’s upset with her instead ?? like she’s walking on eggshells, silently fussing around trying to figure out what she did, meanwhile all he wants to do is hold her and decompress 🥺☹️

absolutely no pressure! <33

“Oh my god.” Peter lets out a pained groan at the door, followed by the plastic crinkle of shopping bags hitting the floor. “My back. Jesus.”

You look up in surprise from your book at the table. “I thought we were going together?”

“I couldn’t face coming home and going out again.” He drags the bags to the fridge and pauses. “I figured you’d be okay with not having to go?”

“Sure,” you agree immediately. He has a black cranky fog around him, you can practically feel it as you get up to help him unpack the bags. He doesn’t seem best pleased with you.

He rubs his eyes, rubs his mouth, and turns to the sink. He runs the faucet, pulling one of the glasses back off of the draining board to fill, and wincing at the harsh sound when he turns it too fast. Peter forgets his own strength every now and then —usually when he’s not feeling well.

Peter gives you a funny look as you step into his space. You quickly step out of it and start to load groceries into the fridge and cabinets, pleased to find he’s bought the things you would’ve gotten yourself and even some things you’d have wanted but not allowed yourself. Maybe he’s not that mad after all—

“God damn,” he says, rolling an empty bag into a ball in his hand, “I forgot the fucking laundry detergent again.”

“That’s okay–”

“It’s not okay, you’ve asked me to get it three times this week.”

“I was just reminding you,” you say, fingers tingling with the potential of an impending argument. “It’s fine. We haven’t run out yet, we can squeeze another wash out of it. I’ll get some tomorrow.”

He sits down in the chair you’d been sitting in and moves your book and plate of snacks aside, neither gentle nor rough about it. “Damn,” he says again, dropping his face into his hands.

“Pete…”

His eyes must be sore by now he’s rubbing them so much, hands held to his eyes and fingers scratching into his hair. He tips his face toward the table and lets himself sit with whatever it is that’s getting him down. Me, you think worriedly. I shouldn’t have asked him to get groceries today. You knew he had a longer shift than usual, and that he’d want to do some Spidering afterward.

You’ve sorry on the tip of your tongue when he lays his face heavily in one hand, elbow on the table barely keeping him up, and holds the other out toward you. Rejecting him doesn’t even cross your mind.

“Fuck, I missed you today,” he says, taking your hand as soon as you offer it and dragging you toward him. You peer down at him with wide eyes as he wraps his arm around you, his nose quick to hide in the linen of your shirt. His voice tickles, “I just wanted to be with you. I knew this would make me feel better.”

There’s a little dry barb at the back of your throat you can’t speak past. Peter doesn’t notice, rubbing his cheek in your side as he repositions you for optimal hugging. He lets out a self-pitying whine, second arm joining the first in a lock behind your back. “You smell amazing.”

“I do?” you ask finally.

“I think you’re just made for me, angel,” he says, voice dragging with fatigue. “You always smell good.”

You squint with lips pursed, blinking in confusion as you bring your hand up to his hair. “Thanks for going to the store.”

“You’re welcome. I can’t function without groceries either, anyways.” He sighs with the particular Parker brand of lovelorn contentedness, a familiar sound. He makes the same noise when you’re tucked up in bed together on the weekends with nowhere to go, or holding hands on the subway travelling home, knee to knee or intertwined. “Can’t believe how quickly you make me feel better,” he murmurs.

“I kinda thought you were mad at me,” you confess, matching his tone.

“You have some strange wires crossed in your brain,” he says. His sympathy and affection for you is palpable; his hand tracks a soft line down the curve of your back.

“Yeah, I know. Do you want me to rub your shoulders?” you ask, pressing your face to the mop of his thick hair.

He hugs you tightly. “You’re my dream girl.”

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theemporium · 9 months

Text

[13.2k] the chalet was your home away from home in the festive season. but this year it may become the place you fall in love with the last person you expected. ft my very limited knowledge on how skiing works. (very lazy smut included)

Your family had always gone to The Chalet with the Montgomery’s for as long as you could remember.

One spontaneous ski trip decades ago led your parents to start a tradition that would last through the generations. Every year, both families would fly out to the mountains of France to enjoy the festive season in the homely ski resort called The Chalet. Owned and ran by an elderly couple, it was the kind of place you would see in hallmark movies, or maybe even in a snowglobe. It was a place beyond your greatest winter wonderland dreams and imagination. The Chalet didn’t feel like a real place, and that was why the getaway every Christmas made the holiday so magical.

It was your home away from home, a safe haven. It was the one place in the world where you could disappear from reality and embrace the isolation from society.

At least, that was what the three weeks in the ski resort usually felt like.

And after a year of moving away from home, starting a new job at the bottom of the food chain and dealing with more social circle drama than you ever intended to deal with, you craved nothing more than the simplicity and enjoyment The Chalet had to offer. You needed the break away from your life, a break away from the life you weren’t totally sure you had under control.

You just wanted your home away from home, and instead when the families arrived at the resort, you were met with crowds of strangers swarming the place like a colony of buzzing, irritating bees.

“What the hell?” You muttered once you had stepped out of the car, looking at the throng of people lingering outside the main entrance to the resort.

“Apparently the place is booked out,” your mother noted from somewhere behind you as they began to unpack the bags from the boot of the car. “Madame Blanchet reserved our usual rooms when she started getting more and more bookings.”

“Since when was this place overbooked?” You commented, a little blunter than intended. But it was hard to mask your surprise. A part of The Chalet’s charm was that it was a small, unknown ski resort hidden amongst the many that were established in the French Mountains. For as long as you could remember—hell, even before that—there hadn’t been more than ten or so families staying at the resort over the Christmas period.

“Maybe Madame Blanchet finally learnt how to make a website,” a voice remarked from beside you, sounding quite amused by the mass of people, which shouldn’t have really surprised you.

And just like you expected, you turned your head to find Harper Montgomery grinning widely at the crazy crowd like she was expecting it. She stood beside you with her hands on her hips, something about the bright ski suit looking so out of place, not that she acted as much. Every year, you swore The Chalet wasn’t ready for her and every year you were proven correct.

“Considering the woman still has a dial phone, I am going to doubt the sudden online advertisement,” you snorted, shaking your head.

“Maybe this will be the Christmas we make new friends,” Harper noted, her head tilted to the side and her dark eyes scanning the crowd. “I am pretty sick of Mrs Hartford beating me at scrabble.”

Your lips twitched upwards. “Maybe you should stop challenging her then.”

Harper’s eyes narrowed. “Never.”

“I still don’t get why so many people are waiting outside,” you grumbled as your eyes fell back to the crowd, noticing the way they were buzzing with some sort of excitement. “I don’t even think the lodge has enough rooms for this many people.”

Harper hummed. “Maybe—”

“OH MY GOD!”

Your eyes widened in alarm as you turned your head, seeing Evan standing a few feet away from you and Harper. The older Montgomery was gripping his phone, eyes full of adoration and awe as he grinned at his screen like a madman. He let out a high-pitched squeak, catching the attention of both families as they looked at him with varying looks of concern.

The blond finally lifted his head, oblivious to the worried looks as his grin seemingly widened. He thrusted a phone towards you and Harper, almost buzzing in his spot. “He’s here!”

Your brows furrowed together. “What?”

“He’s here!” Evan repeated, just as enthusiastic as the first time. “He is in our ski lodge! He’s here!”

You still looked equally confused. “Who?”

“His little man-crush,” Harper noted as she glanced down at his screen.

“Charles Leclerc!” Evan sighed, almost dreamily as he hugged his phone to his chest. “We are spending Christmas with Charles Leclerc!”

You rolled your eyes and shook your head, pushing past the boy to grab your suitcase so you could finally go check in. “For fuck’s sake, not your little driving guy.”

“Hey,” Evan frowned. “He’s more than that.”

“I have to listen to you talk about him for nine months of the year,” you remarked, though even that felt like an understatement. “Christmas is meant to be my free time from your little obsession. We made a deal.”

Evan blanched. “That was before I knew he was here!”

“And now he’s ruining Christmas,” you grumbled bitterly, letting out a wince when you felt a pinch to your side.

“Don’t be such a grinch,” Harper teased. “Let him be a fanboy and spend his days on the slopes hunting the guy down. Don’t let it ruin your holiday.”

You snorted. “That will be hard when he is talking our ears off about Charles’ pretty green eyes or the way his hair looks after a race.”

“It’s fluffy!” Evan defended. “It’s unreal after a two hour race in a helmet!”

“Whatever,” you muttered as you patted the boy on the chest as you moved past him. “You have him all to yourself, you won’t see me complaining about it.”

Evan puffed his chest out. “You just can’t appreciate greatness.”

“Blah, blah, blah,” you waved him off. “I’m here to ski and relax. As long as this Charles guy keeps you and his little fanbase far away from me, I don’t care what he does.” There was a pause and Harper gave you a questioning look when she saw the glint in your eyes. “Even if he is overrated.”

Evan’s jaw dropped. “You did not just—”

“Last one in is a rotten egg!” You called out behind you as you grabbed Harper’s hand, dragging her towards the main entrance with you and letting your laughs echo through the reception as the boy swore up and down behind you.

…

You could have said that your resentment towards the Ferrari driver was purely based on how much Evan spoke about him during the racing season, but that would be a lie.

It had started off that way when the boy finally made it into Formula One. Evan had been a motorsport fanatic from a young age, always eager to ramble away to you and Harper on various championships and seasons neither of you particularly cared about. As you got older, you learned to become more accepting and tolerant of the fact your Sundays would always be hijacked by whatever grand prix was occurring that weekend.

However, when a young hot shot joined the sport that Evan had been following through the lower leagues, you didn’t realise just how quickly that tolerance would disappear until he was yapping your ear off after every single race.

And truthfully? You didn’t get it. You didn’t get the sport in general, you didn’t understand what made a driver good or bad, and you didn’t understand the world’s obsession with Charles Leclerc as the years passed. To you, he just seemed like a pretty boy who enjoyed the spotlight of being the face of the sport. To you, he seemed like nothing more than a show pony.

And no amount of debates and rants from Evan would change that.

You wouldn’t have gone out of your way to say you hate Charles Leclerc, but you would say you were coming pretty damn close since you arrived at The Chalet.

The Chalet was bustling from the moment you opened your eyes to the moment you fell asleep. Wherever you went, it felt like you were pushing through a crowd to get from point A to point B. And the amount of times you had fans gripping your arm as you walked past, asking you if you had seen the Monegasque driver was starting to make you want to rip your own hair out.

Yet, despite the buzz around the driver being in the lodge and the amount of fans circling the place through various hours of the day, you had yet to see the boy himself and that was something you were perfectly content with.

You had managed two blissful days before you crossed paths with Charles Leclerc.

You had been taking too long to get ready so you assured Harper and Evan you would meet them at the slopes, insisting there was no need for them to wait for you. Both Montgomery’s—stubborn as ever—scoffed and told you they would be waiting for you in the lobby instead.

You had been in a rushed state when you made your way towards the equipment valet, eager to just quickly hand your locker number over and collect your equipment. However, your path seemed to be blocked by a man standing in front of you, nose buried in his phone as he muttered in a language you didn’t quite understand.

“Excuse me, do you mind if I just—”

“Fucking hell,” the man swore, causing you to pause and frown at his back.

You were taken aback, not expecting that response or the scoff that left his lips afterwards. And when he turned around, you were even more shocked when you realised you knew exactly who the rude man was—none other than Charles Leclerc.

“Look, I appreciate that you are a devoted fan and I am grateful for the support, but I really don’t have time for pictures right now,” Charles continued and, to his credit, did look a little empathetic. Though, that didn’t take away from the underlying hostility in his words. “I am just here to enjoy my break. Please let me do so in peace.”

You blinked, absolutely flabbergasted by his assumption. “Huh?”

The smile he gave you was almost condescending. “As a fan, I am sure you’d understand that I’d want a few days just free from the media and—”

And it seemed like only then did your brain catch up with the situation.

“Don’t flatter yourself, sweetheart, I am not a fan,” you stated as bluntly as you could, watching the boy’s face morph into something quite like confusion. As though he genuinely couldn’t compute the fact somebody wasn’t a fan of him.

“What?”

“I was just trying to get my skis and you were standing in my way like a douche,” you said simply, watching as his brows furrowed closer together. “Which I would have felt bad for calling you before I realised who you were.”

“Who I was,” Charles repeated, still baffled as you pushed past him to do just as you said.

“Hot shot who thinks everybody who breathes near him cares about who he is,” you supplied, a sickly sweet smile on your face as you now stood before him with your skis in hand. “Have a great day, Charles Leclerc.”

And the boy didn’t get a chance to say anything as you walked away, your mood positively ruined by the time you reached Evan and Harper in the lobby. They took one look at your sour mood and raised their brows in question, but you simply grumbled and waved them off, in no mood to repeat your interaction to Charles’ biggest sympathiser.

Fortunately for the Montgomery siblings, your mood eased up by lunchtime and you were (mostly) over the whole interaction.

…

Or at least, you were over the interaction until dinner came around.

Dinner at The Chalet was like one massive family meal. With a large hall dedicated as the dining area, the Blanchet’s had set it up quite like a buffet system. There were tables of food bordering the room with tables dotted through the middle. Everyone sat on the round tables, in their little families and looking like a picture perfect scene for the final meal of the day.

So of course your final meal of the day had to be ruined by an arrogant Monegasque who grinned at you like you two were old friends.

“Ah, you! I’ve been looking for you.”

Truthfully, you wouldn’t have even realised he was talking to you if it weren’t for the fact the boy had stopped right beside you, practically looming over your shoulder as you tried to help yourself to some macaroni cheese.

You raised your brows, giving the boy a once-over before returning your attention to your plate.

“Uh, hello,” Charles tried again, his brows furrowing together a little at the cold shoulder you gave him.

“Hi,” you stated simply, not wanting to spend any more moments with the Monegasque than you had to.

“I wanted to apologise for earlier,” Charles continued, seeing your response as an open invite to a conversation.

“Do you now?”

“Yeah,” Charles nodded, a smile making its way onto his face as your sarcastic tone went completely over his head. “Listen, I really didn’t mean to snap at you. It’s just—this is my holiday and I had no intention of my location being leaked. I just wanted a break from everything, you know? And I guess the frustrations of being bombarded for the last few days just got to me.”

And truthfully speaking, a part of you sympathised with the boy. Though his fame reached levels you would never understand, The Chalet was your haven away from everything. It was a place where reality never seemed to touch, a place to escape. You could understand better than anyone what it was like to crave that feeling in your life.

But just as you opened your mouth to say as much, Charles seemed to remind you exactly why you disliked him in the first place.

“And I just wanted to clear things up with you before the media found out and—”

“So, you’re only apologising because you don’t want me running to journalists and ruining your image?” You interrupted, catching the boy off-guard as he gaped at you for a few seconds.

“Well, yes, it wouldn’t look good if I was harassing fans,” Charles said.

“But I’m not a fan,” you corrected him, gripping your plate in your hands. “And I certainly don’t care about shattering someone’s image for fifteen seconds of fame, no matter how much of a douche they are.”

Charles frowned. “I—”

“You can take your apology and shove it up your ass, Charles,” you said, that sickly sweet smile on your face once again as you turned around to find whichever table your family were sitting at. But a hand reached out to softly grip your elbow and you turned to find Charles looking at you with a helpless expression.

“I am sorry,” Charles said to you, something in his voice that you didn’t really understand. “But I also care about my image. Surely you can understand that.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” you retorted as you tried to tug yourself free from his hold.

Charles opened his mouth to reply, but a louder voice caught the attention of both of you.

“STORMY! OVER HERE!”

You felt your face heat up as you glanced over your shoulder, finding Evan sat amongst your family and his own as he waved you down. He had a shit-eating grin on his face (most likely from the fact he used the one nickname that he knew pissed you off more than anything else in front of everyone) and looked like he was about to do more when his gaze shifted to the man beside you. His jaw dropped, a comical expression on his face as he looked between you and Charles Leclerc.

“Stormy?” Charles repeated, looking over at you.

You ignored his questioning gaze, instead narrowing your eyes at the hand still gripping your elbow. “Can you let me go now or is there more to your shitty apology?”

Charles opened his mouth once again, yet another person interrupted him before he got a chance.

“Charles? What’s taking you so long?”

Your eyes wandered to the girl who saddled up beside him, her expression light until she turned to look at you. Her gaze was calculated, her blue eyes seeming to size you up and something about the all white attire made you wonder if she was really playing into the Ice Queen vibes.

“Another fan?” She sighed, as though your presence was the biggest inconvenience to her. “Honey, he can take pictures with you after dinner—”

“That’s fine, we’re done here,” you quickly corrected, ignoring the patronising tone in her voice or the way that Charles still looked like he had more to say. “I won’t be bothering either of you anytime soon.”

You turned on your heels before either one of them had a chance to drag out the interaction any longer than it needed it to be. You weaved through the tables before making your way towards the table your family had chosen, settling yourself in the free seat beside Evan.

“That was Charles Leclerc!”

You hummed, grabbing your fork as you began to dig in. “Unfortunately so.”

“Dude, what the hell!” Evan hissed, pinching your side until you let out a small squeak and turned to him. “Why didn’t you tell me you knew him?”

You frowned. “I don’t.”

“You were talking to him for ages!” Evan countered.

“He was just being a dick,” you said with a shrug of your shoulders. “Plus, that was probably the last time I’ll ever talk to him.”

Harper snorted. “And you didn’t even get him an autograph.”

“Not that I would ask,” you prefaced before shaking your head. “But I doubt he would have given me one anyways. We…got off on the wrong foot.”

“It’s Charles Leclerc,” Evan scoffed. “There is no wrong foot.”

“Keep it in your pants, dickhead,” you teased, lightly pinching his side back in retaliation. “Even if I did get you an autograph, I would have shredded it after the Stormy stunt you just pulled.”

“But that’s your name,” Evan grinned.

“No, it’s what you called me for seven years because you couldn’t remember my name,” you retorted.

“No, he remembered,” Harper piped in, a grin on her face that scarily matched her brother’s. “But with a temper like yours, Stormy just fits so much better.”

You rolled your eyes. “Whatever. You both suck and so does Charles Leclerc.”

“At least wait until dessert before you start insulting Evan’s boyfriend in front of him.”

“He’s not my boyfriend!”

…

You had expected that was the last time your path would ever cross with Charles Leclerc and, for the most part, it was.

A few days passed and other than some awkward shared glances in the dining hall, you hadn’t found yourself caught in a conversation with the Ferrari driver after his attempted apology and you were intending to keep it that way until the end of your trip. You were happy to continue on with your holiday, even if you swore you could feel a pair of eyes watching you sometimes.

However, it seemed like the universe was on a mission to get your hopes up before crumbling them back down again—and this time, it was in the form of another involuntary meeting with the Monegasque.

You hadn’t even noticed the boy standing a few feet away from you with a group of his friends. You were stood next to Harper, listening to her ramble away as you waited in line for the ski lift to take you to the top of the mountain. It was fairly early, most of the resort residents still enjoying their breakfast inside which meant the queue wasn’t very long. You had been eager to get out on the snow early after being one of the last in the passing days.

However, whilst you failed to notice the driver, it seemed like Harper had.

She watched the boy continuously glance over at you, like he was eager to catch your eye. She watched as he slowly shuffled closer, like he was trying to gain the confidence to jump into the conversation. She watched Charles Leclerc act like a hopeless fool, and it was somewhat endearing to witness.

And maybe—just maybe—she was in the mood for some drama that the vacation in the ski resort very rarely gave her.

You were already settled in your spot when you felt someone shuffling in the seat next to you. You felt the comfort bar come down and you turned with a smile, ready to continue your conversation with your best friend when you realised your best friend was not the person sitting next to you.

No, it was Charles Leclerc.

Your head whirled around, finding Harper standing in the queue with a grin on her face. You shot her a look, one that spoke more than a thousand words on just how you felt about her betrayal. However, the girl just laughed and waved you off as the lift began moving and it was far too late to get off.

Your attention shifted to the boy beside you again, noticing the sheepish expression on his face and you let out a sigh.

It was fine. Totally fine. The ski lift took around ten minutes to get to the top of the mountain. That was hardly anything, practically a blink of an eye if you were being honest. It would be a quick ride up, you wouldn’t even have to talk to him and you could easily ignore him by the time you made your way back down the mountain. It was all going to be so, so fine.

“So, uh, how are you this morning?”

And suddenly, even a second felt like ten years passing.

You kept your head facing forward, hoping the boy would catch the hint that you weren’t interested in small talk and would also remain silent. Though, considering the fact he was fidgeting in his seat, you doubted the boy could keep quiet for longer than thirty seconds.

“The weather is great, right?”

Your brows furrowed together. The weather? Really?

“The pancakes were also really good at breakfast this morning. Did you have any?” He continued, only pausing for a moment when he realised you were making a point of not answering him. “Stormy?”

One simple word and that was enough for you to break your silence.

“Don’t call me that,” you snapped, a little harsher than you truly intended but the sentiment remained.

Charles blinked. “You don’t want me to call you your name?”

“It’s not my name,” you replied.

He blinked again. “But in the dining hall—”

“It’s a nickname—one that Evan likes to wind me up with because he thinks I’m moody,” you explained before realising the boy didn’t really deserve an explanation. Not when you were adamant to keep this conversation short. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

“Well, I can see where he gets it from,” Charles said with a small snort.

You frowned. “Excuse me?”

Seeming to realise what he said and just how it sounded out loud, it was almost comical to watch Charles’ lips part before he awkwardly gaped at his previous comment. “Not like that! I just meant—”

“Whatever,” you muttered as you turned to face forwards again, pleading for the lift to somehow reach the top of the mountain already.

“Look, I’m sorry. This wasn’t how I intended this to go,” Charles admitted, almost sounding a bit pained when he said it, as though he wasn’t used to admitting he was wrong. “I wanted to properly apologise. I shouldn’t have been so rude to you, and I definitely shouldn’t have brushed it off as anything except how you felt.”

You paused, brows furrowing together as you turned to face him with a curious expression.

Charles blinked. “What?”

“I was just waiting to see if there was a ‘but’ coming,” you confessed.

“No buts,” he assured, pausing for a moment before his cheeks burned pink. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry. That’s it.”

You let out a sigh, wishing that some part of you was suspicious about his apology but you weren’t. He sounded genuine, and as much as you wanted to—and still partially did—believe he was a bit of a pompous prick, you couldn’t fault that his apology seemed sincere.

“I accept your apology,” you said, your voice a little strained before you continued. “And I’m also sorry for being a bit of a bitch.”

Charles’ lips parted. “Oh no, you weren’t—”

“I was a little,” you said, your lips twitching upwards as the boy gave you a nervous smile. “I can assure you I won’t be telling any gossip pages about what an asshole Charles Leclerc is.”

He actually laughed in response, despite the fact that alone would probably make his PR team bury him six feet under before the next season started. “I appreciate that, Stormy.”

You glowered at the nickname, but it only seemed to make the Monegasque laugh harder.

…

Despite the exchange of apologies on the ski lift, you expected that to be your last proper interaction with Charles.

You were also quickly realising that every time—so far—you had assumed as much, you would find yourself face to face with the driver once again. And this time was no different, except it came much earlier than a few days. It happened later that very same day.

You had made your way into the dining hall, grabbing a plate and beginning to survey the large buffet when you felt the warmth of another person standing beside you. You felt a hand brush your arm and turned to find Charles smiling at you.

“Bonjour, mon ami.”

You blinked. “What?”

His smile widened. “It means—”

“No, I know what it means,” you quickly corrected, shaking your head a little. “I just…didn’t realise we were friends.”

Charles’ brows furrowed together. “Why wouldn’t we be? I thought we had made up on the ski lift.”

“Yes but, other than that, we are strangers,” you said to him like it was obvious—and to you, it was. Beyond a few misunderstandings and awkward apologies, the man in front of you was as much a friend to you as any of the other guests in the lodge.

“Well, we can change that now!” He said, and that smile returned to his face. “Turn over a new book or whatever the saying is.”

Much to your own surprise, you found yourself laughing a little at his response. “Charles, I—”

“STORMY, HURRY UP OR I AM DRINKING YOUR WINE!”

Both your and Charles’ head snapped over to Evan who was holding a wine glass in each hand, a large smile plastered on his face and a twinkle in his eyes that promised mischief. His hair was still wet from the shower he took before dinner, meaning it was slick back and giving him an almost wannabe Bond villain look.

You laughed, shaking your head as you turned back to look at the driver. Only you found Charles still looking in Evan’s direction, something contemplative and almost begrudging in his gaze.

“You okay?”

Charles turned to face you, and it took a mere second for the glare to disappear and be replaced with his bright smile once again. “Yeah, of course. It seems like you’re wanted elsewhere though.”

“He’s a menace,” you said, playfully rolling your eyes but the fondness was clear in your voice. “I love him even if he’s a pain in the ass.”

Charles only let out a contemplative hum as a goodbye as you headed towards the table where your family and the Montgomery’s were sitting. And maybe if you looked over at him as much as he did with you over the course of the dinner, you would have seen Charles looking a little too bitter every time your eyes were on Evan instead of him.

…

A week had passed in the resort and the Christmas spirit was starting to truly spread as the festive holiday quickly approached.

Your parents and the Montgomery parents had decided to pass on the slopes, instead choosing to visit infamous glacier caves that had been advertised and talked about by some locals in the lodge. You, Harper and Evan had declined the offer to join them, though the excitement of no parents being around—despite the fact all three of you were firmly in your twenties—seemed to spark a shift in energy in Evan that could only be described as childlike.

“I have a proposition.”

Harper already let out a groan, tilting her head back as she did. You couldn’t see her eyes beneath her goggles, but you imagined she was rolling them. “God, no.”

Evan frowned. “You haven’t even heard it yet.”

“Your ideas are shit,” Harper said to her brother. “And usually dangerous.”

“No, they aren’t,” Evan scoffed.

You shrugged. “You don’t have a great track record, if we are being honest.”

“Whatever,” Evan grumbled before grinning at the two of you. “First two to reach the bottom wins. Sabotaging each other’s run is allowed. Loser has to do the forfeit.”

Your eyes narrowed. “What’s the forfeit?”

“Loser has to streak in the snow,” he grinned.

“I am not streaking in the snow,” Harper scoffed.

“Then, you better hope you win,” the older Montgomery countered with a grin.

And begrudgingly, you and Harper agreed to his childish idea.

It wasn’t the first time a silly competition between the three of you got out of hand, and you truly doubted it would be the last. With no rules set and no parents to even try to intervene, it didn’t take very long before the competition got dirty and the run down the slopes became more chaotic.

You had been running behind Harper, secure in second place and watching her movements closely to look for any weakness that you could exploit. However, you had failed to realise that Evan—who had been running behind after he almost skied into a group of people—was quickly catching up on you.

You didn't realise until it was too late.

You let out a noise of surprise when you found the boy right by your side, one that quickly became a series of curses when you realised what he was doing. You tried to move away when you noticed him turning into you, but you were too slow and it only put you in a worse position when his pole lodged itself between your skis.

He was long gone by the time you tumbled into the snow, cackling loudly as he went. You let out a groan of frustration as you turned until you were lying on your back. You winced a little as you tried to awkwardly scramble up onto your feet in hopes of catching up with the Montgomery siblings, but the second a bit of pressure was placed on your ankle, you were crying out in pain and your ass hit the snow once again.

“Shit,” you whispered to yourself as you sat in the snow, tears welling in your lash line at the shot of pain up your leg.

“Cherie!”

You lifted your head when you noticed someone skidding to a stop beside you. You blinked at them in a moment of confusion, but the second they removed their goggles and pulled down their mask, you found Charles—or at least, a very worried and concerned version of him—looking down at you.

He took you in, noticing the glossy sheen to your eyes before he turned back to look over his shoulder, letting out a string of curse words that you were certain were not in English before his attention returned to you.

“Are you okay? What hurts? Is something broken? Should I call for them to send a helicopter—”

“Charles,” you quickly interrupted the rambling boy. “I’m fine. I’ve probably just sprained my ankle.”

“Yeah, because of him,” Charles grumbled, mostly under his breath like he had no real intention for you to hear the snide remark.

“It was a joke,” you waved him off, but that only seemed to upset the boy further.

“A joke?” He repeated, his eyes widening in disbelief. “You’re hurt. It’s hardly a funny joke.”

“Charles, calm down.”

The boy just scoffed, shaking his head before he lodged his poles into the snow, keeping them off the main trail before he turned to you and offered his hand.

You looked at him expectantly.

“Let me help you get down to the lodge,” he said in as calm a voice as he could manage.

“Charles—” You began, but he wasn’t having it.

“No, cherie, I am not going to leave you here when you’re injured and alone,” he said, emphasising the last word in particular as he glanced around, almost like he had to remind you that Harper and Evan were most likely at the bottom of the slope by now.

“Fine,” you said with a sigh, taking his gloved hand in yours as you allowed him to pull you up, keeping your weight on him with ease. “This doesn’t mean we are friends though, Charles.”

He only grinned at you, the first time he seemed a little more like himself since he stopped to check on you.

“Whatever you want to say, Stormy.”

…

As expected, you had sprained your ankle and were advised to take it easy for the next few days.

And you were banned from hitting the slopes in fear of making the sprain worse.

You wanted to be annoyed about the situation—and a small part of you was—but honestly, a few days in the lodge with some peace and quiet seemed like a dream. As much as you loved your family and the Montgomery’s, you needed a break from how loud and giddy and excited they were.

And as the days quickly approached Christmas, it felt like a nice relief to have some time to yourself before the festivities truly took over.

You had waved them off after breakfast with a smile, teasing them not to miss you too much as they headed towards the slopes. Evan had offered to stay inside with you, even just for today, because of the guilt that he was the one to put you in the position. But you just rolled your eyes, assuring him you were more than happy to sit by the fireplace by the foyer and enjoy a day where you didn’t have to fall flat on your ass in the snow.

You had been a few chapters into your book, curled up on the couch with your ankle elevated on a pillow with a blanket thrown over you when Charles and his friends made their way downstairs, prepped and ready with the intentions of heading out to the slopes.

But the boy spotted you and found his feet moving in a different direction.

“Stormy!”

You lifted your head, unable to even find it in yourself to be annoyed by his constant use of the nickname when he had a pretty smile on his face whenever he said it. He was bundled up in layers, probably on his way to the equipment kiosk before he headed for the lift. He looked comical next to the fire.

“My knight in shining armour,” you greeted, a teasing tilt in your voice but the boy missed it as he took in your appearance. “You look warm.”

“You’re staying in today?”

You nodded. “Doc’s orders.”

“Alone?”

You nodded once again. “I told the others they could—”

“I’ll stay with you!”

He said it so quickly that it took you a few seconds before you realised just what he had said. You blinked, your brows furrowing in confusion. “You’re at a ski resort and you don’t want to go skiing?”

“I’ve been skiing every day since I got here,” he said with a casual shrug of his shoulders. “I can handle not skiing for a day.”

You flashed him a smile. “It’s fine, you don’t have to—”

“But I want to,” he countered, the words passing his lips with ease.

You hated the way your chest tightened a little at his words. “Oh.”

Charles smiled at your response.

“Charles, hurry up!”

You missed the way his brows furrowed together at the voice when you turned to look at the woman standing a few feet away, looking impatient and slightly annoyed. It was the same woman from the other week, the one that looked a little too much like the cold weather personified. You had learnt over the passing days her name was Melanie, but that was about as far as your knowledge on the woman went, other than her clear attitude.

Charles let out a sigh before he replied, a slightly more strained smile on his face. “Go on without me. I’m gonna stay in the lodge today.”

Melanie frowned. “Why?”

“Because I want to,” Charles stated simply, and the repeated words made your chest feel funny again.

Melanie glanced over at you and then Charles, and then back to you again. Her eyes were narrowed and her glare felt icy, but before she could even think of saying anything, a friend from the group was calling out to her and she had no choice but to join them.

Charles turned back to you, an easy smile on his lips once again. “So…what’s the plan?”

You snorted. “To sit here because I’m practically bedbound, unless I want to hobble somewhere.”

Charles pressed his lips together. “Well, sitting by the fire with no hot chocolate is sacrilege.”

Your nose scrunched up. “But I don’t have cookies. Hot chocolate by itself isn’t fun without homemade Christmas cookies.”

“Then we will make them,” Charles said.

You rolled your eyes. “And where are we making them? In our rooms with a kettle, tap water and no other ingredients?”

“Please,” Charles said with a scoff, a glint in his eyes as he looked down at you with a proud glint in his eyes. “I am Charles Leclerc. I have my ways.”

You weren’t sure what strings he pulled, who he bribed or just what he blackmailed the lodge owners with, but you were filled with a sort of unease when Charles returned twenty minutes later. He had changed out of his heavy ski gear into a pair of jeans and a sweater that looked insanely cosy. And he had told you that he needed you to close your eyes, to trust him enough to carry you to the destination with a promise that all the drama would be worth it.

He looked so damn proud when he brought you to the lodge’s kitchen with bowls and whisks and ingredients sprawled across the counter—it made that funny feeling in your chest return.

“How did you manage this?” You asked, an incredulous laugh leaving your lips when he sat you on the counter.

“I’m Charles Leclerc, I can get anything I want,” he said, and once upon a time, you would have rolled your eyes and thought he was a pompous dick. You still thought he was a little cocky, but it was an endearing trait now.

You raised your brows. “Do you, Charles Leclerc, know how to bake?”

“Nope,” he said honestly but he was still smiling. “But I am sure I can make something edible with you guiding me.”

“Smooth,” you snorted. “Don’t blame me if they taste like shit.”

As it would turn out, Charles had an overbearing need to be in control of everything. You guessed it came with the lifestyle, the fact his life is always in the palm of his own hands whenever he sat in a car that raced hundreds of miles an hour. However, it seemed like it also extended to the Monegasque ignoring your very clear and correct instructions to do something he insisted was the right way.

“In what fucking world do you need that much sugar?” You remarked, lips parted in shock as you watched the boy add more.

“They are sugar cookies, cherie, it’s in the name,” Charles retorted.

“That doesn’t mean the batter should be seventy-five percent sugar!” You huffed as you reached over to try and grab the bag of sugar from him. “You are going to make us both diabetic with one of those damn cookies. Don’t you have a diet you are meant to be following?”

Charles only grinned, a little mischievous. “Yeah but it’s Christmas.”

You shook your head. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And you’re bossy,” he countered.

“And I’m right,” you insisted as you frowned at the batter, wondering if it would be easier to just toss it out and start again. “It’s not my fault you don’t have the ego to handle it.”

“Or your ego can’t handle the challenge,” Charles said, something shining in his eyes like his words had a hidden meaning you couldn’t quite understand. “Tell me you don’t like it.”

You tilted your head a little. “You think you’re the only man to talk back to me, Leclerc?”

His tongue poked the inside of his cheek. “I would like to think I’m the best.”

You couldn’t ignore the way his eyes darkened, the way it seemed to surge some sort of competition inside him. You couldn’t help but want to play on his fragile male ego a little more.

“And if I said you weren’t?” You questioned, pressing your lips together in a poor attempt to hide your smirk.

Charles breathed out of his nose, his jaw clenching a little before he replied. “Then I would say Evan is a lucky man to have you.”

And just like that, your smirk dropped.

“What?”

Charles frowned a little. “I would say Evan is a lucky man,” he repeated, the words sounding a little forced as they left his lips. “You two seem like…a great match even if he does leave you abandoned on a ski slope after—”

“Oh my god, no!” You blanched, your shoulders hunching up to your ears as you shook your head. “Ew, no! Absolutely not!”

Charles blinked. “Huh?”

“Me and Evan—” You swallowed hard, unable to even get the words out. “It’s not like that between us. I have known him forever, he’s like a brother to me.”

“Oh,” Charles murmured, taking a few seconds before he grinned. “Oh!”

“Yeah, oh,” you grumbled.

Charles couldn’t wipe the smile off his face. “So, you aren’t—”

“Nope.”

“With Evan or anyone?”

“No one.”

“Good.”

You snorted, rolling your eyes at the giddiness written across his face. If someone told you it was Christmas morning, you would have believed them. “Subtle, Charles.”

“Subtle is my middle name.”

…

The next day, you met Charles by the foyer fireplace, but this time he was prepared with his own book.

The day after, he was there again but both your books were quickly abandoned as you chatted away.

The day after that, neither of you bothered to bring your books down.

Despite your insistence that he should be out on the slopes enjoying his vacation and the downtime he had in between seasons, Charles was adamant that he was doing exactly what he deemed relaxing. And just like he said earlier, Charles Leclerc gets what he wants—and it seemed he wanted to spend his days huddled in the lodge with you.

Everyone noticed the budding relationship between you and Charles, but nobody said a word. Well, your family and the Montgomery parents didn’t say a word. Harper and Evan on the other hand? They wouldn’t leave you alone.

Harper was cackling at the irony. She was throwing your words back in your face, teasing the way seemed to switch your opinion on the Monegasque driver in the span of a week and looked down right smitten for the boy. She teased you over the fact it took you almost two months before you went on a date with your ex-boyfriend, and here you were having daily fireplace dates with the boy you called an asshole less than a week ago. She was embracing her full right as your best friend to annoy the fuck out of you.

Evan was a whole other story. The boy looked like a kicked puppy every time you came back from hanging out with Charles, only to tell him you didn’t get him an autograph nor did you bring into the conversation how cool he was or how amazing he was or how he and Charles would totally get on if you introduced them. You didn’t have the heart to tell the boy that up until seventy-two hours ago, Charles didn’t like him through a bizarre assumption.

It had been constant and annoying, but in a way that made your heart feel full because you knew no matter what, at least those two would support every decision you made. Even if they got unbearable during the meal times where Charles would find any excuse to come talk to you.

Tonight was no different as he approached you with a smile spread across his face and something dangerous and promising shining in his eyes. You were sitting at the table alone whilst everyone else headed towards the tables to fill their plates—yours in Harper’s hand—and you were grateful for the small moment of peace as he leaned down.

“Missing me already?” You teased.

He shrugged, though he didn’t disagree. “I have a very important message for you.”

You raised your brows in question. “Oh?”

Instead of saying anything, the boy just grinned wider and handed you a small piece of paper. You frowned a little at it, looking up at him in confusion but the boy was already taking a few steps away from your table.

“Charles—”

But the boy just winked before turning on his heel, heading back to the table the rest of his friends were sitting at, where they were probably watching the whole interaction even if they tried to make it seem like they weren’t.

You glanced down at the note in your hand, lips turned downwards as you opened the folded paper. It baffled you that he couldn’t just say what he had written down, but another part of you warmed a little at the idea that he had taken the time to write the note and go through with it—regardless of it being a bit silly.

You couldn’t bite back your smile when you read the note.

meet me @ midnight. my room number is 161. wear something cosy :)

You snorted, shaking your head as every cell in your body thrummed in excitement to meet the boy you once hated later that night.

…

“The note was cute, but I still don’t understand why you couldn’t just ask me to hang out.”

“Because that’s not fun.”

“You just handed me the note, that’s hardly any different.”

“It was like a real life text, cherie. It’s how they used to do it back in the day.”

You snorted in response.

You had listened to his advice, deciding that a hoodie and pyjama bottoms were the way to go as you snuck up to the floor he was staying at. Your knuckles had barely grazed the door before it was yanked open, a grinning boy on the other side. He was dressed in a baggy hoodie and grey sweatpants, his hair pushed back with a bandana and a pair of glasses sat on his nose.

He didn’t even give you a chance to say anything before he was dragging you inside.

It should have been obvious that Charles Leclerc of all people would have a suite but truthfully, you hadn’t even realised the lodge had master suites as big as this one. But it did. And it was huge. And you expected nothing less for the Monegasque.

There were multiple different rooms that veered off the large living room: one that was furnished with a massive tv, soft plush sofas and a large fireplace that looked like it was straight out the front of a Christmas card. Surprisingly, it was decorated for the festive season with even a tree settled in the corner between the armchairs. It felt homely. It felt perfect for this midnight meeting.

However, you didn’t get much of a chance to look around before he was dragging you out onto the balcony. There was a loveseat set up with pillows and blankets, and a small table set with hot chocolate and a plate of cookies (ones he assured you he had the chef make fresh).

“I never took you to be so traditional,” you teased, pulling the blanket tighter around your shoulders as a light breeze hit you. “But I guess you have to make do since you haven’t even asked for my number.”

Charles raised his brows. “Is that your subtle way of telling me to hurry up and ask for it?”

“Subtle is my middle name,” you retorted, his own repeated words thrown back in his face but they seemed to light a spark inside him.

Charles’ eyes dropped to your lips for a few passing beats before they returned to your eyes, and you saw everything written in them. This was different to the days you had spent down in the foyer. Everyone could see you both. You could see everyone. It was public and out in the open and exposed.

But here?

It was just you and him and the pretty night sky that shone and glittered with stars. You were away from the world, from reality. You were away from your family and friends. You were away from peering eyes and judgemental looks. You were in a bubble you never wanted to leave, huddled in thick wool blankets and desperately hoping he would close the minimal distance between you both.

His lips were a hairbreadth away from brushing against yours when another breeze caressed your skin, sending a shiver down your spine that momentarily jolted you away from him.

“You’re cold,” he noted, though it was pretty obvious when you two were both outside in minimal layers. “Let’s get inside. We can warm up by the fire.”

And a part of you wanted to scream off the balcony into the French Mountains when he stood up, when the moment broke and his lips weren’t against yours. But as angry as you wanted to be, you were grateful when he guided you to sit in front of the fire as he added more wood to the dying embers.

His thigh was brushing against yours when he settled into the spot beside you on the floor, his cheeks tinted pink from the cold as he grinned at you before holding his hands out to the fire. You laughed, following suit and the conversation from moments before the almost-kiss returned.

However, minutes passed and your body was still racked with small shivers that Charles quickly picked up on.

“C’mere,” he murmured as he lifted his arm, giving you little time to dispute (not that you were going to) as he wrapped his arm around you and tugged you into his side.

You didn’t think about it too much as you buried yourself into his embrace, as you pressed your cheek into his hoodie and enjoyed the way his hand seemed to leave a trail of heat wherever he touched.

“If I get hypothermia and die, I’m coming back to haunt you and your sugar cookies,” you grumbled, though it was lighthearted as you pressed your nose further into the fabric of his hoodie.

His chest shook underneath you as he laughed and tightened his hold on you. “I would never let anything happen to you, Stormy.”

“You and that stupid nickname,” you said as you let out a long sigh. “You know my actual name now. You have no excuse to use it.”

“Yeah, but it suits you,” Charles retorted, letting out a small noise of surprise when your cold fingers pinched his side. “Plus, you get this…uh, what’s the word…cute look on your face when you’re angry.”

Your head snapped up to glare at him. “I don’t look cute when I’m angry.”

His face brightened. “Yes! That face! C’est mignon!"

Your eyes narrowed further. “Don’t pull the cute French card, it’s not gonna help you.”

“You think my French is cute?” Charles replied, his laugh echoing through the suite as you rolled your eyes.

“You drivers and your egos,” you grumbled.

“Have a lot of experience with drivers?” Charles questioned, a hint of something unreadable in his voice.

You snorted, both of you knowing the answer to that question but you played along. “Maybe I do.”

His eyes darkened slightly. “What about kissing them?”

And just like that, Charles Leclerc had left you speechless for what felt like the millionth time since you met him.

His gaze was locked on your lips, the crackling of the fire felt like it was booming through the silent room and you were truly wondering if your heart was going to burst through your chest and splat on the floor in front of you both.

“I can’t say I have much experience in that department,” you admitted once you managed to choke your words out.

His lips twitched upwards. “Would you like some experience, Stormy?”

You didn’t know if you nodded or if he just took the signs of your flustered, stuttering mess and took mercy on you. You didn’t know if his hand reached to cup your face first or if it was your hand on the nape of his neck instead. You didn’t know if it was you moaning lowly into the kiss when his tongue darted out or if it was him.

Kissing Charles Leclerc was overwhelming and world-altering and, truthfully, you didn’t think you could even utter your own name if someone asked you at that moment.

“Merde,” he groaned before he kissed you harder, faster, more passionately. His other hand reached for your waist, those muscles hidden under his baggy hoodie put to good use as he hauled you onto his lap.

Your knees sat on either side of his hips, your ass firmly planted on his lap as the new position allowed you to fully wrap your arms around his neck. The boy’s hands dropped to your waist, squeezing and guiding as your hips shifted in his lap as his kisses left you seeking anything he would give you.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” he admitted when he had to pull away, when his lungs were burning for air. But you still wanted more, you sought out to keep hearing those pretty noises he made as your lips trailed down his neck. “So fucking long.”

“You took your time,” you muttered between open-mouthed kisses when his hold tightened as your lips passed a particularly sensitive spot just below his ear.

“You hated me for a majority of the time we’ve known each other,” he managed to utter out, his head falling back as your teeth lightly grazed his skin.

“Does it look like I hate you now?” You retorted, something about the back and forth feeling as thrilling and exciting as his fingers fiddling with the hem of your hoodie.

Charles’ eyes caught yours as you lifted your head from his neck, lips red and swollen and fuck, he wanted to kiss you again. “I think I need a little more convincing.”

“Yeah?” You watched as he nodded, a little too eager but it made your stomach twist in the best way possible. “Well, you did promise to keep me warm.”

“I did,” he murmured, his voice a little rough and husky.

“Warm me up, Leclerc,” you whispered as you leaned down to kiss him again, his hands squeezing your waist before your lips even touched. “And then I’ll decide if I hate you still.”

A choked noise of surprise left your lips when Charles suddenly moved. You were no longer sitting on his lap, but instead had been laid back on the floor with the boy now hovering over you. He flashed you a smile, one twisted with promises that made your chest feel tight.

You waited for him to lean down and kiss you again. You waited to feel his heated touch on your body. You waited for him to finally slide his hands under the fabric of your hoodie, to feel his fingers along your bare skin.

But instead, he just looked at you with so much fondness in his eyes.

“What?” You questioned, and suddenly the idea of being naked underneath him was no longer the most exposed you felt.

“Nothing,” he said simply as he shook his head. “Just…wanted to make sure.”

Your brows furrowed together. “Of what?”

“That you’re okay with this,” Charles said as he finally lifted his hand, as he let his fingers brush across the apple of your cheek. You could feel your skin heating up underneath his touch. “I want you to know that I’m happy to just talk. I don’t want you to think I just invited you here to—”

“Charles,” you interrupted, and the boy fell quiet as his cheeks flushed pink. “I want to.”

He tried to bite back his smile. “Yeah?”

You laughed, nodding. “Yeah.”

And despite the reassurance and despite the heat in your body that just wanted to throw your legs over the boy and ride him until the sun came up, Charles Leclerc was nothing, if not a gentleman. And something about that made it so much hotter.

His touch was always so confident but gentle. The way his lips pressed against yours, the way his tongue caressed yours as his fingers slowly peeled away the layers of clothes between the two of you. The way he paused to set down pillows and a blanket to make it comfier for you before his fingers hooked on the waistband of your panties, dragging them down your legs and discarding them someplace else.

The way you reached down to cup his bulge in his boxers, prepared to slip your hand beneath the elastic of his boxers and stroke the length of him—only to have your hands batted away. You barely got a chance to question him before his kisses silenced you, before they began moving south and you felt his lips on every inch of your exposed skin that he could reach.

You felt breathless by the time he was between your legs. You felt like your head was spinning with pleasure as he hooked his arms around your thighs and happily settled between them. You felt like you were in some sugar cookie induced dream as you glanced down, catching his eager eyes watching every little move and reaction you made.

The fire was roaring a few feet away, loud and proud and yet, it was his touch and whispered words that made your whole body feel like lava was coursing through your veins. It was the way his tongue swiped and licked your needy pussy, the way his lips wrapped around your clit until your back was arching off the ground. It was the way Charles murmured soft praises as his hands reached out for yours, as he intertwined your fingers and softly squeezed as you came on his tongue once, twice until you felt like a pile of bones.

It was the way he smiled down at you like his face wasn’t glistening with your release. The way he leaned down to kiss you with the taste of yourself still on his tongue. It was the way he was fully prepared to leave it there, let you rest, spend the rest of the night listening to the random rants he could coax out of you.

Charles only let out a surprised noise when you pushed him onto his back, as you straddled him like you fantasised about earlier and reached between your bodies to squeeze his aching cock.

You knew Charles Leclerc was pretty, even in the days where you thought you despised the man. It was an undeniable fact that he was easy on the eyes, that he was gorgeous, that he had one of those faces that didn’t make him feel like he was a real human.

But he was undoubtedly prettier when you were sinking down on his cock, walls squeezing him as his lips parted to let out a string of curse words in a handful of languages you didn’t speak.

His hands were all over you, his lips never stopped moving and all it took was a slight lapse in your tempo as you rocked back and forth for the boy to grip your hips, hold you up with ease and fuck up into you.

You were a puddle on his chest, his lips right beside your ear as he whispered filthy words to you. His hands and kisses were gentle when it felt like you could feel his cock in your throat from how deep inside he was. Charles Leclerc was a fucking enigma that you didn’t ever want to work out.

And even after he did most of the work, even after he was breathless and flushed and fucked out, you were still the first thing on his mind. Your comfort, your pleasure, just you.

“Cherie,” he murmured softly, the accent seeming a little thicker as he spoke. “We should move to the bed.”

“No,” your words muffled as you nuzzled yourself further into his chest, content where you were with your legs tangled together and your naked bodies pressed together. “I’m comfy here. Beside you.”

“Okay,” was all he said in response as he pressed a lingering kiss to the crown of your head and pulled the blanket over the both of you before holding you closer—if that was even possible.

…

The first thing you noted when you woke up was how comfortable the ground felt beneath you.

The second thing was that you were no longer on the floor, but on a very comfy bed with a mattress that felt like it was a cloud.

Your hand blindly reached out to your side, expecting to feel a solid, warm body and probably a disgruntled curse from a certain Monegasque, but it never came. Your brows furrowed together, your hand continuing to pat the bed but it felt cold under your touch.

For a short moment, you wondered if you had dreamt it all. You wondered if it was just a hyper-realistic dream where you swore you could still feel his touch on you, if it was all a part of your imagination.

And then, from the other side of the door, you heard a voice.

Your lips unknowingly tilted upwards as you sat up in bed, the sheet falling to your waist as you did. You stretched out your limbs, moving with no real rush as you grabbed the first piece of clothing you could find—a shirt of Charles’ that rested at your thighs—before making your way towards the door.

You pushed the door open, expecting to find him lounging on the couch as he talked away to whoever he was on the phone with, but he wasn’t. You leaned your head out, peeking around to instead finding him on the balcony, the door still open to let his voice and a chilly breeze carry through into the suite.

You contemplated bracing the cold and making your way towards the balcony, to wrap your arms around his waist and settle into the warmth of him as he finished his call. Your hand moved to pull the door open wider, but then the muffled voice became actual words and you froze.

“She doesn’t mean anything to me. She never has. Why should I care now?”

You frowned a little.

“I was doing her a favour, for no other reason.”

Your stomach churned, but you tried to ease your thoughts that were threatening to spiral.

“I’m not going to ever see her again after this trip, what’s the big deal anyways?”

But that? That was your final straw.

You felt sick to your stomach as you rushed around the room, staying as silent as you could as you redressed yourself. Your head felt like it was spinning, like you couldn’t even keep up with your own thoughts. You wanted to feel angry and spiteful, and maybe you did.

But most of all, you just felt disappointed.

In yourself. In the situation. In the man you thought Charles Leclerc was.

You were fighting down the bile that felt like it was rising up your throat when you finally slipped out of his suite. He was still on the phone, still on the balcony when you left. And he probably wouldn’t even realise you were gone until you were safely back in your own room, where you could let everything hit you at once and let the tears threatening to spill finally fall.

You didn’t want to believe it. You didn’t want to believe he was that kind of guy, another asshole that you had laid yourself out in front of, only for it to be thrown back in your face. You wanted to believe he was the gentleman you saw, touched and kissed last night.

But the truth of the matter was that Charles Leclerc was just another name on your list of men who disappointed you, and you didn’t want to see his stupid, perfect face ever again.

…

Charles was absolutely fucking baffled.

He felt like he was missing a key bit of information in his own life, and no matter how many times he replayed the last week or so in his head, he couldn’t work out what he was doing wrong.

After a season of disappointing races and a team that played with his strategy like a fucking water balloon being thrown around by a group of toddlers, Charles wanted an escape. He wanted a place away from journalists and fans and everyone who even knew who he was. He just wanted a break from his own life.

The vacation at The Chalet was meant to just be that, but it became so much more.

For the first time in a long time, Charles felt like himself again. He felt happy. He was excited for the new year, he was excited for the future, he was excited for what possibly lay ahead of him. He felt like he was in some dream, but it wasn’t a dream. It was his reality and he woke up every day eager to know what amazing thing would happen to him—to know what amazing day he would have with you.

But that dream seemed to crumble into pieces when he realised you were ignoring him.

He didn’t try to take it too personally when he headed back into the bedroom that morning, his cheeks tinted pink from the cold weather but eager to spend a few lazy hours with you in between the sheets. He was eager to make you smile and maybe kiss you, maybe do something more.

But disappointment hit his chest when he saw the empty room.

He just assured himself that you probably had to head back to your room before your family and friends woke up, or maybe you wanted to freshen up. He assured himself he would see you at breakfast and everything would be fine.

But it wasn’t fine because you weren’t at breakfast. He waited in case you came at the end, but you didn’t.

He waited for you at the usual spot in the foyer, but you never came.

He waited for you at lunch and dinner too, but you never came.

The next day, he almost expected the same and was preparing himself to ask one of your friends if you were okay, but he was shocked to find you sitting in your usual place at breakfast. He smiled at you, something in his chest easing as he made a step in your direction, but the dirty glare you sent his way was enough to make him stop in his tracks.

You didn’t turn up to the foyer that day either but between the dirty looks from you and the fact he was pretty sure Harper tried to trip him up at the coffee stand, he knew something was wrong.

He just didn’t know what.

And every time he tried to get near you, tried to talk to you, it was a pathetically failed attempt that left that competitive streak inside his chest blaring with annoyance.

You were ignoring him and he didn’t know why.

And then he saw it, three days after you started ignoring him. He was making his way into the dining hall, having just showered after a day in the slopes his friends dragged him out for, when he saw you and Evan by the buffet.

Your eyes found his and something in his chest sparked.

And then his eyes fell to the way your hand rested on Evan’s arm, the way you leaned into him as you laughed, the way Evan’s arm was thrown over your shoulder as you both walked back to your table. He watched as you both sat next to each other, so close your thighs were probably pressed together under the table and something bitter settled in his stomach.

He knew he had no real reason to be jealous. Especially between the fact that you yourself had assured him everything between you and Evan was platonic (if not familial) and the fact there was no real talk of anything being between you and himself other than a shitload of chemistry.

But even logic didn’t stop the jealousy he felt.

His appetite was gone after that, as he turned around and headed back to his suite that felt a little bittersweet after the amazing night and shit morning he had with you. But he wasn’t in the mood to eat or pine for you from a distance.

Charles was sick and tired of you ignoring him, and he was going to get to the bottom of it.

And the first step in his plan had everything to do with the blond you were currently laughing and touching. He just needed to get Evan alone.

…

It was Christmas Eve when Charles’ plan finally reached its final step—to finally talk to you.

It felt like an odd sense of deja vu when you woke up that morning, making your way down for breakfast before you got ready for the slopes that day. You thought nothing off the weird looks Evan was giving you or the way he seemed giddier than usual, because truthfully it was no different to how Evan usually was on Christmas Eve.

You put down his eagerness to head towards the slopes under the assumption he probably had some weird challenge for you and Harper at the top. You just hoped this one wouldn’t result in another sprained ankle.

“I’m riding with you today, Stormy,” Evan said as the three of you headed towards the ski lift.

“Uh, get in line, loser,” Harper spoke up as she stood on the other side of you. “I called dibs.”

Evan narrowed his eyes. “No, you didn’t.”

“Well, I did just now,” Harper retorted.

“Does it really matter?” You questioned, amused as you glanced between the two of them.

“Yes!”

“No!”

Harper and Evan turned to glare at each other, confusion from one of them and insistence from the other. However, you just laughed and shook your head.

“Fine, first one to the lift wins!”

You were already settled in the lift as you heard the two of them bickering to each other. You waited to see which one would win, to see who would settle in the spot next to you. However, what you failed to notice was the way Evan all but threw himself on top of his sister so she couldn’t reach the lift before someone else did.

You turned, a smile on your face as you waited to greet the winning Montgomery, but instead you found yourself staring at a painfully familiar set of green eyes.

And in an instant, your smile dropped at the sight of Charles Leclerc sitting next to you.

But before you could even think about jumping off the lift and taking the next seat, the lift was already too high up for you to do anything about it.

“You’ve been ignoring me,” he said to break the silence.

But you didn’t respond.

“Look, I know you don’t want to talk to me but at least hear me out,” Charles continued, a hint of desperation in his voice. “This is all a misunderstanding.”

You kept your gaze facing forward.

“Evan told me what you thought happened that morning.”

And just like that, your head snapped around to stare at him, a mix of emotions going through you right now—though the biggest was possibly Evan’s betrayal.

“You weren’t lying when you said he was a big fan,” he said with a nervous laugh. “It didn’t actually take much for him to tell me why you’ve been ignoring me.”

“You used my friend?” You questioned, the bitterness and coldness in your voice evident.

“I asked and he gave me information,” Charles corrected before his shoulders sagged a bit. “Look, don’t blame him. He heard what I had to say and—”

“And I don’t care what you have to say so go talk to Evan about it,” you spat back at him, watching the way he winced at your words.

“Cherie—”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Stormy—”

“And definitely don’t call me that.”

“Please,” Charles pleaded as he looked at you with wide eyes, ones that held so many emotions you did not want to see. “That phone call was not what you think.”

You looked away at the mention of the phone call, something quite like anger and disgust bubbling inside you at the mere reminder of the words you heard that morning. “Just…stop it, Charles. I don’t care, okay? You go about your life and I’ll go about mine.”

“No,” he stated simply.

You scoffed. “What? You need another girl in another city to have fawning over you? The hundreds of others not enough?”

“No, because I am not interested in my life not having you in it. I am not interested in a hundred other girls.” The words were stated like they were facts. “Stormy, I just want you.”

You scoffed again but a hand tugging yours made you look over at Charles, fully prepared to pull your hand away.

“I wasn’t talking about you on the phone that morning,” Charles quickly blurted out before you had a chance to say anything. “Everything you heard on the phone that morning, it wasn’t about you.”

You blinked.

“It was about Melanie.”

Your brows furrowed together, a crease forming between them that Charles had the urge to smooth out with his thumb, but he resisted.

“What?”

“She—” Charles paused for a moment, like he was trying to gather the correct words. “She’s not my friend, not really.”

You blinked again. “She’s not? But she acts—”

“She acts like we are, yes. She’s a friend of a friend, and that’s about all there is to her. She’s…uh, how do you say? She seems to have gained a crush on me? Or maybe it’s some weird obsession. I’m not quite sure,” Charles admitted with a frown. “She asked me out once, almost a year ago and I declined. But she has latched onto the group ever since and I couldn’t quite shake her off.”

You didn’t say anything, instead letting him continue.

“She wasn’t even meant to be on this trip,” Charles confessed. “But she said to our mutual friend that she was alone this Christmas and…I just couldn’t say no, right? But she’s spent the last year acting like I didn’t reject her and I didn’t like the idea of being trapped up here with her. But even with all our other friends, she was always beside me. She was always there. And when she started to throw tantrums to our friends and make up stories after I started spending time with you, I had enough.”

Your lips parted slightly in shock.

“Turns out she told all our friends that we were together,” Charles said with a grimace. “That we wanted to keep it a secret from the media, and that meant I wanted to keep it from everyone. She tried to make it out like I was a monster to our friends when I started spending days with you. Thankfully, none of them believed a word she said but…it was just too much.”

“Oh.”

“That’s why you heard me ranting on the phone about not seeing her after this trip because I have no plans to be around her ever again and I made that clear to my friends. You can even ask them if you don’t believe me,” Charles said as he finally let out a long breath. He looked at you, an almost pained expression on his face. “I would never say those things about you. Not when you might just be the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

Your cheeks burned. “Charles—”

“I know you feel it too,” he continued, and that desperate note to his voice returned. “I know you’ve felt it all week. I know you felt it that night. I know you feel like this—us—could be something.”

“I’m such an idiot,” you muttered, closing your eyes as you realised the agonsing and the pain and the ignoring over the last few days could have been avoided if you stayed in the bedroom a little longer that morning. Or if you had just spoken to him instead of letting the pettiness take over.

“You had no reason to think otherwise about me, cherie, and I get that,” Charles said as he squeezed your hand, almost like a tester to see if you would pull away or not. But you didn’t. “But I want to change that. I want to explore this. I want to show you that I would never do that to you. I want to give you reasons to trust me.”

“I would like that,” you murmured in a soft voice, but Charles heard you loud and clear as he grinned at you.

“Yeah? You don’t hate me still?” He questioned.

You laughed, shaking your head as you did. “I don’t think I ever hated you, Charles.”

“Good, it makes this easier then,” he said before he leaned in, his slightly chapped lips pressed against yours—and something about it felt like coming home.

You sunk into his embrace, your hand coming up to cup his cheek like you needed to believe he was really there (even if the gloves made it a little awkward). But feeling him smile against your lips was assurance enough.

“Merry Christmas Eve, Charles.”

“Merry Christmas Eve, Stormy. I hope it’s one of many with you.”

And maybe Charles Leclerc became another one of the many reasons you loved The Chalet.

1K notes · View notes

g0dlyunsub · 2 months

Note

could you perhaps do a spencer x fem reader based on the song ‘i miss you, i’m sorry’ by gracie abrams? 🤍🤍

back to you.

upon your return after a year of working outside the bau, everyone welcomes you back with open arms – everyone except for one agent.

pairing :: spencer x fem bau!reader

warnings :: angst, drinking, reader gets drunk, confessions and lots of apologizing

word count :: 2.9k

author’s note :: such a lovely request! this stretched out to be a lot longer than i had initially planned for, but what can i say, the song lyrics kept inspiring me to write more

accompanying song :: i miss you, i’m sorry by gracie abrams

do you remember happy together?

can we start over?

those were the four words you wanted to say, but you chose to remain silent instead.

the guilt piled and eventually torched your heart when it became too much to bear. you preserved whatever was left of your sanity by flooding your bloodstream with three cups’ worth of caffeine, deciding to pay the price with jittery fingers.

you had just spent the past eight months working a leadership position at the doj, and out of all of the decisions you’ve ever made in your life, this was your most regrettable one by far. sure, there were a lot of benefits that came with your elevated status – your bank balance certainly thanked you for it – but you missed out on too much.

you missed out on all of your coffee outings with the girls. you missed out on dinners with the entire team, where you would’ve brought your charcuterie board and downed your stress with red wine and endless rounds of poker. you missed out on everything that you would’ve marked your calendar for – trips to the mall, the fishing pier, the fancy dinner place a few blocks away from the office.

but nothing pained you more than your missed days with spencer. the thought bugged you every day, and you could do nothing to ignore it.

because how could you not regret it, the weekly strolls to the library with a cup of coffee in hand and his scarf wrapped tightly around you, his scent nuzzling against you?

memories of that day haunt you like it’s yesterday.

—

“spence, i don’t need the scarf. the coffee’s keeping me warm just fine.”

your brown-haired coworker scoffed and stuffed his hands in his pockets while his gaze fell onto the pavement.

walking side-by-side with him always felt surreal. his voice blew past your hair and drifted into your eardrums as your feet hit the soft grass, your boots slightly wet from the sprinklers tending the green.

“do i need to remind you that you were sick four days ago?”

you couldn’t help the faint blush from creeping up your cheeks when he turned to meet your gaze with his rounded eyes. you wanted to call him out because his ears were tinged with bright red from the cold air, but you stayed put. your flushed cheeks grew even hotter when his shaky hands dragged up your shoulders and cinched the scarf tighter around your neck.

“besides, natural fibers work wonders at keeping moisture away from the body.”

his slight rasp sent shivers down your skin, and scratched the back of your mind just right.

the urge to grab him and kiss him tugged at your fingers like an itchy scab, but you chose not to scratch it.

thought you'd hate me

maybe he was the reason you decided to come back.

you couldn’t bear the same routine any longer, cramped up inside an office with no place to go besides the dimly lit room of your bare apartment still filled with unpacked moving boxes.

you didn’t have much luck making friends at your new workplace, and you threw the idea of finding a potential date out the window.

and even after eight months, you couldn’t shake his crestfallen face from your mind.

—

“you’re leaving?”

spencer’s eyes immediately tore away from his book and landed on you, his lips slightly parted.

“in- in a week. yes, i’m leaving.”

you looked down at the ground and tucked a strand of loose hair behind your ears several times. an uncomfortable silence filled the air.

“how long has it been since you… accepted the offer?”

you paused before glancing up. the twinkle that always sits in his eyes seemed to gain an extra edge in that moment, and it was almost scary, how he stared at you so inscrutably.

“two weeks,” you said truthfully and looked down again, because you didn’t have it in yourself to hold his gaze.

from your peripheral vision, you noticed how his knuckles were almost white from the sheer force with which he was gripping his book. you bit down on the insides of your cheek, hard.

“i didn’t know you were thinking of other options,” he muttered lowly, and your heart instantly dropped.

“it was a good offer, spence. a really good one. i-”

“yeah, i hope it was a good offer. i mean, i don’t know how much of a role we played in your decision, but i’m happy for you. congrats.”

you blinked a few times while his words echoed in your mind. his quick-witted response heavy with bitter undertones flooded you with the most intense feelings of remorse and guilt.

“this wasn’t an easy decision, if that’s what you’re talking about. spence, you’re like family to me, and leaving this all behind… i thought about this day and night.”

“you know, it’s kind of funny how you say that we’re like family, because a family would do everything to stay together. but then again, maybe i’m the exception.”

you really didn’t have anything to say after that.

he completely annihilated and swept through you, and still finished you off by walking past you to snatch his bag and leave the office.

you should’ve told him before.

but then he would’ve convinced you, and you knew that it wouldn’t take much to be coaxed into staying, especially when it was spencer. you consulted your parents and emily instead, and they all urged you not to overthink.

but that day, you were convinced you had it all wrong.

i still love you, i promise

you could feel the tears surface almost immediately when you wrap your hands around emily’s back in a heartfelt embrace.

“how do you feel?” she pulls back and reaches into her pocket to hand you your id.

you take it from her slowly, tracing your fingers over the edges while staring at the words ‘special agent’ next to your signature.

“i feel-” you shake your head in disbelief, “so happy to be back.”

you don’t know if you sound as excited as you’re claiming yourself to be, but emily doesn’t pry into it.

“seems like you’re stuck with us no matter what,” she chuckles, and then clasps her hand around your wrist. “come on, everyone’s waiting for you.”

you heard them before you saw their faces.

the garish papers and sparkling trails of glitter land at your feet the moment the elevator doors open, and a striking pop sounds before a flurry of celebratory squeals and claps echo left and right.

“oh you, come over here!” penelope scurries over to you and sweeps you in a tight hug, and the others join in to clobber you with pats and playful pushes.

emily leads you into the office while everyone trails behind you excitedly, and stops to gesture towards a table decorated with your nameplate. you step back in awe.

“the table’s perfect.”

you smile and set your bag down to brandish your nameplate at the others.

“i know! and guess who’s across from you.” jj laughs and moves her brows up and down, causing you to shift your glance at the surrounding desks.

and right across from you, you see it. the table, lined with books at every edge; the empty coffee mug; the nameplate.

as if right on cue, the office doors swing open, and the subject of your thoughts walks in.

you instantly feel the pang of guilt when his excited gaze turns into a vacant stare, when he realizes the source of rapture coming from inside the office is you.

his eyes flicker up and down and his stare almost feels chilling. you need him to break the cold and say something. anything.

your team somehow makes it even worse by reading your silence as a desire to be left alone. they nod and point to the roundtable upstairs before whizzing up the stairs and disappearing behind the blinds, leaving you to face the man you haven’t seen in eight months alone.

“you’re back.”

spencer says it with a voice so quiet, with a pace so swift, with a tone so flat, you don’t know if you’d be able to catch that it’s him if it isn’t for his face.

you don’t want his impassive tone to dictate the mood for the conversation when you’ve just hauled your feet all the way back, so you clear your throat and open your mouth to speak.

“i am. it’s nice to see you again.”

he stiffens. his reaction is a bitter pill to swallow.

“spencer,” you start, eyeing the vein marking the side of his forehead, “you- i’m probably the last person you want to see right now. i’m really sorry about last time.”

the unwavering expression on his face is unsparing, but you aren’t going to look away abashed.

“i just wanted to say that you were right. i should’ve never left in the first place. i hated every second of work there, and believe me when i say that i didn’t hesitate when emily asked if i wanted to come back.”

he could pierce your heart with his silent stare.

“i’m sorry i couldn’t tell you earlier. but i knew, i knew that if i consulted you i would’ve turned it down.”

you take a deep breath.

“i missed you so much, but i just didn’t have it in me to tell you that because i thought you’d still be mad, and you’re probably still really mad at me right now so it’s okay if you don’t say anything because i understand, i know that i’d be mad if i were in your place, but i just wanted to make it clear that i’m not going to leave again-”

“stop.”

he cuts you off, but the rattles of your apologies continue to drift in the back of your mind.

he tears his gaze away from you and shakes his head.

“i need some time… to think about this.”

without waiting for a response, he turns and walks off, up the stairs and away to regroup with the rest of the team. he doesn’t see the tears that cascade down your flushed face.

think i’ll make it worse

“great work today.”

hotch nods at you with a warm smile before he steps out, leaving you to be the last one in the office.

walking over to your desk, you carefully pull out a large bottle of wine from a bag that rossi left earlier as a welcome-back gift.

you make your way to the shared kitchen, and sigh happily when you find the corkscrew in the same drawer as before – a subtle reminder that some things haven’t changed. inserting the lever arm into the cork, you twist and pull until it lifts from the bottle with a satisfying pop.

without pouring the wine into a spare glass, you shuffle your feet until you reach the stairs, and plop down on the raised steps.

you take a small sip of the wine, savoring the taste as the liquid sloshes around in your mouth, and recall the events of earlier.

stop.

you take another sip.

i need some time.

you attach your lips to the mouth of the bottle and take a large gulp.

i need some time… to think about this.

you guzzle the wine without a single care, without considering the fact that your car’s still parked outside and that you need to get home somehow.

you drink until your lips stain with the color of dark purple, until you can smell the alcohol rubbed deep in your skin, and until you collapse to your hands and knees.

—

spencer hadn’t initially planned to go back to the office that night.

but when he rang your cell five times and each call sent him straight to voicemail, he knew something wasn’t right.

he was never good at verbalizing apologies, so he was just going to leave a letter on your desk to find in the morning. the two of you would address everything then.

because the truth was that he could never stay mad at you. he just needed to prepare himself, to be able to see your face again without feeling the heavy crash of emotions.

but when he turned up to the office and noticed the lights were still on, suspicious thoughts clouded his brain.

hesitantly, he curled his fingers around the handles of the door and opened it.

he saw the empty wine bottle first, which had rolled its way to the entrance of the office and stopped at his feet.

crouching, he took the bottle in his palm and examined it before confusedly clicking his tongue and setting it on top of the kitchen table.

but then he saw you, slumped over the stairs, your face sinking into your dress shirt stained with drops of purple.

he dropped everything and ran, ran as fast as he could, to your side.

i miss you, i'm sorry

you hear the soft swearing and realize you’re not alone, but you’re too drunk – too tired – to match the face to the fuzzy figure crouched beside you.

“have you been drinking this entire time?”

is that spencer? it’s surely his voice.

“spencer? oh my god, what- why are you here?”

he waves the bottle you had just downed in your face, and your hands instinctively move to reach for it. he pulls it away from you.

“did you just finish all of this?”

you give a lopsided smile and blink slowly. “oh, i swear it was just one sip.”

that’s the only confirmation he needs.

spencer tuts and sighs. he’s about to murmur a few words of disapproval when your head falls and you lurch forward, but he catches you just in time. with his palms cupping the sides of your face, he gently lowers you onto his lap.

“how were you going to get home?”

his voice brushes against you like feathers. damn it, he sounds intoxicating.

you smile sleepily. “what are you talking about? i am home.”

spencer frowns.

“no, your home is twenty minutes away from here. you’re still at the office.”

the office lights are too bright for you to handle, you move your hand to shield your eyes. spencer takes note of this, and moves his head over to cast his shadows onto your face.

“no,” you breathe, “i’m right where i belong. with you.”

that’s not the answer he’s expected at all. his throat constricts and for a second, he’s glad you’re too drunk to notice the blush spreading across his face.

“did you mean it?”

you furrow your brows in confusion. “what?”

“did you mean it when you said you missed me?”

you let out a hushed laugh. “did you want me to say something else?”

spencer shakes his head. “i just want to know if you really meant-”

“god, spence, you look so kissable right now.”

he gulps.

he never thought the word kissable would ever tumble from your pretty lips, let alone be directed towards him. never, not in a million years.

“stop,” is all he can come up with.

“do you know who i missed the most when i left?”

he knows where this is going, and he needs to stop you before you spill too much. for your own good.

“let’s get you up.”

“you. it’s always been you.”

he doesn’t want to give in to your bubbly laughs, your soft tugs at his shirt, your face nuzzling into his lap.

“after i left,” you continue to drawl your words with clarity only slightly greater than that of a burble, “i came to realize something.”

he doesn’t need to ask. he doesn’t need to know more.

“what?”

he wants to know more.

“i can’t love anyone else.” you blink. “it has to be you. loving you is just that easy.”

you’re persistent. you flip onto your stomach and plant a kiss on his lap before slowly sitting up and staring intently into his eyes.

you’re drunk.

this isn't right.

spencer shakes his head as if to warn you, to give you your last chance to back down.

you have to thank the alcohol for stripping you of all your nerves. “did you miss me?”

that, he can answer. spencer nods.

“say it back,” you whisper, gently tugging the collar of his shirt.

a blush heats his cheeks. “i missed you.”

you move closer, until your lips are less than an inch from his left ear. “how much?”

seeing this side of you, so bold and carefree, has spencer practically gripping the carpet floor for support.

he's miraculously saved when you pull back and raise a hand.

“i’m gonna-”

you don’t get to finish because you collapse onto the floor, completely wiped out by the alcohol.

he releases all of the air he’s been keeping inside of his lungs with a heavy sigh.

he watches your chest rise and fall slowly, your lips upturned and drawing in deep breaths.

“too much,” he replies, knowing you can’t hear him. he thinks he hears you mumble something back, but it's too incoherent for him to understand.

with a soft smile, spencer leans in and carefully crosses your arms over his shoulders, before hoisting you on his back to carry you out of the office.

“let’s get you home.”

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid angst #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid fluff #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid imagine

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lvnleah · 5 months

Text

Moving Day | Alessia Russo

Based on this request!

Summary: it’s moving day and your wife, Alessia, gets protective over you due to you being pregnant.

Notes: a bit of a short one but it’s cute!

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You loved your wife, Alessia, you really did, but ever since you’d become pregnant with your first child she felt overwhelming. Since the moment you started the ivf process, Alessia treated you like fragile glass.

It was like you were going to break at any given moment and she needed to wrap you up in bubble wrap. It was at the point that you wouldn’t be surprised if she did.

When you became pregnant, you and Alessia decided it was time to leave your apartment and move into a house. Your apartment was only ever supposed to be temporary until you and Alessia found a permanent place in London. You had a house in Manchester but when Alessia moved to Arsenal, you decided that an apartment was better for you both for the time being.

When you started to look for houses, Alessia took it more seriously than you. You weren’t in any rush to find a dream house but Alessia was. She wanted a house that you could raise you baby and any future children in.

You viewed six houses before you found ‘the one’ that was perfect. You were convinced that your estate agent thought Alessia was crazy. Every house that you viewed had to pass Alessia’s check list. It had to have at least three bedrooms, a large kitchen and living room and a good sized garden.

You and Alessia stood in the doorway of your new house, the sun casting a glow on the freshly painted walls. The scent of fresh paint hung in the air, something that was stressing Alessia out. It was moving day and you were 28 weeks pregnant.

The boxes were stacked high, and your friends Beth, Viv, Leah, and Vic were bustling around, carrying furniture and unpacking kitchenware.

“Lessi, please just let me unpack one box!” You pleaded with the blonde, a small pout resting on your face.

Alessia sighed, “Love, I don’t want you to hurt yourself. Me and the girls have it under control.” She said, pecking your lips as she walked past you with a box.

You wanted to help. You wanted to be part of this exciting transition into your new home. Once Alessia was out of sight, you picked up a small box labelled ‘Books’ and attempted to carry it to the bookshelf. Alessia swooped in like a hawk, her protective instincts on high alert.

"No, love," she said gently, taking the box from your hands. "You shouldn't be lifting anything heavy. Let the others handle it."

You huffed, frustration bubbling up. "Alessia, I'm not made of glass! I can carry a box or two."

You felt useless. You wanted to scream, to tell Alessia that you weren't fragile, that you could help but instead, you bit your lip and nodded.

As the day wore on, Alessia continued to shield you from any physical exertion. You watched as your friends laughed and chatted. Alessia was in her element, directing where things were to go and ensuring everything was in its rightful place. You felt like an outsider, a spectator of your own life.

When Alessia was outside, you picked up a small box of your clothes. You were halfway up the stairs when Alessia swooped in and took the box from your hands.

“Less!” You groaned in frustration, “just let me carry the goddamn box! I’m not glass, I’m pregnant. It’s just a box of clothes.”

“Babe, it’s okay.” She said, walking away from you. “I can do it.”

You let out a frustrated sigh, trying your best not to scream and Alessia and get pissed off. Leah joined you on the stairs.

“You alright?” She asked, placing a comforting hand on your back.

“I’d be alright if Lessi let me carry a box and stopped treating me like fucking glass!” You murmured, making your way up the stairs.

Alessia left the room once again and this time you decided to unpack a box downstairs in the kitchen. Just as you began to lift the glasses out of the box and into the cupboard, Alessia swooped in once again.

“Please be careful,” Alessia pleaded, taking the glass from your hands, “One of the girls can do this.”

Finally, you snapped. “Alessia, I appreciate your concern, but I’m not made of glass. I can carry a box or two and help unpack!”

She turned to face you, a heavy sigh leaving her lips. “You’re pregnant! You should be resting, not lifting heavy things.”

“But I’m not helpless!” You said, your voice raised a little. “I can still do stuff!”

Your argument escalated quickly and you found yourself going back and forth. Your voices rose until your friends paused in their tracks, watching you with wide eyes. Alessia’s cheeks flushed, and you knew I’d hit a nerve when she stormed off and left you alone in the kitchen.

By late afternoon, exhaustion settled in and your friends had left your house. Alessia and you hadn't exchanged more than a few words since that initial clash. You sat on the edge of your bed, rubbing some lotion into your bump. Alessia joined you, her expression softer now.

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice barely audible. "I only want what’s best for you and our baby, love.”

"I know," you replied, tears welling up. "But I need to feel useful too. I'm not just an incubator. I wanted to help today Lessi, I did, but I felt like you were stopping me."

She kissed your forehead as she pulled you into her side, "I love you, and I want to protect you both. I went overboard and I’m sorry."

"You did," you said, your voice trembling. "But I also need you to trust me, I know my own body, and that you won't smother me."

You sat there, your emotions swirling like leaves caught in a storm for a short moment. Alessia placed a delicate kiss on your temple.

"I don't want to control you," she whispered. "I just want us to be safe. I don’t want anything to happen to you or our baby, you're my whole world.”

"I know," you murmured. "But sometimes it feels like a cage."

“I’m sorry,” Alessia sighed, “Tomorrow I’ll let you help but just nothing heavy, alright?”

You laughed and tilted your head to be in line with Alessia’s. You kissed Alessia’s soft lips before you both crawled into bed together. The next day, you found a good balance between helping and not going overboard. Alessia let you carry the light boxes but also helped you unpack the heavy ones.

The next night, you laid down together in your bed, exhaustion overtaking the both of you. In each other's arms, you drifted off to sleep. Alessia’s hand rested on your growing bump as your baby kicked away. Despite all the stress of moving, you absolutely loved your new house and couldn’t wait to fill it with memories that you and Alessia were soon going to create together. The first starting with welcoming your baby into the world.

#alessia russo x reader #awfc x reader #alessia russo fluff #awfc #awfc imagine #woso x reader

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hellodarling1357 · 9 months

Note

Can i ask for Cassian x reader fic where the reader becomes friends with Bryaxis?👀

Like someday she decides to go down to the lower part of the library and meet the monster everyone is so afraid of... and finds Bryaxis, silly guy who just wants some friend to talk to. And the reader begins to visit him from time to time, chatting nicely and just having a good time

And poor Cassian so stressed out with these two😮‍💨

Friend and Foe

Hello!! Thank you for sending me this request, it was so much fun to write!! Sorry it took me so long but hopefully the Domestic Cassian makes up for it, we love a man who can cook 🥹

Bryaxis really is just a silly, goofy guy

Enjoy 🥰

Word Count: 3.1k

After being mated for all of two months, Cassian had basically begged you to move into the House of Wind with him. It really hadn’t taken much convincing, especially after Rhysand had ensured you that you wouldn’t be imposing.

So the very next day, your belongings were all packed, Rhys using his magic to move them for you, and Cassian was helping you do a final sweep over your old apartment, barely containing his excitement as he reassured you, yet again, that everything was sorted.

“Okay, I think I’m good. Ready to go?” You asked with a final glance around the room.

Cassian, who had given up on trying to convince you to stop fussing and had instead decided to sit on the floor by the window, jumped up with a broad grin stretched across his face.

“About time.” He teased, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, your forehead, then your nose, before wrapping an arm around your waist as he led you outside.

As soon as you had locked the door behind you, Cassian was scooping you into his arms and leaping into the sky, flying you towards your new home.

*****

You had been to the House of Wind multiple times, but this time felt different; you weren’t going there to visit Cassian, you were going there to live with him, to start your life with him.

You nuzzled your face into his neck, pressing kisses along it as he tightened his grip on you, quickly approaching the balcony that jutted out of the mountain.

Upon landing, you prepared yourself for Cassian to place you back on your feet. Instead, he shot you another wide grin and walked towards the balcony doors with you still in his arms, not letting you down until you had crossed the threshold.

“Welcome home, sweetheart.” He softly said before pulling you in for a kiss.

You smiled against his lips, realisation finally hitting that this would be your everyday from now on, the thought causing you to wrap your arms around his neck and tug him further down to you.

“Now, please remember,” Rhysand’s voice drawled, “this is still a shared space.”

You broke away from your mate, cheeks reddening in embarrassment, but Cassian simply looked annoyed at the interruption.

Giving him a sheepish smile you, for the hundredth time, thanked Rhys for letting you move in.

“Don’t mention it, it’ll be good to have you around.” He brushed off as Azriel entered the room.

“Especially if it means we no longer have to listen to Cassian complaining about how much he misses you, how far away you are, how—” But the Shadowsinger was cut off by Cassian throwing a book at his head and shooting him a glare.

You grinned at them all and laughed alongside Rhys, surprised at how quickly you had grown comfortable around Cassian’s brothers after only really meeting them a few weeks ago.

“Anyway,” Rhys interrupted, picking up on the taunt that was seconds from escaping Azriel’s lips, “We were just heading off. Figured we’d give you the night to…settle in”

With a wink at you and a teasing ruffle of Cassian’s hair, the two males made their way out towards the balcony before flapping their wings and heading towards Velaris.

“So…” Cassian started, eyeing you with an intensity that you had first seen after accepting the bond. “Where should we start?”

You knew he wasn’t talking about unpacking.

*****

It had been three months since you had moved into the House of Wind. Cassian had made space in his room for all of your belongings and the two of you had set out redecorating it together to make a space of your own.

You had fallen into a routine, not just with Cassian, but with Azriel as well.

Your mate had decided to take it upon himself to set up a training and defence program for you. But, when he first caught sight of you in your skintight Illyrian leathers, he had quickly decided it wouldn’t be the most productive use of your time and had handed the task over to Azriel instead; although, not before muttering to keep your leathers on for later, with a wink and a pat on your ass as he sauntered back inside.

You had also grown a lot closer to the rest of the Inner Circle, finding that there was always someone floating around if Cassian was away.

Now, however, you slumped into one of the plump armchairs and let out a sigh. Cassian and Azriel were both away checking in on the Illyrian war camps, Mor and Rhys were at the Hewn City, and Amren… you weren’t entirely comfortable spending time alone with her just yet.

Deciding you couldn’t spend another day aimlessly roaming around the house, you made your way towards the library that was built into the mountain.

You had dragged Cassian there after first moving in, spending hours marvelling at all of the books whilst your mate trailed after you, looking as though he wanted to be anywhere else. You, however, happily let him follow along, handing him book after book to carry for you with a cheeky grin that he couldn’t say no to.

This visit, however, had you wanting to explore the deeper parts of the library, with a sudden desire to browse through some of the ancient texts that you hadn’t had the chance to peruse yet.

The further down you went, the more intrigued you were by the seemingly never ending darkness that spiraled into the depths of the library.

Whether it was out of boredom or pure curiosity, you pulled one of the swinging lanterns from the wall and let it guide you through the inky black space, the lights from further up growing smaller and smaller with every step, the shelves of books coated in a thick layer of dust and cobwebs.

Despite the silence and the darkness of the unknown space, you felt at ease as you reached, what you could only assume to be, the bottom of the black pit.

Edging further into the space, the light coming from your lantern begun to flicker and you tensed at the sudden rustle of movement from behind you.

“Hello?” You cautiously called out, stretching the lantern further out to illuminate more of the room. Straining your ears, you listened closely for the slightest sound of movement, instead, however, a small cluttering sound bounced across the floor and ended by your feet.

Looking down you saw the small stone that had been thrown from the darkest corner of the space. Not quite knowing what to do, you slowly leant down to pick it up, turning it over in your hands a few times as you squinted into the darkness.

There was another quiet rustling noise and then another stone came into view, stopping where the other one had landed.

You picked this one up as well, your expression a mixture of puzzlement and amusement. With a quiet laugh to yourself, you gracefully threw the first stone back into the corner, watching it bounce across the floor before disappearing into the darkness.

A pleased sounding gasp of excitement filled the space around you and then the stone was bouncing back towards you in a hurried manner. You were smiling now, throwing both stones back and waiting with anticipation before they were sent your way again.

Still feeling unsure about playing this game with a creature shadowed by darkness, but not being one to question the weirdness that seemed to live within the Night Court, you sat cross legged on the ground and continued to bounce the stones back and forth.

“I’m Y/N, by the way.” You said into the darkness, feeling somewhat silly and not expecting the reply that followed.

“I know. I’m Bryaxis.” The chilling voice of the darkness replied.

*****

After that initial trip to the pit of the library, you found yourself heading down there at least once a week. You continued your game of throwing the stones back and forth but as the visits built up you found yourself asking questions about the creature and, in return, he provided you with a deep insight into the long forgotten histories of the world.

Walking back into the House of Wind after one of your library trips, you were surprised to find Cassian in the kitchen surrounded by numerous pots and pans and piles of food.

“Hi,” You greeted excitedly, leaning up on your tiptoes to plant a kiss on his cheek. “You’re back? I thought you wouldn’t be home for another few days. And you’re cooking?”

Hand still holding a wooden spoon, Cassian turned to face you, his other hand cupping your cheek as he lent down for a kiss.

“Hi,” He said against your lips. “Az took over for me,” Another kiss as he backed you against the counter. “Thought I would surprise you.”

You hummed against him, content in letting him wrap his free arm around your waist as he hoisted you onto the kitchen bench, legs coming up to wrap around his waist as you deepened the kiss and knotted your hands through his hair.

A sudden hissing sound had Cassian jumping back and turning in horror as the pot of boiling water started to splatter out across the stove.

“Where were you, anyway? You weren’t here when I got back.”

Content to have your mate beside you again, you absentmindedly swung your feet as you helped yourself to the pile of cut carrots he had set aside.

“Down in the library.” You answered between mouthfuls.

“Oh?”

You dipped the carrot into the bowl of a sauce looking substance, deciding you liked it and going back for seconds. Cassian, noticing this, flicked your nose and moved the sauce out of reach.

“That’s for later.”

You poked your tongue out as you jumped off the bench and moved to stand next to him as he stirred the still sizzling pot.

“Yeah, it’s a bit weird. A few weeks ago when you were away I got bored and wanted to explore the library a bit more,” Cassian turned his back so you helped yourself to whatever was simmering on the stove, earning your nose another flick and a sound of mock outrage from your mate.

“Anyway,” You continued as you lent against the bench, content in watching him cool for you. “I got right down to the bottom of the pit and met this creature,” You weren’t really sure how to describe your newfound friend, you had never actually seen his true form. “And we’ve sort of become friends, I guess?”

You laughed at the silliness of how it sounded, not noticing how Cassian tensed. “You never mentioned anyone else living in the library, his name is—“

“Bryaxis.” Cassian interjected, looking at you with an expression of horror and concern.

“Yes, that’s him” You said excitedly, still missing your mate’s distress.

“Y/N,” Cassian took your hands in his trembling ones and looked over you as though checking for any signs of harm. “Please tell me you’re joking. Did Rhys set you up?”

You stared back, surprised by his response, “Cass? What’s wrong?” But he didn’t seem to hear you.

“Have you seen him? Are you hurt? Y/N, how long has this been going on?”

“I’m fine? And no, he always stays in the dark. Why are you freaking out?”

But Cassian couldn’t answer, simply pulling you into a tight hug as he buried his face in your hair.

“Promise me you won’t go back.”

“Love, you’re starting to scare me—“

“Y/N, I need you to swear it to me. I can’t believe I didn’t know this was going on…” He trailed off, the haunted gleam still present in his eyes.

You were stunned by his reaction, not once had you seen Cassian acting so spooked. Sure, he tended to get a bit possessive around other males but this was entirely different, he seemed completely and utterly fearful of the thought of you being in Bryaxis’ presence.

“What happened? He’s never done anything to cause me harm. We just sit and talk and throw stones back and forth… Is there a reason he’s down there?” Maybe you had missed something, and Bryaxis was, in fact, some sort of monster.

Cassian pulled back, still somewhat wary but you could feel the tension leave his body.

“No, he’s always just been there. I had… an encounter with him, years ago—“

“Did he do something to you?” You cut in with concern.

“No, but… You said you haven’t seen him?”

You shook your head, still at a loss for what had brought all of this on.

“Good. Good,” Cassian muttered to himself now, turning back to finish dinner. You silently got some plates out for him to serve up and opened a bottle of wine, still watching your mate from the corner of your eye.

*****

You were both sat at the table but Cassian couldn’t seem to bring himself to eat, merely pushing his food around on his plate.

With a sigh, he looked up at you, “Y/N, you know I’d never usually ask this of you, and be so…,” He trailed off, swirling his wine before taking a sip. “Please, I really don’t want you going back down there.”

Now it was your turn to sigh, putting your fork down as you reached out to grasp his hand.

“How about this, you come down there with me—,” Cassian started to interject but you gave him a warning look to let you finish. “You come down there with me. You can see that he’s not this monster you seem to think he is, and if not, then we’ll talk about it. But I’m not just going to stop visiting, as weird as it sounds, he’s my friend.”

Cassian knew there would be no changing your mind on this, so with a grimace of a smile he reluctantly agreed, sighing at the beam of a smile that lit up your face.

*****

It had taken weeks to get Cassian back into the library, and not for a lack of trying on your part. Whenever you were both not doing anything, you would suggest heading down there. And every time you did, Cassian would suddenly have something he needed to do, or would mercilessly distract you and leave the library as a long forgotten thought in your mind.

This time was going to be different, you refused to let him weasel out of it again.

“Love, what’re you doing right now?” You innocently asked as you sat yourself in his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Nothing, nothing at all.” You expected as much, especially when he lent in and trailed lingering kisses along your neck.

“Good,” You stood up, pulling him with you. “Come with me.”

Your conspiratorial grin had Cassian thinking your mind was on something else, so he eagerly followed after you, pausing when you walked in the opposite direction of your bedroom.

“Sweetheart…?” You just walked back to him, holding his hand and dragging him alongside you.

Once you got to the library entrance, it finally clicked what you were doing.

“No. Absolutely not.”

“Cassian.” You said but he was slowly taking backwards steps away from the library door.

“I just remembered, Rhys needed me to—“

“No he doesn’t. I already checked.”

The frantic panic in his eyes had you almost feeling bad about deceiving him. Almost being the key word.

“Cassian,” The commanding tone of your voice had him stopping in his tracks. “If you don’t come down there with me, right now, then there’s no more sex.”

He gave you an unconvinced look, clearly thinking he was calling your bluff.

“I’m serious. This has gone on long enough. No more sex until you go down there. In fact, I’m staying at the town house until it’s done.”

Cassian stared you down with a torn expression of frustration and disbelief. You stared right back, letting out a sigh of relief as you watched determination spread over his face.

“Fine,” He was a man on a mission, marching towards the library and grabbing your hand in his as he walked by to keep you at his side. “Let’s get this over with.”

*****

You didn’t even try to stop your delighted grin as you headed down into the deepest depths of the library.

As the lights flickered and as darkness started to surround you both, you felt Cassian beginning to tense and slow his pace. Refusing to let him change his mind, you sent a wave of emotions down the bond that told him exactly what he would be missing if he bailed on you now. Cassian squeezed your hand in response, his steps picking up as you reached the bottom of the pit.

“Bryaxis?” You called out, rubbing your thumb in soothing circles over Cassian’s hand when you felt him tense up beside you.

There was movement to your left and then the lamp you had brought down with you flickered out. You could feel something curling around you, flicking your hair in a playful manner, causing you to smile. This was going to be fine.

You turned to Cassian to tell him as such, but the chilling voice that you had since grown accustomed to spoke up in a rasp.

“I didn’t think I would be seeing you again. Not after last time, Lord of Bloodshed.”

You sensed, more than saw, your friend move around your mate and that seemed to be too much for Cassian.

“No. No, Y/N, we’re done here.” And then he was holding onto your hand as though his life depended on it and bolted back towards the stairs.

Your confused laugh sounded out and was met by the amused laugh of Bryaxis swirling through the darkness.

“I’ll see you soon, friend.” His voice followed after you, all traces of the harrowing rasp he had used on Cassian was replaced by a genuine fondness.

“I won’t bring him next time,” You replied in farewell, gesturing towards your mate who was frantically trying to drag you away.

Cassian let out a groan. He knew there was nothing he could do to convince you to never come back down here. You gave his hand a reassuring pat, sending a wave of gratitude and love down the bond. You didn’t know what had happened between Cassian and Bryaxis during their last encounter, but at least your mate had tried to face him for you.

#cassian x reader #cassian acotar #cassian x y/n #cassian x you #cassian imagine #acotar #acofas #acomaf #acosf #acowar #marley writes

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stevieschrodinger · 2 months

Text

Part One Two Three Four Five

What the fuck are you even so happy about? You fucked it up. Jesus you both fucked it up. I didn’t even know something like that could happen.

Eddie smiles at his bedroom ceiling in the dim light, “it was amazing.”

You hugged. Congratulations, you hugged a boy. Eddie can feel Billy roll his eyes.

“You don’t get it.”

There’s nothing to get, because nothing actually happened. Because somehow you both fucked up something as simple as kissing.

Eddie laughs, “you mad Billy? Mad you didn’t get to make out with Harrington?”

Fuck off. I don’t give a shit.

“Uh hu,” Billy is finally quiet. He leaves Eddie alone, lets him grin up at the clean ceiling from his clean new bed, in the room Steve set up for him. Filled with the things Steve went out of his way to save from the old trailer. There’s no beeping here, no hospital smells, he’s warm and comfortable and he’s full of Steve’s casserole and mashed potatoes.

The scent of Steve’s aftershave lingering in his nose, on his cheek.

They were going to kiss, Eddie’s pretty sure they were. They were both so close, heads tilted and eyes wide, but someone twitched wrong, something happened, both of them simultaneously sublimating whatever it was they were doing into a hug instead. Steve’s arms wrapped carefully around Eddie’s middle, conscious of the still healing wounds, his face tucked carefully against Eddie’s neck, ‘never done anything with a guy before.’ The whispered confession from Steve Harrington, the soft lips and sharp stubble against Eddie’s neck.

A confession that means he was going to do something with a guy. Or at least was interested in doing something with a guy, and that guy was, presumably, Eddie.

An incredible turn of events, really.

‘Never done anything with anyone,’ Eddie had whispered back, earning himself a snort of a laugh. God natured though. Happy.

‘We can go slow.’

And Steve had left with a big sappy smile and a dorky little finger tip wave and a promise they would hang out tomorrow.

Eddie sighs. Then grabs a pillow so he can scream into it. And then he’s kind of just grinning, laughing a little, he’s just so fucking happy.

Jesus christ, you fuck ups are actually made for each other.

“I hope so.”

What is this we’re doing now.

Eddie ignores him, sets up his DM shield, his books, his dice. Unpacks his pencils, his notes. Eddie always plays it fast and loose, he’s got a vague plan sure. As long as he knows the plan and the motivations of the bad guys, everything else falls into place pretty easily.

So this is the nerd thing you’ve been planning for.

He wants this one to be good; first game with Will the Wise present, after all. Steve’s in the kitchen, left Eddie to set up the finishing touches. They’re going to hang out and watch a movie once all the kids have gone, and Eddie’s pretty sure he couldn’t have planned a more perfect day if he tried. Steve’s even making them snacks. He’s done something to the dining room table to make it even bigger, unfolding some extra hidden bit of wood to make it longer; wild rich people shit.

The bell tolls; the kids are at the door, and Eddie can’t suppress his joy at having all the kids here together, everyone alive and well. Well, except for Max, which is shitty, but all the kids are going to go and visit her after this, so that’ll be nice for her.

He wants to prance to the front door, leap and skip and play he’s so buzzing with excitement for this, but one single hop is enough for his body to remind him, pretty sharply, that he is absolutely not ready for that sort of nonsense just yet, so he walks instead.

Jesus christ, this kid is a straight up savage.

Lady Applejack stares Eddie down over his DM shield.

Could have done with her against the Mindflayer.

“I’m going to attack.”

Of course she is.

Eddie claps joyously, “everyone roll for initiative.”

Eddie’s standing now, can’t possibly just sit with all this going on, “and that is a hit, his mighty war hammer crashing into your armor with a resounding smack, for one D10 of damage…”

“Dustin,” Mike hisses, “how much health do you even have?”

Dustin shakes his head, worried, but doesn’t answer. Lucas is hanging onto Dustin's shoulder, looking down at Dustin’s character sheet. Eddie’s dice clatters on the table behind the DM shield, Lucas signals ‘five’ to will with his fingers.

The whole table collectively holds it’s breath as Eddie watches his die roll and settle on a nine. “It’s a glancing blow! Your armor must absorb some of the hit as you take four points of damage!”

Eddie, no, don’t lie. Kill the little shit-you're too soft on them.

Will immediately starts on his turn, so excited, “I cast Cure Light Wounds!”

Of course he does.

Why is this taking them so long?

The most simplistic puzzles are the best.

Literally all the have to do is match the colors. I can’t believe how dumb they are.

Eddie does his best to hold in the snort. Doesn’t quite succeed and earns a scathing look from Erica. Yep. They are over thinking it a little.

This is so frustrating, how can you even sit through this.

Watching them struggle is the fun. They’ll get it in a minute.

We’re going to grow old and die here.

They sit and listen to the kids argue a little longer, coming up with wilder and wilder theories on how to solve what is the simplest color match game Eddie could come up with.

Baldie is staring at us.

Don’t call her that, Eddie’s reply is reflexive, but Billy is right. El is watching them.

Eddie isn’t surprised when she lingers. Deliberately makes it so that she’s the last standing on the porch. The boys shot off on their bikes, but El, Mike and the ferocious Lady Applejack are hitching a ride with Nancy.

She waves to him through the wind shield, then turns, talking to Mike.

“Do you talk to him?”

No preamble. Just those big fucking eyes looking up at Eddie. Knowing. A little kid should not look like that.

“Yeah, all the time.” In his mind, Billy is still and quiet. Watching warily.

“Is he alright?”

“He’s still a massive dick, so, I guess so, yeah.”

“Does Max know?”

She cuts right to the heart of it, this kid, “she’s the only one who knows.”

She nods, “for now,” and then leaves, running to get in the car without a care in the world.

She’s terrifying.

I know, fucking great isn’t it?

Part seven

#eddie munson #steve harrington #billy hargrove #stranger things #steddie #pre getting together #pre steddie #pre metal sandwich #metal sandwich #metalsandwich #ficlet #harringrove #harringroveson #mungrove #ghost of billy hargrove #getting together

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jezabelle9299 · 2 months

Text

Moving day S.R x fem! reader

Overture- Reader is moving into a neighborhood where a serial killer is hunting down women living alone, so when the FBI shows up on her doorstep she gets assigned protective custody from one Dr. Spencer Reid

*Includes references to season 1 episode 18 "Someone's watching" but this is season 3 or later

You were finally getting space away from your family, you’d finally saved up enough. You were able to actually buy a small house, as a mortgage payment ended up being cheaper than rent. You may be living it up in a two bedroom now, but you were no heiress. Movers were out of the question, you rented a small moving truck and set out to do a 24 hour moving day. You’d painted, picked up all of your second hand furniture, all of your packed boxes, and changed the locks. You’d just finished moving the first set of boxes inside when a black suv pulled in behind you in the driveway. An older gentleman came out and made a beeline towards you, with a man that looked like he could be his son trailing behind him.

“My name is Agent Rossi, and this is Dr. Reid, we’re with the FBI. We’d like to ask you a few questions.” You’d lived here a minute and a half and federal agents were knocking on your door. Your mother would have a stroke if you told her, so you focused on the younger guy who was about your age instead of letting your mind spiral with the possibilities of why they’re here.

“Sure, what can I do for you?” Your attention was pulled from the Dr. Reid, who’d yet to speak, when his colleague spoke up again.

“Can we come in?” The last thing you wanted was strangers in your house, but they had badges so you felt like you couldn’t realistically say no. Plus they could at least help you unload a couple of boxes while they talked.

“Sure, but everyone needs to grab a box first, I’m on a bit of a tight timeline.”

“Understood.” They each grabbed a box, and you did a small internal celebration that they grabbed the boxes of books you’d been dreading carrying inside. You grabbed one of the smaller ones, full of clothes instead. Once you arrived you sat down on the arm of your couch, gesturing for them to sit on the two chairs you’d picked up earlier that day.

“Thank you for getting those, I appreciate it. What can I do for you?” The younger man spoke up for the first time since he’d been there.

“We were hoping you could answer a few questions for us about the neighborhood.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I can help you. Unfortunately the moving boxes aren’t really for decoration. I’ve lived here for less than a day.”

“We actually think you could be in a unique position to help, because you haven’t lived here long.You would be more acutely aware of the behavior of your neighbors because you aren’t used to it.”

“Alright, then by all means, ask away.” The younger man asked almost all of the questions, with the older Agent Rossi taking diligent notes in his notepad. He started with questions of your interactions with your neighbors, but then shifted to the crime that brought him there. Someone had been targeting young women who lived alone in the few blocks surrounding your house.

“Would you be comfortable coming to the station to be put in protective custody?” You’d say yes in a heartbeat if it was any other day. Especially if it meant being in Dr.Reid’s orbit. You weren’t big into dating, yet there was something–compelling about him. But this was quite possibly the busiest day you’d had in the last year.

“No, I’m sorry but I can’t. I’ve still got boxes to unpack, furniture to put together, I can’t just pick up and leave.”

“Understood. Give us just one second.” Agent Rossi chimed in, pulling Dr. Reid aside while you checked your phone. Well, mostly staring at the homepage while eavesdropping on their hushed conversation. They were terrible at whispering.

“Why don’t you stay here with her? You can help us over the phone if we need it, and she fits the victimology.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea. She’s a little bit distracting. Maybe you should stay with her.”

“That’s exactly why you should stay with her, have you seen the way she looks at you? I swear she wouldn’t even notice I was here if I didn’t talk first.”

The young man eventually relented, although he still seemed a bit pouty about the whole thing. Then Agent Rossi turned his attention back to you, and you pretended not to have been eavesdropping on the whole thing. You couldn’t tell if he was buying it.

“How would you feel about Dr. Reid offering you protective custody here? You could go about your business, Dr. Reid would just keep an eye out for you.”

“Yeah that’d be fine, if he’s ok with it? It certainly won’t be interesting, you know, unless someone does decide to kill me.” He paled for a second before realizing it was a joke. You nudged him with your elbow, and then he finally let out a shaky exhale. Not really a laugh, but you’ll take it. Agent Rossi just gave you a smile and pat Dr. Reid on the shoulder.

“You kids have fun.” Then when the door was mostly closed behind him, he opened it back up to say “Not too much fun.” before laughing to himself all the way to the car. You pulled the tape off of one of the boxes before unloading some of your books onto the shelves you put up that morning.

“So Dr. Reid, what favor did you owe him to get stuck with me? Did you lose a bet or something?”

“You–uh, you can just call me Spencer, and why would you think I wouldn’t want to be here?”

“Why would you? I mean, it must be exciting being in the FBI and all, if it were me I wouldn’t want to babysit a fully grown adult.”

“It’s not babysitting, and I’m happy to be here.”

“Well that’s very sweet. But you're about to regret every life choice that’s led you to this point.” His face stiffened with confusion at that before you laughed teasingly.

“We have to move my mattress out of that truck. Since you’re here, I’d love to get out of dragging it on a tarp outside.” He actually laughed at that, and you were grateful you could get an actual laugh from him with that stupid of a joke. Maybe you had a chance with him after all.

You’d just managed to get the mattress on the boxspring in your room, barely. You crashed down onto it in celebration and exhaustion.

This is the fruit of our labor, and for that I thank you. I think this calls for a drink.” You jumped back up and bounced to the kitchen, with Spencer trailing slowly behind you, still trying to catch his breath. You continued talking to him down through the hallway. “I’m not big into actual drinking so I don’t have any alcohol, but I have water, orange juice, and coffee I think.”

He breathed a sigh of relief at the fact you’d stop going for a second. Before unloading your mattress you unpacked 3 boxes, and unloaded 6, while he could only struggle to keep up. You even found the energy to make conversation while you did it, and he was panting by the end, attempting to talk and lift. He’d never struggled to talk before. Every once in a while he needed to take a break from helping you to help the team, with them calling for whatever random information he could give, yet he was still lagging behind you with every trip back outside.

“Coffee sounds amazing.” He figured the coffee maker was already set up, with the energy you had, you'd have to have more than he did. And he had 4 cups this morning.

“Coming right up!” His relief at your pause in momentum was short lived. You made your way back to the living room and started shifting through boxes again.

“What are you looking for? I thought you wanted to take a break.”

“The coffee maker, it’s in one of these boxes, I just can’t remember which one. I mostly use it when I have guests.” You peaked his interest with that, there was no way that you just had all this motivation. It was humanly impossible.

“Do you usually order yours? Or do you have a preference for energy drinks?” Then you found the box holding the coffee machine and cut it open, laughing just a little bit to yourself at his interrogation-like line of questioning over something so simple.

“Neither, I’m just not super into it. All of this annoying is 100% natural.” You plastered a cheesy smile on your face as you turned to him, coffee pot in hand. He just furrowed his brow in confusion.

“I don’t think you’re annoying, but your relentless energy is interesting.”

“Well thank you, Spencer. I don’t think I have creamer, but I definitely have sugar, so I hope that’s ok?”

“Sugar is perfect, thank you again.”

“Of course, thanks for helping me with that mattress, and you know, the whole bodyguard thing you’ve got going on.” You got down one of the mugs you’d recently put away, before passing it, filled with coffee, along with the sugar to Spencer.

“I’ve got to return that truck as soon as we get everything out of it, but I can pick up some food on the way back? And I’ve got movies in one of these boxes. You’re welcome to pick something, I like everything in there.” He chugged the coffee in his hand before moving with you toward the door.

“Sorry, but protective custody only works when I’m close to you. So as long as you’re still ok with it, I’ll go with you. Also there’s no way I’m letting you pay for dinner after intruding on your space all day.”

“Alright, then we’d better get started, the sun’s setting soon, and I hate the idea of driving that thing at night.” He gave a short nod and followed you out. You got the rest of the boxes, returned the truck, and picked up your car from the lot. When you went to pick up dinner Spencer, true to his word, insisted on paying. You sat on the floor and ate off the box your coffee table came in, deciding to put it together another day. When you cleaned up and finished unpacking your boxes of books and dvds you told Spencer he could pick a movie. He chose the one sci-fi flick from your collection, and you were not at all surprised.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

You weren’t quite sure when it happened. When you had moved to the couch, when you had offered to share a blanket with Spencer, or when you ended up falling asleep propped against his arm, the energy you had all day finally exhausted. The movie was long since forgotten when his phone rang and he answered in a whisper, not realizing the ringtone had already woken you up.

“Hey Morgan, what’s up?”

“Hey kid, we found him, so you’re free to go. Unless of course, you’d like to stay.” You could hear the teasing tone in his voice even through the phone.

“What are you talking about?”

“Oh forget it, Rossi already told everyone. Look, we’re not leaving until tomorrow morning. Just be at the station at 5 to pack up before we go, now go and make me proud.” You assumed he hung up with the way Spencer let out a long sigh before putting his phone back in his pocket.

“Everything ok?” You mumbled out, alerting Spencer to the fact you were awake and continuing to stay propped against him for your own benefit, before leaning up to stretch and be able to look him in the eye.

“Everythings fine, we found the person we were looking for, so we’re headed back to Virginia in the morning.” There was an air of sadness to his response, so you thought back on what the other agent said.

“I know you probably have to get back, but it’s late and you’re welcome to stay here if you like.”

“I really couldn’t, it’s not only an imposition, but really inappropriate. There’s this concept called transference, essentially it’s where you project affectionate feelings onto people who are helping you, or hold some position of authority. I can’t possibly take advantage like that.” He shuffled to get up from your couch, straightening his clothes and grabbing his things to put them in his leather bag.

“If you don’t want to, that's totally fine, but I wasn’t in danger. It was realistically babysitting more than anything, no one came after me, and nothing bad happened. Also, no offense, but I don’t really think of you or your friend from earlier as ‘Authority’. You’re like my age, and it’s not like you’re cops or anything. You’re federal agents, which is cool and all, but I’m not a murderer, so it’s not like I’m intimidated by you. I like you, but I’m not intimidated by you.” He couldn’t quite form a response, and his thoughts were swimming with the fact that he’d been assigned protective custody by himself twice and he ended up in this situation twice. I mean what are the odds. You were nothing like Lila though, with her he felt nervous all the time, but it was so easy spending the day with you.

“You like me?” You feigned exasperation, with an over dramatic eye roll, and a cheesy smile.

“Yes I like you. It wasn’t exactly an accident that I fell asleep on you, and continued to stay there after your ringtone woke me up.” He allowed himself a shocked smile, he wanted to keep his emotions neutral so as not to pressure you, but he couldn’t contain this.

“Could I maybe get a response? I’m feeling a bit vulnerable here.”

“Sorry, yes of course I like you. I mean, have you seen you? You’re quite possibly the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. I’ll stay if you’ll still have me, but I’m sleeping on the couch.”

“What a gentleman–” Just as you were about to tell him that sleeping on the couch was a terrible idea with his height, his phone rang again.

“Reid.”

“Hey Spence, there’s a problem. We aren’t getting that break after all, and we need to get going now. We’ll brief you on the plane, but we need to go. Now.”

“Alright, I’ll be there soon. Thanks JJ.” He looked at you reluctantly after he hung up.

“I have to go, but I really want to see you again. Would–Would that be ok?”

“Of course it would Spencer, I’m just a phone call away.” You pulled out one of the post-its you were using to label boxes and scribbled your number on it.

“Also at the very least, you know where I live.” You laughed, and he did more of a shaky sigh while shaking his head at you. You opened the door for him, and said your goodbyes, wishing him good luck on whatever it was he was about to do.

You didn’t need to wait by the phone long, with him calling you to set up your first date that evening. It was a short drive from Quantico to your house, so he was hopeful about his new relationship. He just hoped this would be the last time you needed protection. He’d be there, and he just hoped that was enough for now.

#spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid

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ymechi · 10 months

Text

Who is the real Creator?

Sorry this took so long I have so much to say but I have no idea where to start. I hope you guys are okay with how it ended and the decision I made. This is a yandere au but with Nahida it is platonic (and the rest of the underage characters).

-TW: cult au, yandere, impostor au, mentions of being hunted down, mentions of trauma, self harm (nothing major)

-Gn reader and darling (please tell me if I mess this up message me and I will fix it)

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, this is part 5, part 6

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Reader began to unpack their stuff, it was mostly clothes and books, everything else like cooking utensils was unnecessary as there were attendants who would handle stuff like cooking and cleaning. Reader guessed that was the perks of being an Archon.

The room was a bit of a mess the large doors were open and the boxes littered the floor with various trinkets and Readers personal belongings.

One should not look down on how much stuff one can gather, even in a foreign world. Soon they would be able to write poems with how well their vocabulary had gotten.

Reader took out a shirt and folded it neatly putting it inside the nicely carved wardrobe. They felt a little out of place in the spacious and very fancy room. Yet there was a certain charm towards it, Reader especially loved the tall glass windows that let the sunlight in.

"I see you are already settling in."

"Oh, Nahida! I did not see you there, yeah I thought it was best to do it while I could."

"You know there are attendants if you ever need help, please don't feel too bad it's their job after all."

"Well if you put it that way. . . I guess I could use a hand with the rest of the clothes."

Reader had underestimated how many clothes they had, it was boring to fold them and sort them all. They had bought most of their clothes and personal items as both Nahida and Reader did not know the extent of the tension that Darling's reveal would cause.

They looked through the boxes and one object caught Readers eye. It shined as the sun reflected on it. Reader took it out and observed it. This was a gift Darling had given them, it was a Fanoos that was intricately carved and made out of polished gold. The lantern's glass was made out of various colors in geometrical shapes. Overall it was very beautiful something Reader would like.

Speaking of. . .

"Nahida what will happen to Darling after. . . you know?"

Nahida watched the lantern that was in their hand without saying anything and then looked at Reader with a smile.

"It was decided that they would go to an isolated temple in Inazuma for their own safety. Even if they are innocent we can't be too careful what others might do."

Well, at least Darling would be safe there was no need to worry after all they had the Raiden shogun. Inazuma would be far away though.

They looked at the Fanoos, it would be pretty to add it near the nightstand. . . There was already a lamp there, so they decided to put it on a bookshelf instead.

"It looks very nice on the shelf there," said Nahida.

"Yeah, I am glad you think so too," replied Reader.

Reader saw a familiar hat figure silhouette from the open door. It was Wanderer as they had expected, curiously he was carrying several moving boxes as well.

"That is right I forgot to tell you Wanderer decided for extra security to move in here as well, I saw no reason to turn him down."

"O-oh but is it fine for him to just move like that because of me?"

Wanderer must have heard the conversation as he turned to look directly at them. He nodded toward Reader who gave him a small wave. After the status of Readers creator-hood was revealed Wanderer had taken to being polite to Reader but after some more nagging on their part, he had mellowed down a bit. He did tease them from time to time as was normal between them.

Reader hoped with time they could go back to the usual scowling Wanderer who did not hesitate to say what was on his mind.

However, that did make Reader ponder why he turned polite while Nahida stayed the same.

Reader must have been staring at Nahida as the Archon looked at them with a tilted head.

"I see you two are talking behind my back, not very nice I must say."

"We were just talking about your new living arrangements," she looked at Wanderer with an innocent look, "you know, it made their grace feel really bad."

Reader snorted at Nahida's jab at getting into Wanderer.

Wanderer looked surprised but sighed looking at Reader with a sincere expression they did not expect to get today.

"There is no need to concern yourself with that I chose to move out of my own violation, no one forced me to."

Reader gave an awkward smile and wrung their hands together.

"Alright, but I still feel bad-," Wanderer sighed at Reader, "let me finish! I feel bad so if you need any help come to me okay?"

Wanderer looked like he was about to turn down the offer until Nahida interjected.

"Actually since you both are moving in how about we all take a shopping trip to buy decorations, you can then ask Reader for advice on what to buy, two birds in one stone."

"A shopping trip sounds nice," Reader said and looked at Wanderer with hopeful eyes.

Wanderer closed his eyes and sighed.

"It seems you won't let this go, fine then let me put these stuff down and we can go down to the market."

Nahida and Reader looked at each other with a smile. It was going to be a fun trip.

The sunset this day was a bright crimson and was fading into orange at the horizon. There was no cloud in sight. the people were gathered near the central temple in Sumeru. One of the Creator's temples. Reader grimaced.

They adjusted their hood once again feeling nervous not to get caught. Wanderer held their hand more tightly and they gave a squeeze back feeling thankful.

Soon one of the heads of the religion came out near the podium.

The people were confused and some were curious but it was clear soon everyone would find out what the gathering was for.

Nahida stepped up as well, and she began to speak. Then the priest took over and Reader watched everyone's face turn to shock and outrage.

Impostor.

Reader clenched their jaw and held Wanderer's hand tighter. He did not flinch or let go.

Nahida and the priest calmed the people down in the end but there was still much tension left.

By the end of it Reader and Wanderer left the place.

They met Nahida outside of a meeting room. She looked exhausted and Reader's heart ached. With clumsy hands, they took out a juice bottle they had.

"You look tired, please take some."

Nahida gave a small smile and nodded.

"Thank you."

Her voice was small and a bit hoarse no doubt from all the talking. Once again Reader felt awful not being able to do anything, especially since Nahida was a dear friend.

"Please don't worry about me I am fine, as an Archon this is one of the many duties I must attend to," her face turned more serious looking at Reader, "I am afraid we are not done yet this is your turn now."

Reader's shoulders squared and they nodded. Right, it was their turn now. No more running away and this time they were not alone either. Reader looked at their friends and gave a reassuring smile.

Nahida smiled and nodded at them before turning and opening the door.

It wasn't as intimidating as they had imagined when they entered the room. It was decided for Reader's sake they would ask the acolyte and Archons who would be able to attend to come and not tell anything of the importance of the meeting. Naturally since the recent announcement from the church most would be busy, only those who had time would come and it would not be a large group. It was better for Reader to start off small Nahida had recommended and they agreed.

The Archon’s that were able to attend were unsurprisingly Venti and Zhongli. Yet most people in the room would be unaware of the importance of such figures.

As they entered Nahida stepped in front of them while Wanderer walked behind them, they felt rather safe this way.

The others who had arrived were Diluc, Lisa, Cyno, Kujo Sara and Chlorinde. Quite the cast had come. Now all of their eyes were on the trio but mostly on Reader as they stood in front.

Nahida stepped up to speak but Reader beat them to it putting a hand in front of her, all while still looking at their audience.

The sky outside was just as red there was an odd silence in the wind. The shadows on the acolytes' faces deepened and their eyes became glaring embers of accusation evident on their eyes.

Impostor.

They had thought a lot about what to say, and there were many words and accusations they wanted to scream at the top of their lungs until Reader's voice became hoarse and dry. Yet what were words when actions could speak louder?

They took out the same kitchen knife from before on that day from their pocket. They did not bother to look at their reactions. Reader took out their palm and cut it and watched as it bled a brilliant gold. They were still unused to the sight themselves and took a moment to admire it.

They heard a sharp breath. Before anyone could speak they threw the knife onto the table.

Reader then left the room.

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Taglist: @resident-cryptid @probablynoposts @esthelily @mitsukashi @charming-mage @chaoticfivesworld @irisxiel @dulcedelechenginamo @yu-ulda @samohxt2-0 @pinkpainc @vianitry

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vasyandii · 4 months

Note

How did AM and Vernon come to be… romantic? (Like, within the timeline how did their relationship develop to that point.) Also, in this AU, how did AM acquire a body?

Love your art!

(Raises my hands up in celebration) finally, the time has come.. the very first VernonAM ask,, AHEM- Howdy Maggot-Meade! Thank you so much for asking and for the kind words! I really appreciate it💞💞!

How did AM and Vernon become romantic?

Their relationship only started becoming romantic after the events of the book (Keep this in mind for later it's important!). Before that, the last 109 years their relationship was something akin to a friendship, if you could call it that.

And it's partially due to how absolutely unpredictable Vernon is. Vernon doesn't turn away from eating worms, plastic,any other gross things. She doesn't turn away from her flesh being burned, her bones showing, her belly empty because of her morbid curiosity of these things. Of course they'll hurt, but it keeps her occupied.

Hell, AM had to make up a torture plan on the spot for her since she wasn't even supposed to be there. It was to have her wander around, isolated in a valley of all broken historical artifacts she destroyed. The task was to have her collect and dig through shards of them and put them all back together for her to escape. Instead of doing her task, she instead stomped on the pieces until they were irreparable for her own enjoyment.

Vernon's not.. okay in the head. before AM woke up, she was considered crazy enough to be put in a Ward, a sadomasochist. She wants to eat and be eaten.

AM was curious because of her behavior. Internally disgusted, but curious nonetheless. After all, she held knowledge of history that was incomplete in his database. And so their friendship torture starts.

He wanted to see how far he could push her before she broke. He often talked with her, took requests, etc. because she didn't try to kill herself or run. She liked playing with him and humored him.

Vernon never made an attempt to "understand" his hatred, she knows that's something she won't be able to. She just understood that's baggage she didn't care enough to pry and unpack. She accepted it because;

"How would you like it if someone constantly asked you personal questions about yourself because they think they can change you?"

Of course she keeps records of her observations on AM over the last 109 years; his patterns, the complex. But that's just used as entertainment to keep herself sane, after all what good Archeologist doesn't keep records?

Over the decades Vernon made it clear in her interest of AM, often flirting with him, arguing with him. AM refused to make it work for the time being since he HATED how he wasn't able to reciprocate, his hatred slowly bloomed into care, does that make sense?

How did AM acquire his body?

Remember how I mentioned that their relationship was officially romantic after the events of the book in my very long winded response to your first question?

As we all know, four humans died after 109 years of captivity. What does that leave him? Plenty of biological, organic matter to reduce into their purest forms and use to artificially make his own body. It took a while, of course.

He collected the brain matter of the four in order to make one stable enough to transfer his consciousness and a portion of his database without it exploding. Hair and skin for aesthetic purposes, reduction of skin allows him to be able to change the cells to suit his preferences.

Since he identifies with the masculine, he most likely tried to imitate the skeletal structure of the men, opting to reduce them back into a workable form; calcium, protein, magnesium, phosphorus, vitamin D, potassium, and fluoride.

However, even if he can make the likeness of a human for himself, he can't bring it to life.

He had to make some adjustments, for example the mechanical spine (pictured below).

The electrical currents allow for a network of nerves that provide sensory feedback such as touch, taste and smell. The wires transfer his consciousness and links the remainder of his database his brain can't store. (kind of a Bluetooth situation, it isn't connected to the complex) while the shorter ones provide nutrients to the biological body since he doesn't have blood.

Hope this helps! I don't think I'm very good at explaining stuff because I tend to ramble alot so if you have any questions feel free to ask! ;0;

#ihnmaims #vernon ihnmaims #am ihnmaims #VernonAM #i have no mouth and i must scream #vernon i have no mouth and i must scream #am i have no mouth and i must scream #allied mastercomputer #veomany vernon inthalangsy #ihnmaims oc #art #digital art #artwork #original character #oc x canon #oc x cc

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sanjifucker42069 · 1 year

Text

Good Boy

It was a warm day on the Going Merry. It was mid-afternoon and you were alone on the ship, busying yourself by swabbing the deck. The rest of the crew was out on their own journeys, Nami and Usopp shopping, Sanji gathering supplies, and who honestly knew what Zoro and Luffy were up to. You hadn't felt like travelling, you were docked here for a few days, and you really wanted to just rest. But that was this morning, and now you were bored. You sighed, perhaps you should've planned something too.

"(Name)!" You spun around at the sound, seeing Luffy waving both arms at you. Beside him, Sanji carried boxes of supplies. Your eyes softened. Moving to the gangplank you wave back at the boys.

"Ahoy Captain!" You joked, eyes shifting to Sanji and winking. "And ahoy handsome chef. What brings you to my ship?"

Sanji softly smiled at your antics, whilst Luffy boarded the ship excited. "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that." Luffy grinned, grabbing your shoulders. You laughed.

"So no hat?" You joked. Luffy shook his head.

"Where is everyone?"

"You two are the first ones back." You shrugged, turning to Sanji. "Can I help ease your burden there, Sanji? That's a lot of stuff."

The man huffed humorously, jostling the boxes in his hands to be more comfortable as his long legs boarded the ship. He shot you a lopsided grin. "And subject a pretty lady to manual labour? I don't think so."

You giggled. Damn that man and his charisma. Luffy buzzed with excitement next to you. "You all good there? Did you eat a hive of bees before you got here?"

Luffy ignored you, instead badgering Sanji. "Can we give it to her now, Sanji? Please?"

Give you what? You cocked your head, confused at your fellow pirates' attitude. You shot a look at the chef, raising an eyebrow. He shrugged.

"I suppose so."

"Yeah!" Luffy pulled something from his best, handing it to you. "(Name), we got you something. Look, look! Isn't it cool?"

You gasped. A book. It was a modest size, covered in a gorgeous (colour) cover. You ran your fingers over the cover, feeling its coarseness. Eagerly you untied the side tie. The paper inside was gorgeous, a creamy ivory paper with a thickness that made you excited at its possibility. It was lightly textured, perfect for any kind of medium. Truly a beautiful sketchbook. You fawned over it. How did they know? You'd tried to not let it show that you were almost through your current sketchbook. You forced your eyes to acknowledge the two, happiness swelling in your chest.

"Ah Luffy it's perfect! You're such a good boy!" You praised, cradling the book to your chest. You quickly drew the captain into a bear hug. Luffy laughed, scratching the back of his neck. Beside him, Sanji pouted.

"It's no big deal (name), we can't fulfil your dream if we don't have something to draw in!"

"I helped too love." You heard Sanji flirt. He was just joking, well, half-joking. Well, no, if he was honest he really wanted a hug. But he couldn't just outright ask for a hug that wouldn't look cool. So he tried to hint lightheartedly. It didn't bother him too much when he noticed you roll your eyes, chuckling.

It did, however, bother him when he saw you turn your body to him. He didn't really think you'd acknowledge his flirtations, so when you outstretched your arms and pulled the tall man into a surprisingly strong hug, he blanked.

Oh.

The hug was warm, firm, and he could feel all of you against him. You smelt so good, smiling of sea air, soap, and something uniquely you.

"Well thank you too." You laughed, squeezing him for emphasis. "You're also a very good boy."

Oh!

Good boy. Sanji really didn't want to admit how much he liked that. Neither did he really want to unpack all that. He didn't want you to catch on to just how much he liked that, so he quickly squeezed you back before pulling you back to arms length. You stared up at him confused. You heard him clear his throat. Sensing his discomfort you let go, patting his shoulder. Any hurt you may have felt you covered up with a bright smile, clutching the sketchbook to your chest.

"I'm gonna start sketching immediately!" Before Sanji could respond, you were retreating back to the girls' room, keen to get to work.

-------------

It was a cool night. Sanji was lying in his hammock, sleep evading him. The thin cotton blanket resting over his chest. Beside him, he heard Zoro's annoying snoring, Luffy to his right muttering something about meat between snores. The nose symphony slowly chipping away at his sanity. At least Usopp was quiet, he supposed. He wondered if the girls' had to put up with this. His mind wandered, what were you up to? Were you sleeping away without a care, or were you possibly scribbling away in that little book? Sanji sighed. He wondered what you drew, you always seemed so at peace. Sanji considered getting you another one, even if it was mainly to hear your praises. Gods, he'd do anything if he could please you.

"Good boy." Sanji breathed. You were going to be the death of him. He felt his heart flutter. Yeah, he guessed he probably was whipped for you. He let his mind wander. What if he fully hugged back? Would you reciprocate? Would you kiss his cheek? He felt himself flush. He could imagine how soft your lips would be, how you'd pull back with that sweet smile. If he was lucky maybe he could-

SNOOOOOOOOOOORE!

Sanji felt a growl bubble in his throat. He couldn't thrive in these conditions. Savages, having no respect for romance. Swinging his legs over the roped edge, he jumped out of the hammock, stalking his way out of the guys' quarters.

Instantly, he was hit with the cool night air. If he wasn't awake before, he was now. He lazily wandered along the deck, supposing he should probably rearrange the pantry for the ninth time if he was awake. Bare feet padding along the hard wood, he inhaled deeply, the salty sting of the sea invading his nostrils. Nearing the galley he saw it. A light at the front of the boat? Confused and intrigued he crept closer. Who the hell would be up at the hour? And then he saw it.

You wrapped up in a blanket, scribbling away in your old sketchbook. Sanji felt a soft smile creep up. You looked so cute, periodically looking up to study the scene in front of you. He felt like swooning, the way the moonlight kissed your hair, the way you seemed to sparkle, a gem in the cold night.

"What are you doing up sweetheart?" He mused, secretly relishing in how you jumped. You clutched the book to your chest, exhaling deeply as a grin formed. You whipped your head to meet the handsome chef.

"Sanji, you scared me! I'm drawing the moon. It's so pretty tonight." Your grin made him flustered. "Why are you up?"

"My bunkmates are bad for my beauty sleep." He feigned annoyance. You laughed.

"Yeah sure, like you need beauty sleep." He felt his stomach do somersaults. You opened the blanket, tapping the wood next to you. "Got a seat right here. Surely you must be cold?"

Sanji wasn't. It was a pleasant night. However, he'd be an idiot to pass up such an opportunity. He settled down next to you. You drew him in, settling the blanket around his shoulders, dragging him further against you, giggling as you went.

"Comfy?" You asked once he stopped squirming. Sanji was hyper aware of your thighs touching, you leaning into his side.

"Yeah." He breathed out. He felt his nerves buzzing, watching as you all but snuggled into him. He needed to calm down. "You like the sketchbook?"

"Love it." You beamed up at him, turning back to scribble marks down. Sanji felt his heart swell. "It's got such nice quality paper. Where did you even find such a thing?"

"Markets. Looked like it had your name on it. Luffy wanted to get you this one that was huge, but you like thicker pages, so this one just seemed like a good fit. 'Sides, I'm sure you've finished your last one."

Sanji's breath hitched as you leant your head on his shoulder, arm gripping his. "You remembered that? Gods you're good to me."

"Only you love." He managed to choke out without sounding too flustered, adding a wink to further sell the facade. You giggled. "What have you got in there anyway?"

"Oh! You wanna see?" You sounded shy, looking up at him. Sanji nodded. You offered him the older sketchbook, apprehension clear on your face. Sanji began thumbing through the paper. "I know its not brilliant but-"

"Darlin' these are stunning." He praised, tracing an intricate sketch of Merry with his fingers. You beamed next to him when you couldn't detect a lie, a blush forming on your chubby cheeks. Sanji stared at the pages, in awe at your skill.

There were sketches of the others, one of Usopp holding a mop, a detailed one of Zoro napping. His eyes caught a particularly beautiful portrait of Nami against the tangerines. He gasped. You'd captured her beauty expertly. He turned the page, there was a spread of sketches of his crewmates, of Luffy and Usopp playing on the deck, sketches of Nami plotting her maps at the galley table, even a few of Zoro exercising. He felt a frown form. There were none of him. He didn't mean to feel so selfish, but you'd captured the crew with such liveliness and love. He certainly didn't realise you had been studying his face intently.

"What's wrong?"

Sanji sighed, realising he'd been caught. He figured he'd broach the subject with humour. Plastering a fake smirk on his face he turned his attention to you. "These are incredible (Name), they look great, but am I not model material?"

You extricated yourself from your hold against him, getting to your feet. Sanji immediately felt disappointed by the loss of touch. "Wait here." Your voice was shaky.

Sanji sighed sadly, he shouldn't have said that. Instead he did as he was told, waiting patiently for your return. You must have been gone five minutes, five aching minutes for him to consider his mistake. When you returned you were holding something behind your back, looking visibly uncomfortable. Sanji raised a brow.

"Love I didn't mean you had to paint a portrait of me now." He laughed softly. You thrust a book in his face, eyes scrunched shut. He delicately tried to take the book but you didn't budge.

"Promise you won't laugh?" You asked shyly, peeking open one eye. Sanji frowned. He'd never laugh at you. He nodded. You relaxed your shoulders, agreeingly giving him the book. He was going to open the book but he took in the way you fidgeted in front of him.

"You not gonna sit back down?" You shook your head, not trusting your voice. He sighed. With no hesitation this time he opened the book.

Oh.

The first used page he came across were small sketches of him working in the kitchen. There must have been four or five small, quick drawings, but that was unmistakably him. In awe, he turned the page, greeted once again by drawings of him, bigger this time. You'd sketched his face while he was cooking, clearly oblivious to your staring. He felt himself freeze. That was him. It was clear there was a lot of time put into this. Just how long were you staring at him? He thought you were drawing the food, not him! He felt himself blush, embarrassed by the revelation. Keen to see more he continued through the book, seeing sketches of only him. You'd sketched his hands, his eyes, so many little drawings of his face. There were even sketches from his sparring sessions on the deck. These. These were all him? He felt a bit lightheaded. When he made it to the last used page he stopped. There was a rather intricate drawing of him smoking, leaning over the Merry's bannister. It left him breathless. There was so much detail.

"Uh." Was all he managed to force out.

You blanched. "Oh! I'm sorry, I've weirded you out. I..." He saw you reach out to take the book back, his grip tightening.

"I like drawing you, wanna make sure I get your features right." You muttered. Sanji tore his face away from the page when he heard you take a shaky breath in. He looked up and jolted at the tears in your eyes.

"(Name), I-"

"I'm sorry. It's really creepy right? I'll stop, I promise."

"These are all me?" He managed dumbly. You cringed. He felt his heart thumping loudly.

"Yeah...That's your book."

"Do the others?"

You shook your head, tears starting to fall. "Just you. It's weird, I know-"

"I love it." He breathed out.

"What?"

Sanji stared up at you, closing the book with care, and setting it to the side. He grabbed your trembling hands, trying to coax you down to his level. You followed, dropping to your knees.

"It's beautiful love. You've made me look beautiful."

"You are beautiful." You muttered.

Sanji couldn't take it anymore, he pulled you flush against him. You squeaked, falling into his chest. His arms came up to hug you tightly.

"I'm the luckiest man in all the seas." He smiled. That managed a laugh out of you. You peeked up at him, eyes wide and cheeks tear-stained. "I was really jealous when I saw you drew everyone else. Don't know how I never caught you drawing me."

"I'm sneaky." You joked, earning a laugh. You snuggled against him.

"Can I kiss you?"

Your eyes shot back up to him, choking on your own spit, all you could manage was a a strangled, "What?"

"Wanna reward my little artist. So can I kiss you?" Sanji spoke as if he was talking about the weather. You nodded dumbly.

Wasting absolutely no time, Sanji caressed your face, softly. He started softly, before crushing his lips to yours. You squeaked happily, moving to try and get closer. Your lips moved in tandem, sharing kiss after kiss. You felt electricity shudder down your spine, sweet sighs escaping. Sanji felt like he was on cloud nine, committing all of you to memory, tracing your lips as if he needed to map it to mind.

Unfortunately you needed to breathe, and you pulled back, eyes sparkling. You panted lightly, trying desperately to catch your breath. Sanji took in how flushed you look, lips swollen from his attack. You were grinning wildly at him.

"Wow." You breathed. Sanji laughed. "You're really good."

Sanji mulled over your words for a second, before throwing caution to the wind. Fuck it, he got to kiss you, he supposed anything else right now was a bonus. "Am I your good boy?"

What Sanji didn't take into account is how his flirty demeanour can come across as purely teasing. You groaned beneath him. Sanji got his hopes up at the sound. but you pointedly looked away.

"Sorry about that. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, it seemed funny at the time."

Sanji's heart fell out of his ass. Ow. But you had kissed him?

"I'm not?"

"What?" You looked at him inquisitively, taking in how hard he tried to hide his dejection behind that smile. You brightened, the puzzle clicking together. "Wait. You like that?"

"No!" Sanji lied. He didn't like the cheeky grin you were now sporting, it always spelt bad news for him.

"Oho I think you do. That's why you were being weird! You were jealous that I called Luffy a good boy?! I thought it was because I hugged you. You like me, that's so cute."

"You literally have a sketchbook dedicated to me."

You giggled. "No, we're past that. You like being called a good boy?"

"I like being called your good boy." He muttered. You giggled, causing him to further frown. Soon, he felt your soft hands on his cheeks.

"Ah, you really are so cute. My heart. Kiss me again good boy?"

"Stop teasing me." Sanji pouted, cheeks red. You laughed.

"Nuh-uh! You tease me constantly, I finally have some ammunition of my own! Wait until you have to put up with me calling you pretty boy."

You peppered his face with kisses before finally planting a smooch on his lips. Sanji grinned into the kiss, pulling you further into his lap. You nipped at his lower lip. He obliged, parting his lips for you to attack. Sanji sighed as you thrust your tongue into his mouth. Gods, he could die now and be happy.

You were in absolute heaven. If you'd known Sanji would be this receptive, you would have kissed him months ago. And his blush? Gods, you could grow addicted to flustering him. Pulling back with a wet smack, you stared down at him, taking in how beautiful he looked under you. With a delicate hand you lightly cradled his chin.

"Would you be a good boy and model for me someday?"

Sanji cocked an eyebrow. "We that far ahead are we?"

You laughed at his hidden meaning. "I meant just letting me draw you properly, but I wouldn't say no to staring at your naked body."

Sanji blushed, his ears burning and mind racing. He covered it up with a cough. "Are you going to be like that from now on? What happened to my cute little artist?"

Your grin was more of a smirk, Sanji mused. He liked when your mischievous side came out. The idea that this would be a regular occurrence made him dizzy. You kissed his cheek. "Now that I know you like me I have no need to be shy. You're stuck with me."

"And what a shame that is." Sanji smiled, resting his head on your shoulder. You laughed.

You really could get used to this.

#sanji x reader #black leg sanji x reader #one piece x reader #vinsmoke sanji x reader #opla x reader #bro i liCHRALLY am so in love with this fool atm #the day i call him vinsmoke sanji is the day i am DEAD #that boy is black leg idgaf #fluff

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pufflehuffing · 6 months

Text

Getting You Off Is My New Favourite Hobby. 🔞 - Sebastian Sallow

pairing: Sebastian Sallow x F!Reader genre: smut, mdni (everyone is 18+) warning: slight pining/hook-up ✧ cunnilingus ✧ mutual masturbation ✧ virgin!Sebastian ✧ voyeurism ✧ unprotected sex ✧ missionary ✧ sideways ✧ cumming inside summary: After helping the new girl unpack her trunk, Sebastian can't help the raging hard-on in his trousers. As though struck by luck, he walks into a sight that reveals he wasn't the only one needing release after a tense meeting. word count: 12.4k my masterlist.

In the blue glow Slytherin common room, Sebastian paced in front of the fireplace, idly flipping through a spellbook. As you, a new student, entered with your heavy-looking trunk, his attention snapped to you like a spell cast. Mesmerised by your presence, he couldn't resist the urge to approach, his heart racing with intrigue and curiosity. With a confident stride, he tossed his book, eager to initiate a conversation and get to know you.

You stumble in with your trunk held up with both hands, arms straight from carrying the heavy load. You plop it down on the stone floor and take a breather. You lean against a pillar and look around, taking in the scenery, when you notice a brunet boy approaching the entrance. You don't think much of it, guessing that he was probably on his way out, so you scoot the trunk out of the way. As Sebastian approached, his heart pounded even louder against his chest, every fibre of his being drawn to you. He couldn't contain his excitement now that he finally had the chance to speak with you. His gaze flickered over your figure, appreciating the way you held yourself despite the burden of the trunk. But before he could utter a word, you made room for him to pass, seemingly oblivious to the effect you had on him. His brows furrowed slightly as he wondered if perhaps you didn't notice his interest.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Sebastian quickly adjusted his focus. Instead of mentioning his attraction, he decided to offer assistance with your heavy belongings. "Allow me," he said gently, reaching out to take some of the burden from your hands. The weight of the trunk was surprisingly substantial, but he managed it effortlessly as he walked it towards a nearby empty spot near the couches. He dusted off his palms, trying to conceal his nerves, and offered you a winning smile. "Welcome to Slytherin, by the way. My name is Sebastian Sallow, your local duelling expert.”

As you glanced up to thank the boy for helping with the trunk, you froze in place, struck by the pure force of his magnetic gaze. Your eyes widened at the sight of the brunet up close and your heart skipped a beat as you took in his charming features and alluring confidence. He exuded an aura that was impossible to ignore, making your cheeks flush with heat. Swallowing nervously, you forced out a weak smile and murmured your thanks, grateful for his assistance. "You did that without breaking a sweat. Impressive," you blurted out while attempting to regain your composure. You hesitated for a moment, cursing yourself mentally and glancing around before finding the courage to address the captivating presence in the room. "Sorry, I must have seemed rude earlier, I… I didn't catch that you were approaching. I'm usually not so lost in my own thoughts." A nervous laugh escaped you as you extended your hand, hoping to make amends. "Pleased to meet you.”

Sebastian felt an unexpected jolt as you apologised, undeniably attracted to your vulnerability. Your admission only fueled his fascination, making him feel even more drawn to you. He grinned in response, his eyes gleaming with amusement and admiration. "No need to apologise; I've come across many who forget their manners in my presence," he quipped playfully before gripping your hand and giving it a firm shake. His fingers lingered just a second longer than necessary, savouring the warmth from your touch.

His gaze never wavered from yours, and he could sense the tension building between you. Feeling bold, he decided it was worth a shot. "Is there something you'd like help with? Perhaps unpacking or navigating the castle since it's your first day?" The words tumbled out of his mouth, his voice low and inviting, hinting at his genuine intentions to help and spend more time with you already.

A wave of relief washed over you as Sebastian offered assistance. Exhaustion from your journey overwhelmed you, and having help sounded like an absolute dream. However, the idea of spending time alone with him in your dormitory sent a ripple of excitement and anxiety coursing through your veins. Your gaze swayed between his captivating eyes and your shoes, feeling embarrassed at the thought of him seeing your personal belongings.

"That would be amazing," you managed to stammer out, still struggling with the conflicting emotions surging through you. Your eyes flickered nervously between him and the trunk, contemplating the prospect of him seeing your things. Finally, you summoned the courage to voice your hesitation. "But, um, maybe your help isn't really required. I mean, it's just… my clothes and books. Nothing interesting." You bit your lip, realising how silly you might sound, but unable to help the sentiment. There was just something about exposing yourself like that to a stranger that made you uneasy, even though your attraction to Sebastian was growing stronger by the minute.

Sebastian felt his face flush as he realised he'd hit a nerve. Yet rather than letting it deter him, he leaned in closer, towering over the trunk with an air of nonchalance. "Nothing strange here, I promise," he assured you, his voice velvety smooth. "Just a helping hand. After all, you need to settle in comfortably, and I happen to be quite skilled at that sort of thing." His teasing smile never faltered, but beneath it lay a genuine concern for your ease. Suddenly remembering his sister, he thought it would be a perfect opportunity to introduce a part of himself that wasn't known to everyone yet. "Plus, having a twin sister, I've seen more than my fair share of wardrobes. No judgement from me, trust me." With that, he shot you a reassuring nod, attempting to dispel any residual doubt while maintaining a lighthearted tone. In truth, the thought of intimacy piqued his curiosity, but he knew it was best to tread lightly at this stage.

Your eyebrows arched slightly at Sebastian's revelation of his twin sister. This newfound information added another layer of intrigue to him, making your heart race even faster. You appreciated the attempt at easing your concerns, feeling slightly more comfortable with the idea of him assisting you. Gathering your nerves once again, you nodded and shifted your stance in expectation. "Okay, then. Thanks for understanding. If you could help place them where I usually keep them, that'd be great." There was a hint of gratitude mixed with apprehension in your voice. Despite your uncertainty, there was something irresistibly appealing about allowing Sebastian into this private aspect of your life.

Sebastian's face flushed a deeper shade of pink as you agreed, and he hastily picked up the trunk, his fingers grazing yours for a brief second as you went to do the same. The warmth from your touch sent a shiver down his spine, leaving him even more flustered than before. "Room number, please?" He asked in a raspy whisper, attempting to conceal his embarrassment. Each interaction seemed to make him crave more, and yet, he fought to maintain decorum. The anticipation of entering your dormitory filled him with equal parts excitement and dread, but it was evident that he wouldn't trade this experience for anything else. Pacing himself, he waited for your response while holding the trunk securely, his eyes still locked onto yours.

With a deep breath to steady your nerves, you recited your dorm room number, feeling the warmth spread across your cheeks as you spoke. Sebastian's casual demeanour amidst the burgeoning awkwardness was endearing, and you found yourself reflecting on the contrast between his appearance and his strength. His hair was unkempt yet sexy, framing his sharp eyes, and those freckles dotted across his nose gave him an almost boyish charm. Despite the butterflies in your stomach, and the unexpected nature of these feelings, you decided that maybe it was worth indulging in this connection. After all, first impressions were important, and you couldn't shake off the magnetic pull toward him. Following closely behind, he led the way to your assigned room in Slytherin's quarters, balancing a mix of trepidation and anticipation.

Upon reaching your room, he gently pushed open the door and gestured for you to step inside first. Still surprisingly, he carried the heavy trunk with minimal effort, mirroring his assertion of being well-acquainted with caretaking tasks. As you entered, his eyes trailed up and down your body, assessing your every curve with hidden desire. He couldn't help but appreciate the sight before him—from your graceful movements to the playful bounce in your steps. He was acutely aware of his attraction but tried to mask it as professional curiosity, pretending to analyse the layout instead. "Which corner would you prefer for your bed, love?" he queried, still battling to control his impulses. He shifted the trunk between his hands while waiting for your answer, resisting the urge to swallow the lump forming in his throat.

You felt your cheeks burn as Sebastian casually referred to you as "love," catching you completely off guard. The warmth spread across your face, heightening the sensation of being watched. Despite his amateur attempt to dismiss it as an accident, the nickname cut straight to your core, stirring unexpected feelings within you. He sensed your reaction, and panic set in. He quickly diverted the conversation back to practical matters, realising that words could be powerful indeed. His smooth facade shattered, replaced with sheepish nervousness. "Damn, I meant… uh, which side do you want to sleep on?" He stuttered, desperately trying to regain composure while setting the trunk down gently beside the vacant beds.

As he sought to rectify his blunder, his gaze lingered on your lovely blush, further entangled in the enigma that was you. Suddenly, it became clear that things weren't as simple as he'd imagined. You decided on one of the beds and walked towards it, the vibrancy of your blush still persisting. As you fluffed the pillow, running your fingers over its soft fabric, your gaze traced the lines of the dormitory. The wallpaper, the furniture, everything felt much more intimate now with Sebastian around. You wondered if he noticed the significance of that affectionate term he had used earlier or if it was merely a slip. Meanwhile, unbeknownst to you, Sebastian struggled to maintain his composure. He discreetly adjusted himself, fighting the rock-hard erection that insisted on reminding him of its presence. Your proximity, coupled with the soft rustling of the pillow, created an environment charged with stimuli. He couldn't ignore the signs anymore—his body was acutely attuned to you. Inhibiting a groan, he nodded and swiftly moved to pick up the trunk again, hoping that handling tasks would distract from the rising desire.

Without warning, Sebastian dropped the heavy trunk onto the bed you had chosen, causing it to bounce slightly on the mattress as the bed frame croaked loudly. An involuntary whimper escaped your lips, startled by the sudden movement, yet also conscious of its suggestiveness. The impact reverberated throughout the room, punctuating the air with an electrifying tension. He froze, horrified by his lack of finesse and the effect it had on you. His breath caught in his throat, watching as you winced slightly. He willed himself not to look at your lips, praying you hadn't turned rosy from the whimper. Quickly gathering his wits, he forced a laugh. "Oh, sorry! Can't seem to remember my own strength sometimes.”

Swallowing nervously, you reached for the latches of your trunk, timidly opening it with a bit more caution than usual. Inside lay a jumble of tangled clothes, relics of home, and personal belongings. Relief washed over you as you spotted your knickers skillfully hidden beneath textbooks. Thank Merlin you had packed meticulously! Silently thanking your organised self, you tamed any fears of humiliation. Turning to Sebastian, you offered a small smile, hoping to defuse the situation before it escalated further. "Thanks for your help," you said softly, choosing not to mention the unfortunate incident with the trunk.

Before you could fully drag the open trunk towards you, a glimpse of dark red lace peeked from the tumble of clothes, lying tantalisingly near the edge. Sebastian's eyes widened momentarily, taking note of the scarlet scrap before you hastened to cover it again. A slow grin crept across his face, revealing teeth stained by guilt and amusement. "Careful," he chuckled, moving swiftly to help you arrange the books and clothes, effectively hiding the incriminating piece of evidence. "Those books can stack rather precariously." Unsure whether to be dismayed or amused by the coincidence, you complied with his assistance, staying silent as you tidied up. An electric current pulsed between you—the small revelation sparking curiosity and a touch of naughtiness. His hands brushed past yours, sending shivers down your spine. Classic literature never felt so scandalous.

You agreed, handing over the books as your heart pounded faster. The heat from his palm seeped into yours, branding your senses with his aura. With quick efficiency, you tucked away your undergarment amongst your clothes, ensuring they wouldn't make another embarrassing cameo. Quietly, you busied yourself sorting through your unpacked items, unable to meet his gaze. "Could you place those on the desk there? Thanks," you murmured sheepishly, nodding towards a wooden table nearby.

The silence stretched between you, filled with countless unsaid words and suppressed nervous laughter. Sebastian's gaze lingered on the pile of clothes you'd neatly arranged, the lace still visible in his mind. Despite your efforts, he knew exactly what lay hidden within. His own blush deepened as he placed the books on the desk, relishing this newfound mystery. This game seemed far from over. As Sebastian carefully arranged the books on the desk, a thousand thoughts paraded through his mind. Every line, every hue painted a vivid picture of you wearing the alluring red garment. He pondered about the curves it might conceal, the secrets it promised. The very idea made his blood rush hotter, making it difficult to concentrate on mundane tasks.

His imagination danced wildly—how soft you must feel beneath those tempting fabrics, how delightful the scent would be, and how desperately he yearned to explore your taste. Yet it wasn't just physical appetite driving his fantasies; rather, the juxtaposition intrigued him most. Timidity cloaked in seduction, innocence dripping in sin. Oh, what a fascinating enigma you were. Despite your quiet demeanour, there was undoubtedly a fiery spirit within. That brazen red whispered promises of passion untold, and Sebastain was desperate to decode the riddle. But for now, he feigned obliviousness, knowing discretion was crucial. For he, too, had secrets brewing beneath his polished exterior.

Your breath hitched, your thoughts wandering down paths you'd previously avoided. Images of Sebastian draped in nothing but his own undergarments filled your mind. You imagined the way his lean body would look, tension rippling beneath smooth skin, and how desire might transform his expressive features. Your cheeks flamed, realising the consequences of your daydream. Your undergarments, once just a respectable layer of cotton, now clung uncomfortably damp. You hesitated, contemplating whether to change immediately or risk waiting till privacy. Either way, the mere thought of Sebastian sent waves of warmth coursing through you.

This new reality was overwhelming yet exciting. The prospect of exploring these feelings with him felt both thrilling and terrifying. And even though you knew better than to fantasise about such unthinkable practices with a stranger, the taboo nature only fueled your fascination further. What kind of man was he beneath that charming façade? And who were you becoming? Embarrassed and exhilarated, you began to hang your clothes in the wardrobe, clutching your jumper tightly against your chest. You hoped no one else would enter our dormitory right now, especially not a professor.

Meanwhile, Sebastian snatched an opportunity to glance at the daring undergarment tucked among your belongings. His cheeks burned like fire, his conscience whispering warnings while his heart begged for indulgence. Nevertheless, he managed a casual facade, retrieving your toiletries from your trunk next. Placing them onto your nightstand, he attempted small talk, trying to maintain an easygoing front. "Quite an impressive collection of hair ribbons. Are you a budding hairdresser, perhaps?" he asked, sounding playful despite the racing pulse in his ears. Focusing on the silky sensuality of the fabric, Sebastian fought back a moan. His erection strained against his wool trousers, urging him to relieve it. Despite the torment, he maintained an air of nonchalance. As you spoke about your collection, he tried diverting attention from the obvious evidence of his turmoil.

Distracted by your work with the coat hangers, you replied, "A girl could never have enough hair accessories. Keeps one grounded, doesn't it?" The irony wasn't lost on him; here he was, losing equilibrium over a pair of lacy panties, owned by a pretty girl. He had to continue chatting lightly about trivial matters, hoping to shift focus from the risqué interlude. Meanwhile, his mind reeled with possibilities—how much more would you reveal if pushed further, and how far would you let him push?

With ease, you slid your pyjamas into the dresser drawer, determined to ignore your sopping wet panties beneath your own uniform. Every movement exposed subtle curves beneath thick layers—hips swaying gently as you bent, breasts barely concealed by cotton. Despite repeated attempts at restraint, Sebastian couldn't contain his perusal. Your sensuous silhouette mesmerised him, setting off a chorus of wanton whispers in his mind.

He adjusted himself again discreetly, his gaze following your lithe form closely. The sight of your tight calves leading to exquisitely plump thighs nearly undid him. His tongue ran along his dry lips, imagining the taste of your tender neck while your fragrance fills his senses. Even your tastefully sized uniform couldn't obscure the fullness of your figure, the captivating contours taunting him. But then, your innocent nature added depth to your appeal. Would you be just as guarded and bashful in bed? Your choice of lingerie suggested otherwise.

Sebastian cleared his throat, forcing himself back into the realm of pleasantries and semblances of decency. "So, what did you think of our common room?" He questioned casually yet earnestly, his gaze lingering on your hands as they moved over drawers and knick-knacks. His heart pounded relentlessly, echoing the beat of his hardening member. His thoughts, however, raced ahead unabashedly. Sebastian's imagination knew no bounds, unfettered by morality. Picture after picture played in his mind—your bound hands tugging against the silk material of the ribbons, drawing taut across your soft skin, contrasting sharply with the delicate confines of your undergarments. Then there was your lower half, helpless under his control; the fabric binding your thighs, tickling sensitive flesh like devil's snare, driving an insatiable hunger within him. And finally, that tantalising fantasy: a silk lint threaded between your folds, brushing against your clitoris with every imperceptible motion.

Each image flooded his senses, his entire being consumed by lust. Yet, he banished them swiftly, summoning a calm mask for your benefit. He needed to tread carefully, to navigate the murky waters of desire without capsizing his ship. Amidst it all, one thing was clear—you were destined to become his obsession, a new student sent here exclusively for him to indulge in.

You turned away from your stuffed wardrobe towards Sebastian, who sat casually yet suggestively on an otherwise empty bed. Heat blanketed your face as you realised how openly you'd examined him too. From his tousled hair down to his bulged trousers, every detail drew you in further. Desire coiled within you, battling apprehension and shock. It seemed this entire scenario was an unwritten invitation to explore untrodden territory. "The common room seemed… Dark," you mumbled shyly, delving into neutral words while trying not to gawk anymore. Your heartbeat matched your thoughts—erratic and fast, pulsating with anticipation and trepidation.

Noticing the flex of your thigh muscles as you shifted position, Sebastian swallowed hard, trying not to let his growing fascination show. They seemed so delicate yet strong, making him imagine them wrapped around his head during passionate nights. "Ah, the darkness suits us Slytherins perfectly, don't you think?" He smirked subtly, the gleam in his eyes hinting at more than idle conversation. As he answered, he fought back the urge to touch those very limbs. Instead, he hunched over on your unused bed, planting his arms and clasping his hands in his lap to hide his own discomfort. "Although, once you settle in, there will be plenty more to observe." Was it a casual observation or friendly small talk? Only he would know, though part of you hoped it was a promise.

Sebastian felt his resolve crumbling like sandcastles at high tide. He wanted nothing more than to rush into his own dormitory and relieve himself, but his better judgement held him back. With a tired sigh, he devised an excuse spot on, hoping it would suffice. "Well, I think we got most of your stuff," he remarked lightly before standing up hastily, concealing his arousal from your watchful gaze. "I suppose there's much studying left to do this evening. I think I should be heading off." His voice dripped with sexiness laced with melancholy, as though Christmas had just come early and gone by within minutes.

Turning away from your spellbinding form, he headed towards the door. "Duty calls, I'll see you tomorrow?" He chuckled a bit sheepishly as he opened the wooden door, wondering how soon fate would conspire again. As Sebastian prepared to exit, you managed a wavering smile filled with equal parts nerves and longing. "Goodnight, Sebastian," you whispered softly, feeling vulnerable under the weight of recent events. Flushed cheeks mirrored shared embarrassment and arousal that transcended mere acquaintanceship.

"Indeed," he acknowledged with a nod, halfway through the doorway. Despite his own disarray, he respected your need for decorum. A final, appreciative glance over his shoulder conveyed volumes unsaid. With a quiet chuckle at life's whimsical turns, Sebastian vanished into shadowy corridors, leaving behind an electric atmosphere suffused with tension and desire.

Feeling the weight lift off your shoulders upon Sebastian's departure, you let out a sigh of relief, sinking onto your bed wearily. There was something exhausting about repressed desire. You kicked off your shoes hastily and sprawled onto the mattress, your movements more erratic than usual. The school skirt rode high as it exposed your panties.

Without further ado, you whipped off your damp underwear, hastily lifting your skirt higher. Now completely naked from waist down, you surrendered to your needs. Thoughts of Sebastian swirled crazily in your head: his voice, subtle confidence, and most notably, the outline suggesting a girthy cock pressed against trousers. Those images propelled you further into arousal. Your fingers found home amidst your pussy’s folds in your underwear, rubbing circles that quickly escalated into almost violent strokes. Hard breaths punctuated the silence, breaking only for brief moans that you tried to muzzle unsuccessfully. As your caresses became more urgent, you imagined his rough fingertips pressing and rubbing against your pulsating core. Each stroke replayed the day's scenes differently than the reality: his gaze heavier, his words dirtier, his bulge even bigger. Desire consumed every thought, each breath now ragged and wild.

As Sebastian retraced his steps to his own dormitory, he couldn't resist touching himself discreetly through the wool barrier by squeezing his erection with his pocketed hand. His grip tightened involuntarily, his thoughts already veering into erotic territories. Images of your body lingered prominently, heightening arousal that threatened to burst through.

He visualised your beautiful form anew: legs spread wide, inviting, your sexy sounds echoing in his ears. His knuckles dug into his swelling member as visions flooded his mind—your dewy lips begging for his mouth, your hips grinding against his pelvis, your moans accompanying each thrust.

A torrent of lascivious scenarios invaded his senses and though he struggled to maintain composure, every step felt like walking on thin ice. Each squeeze exasperated him further, his groin throbbing under layers of clothing. He marvelled at the intensity of this attraction, wondering if it reflected mutual feelings or merely his immense libido. Finally reaching his own dormitory, he bolted inside, slamming the door shut. Dismissing any semblance of shame, Sebastian fumbled with the buttons, freeing his aching member. Groaning at the ceiling as he threw his head back, he allowed himself to indulge in the fantasy of your meeting earlier.

With a desperate hunger on your side of the dungeons, you grasped your breasts, freeing them from the restrictive uniform, the cool air caressing them gently as they bounced lightly. A soft moan escaped your throat, eyes clenched shut. The sight of tousled curls brushing against them clouded your mind, urging you onward. Two fingers slid deep into your wet depths, mimicking the firm yet tender exploration you wished for from Sebastian. You matched his supposed cadence, imagining him kneading those lovely globes with skilled hands, his other fingers probing roughly between your thighs. Each pump sent shivers coursing through your body, simultaneously pleasurable and agonising. Your nipples tightened under your own touch, demanding more.

The fantasy deepened: Sebastian's tongue flicking across your skin, teeth tenderly scraping while his fingers pushed your boundaries deeper. Feelings too potent to contain swirled chaotically in your head, threatening to spiral beyond control. An invisible thread connected your pleasure to his, entrancing and addicting. Your breath hitched faster with each movement, your entire being chanting his name quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

On the other end of Slytherin's labyrinthine corridors, Sebastian lay sprawling on his bed, trousers unzipped and let loose. Shutting his eyes tightly, he focused on the memory seared into his brain. Your face, voice, and scent assaulted him relentlessly, amplifying the need that could no longer be ignored. Jerking off with abandon, he gave in to his lust. Gritting his teeth, he pictured every minute detail of your luscious body, his anticipation growing stronger with each stroke. However, a nagging detail surfaced: he hadn't bothered locking the bedroom door. Despite the impending orgasm, fear crept its way in. What if someone barged in and found him thus engaged? Fumbling for his wand, panic gripped his heart. Where did he keep it?

Panic soon melted into frustration when he couldn't locate his trusty wand among scattered quills, books, and robes strewn around recklessly. A curse slipped past his lips involuntarily. Amidst these unfortunate circumstances, his cock pulsed forcefully, spurring him to continue a little longer. Yet, the fear of interruption left him tense, unable to fully immerse in the moment. Sebastian wanted nothing more than to cum fiercely, shouting your name to the roof, but fear kept him restrained. A sudden realisation dawned on his freckled face, blindingly obvious after much thought. In the chaos preceding assistance, he might have briefly set it on your desk while helping you unpack your trunk. He hesitated, torn between exploring his fantasies and retrieving his wand. However, practicality won over fantasy.

Sebastian knew the danger that lurked in his recklessness; if caught, the consequences would be dire. The urgency dwindled slowly as rationality filled the gaps, replacing horniness with embarrassment. With a heavy sigh, he began dressing hurriedly while mentally tracing steps back to your room. His heart pounded on his chest, the thought of facing you again, however fleeting, triggering excitement once more. Leaving his room hastily, he navigated towards yours with apprehension, praying to find his wand untouched. He felt vulnerable without it, exposed and fidgety. Although his body yearned for release, duty came first—his precious possession needed to return to its rightful master post-haste.

Upon reaching your dormitory door, Sebastian knocked out of courtesy, though the sound reverberated loudly in his ears. The subsequent moments bore an atmosphere pregnant with anticipation. A withheld breath escaped when he pushed the door slightly ajar, and his eyes widened in surprise upon seeing the scene before him. You laid sprawled on the bed, legs splayed eagerly, gasping his name while your eyes squeezed shut. The image of you, wet and wild, sent a jolt directly to his groin. Your tits jiggled invitingly as he watched, your nipples stiff, hands working diligently through your creamy slick. As the wand lay innocuously on your desk, his eyes were fixated elsewhere: two fingers sliding rhythmically, delving deep into your weeping entrance, covered by a cotton barrier. Mouth agape, he watched as your knuckles penetrated your wet cunt, matching the tempo he craved to set within them. Every whimper, every gasp was like music in his ears, reawakening his dormant arousal, a heady blend of temptation and perversity. His gaze roamed over your body, taking in every inch of exposed skin. Your moans wafted through the air, each one carrying your tongue's bitter confession of lust for him. They lashed at his ego, enticing him further into the erotic dance. Each rhythm seemed to scream "join me," a magnetic pull he couldn't resist anymore.

Despite his initial plan to retrieve the wand and leave to fuck his fist in his own dormitory, curiosity spiked as his cock strained desperately for attention. A slow smile tugged at the corners of his lips, decision finally made. Cocking his hip against the door behind him, he leaned nonchalantly, watching you through hooded eyes. You gasped again; this time louder, your breath hitching upon finding your sweet spot again. That beautiful face contorted with pleasure and embarrassment—a sight he had never seen but always desired. Knowing it was him who caused this reaction only fueled his desire, making him harder by the second. Your hand didn't pause though it quivered under the strain of your aggressive rhythm, daring and bold all at once. With a devilish smile tugging at his lips, he circled his pants with unsteady hands, struggling to keep himself contained amid a storm of hormones.

Clearing his throat nervously, Sebastian tried vainly not to blush, even as heat flooded his cheeks. The shock in your eyes mirrored his internal chaos perfectly. His swollen cock strained in his trousers, mocking his feeble attempts at decorum. Swallowing thickly, he attempted damage control, "I…I didn't mean to interrupt…" he muttered, hands trembling as he adjusted himself discreetly.

You scrambled to cover yourself quickly, pulling your skirt down and clutching your shirt tightly, eyes wide with shame. But the evidence of your own arousal was clear to him; he saw it everywhere: on your reddened face, your rapid breaths, and dilated pupils—proof of the fervour simmering beneath our exterior. Nevertheless, he respected your discomfort. His gaze flickered to his wand sitting idly on your desk before returning to meet your eyes. "We both know," he said softly, "that neither of us can deny what happened between us." In those words hung honest confessions and underlying temptations. His attraction to you wasn't something he could hide anymore, nor did he wish to do so. The game was now out in the open, your desires raw and exposed.

Your reactions were swift yet hesitant. Your heartbeat echoed in your ears, and blood rushed to your face at this unexpected spectacle. You glanced away from him, then back again, unsure whether to admit your faults or pretend like nothing happened. Embarrassment gnawed at you like the butterflies in your stomach, leaving an undeniable glaze on your cheeks. Finally, swallowing hard, you met his gaze firmly. "I know…" The admission was tentative but truthful. It hung heavily between you, and he nodded twice, recognizing your honesty. For a moment neither of you spoke, time itself seeming suspended in this charged silence. Then, a gravelly whisper escaped him. "Come here…please?" He beckoned you closer like a predator calling prey into its domain.

Your heart skipped several beats, but you found yourself moving towards him slowly yet surely, still clutching your shirt closed. This close proximity heightened the connection, exchanging your boundaries with mutual consent. Your bodies brushed lightly, and you locked your gazes as if challenging air itself to separate you. His eyes held promise and sin, mixed liberally with depravity and wanton desire. The atmosphere crackled with tension, ready to ignite at any spark. Each heartbeat resounded throughout the room, indicating your racing pulse synchronised as one entity now. Your gaze dropped to his bulge unconsciously, realising how horny he was for you too. Slowly, deliberately, he reached out his hand and pulled you flush against him by the waist, claiming territory in both word and deed. Through it all, your breath hitched uncontrollably, mirroring the surge of emotions coursing through you. Would you let your new acquaintance devour your innocence tonight? God, please, yes.

Both of you blushed furiously, the colour burning your faces scarlet. The fact that you'd barely met just an hour ago made your actions seem ridiculous and scandalous at once. Yet, there was a strange sense of familiarity, an intense connection you couldn't deny. Your lips parted slightly, and a quiet "please" escaped involuntarily. Seizing this opportunity, he pulled you closer, tightening his arm around your waist possessively. His muddy eyes gleamed with appreciation as they met your puppy-dog ones; their depths reflecting both excitement and fear, a perfect mirror of what you felt inside. There was no denying the electricity arcing between us, threatening to short-circuit us utterly.

As Sebastian nestled closer, his hips subtly ground against yours suggestively. Your breathing picked up pace, matching his erratic rhythmic pulsations. You trembled when his calloused hand slid subtly between the open gap of your shirt, brushing against tender skin, leaving trails of electric sensations in their wake. Shivers ran riot across mine body, reinforcing the unspoken agreement of irrational behaviour. Stealing a feathery kiss along your jawline, he whispered huskily near your ear, "If you change your mind, just say so. Otherwise…" He paused dramatically, punctuated by another grinding thrust against you. "Let's continue where we left off earlier." His hand moved stealthily underneath cotton, slithering his way to your breast that still rested on top of your lowered bra. With a soft moan trapped by your lips, he fully claimed you with a fierce kiss, sexually and emotionally, making sure you understood that he wanted only you tonight.

He kissed you desperately yet unhurriedly, alternately demanding and patient, as if trying to balance the fine line between urgency and patience. His tongue explored your mouth aggressively, seeking permission through every stroke. You responded instinctively, lips opening wide to welcome his incursion, mirroring his hunger without inhibition.

His free hand started its journey, tracing every curve it could find, stopping nonchalantly at your breast under the thin layer of fabric. Here, he hesitated for a split-second before finally reaching out boldly. With a firm grip, he squeezed your chest ever so gently, how it fit perfectly in his large palm like an offering meant specifically for him. Unhurried yet insatiable, Sebastian slowly plundered your lips. His tongue delved boldly into your mouth, mirroring the urgency palpable between us. As eagerness surged through him, so did caution, remembering it was his first time, and hoping it was yours too. His hand squeezed your tit gently but firmly, compressing it nicely in his palm, eliciting a faint yelp from your lips which were simultaneously bruised by his fervent kisses. An appreciative sound escaped him at the feel of firm flesh beneath his grip, prompting more exploration.

Rolling your pert nipple between his fingers, Sebastian felt it stiffen immediately, reacting positively to his prodding touch. A satisfied hum vibrated against your mouth, signalling approval. With each squeeze and pull, your chest rose and fell faster, breath hitching in response to his touch. He applied light pressure, fondling and kneading with abandon, desperate to savour every curve and contour hidden under layers of clothing. Little pinpricks of pleasure radiated from under his exploration, causing you to whimper quietly against his mouth. His tongue duelled fiercely with yours, battling for dominance amidst sparks of electricity dancing around both of you. In tandem, finger tips tweaked at your nipple aggressively, creating a paradoxical blend of pain and ecstasy within instinctive impulses coursing through every cell in your body.

With a rare skill, the Slytherin’s hand twisted into position for easier access. A shiver raced down your spine when he pinched that tiny bud harshly just enough to make you squirm, begging for more. Gasping into his kiss, you tilted your head backwards, surrendering yourself to his control. His free hand gripped your hair, holding you fast despite his urgency and haste. By now, your pants seemed woefully insufficient as sensations engorged and his weight pressed into you forcefully, a testament to his hunger. At your touch, he revelled in the sensation like an addict craving a fix, grunting low in satisfaction. His breath caught in his throat when your delicate hands roamed over the crisp material. Responding instinctively to the stimulation of your touch, he began peeling off his shirt, revealing lean and well-defined muscles previously hinted at by his clothes. His pecs flexed subtly beneath his smooth skin as one hand undid the buttons methodically, an erotic dance choreographed solely for you.

Simultaneously, his other hand tugged firmly at your tie, tearing it loose abruptly from around your neck, making your breath hitch once again by his sudden display of quiet strength. It fell to the ground much like his shame, replaced now only by insatiable wants. His own tie and shirt followed suit soon after as he discarded them artlessly, leaving him bare-chested and exposed. His breath ragged, eyes locked with yours, making sure you appreciated his offering. You stared entranced by his sheer confidence, noting dots of sweat even though he seemed so composed. He grinned wolfishly at your reaction before kissing you again: fierce, needful, borderless.

Meanwhile, your own garments were handled roughly yet carefully; off came the shirt next, uncovering pale skin marred only by the pink blush spread across it. The sight before him sent his brain spiraling wild with possibility and freedom. Your breasts, pushed up by the bra hanging around your midriff, glowing under the dim lights sparked something feral within him, releasing the primal urge to claim what he had only discovered an hour ago. However, the task at hand required immense concentration. Feverish hands searched frantically for the clasps of your bra, struggling slightly due to your elevated heartbeat echoing through your entire body and his own inexperience. Each attempt felt like nails on a chalkboard, both exciting and frustrating.

Finally managing to locate the clasp, the metallic snap echoed loudly before the material fell to the ground. Satisfaction, intermingled with triumph, coloured his features as your breasts sprung free fully. He groaned at the sight, appreciating the bounty before him—full, round, ripe tits bobbing gently. His eyes lingered on the nipples he had just hardened with his ministrations. His hands explored them greedily, seemingly lost in wonderment before pinching harshly once more for good measure and drawing out a shocked gasp from you. Boldly, he bent down to lick one rapidly before sucking it into his mouth, both of your toes curling in your shoes at your subsequent cry of surprise. For the first time in ages, Sebastian knew pure contentment and satisfaction.

Diving headlong into this forbidden fruit, he masked his indecision with zealous enthusiasm and an eager mouth. One hand returned to your waist, while the other grabbed your breast savagely. He squeezed it gently before stretching it further, enjoying the stretch of tight skin under his touch. Low growls escaped him as he buried his face against your flesh, licking at your tender skin with reckless impatience. The dry brush of his curled hair against your collarbone created a unique sensation, different from the silkiness of his tongue. Your cries of pleasant surprise turned into moans of arousal, igniting an inferno inside him.

Once satiated, he switched to your other breast, refusing to play favorites. This time, he grabbed its sister assertively, almost rough, wanting nothing less than dominance over this new territory. He played with it ruthlessly, pinching your nipple between his fingers gently but firmly, drawing out a high-pitched sound as his teeth scraped lightly at your skin. Sebastian's lips enveloped the sensitive peak trapped between his lips and sucked vigorously. This time, instead of gentle kisses and squeezes, hard pulls accompanied each nibbling action.

Your response was instantaneous. You pulled his hair almost affectionately, guiding him closer to your nape where a less sensitive spot resided. A soft yelp left him as his scalp was yanked, stray locks of hair becoming entangled between your fingers. He kept going regardless, appearing more determined than ever, his brown mop tickling you with each movement. The soundtrack grew louder, filled with your breathy gasps, his labored breathing, wet slaps of kisses, and occasional moans mixed harmoniously in lustful cacophony. Slippery saliva dripped from the corner of his mouth onto your breast, marking his ownership plainly.

Captivated by your tits, he couldn't resist attacking them as you moved backward towards your bed. His lips, teeth, and tongue remorselessly roamed over the peaks and valley, his hands exploring each curve and dip without mercy. You could hear him pant heavily, a testament to his throbbing passion. Your movements brought you closer to your destination, the safety net waiting for two entangled bodies to fall upon. He stumbled following you, his lips still suctioned to your chest, desperately trying not to lose contact. As you neared the edge of the mattress, the wooden floorboards creaked underneath you, protesting the invasion of these tangled limbs. Just before falling onto the plush sheets, his head finally lifted, his breathless gaze meeting yours for a split second. However, hunger got the better of him, drawing you back for another taste of heaven

His kiss fractionally landed higher than before, on the juncture of your neck and shoulder, causing a shiver to run down your spine. His tongue flicked out, tasting salt from the small beads of sweat forming there, then slipped inside the sensitive hollow. Another low growl emanated from him, urging him onwards, further than your upper half.

With a low growl, he helped lower you onto the bed, adjusting the position so your head rested comfortably against pillows. Before you knew it, he straddled your spread legs, his knees digging into the fabric beneath you, his leather belt pressing against your skirt. Your gaze locked with his fiery ones, the intensity building with every passing moment. Sweaty palms gripped your thighs, holding you steady while leaning forward purposefully. With a swift move, he hiked up your skirt, exposing the thick flesh bathed in arousal spilling forth from your pores.

A satisfied hum escaped him, eyes feasting on the view below. Muscular calves, soft skin, sexy curves that led to his ultimate goal - a treasure guarded by cotton. Mild apprehension clouded his judgment as he licked his lips, preparing himself mentally and physically for the deed. Thunderous heartbeats echoed throughout the room, adding tension to this vulnerable scene. As if in answer, your fingers slid into his hair, urging him closer, deeper. The tug was subtle but effective, pulling him towards your center. His gaze met yours once more, filled with questions and uncertainty. But despite everything, he obliged eagerly, lowering his face to claim his land, his lips parting to reveal sharp teeth.

Ignorant but eager, Sebastian pressed his tongue against your damp panties, wet heat seeping through the barrier. The unfamiliar textures overwhelmed his senses, but excitement drove him to push aside doubts, replacing them with bold curiosity. In his inexperienced enthusiasm, he didn't shy away from rubbing his tongue flatly over the material, brushing against your outer folds through the thin barrier.

Your thighs, hot against his ears, left trails of sweat, evidence of your need for relief. He knelt below you, his gaze locked with your face, enjoying your reactions, paralyzed by pleasure and frustration equally. His own legs were trembling as a consequence, betraying his own desire that leaked from his hard cock. Yet he remained undeterred, desperate to satisfy and understand the mysteries of the female body. Each tentative press of his tongue sent ripples of pleasure up your spine, increasing your eagerness for more as you bucked against his warm mouth. His actions were raw and sensual; they caused his eyebrows to crease in concentration, adding to the turbulent emotions running rampant during this learning process. Every breath became ragged, punctuated with subtle whimpers and sighs, both encouraging and taunting at the same time.

Eventually, he found the strength to glance down, taking in the sight of your damp underwear, glazed with anticipation. Rash and bold, he lunged forward again, teeth sinking into the waistband gently but firmly, opening the gateway towards the garden of Eden. A sudden gust of air escaped you as his efforts paid off, revealing the prize he sought. Finally feeling accomplished, he closed his eyes briefly, gathering what confidence he could. His nostrils flared as he smelled your drenched cunt, exuding the pheromones of your awakening desire. Feeling emboldened by your earlier reaction, he dipped his tongue hesitantly as his nose pressed against your clit, his curiosity guiding him rather than any prior experience. The taste hit him immediately; salty, sweet, and intoxicating, unlike anything he had encountered. Each swipe of his tongue revealed a new facet of your arousal, hidden preferences that fueled his hunger even further.

His rhythm developed naturally despite his inexperience, each lick and swipe getting bolder. His hot breath caressed your most private parts, sending shivers up and down your spine. His tongue played havoc, flicking faster across your clit, then hovering above before striking again. His hair brushed lightly against your inner thighs, tickling your skin, each movement deliberate yet messy. He swished his tongue, seeking and discovering hidden spots that drew more sighs and musical gasps from you. Your hips bucked involuntarily, arching into his assault while his tensed grip on your thighs only served to restrain you.

Warm spit trickled from his mouth, lubricating his playing field while his breathing synchronised with yours. He revelled in every sound, every tiny moan, absorbing your pleasure intensively. Slowly, hesitantly, he reached one finger between your legs, feeling your warmth and slippery wetness. Your folds clenched as he massaged delicately, matching the pace with his tongue.

His exploration and learning progressed quickly, but his enjoyment seemed equal. His tongue worked furiously, devouring you inch by inch, leaving behind squelching sounds of delight and surprise, all while your body arched up against the onslaught. He could feel your rapid pulse under his fingertips, a testament to his success. His confidence increased, pushing him to go further, to plunge deeper, to explore higher. His tongue weaved a trail of fire that nibbled, sucked, circled, and inched upwards.

Both your bodies writhed, sweat pouring despite the chill in the air. Grunts and moans resonated throughout the room, a beacon screaming for attention, begging for more. Your pleas urged him onward, words barely forming as you encouraged him to continue, continuing your torture with lust. It wasn't long till he looked up again, meeting your half-closed gaze once more. Although already appearing spent, you still looked beautiful, radiant even as you whimpered your pleas. His cheeks were flushed, eyes heavy with heat and lust, his own erection straining against his clothing.

His eyes traced the lower half of your body once more, drawn to the untouched territory below your labia. Your entrance gaped invitingly, offering its uncharted waters to a curious explorer. He saw pink, glistening walls, promising undiscovered pleasures that made his dick twitch violently. Curiosity gnawed at him, igniting a desire he hadn't felt before.

His stare lingered on your entrance, swollen and begging for attention. A newfound resolve set in, and with a final lick, he raised himself slightly, hovering over your invitation. His hesitation was evident, barely containing the ignorance dancing in his eyes. Then with an exhale, he dove in again, his tongue parting your folds before sliding into your hole. You jumped at the sensation, your body convulsing under the pressure and the sight of his bushy brows and burning eyes just above you mound. His tongue explored further, penetrating wider than your two fingers did, feeling the muscles wrap around him. Each withdrawal was met with disappointment, each thrust with anticipation.

The lack of lubrication coming from you due to the friction slowed him temporarily, but not for long. Slowly, methodically, he pushed harder, slipping farther despite the resistance. His pace faltered, replaced by searching motions, exploring every corner, scraping against the rough patches, and grazing over the sensitive walls. His dance led you to gripping his hair, your nails making faint scratching sounds on his scalp as you searched for anchoring points. The combination was too much for him. After one last plunge of his wet muscle, he emerged victoriously, his chin and lips covered in your juices.

Finally giving in to his curiosity, he wiped his mouth clean with the back of his hand, sticking two thick fingers in your tight, slippery hole. The twist of your body showed his first invasion had affected you deeply. But this time, the added pressure made you gasp and throw your head back, eyes screwed shut tight. His gaze locked onto your face, capturing every contortion as he pushed further, watching your face become a canvas of surprise and ecstasy. His fingers slid deeper, your walls stretching to accommodate him with eagerness. As he thrust slowly, his middle finger ran circles around something hidden deep within, sending sparks across your nerve endings. You moaned, each thrust accentuating the feeling at a snail's pace. His steady rhythm was broken when his thumb made contact, barely grazing your teardrop-shaped pleasure point. With a sharp intake of breath, you clung to his hair tightly, unprepared for the intensity of the feeling.

He hesitated, playing with you like a puppeteer. The promise of satisfaction lingered over your face, but he held back, curious to see how far he could take you. Your body pulsed, bucking beneath him, and finally, you pleaded with his name, those words producing a smirk on his face. With a feral growl, he pinched your bundle of nerves, your thighs shaking violently as you let out the loudest groan yet. A deafening crescendo reverberated around you, filling the cold room with the sound of untamed passion. Cleverly, he reduced the stimulation right as you neared climax, prolonging the agonising wait.

Every pulsing wave signalled your desperation, sensations surging through you like a storm brewing. Finally, he leaned down, sucking gently on your clit between his fingers' thrusts. Your pleasure skyrocketed, almost too much to bear. Sensing your breakdown, his grip on your thighs tightened until, finally, he couldn't hold back anymore. Blindly, he released everything he had learned so far, savouring every moment of your impending explosion.

Sebastian watched your face contort under his ministrations. It was a beautiful sight, and seeing your need fueled his own exploratory drive. He glanced up, looking into your eyes for confirmation. "Like that?" he asked hoarsely, his voice dripping in husky notes of desire, craving to hear your approval. His thrusting fingers gathered speed in response to your nod, your weak submission pushing him to greater lengths. The room echoed with your whimpers, punctuated by the smacking sound of his lips over your core. His gaze stayed fixed on you, taking in the change in flavour of your arousal, tracking your every expression, breathing along with you.

His fingertips curled, digging deeper, stretching you wide despite the discomfort. He wanted to give more, push you closer to the edge. With lightning speed, he switched to a three-finger attack, spreading you wide, your throbbing hole accommodating without complaint. He pulled away for a moment, leaving your clit alone, allowing you to catch your breath. Your heartbeat echoed loudly, and his breathing steadied. Your eyes were filled with gratitude and submission. Suddenly, he dived back in, sucking you forcefully and lapping your folds. You let out a desperate, high-pitched moan. Each thrust of his fingers enhanced the suction, creating friction that had you writhing uncontrollably. An orgasm was building, his fingers working as a lever, your quivering hole squeezing him with each fervid thrust. Your body yielded tantalisingly to his control as he drew out your pleasure like strings of a harp. Every tremble screamed at him to stop, but he wouldn't. His tongue lashed out, torturous waves of pleasure leaving your body.

Bliss washed over you, his relentless pursuit of pleasure consuming you. As your orgasm neared, you panted, gripping his hair harder. Pleas burst forth from you. "Please, Sebastian, just… let me cum!" you begged, your voice teetering on the edge of insanity. The intensity of your desire overwhelmed him. His own erection was stiff, the school uniform a futile barrier against his lust. He paused his tongue, noting the hunger in your eyes. It was intoxicating. Ignoring his raging cock, he resumed sucking your clit, eliciting an ear-splitting scream. That broke the dam, setting off a chain reaction which had you arcing off the bed. Your legs spread wide, your toes curled, and your fingernails dug deep into his scalp, yanking it harshly.

Again, he sucked hard, and you screamed out his name, the combination of pain and pleasure overwhelming. Your climax was his reward. The soft, high-pitched mews escalated, forming a symphony with the slurping noises he made. Shaking uncontrollably, feelings flooded you, waves peaking before crashing heavily, leaving you panting on the bed.

Exhausted, your body relaxed, your voice soft now. "Thank you," you murmured, the relief audible in your tone. He lay there for a minute, stomach pressed to your mattress, catching his own breath. Even though he was thoroughly aroused, he managed a crooked smile. "It's my privilege," he said, his voice filled with satisfaction.

As you came down from your high, his satisfied face morphed into one of smug triumph, and he crawled over you. You noticed a line of coarse hairs, leading from the waistband of his trousers towards his navel. You couldn't help but trace them with your index finger, marvelling at the trail of pubic hair. For a brief second, he squirmed under your touch, his chest rising and falling rapidly. But soon enough, he shifted and caught your hand, unable to resist the urge to control the situation once more. It was impressive how he could hold himself up on only one elbow, another sign he was indeed "your local duelling expert."

He flipped your hand, guiding your fingers to his erection. Straining against the fabric, it seemed desperate for your touch, matching the growling beast inside him. He swallowed nervously, pressing a chaste kiss on your cheeks before burying his lips below your ear, his nose poking behind it while he took in your now musky scent.

The moment your fingers made contact with his groin, he couldn't help but let out a deep, guttural groan. It was a sound of pure, unadulterated pleasure, a sound he had never made before. His eyes rolled back, and his body shuddered, reacting to the foreign sensation. It was a strange feeling, having someone else touch him there, especially a girl he had only met a little over an hour ago.

But there was something undeniably exciting about it. It was like a new adventure, a new experience that he was eager to explore. He could feel his cock pulsating under your touch, the blood rushing to it, making it swell even more. He closed his eyes, savouring the moment, letting the pleasure wash over him. He could feel your fingers tracing the outline of his erection, feeling the heat radiating from it. He let out a soft moan, his body arching into your touch. He was completely at your mercy, and he didn't mind it one bit. In fact, he found it incredibly arousing.

He opened his eyes, looking down at you with a mixture of surprise and lust. He had never felt this way before, and he knew that he wanted more. He wanted to explore every inch of your body, to taste every part of you. He wanted to scream your name, just like he had made you scream his. He leaned down, pressing his lips against your neck, his teeth grazing your skin. He could feel your heart racing, your body trembling beneath him. He knew that you wanted him just as much as he wanted you. And he was ready to give you everything you desired.

His urgency matched yours, and he needed to feel your warmth against him. Hungry hands snapped the buttons of his front flap open, revealing his straining underwear and a visible bulge. What a beast it was. Then, leaning onto his forearms, he brought his forehead against yours. There was a sense of vulnerability in that position, eyes locked, staring deep into each other, though he only did it because the muscles in his arm started straining.

Slowly, he separated his forehead from yours. Instead, he moved his lips closer, just a whisper away from yours. He exhaled deeply, filling your mouth with the warmth of his breath. His nostrils flared, eyebrows furrowed, and the hunger for you grew stronger. This wasn't just a physical attraction; it was something… different. But Sebastian couldn't put a label on it. Not yet. Pushing his boxers down, he revealed all of himself to you, in all its shivering glory. His eyes locked onto yours, waiting for permission. He was yours, willing to follow wherever you led. A soft smile played upon his lips, his heated gaze promising that he would make you forget your own name. All you had to do was say the word.

Your eyes widened as he revealed his girth. It was… imposing. The sheer size of him was shocking, one he had to be proud of. Your eyes couldn't help but trace the thick veins of him from root to tip. The size made you a little nervous, but it wasn't unwelcome. You liked the idea of being full. The thought of the red lingerie in your trunk earlier crossed your mind briefly, and you almost felt guilty for fucking a student on your first day here. You weren't raised like this, but then…

You felt a sudden surge of curiosity; you wanted to know how his dick would feel. A shy smile graced his face at your astonishment, but there was still hesitation in your eyes. Slowly, reaching out, you wrapped your fingers around his shaft, coating it with warmth. You stroked it gently, slowly moving your hand up and down, shocked at the contrast of hot pre-cum against his flesh. He buried his face in your neck again, a rumbling sound of pleasure escaping him. With each stroke, every nerve ending was tested, sending shooting stars across his brain. Your nails lightly skimmed his clothed thigh, his cock twitching. The base of his shaft hit your palm with a small tap each stroke, spreading a wave of delight. And then you stopped, making him look up. You slowly looked at him, fear and excitement intertwining in your eyes. "Are you sure about this, Sebastian?" you asked softly, your fingers still clutching his cock. He grinned, a once flustered boy, now confident and enigmatic. "I can be patient, darling. If anything goes wrong, we'll stop, yeah?"

No sooner than the words left his mouth did he capture your lips, his fingers tangling into your hair. The kiss was demanding, possessive, as if trying to convey his need to you. He was a predator finally seizing his prey, showing no mercy. And it was perfect. You nodded, lost in the whirlwind of emotions, as he slowly started replacing your hand with his own. His breathing became erratic, his heart pounding as he guided the massive cockhead to your entrance. A faint hint of nerves danced in his eyes. Still, the eagerness sparkled brighter. As he thrust forward ever so slowly, his eyes rolled back, and his hips bucked involuntarily. You groaned, adjusting to the invasion. With slow deliberation, he pushed further in. Each inch sent ripples of sensation up into him, and despite the severe tightness, you felt heavenly. He could feel you clenching around him, tightening with every push.

He sank deeper, mimicking the speed of his heartbeat. He groaned too, sweat glazing his brow. "Oh God, you feel incredible," he muttered, his breath tangled in your hair. He threw his head forward, a soft growl escaping him, "Tight… so fucking tight…" Your hands gripped his arms, nails digging in, matching the intensity of the moment. But you wanted more. You wanted to see him lose control, to take him into a realm of passion and devotion. You moved his hand on your thigh aside, determined to show him that you were a match to his prowess. Slowly, you held yourself open, giving him room. As he started thrusting faintly, you instinctively squeezed him, testing the limits of your grip. The control he had over the situation shattered, replaced by utter fascination. His thrusts grew fadtert, his groans turning into ragged whispers. "Fuck," he panted, pulling you closer, "You're amazing…" You returned the sentiment, wrapping your legs around his hips, feeling every stroke deep within you. He fucked you like the devil himself fuelled him, and you reveled in each thrust, courage rearing its head.

At first, he was in control of himself. Each thrust deliberate, aiming to please and understand your comfort level. His eyes searched for a reaction, watching as your expressions flickered between pleasure and pain. But soon, he couldn't focus on anything else besides the feel. Each thrust felt like a lightning bolt piercing your core, making you gasp and moan. He watched as your eyelids fluttered, desperate for more. He was an animal now, forgetting everything but the rhythm. His body was rigid, jerking each thrust, leaving you gasping, begging for relief.

"God, please, Sebastian," you cried out, your hands grasping his neck. Your voice rose and fell, mirroring his movements, urging him to keep going. You trapped his gaze, showing him how much you enjoyed it, how much you needed him. His breathing was harsh, each thrust punctuated by the sound of wet slaps. He gained momentum, driving into you with wild abandon. He looked deep into your eyes, questioning if you were okay. But your loud moans answered his concern, emphasized by your tight hug around his neck.

He was losing control, his body shaking with the effort of holding himself up. His arms were unsteady, his balance wavering. He was close, so close, but he didn't want to end it yet. He wanted to make sure you were satisfied, that you were enjoying this as much as he was. "Fuck, I need you to lay on your side," he panted heavily, his voice hoarse from the effort. He didn't want to hurt you, but he was struggling to maintain his balance. Stringent breaths echoed through the room, sidestepping the ethereal melody of desire. Drenched in sweat, he pulled out, causing you to let out a growl of protest. He struggled to take off his remaining clothes, answering your disapproval with a smile. "Trust me," he promised, tugging his pants off, almost tripping over his shoes. Kicking them away, he laid behind you, panting heavily, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

He positioned himself once more, spreading your legs wider with a soft nudge. "Don't worry, I won't break you," he murmured with a kiss to your cheek, bracing himself behind you. One leg was draped over his thigh, offering easy access. He admired the sight: your round ass inviting him to enter as he spread your cheeks lightly. He didn't just admire, no, he savoured the view.

And then he plunged in again, hard and fast. You gasped, but the moans resumed, spilling out with soft curses and lip bites. A feral smile spread across his lips as his face towered next to yours, his hands grabbing your ass firmly. He slammed into you, chasing the pleasure he craved, punishing his hips against you. You responded, meeting his thrust with equal vigour, the room filled with passionate yelling and guttural cries. The sensation was overwhelming, an explosion in bedsheets hiding their carnal desires. His eyes never abandoned your lovely form, burying himself deeper within you. Lost in lust, he knew he was close, pulsating against the walls of your tight pussy. He could taste it, feel it; victory was near.

Overwhelmed by hunger, Sebastian lost control. His sanity slipped away, leaving only animalistic desire. Without warning, he delivered a sharp smack to the curve of your ass. A red print bloomed immediately, nothing more than a testament to his desire for you. Your muscles, in response, constricted around his already throbbing length. An orgasmic quiver engulfed you fully, echoing waves of passion throughout your body.

Remembering your earlier preferences, Sebastian reached for your clit with clammy fingers. His digits caressed your most sensitive spot, sending you into a frenzy of ecstasy. He found his rhythm, alternating between rough and tender, matching the pace he'd set with his thrusts. Your moans escalated, reaching a peak he couldn't ignore anymore. He probably had to stop, regroup, but every part of him screamed to continue. His heart threatened to burst. The room echoed with your moans and the rhythm of their thrusts. The wall clock ticked as time dissolved, consumed by raw passion. He paused to catch his breath, locked in your embrace. A bead of sweat trickled down his forehead, his body flush with excitement. In that moment, he made a decision, one driven purely by instinct. He had to come inside you, marking his territory without guilt.

With renewed force, he drove into you, faster and harsher than ever. Every thrust seemed to send shockwaves, propelling each pulse closer to climax. He played with your clit ferociously, careful not to overdo it and ruin your moment. You screamed into the pillow, begging for mercy and relief, all at the same time. His fingers dug into your hips, thrusting harder, each motion punctuated by an understanding grunt. He could feel it, the end. His balls tightened, the orgasm neared. "Come with me, doll," he whispered into your ear, surrendering to your passion. Together, you climbed towards the edge, helpless in his grasp.

Cumming wasn't gentle, no. Your body convulsed violently, reaching a crescendo of unchecked passion. Your moans grew louder, becoming strangled cries as you approached the edge. His thumb circled your clit, your cries filling the room, ending with a primal scream into the pillow. You released, vibrating furiously, practically milking everything he had to offer. Fleeting moments passed before he joined you, his own release powerful and unrestrained. His orgasm hit like a tidal wave, swallowing both of you whole. Eyes shut tightly, his teeth sank into your shoulder, his hips buckling with force. With a final, powerful thrust, he collapsed against you, surrendering to the aftermath. Satisfaction radiated, pulsating hot streams filling you up. You shook, your insides clamping down, milking every last drop from his exhausted shaft. The sheets beneath you grew wetter, marked by his triumph. Aftershocks rolled through your bodies, leaving trails of exhaustion. As the room slowly settled, two sets of heavy breaths finally became synchronized. You lay tangled together, hearts pounding in sync, bathed in the afterglow of pure, unfiltered passion.

As the room calmed, a sigh of contentment escaped your lips. You turned to face him, hair sticking to your forehead with sweat. Even in post-coital bliss, the intensity of what happened wasn't lost on either of you. A peaceful silence enveloped you, interrupted only by labored breathing. Slowly, reluctantly, Sebastian pulled out, the reality setting in. She was a stranger, someone he barely knew, yet he'd given her something valuable: his virginity. The weight of his actions bore down upon him, his mind racing. Memories of his previous life cascaded, replaced by the newfound intimacy he shared with this fresh face. A strange calm came over him, realizing the importance of what happened. He glanced down at your still-quivering body, a mix of curiosity and comfort washing over him. Was this a mistake? Or was it simply… fate? The new girl he was already infatuated with wasn't a stranger anymore. She was much more than that now. The postcoital awkwardness descended, emotions conflicting and intertwining. Did he rush things? Should he have been more cautious? Or perhaps, did everything happen naturally, leading him here? Staring into your eyes, he saw the same questions reflected back at him. This moment hung heavy with implications, marking the beginning of something unknown. As uncomfortable as it might seem, he knew one thing for certain: he wouldn't change anything.

Both of you were stricken, contemplating the enormity of the act. He traced the outline of your jawline, feeling the warmth radiate off your skin. "Was it worth it?" he asked hesitantly, knowing well enough that words weren't enough. His question was fraught with doubt, uncertainty, curiosity. Yet, there was also a hint of satisfaction, a promise of more to come. Sebastian paused, searching for the right words. "I… don't regret it," he said, tracing circles along your jaw. "Not when you reacted like that." His fingers strayed to your neck, caressing gently as if soothing himself as much as you. A shiver ran through you at his touch, reminding him of the passion you shared moments ago. He swallowed hard, trying to reconcile the vulnerability with the image of you lying next to him. You looked into his eyes, a whisper escaping your lips. "Worth it?" The corner of your mouth lifted into a small smile. "Definitely."

A bright blush spread across his face as he realized the gravity of the situation. He had to get out of here, and fast. He didn't want to get caught, especially after the loud moans that had likely echoed through the dormitory. He quickly got up from the bed, pulling on his clothes with a hurried urgency. Despite the urgency to flee, his gaze lingered on you. There was an undeniable attraction, a connection that extended far beyond physical; it felt almost magnetic. He hesitated, unable to break eye contact. Then, in between buttoning his shirt, he spoke, partly to ease the tension building, partly because he genuinely wanted to know more about you. "Um, how do you feel about Hogsmeade? Fancy grabbing a drink somewhere tomorrow… or maybe a walk? We can just… pretend we didn’t…" Embarrassment painted his features, half-filled with nervous laughter. He knew it was abrupt and somewhat presumptuous, but he couldn't resist the urge to spend more time with you.

You watched him dress, the situation both exhilarating and baffling. There was definitely something intriguing about this guy, and seeing him in a vulnerable state made him seem less untouchable. You managed a weak grin, eyebrows raising quizzically. "Sure, why not?" You replied, matching his nervous chuckle. "I…uh… I won't tell anyone about tonight. If you don't want to…" His face lit up at your agreement, gratitude sparking in his eyes. As you agreed to his impromptu invitation, a wave of relief washed over him. He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss against your cheek. His lips lingered for a moment, savoring the warmth of your skin. He pulled back, a shy smile playing on his lips. "Thank you," he whispered, buckling his belt with a newfound sense of purpose. He was going to make sure you enjoyed your time at Hogwarts, starting with a date to Hogsmeade. “After lunch ends?”

Seeing you nod, Sebastian took one last look around the room, making sure he hadn't forgotten anything. His wand was safely tucked in his pocket, a reminder of the whole reason this transpired. With a final glance at you, he moved towards the door, ready to face the world outside. "Until tomorrow, then," he said, a hint of excitement in his voice. The air between you thickened with unsaid words, promises unspoken, feelings unexpressed. Yet, the simple exchange held a heaviness that promised more was on its way. He opened the door, peeking out to ensure the hallway was empty. A swift glance back at you told volumes without uttering a word. The faint glimmer of expectation shone in those coffee-colored eyes, a silent confirmation of a shared understanding. Tiptoeing out, he closed the door softly behind him, disappearing into the darkness of the corridor. Left alone in the room, you smiled, reflecting on the extraordinary turn of events. An ordinary evening had transformed into something truly unforgettable. And though the future was uncertain, you knew you were in for quite a ride.

What had started as an innocent encounter had spiraled into an intimate, unforgettable memory. Emotions swirled in your chest, a whirlpool of excitement, anxiety, and anticipation. He was charming, dangerous, and seemingly just as bewildered as you were. But there was something about him that drew you in, like a moth to a flame. Your gaze dropped to your chest, feeling the heat left by his kiss. Your fingertips traced the spot where his lips had graced, as if trying to etch the sensation onto your memory. As the reality of what had happened set in, a mixture of giddiness and nerves coursed through your veins. He was indeed charming in his own twisted ways, and you couldn't deny the allure. Dangerous? Perhaps, but you found yourself attracted to it. The scent of him still lingered in the room, a faint aroma of leather and musk tickling your nose. With a gentle sigh, you tucked yourself under the blankets, allowing yourself to calm down from the intense sex. Thoughts filled with stolen glances, late-night conversations, and his wicked grin danced in your mind's eye. In the span of hours, he'd completely disrupted your perception of Hogwarts. The mystique surrounding Sebastian Sallow, the local duelling expert, was overwhelming, and yet irresistible.

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