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ladamedusoif · 11 months

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An Inspecteur Calls

A Visiting Pedrotober One-Shot - Day 20, Merge Mansion

Pairing: Professor!Ben (College AU) x OFC Lydia/fem!Reader (reader POV/2nd POV)

Summary: Lyd is stressed and frustrated, and hit with a bad dose of Parisian nostalgia. Thankfully, Ben knows of a detective - sorry, inspecteur - Roquefort, who is free to investigate the cause of her woes, shoulder holsters included.

Word Count: 2.3k

Rating: Explicit (MDNI; 18+)

Content (series/one-shot specific): Visiting fic one-shot; Professor Ben College AU; Ben and Lydia are contemporaries; canon is not a thing here; smut; fingering; oral sex (f receiving); safe PiV sex; enthusiastic consent; strong language; praise kink; references to stress; bad French; terrible French accents; role playing; these two are fucking dorks; extreme silliness

A/N: This is @jack-whiskey-daniels' fault. I wrote up this smutty little vignette, heavily inspired by the photo of Tim Rockford above, last night. Today, Luce informs me that it's Merge Mansion day for Pedrotober and I should post this. Well, who am I to say no?

With apologies for Ben's deliberately terrible attempts at role-playing a cliched French detective (inspecteur is the more common title). No apologies for me using Lydia to work through my love of Tim "Shoulder Holsters Tight Shirt Undervest" Rockford.

(And, seeing as it's his birthday and these two are film nerds, I had to throw in a reference to a film by the French director Jean-Pierre Melville, creator of several exceptional French crime dramas in the 1960s and 1970s. Le Cercle rouge is one of his finest, but they're all brilliant and highly recommended.)

Read the main story on the series Masterlist.

Usual Visiting taglist: @jack-whiskey-daniels , @julesonrecord , @tessa-quayle , @vermillionwinter , @iamskyereads , @tieronecrush , @perennialdoll247 , @love-the-abyss , @imaswellkid , @intheorangebedroom , @javierisms , @fuckyeahdindjarin , @littlemisspascal , @khindahra , @pedrostories , @readingiskeepingmegoing , @rhoorl , @red-red-rogue , @princessanglophile, @katareyoudrilling @survivingandenduring, @trulybetty @fictionismyreality @sunnywithachanceofjavi, @joeldjarin , @lahoozaherr, @s-u-t, @its-nebuleuse, @lizzie-cakes

His warm, broad hand rests lightly on your shoulder as he passes you at the dining table. You turn to look up at him, handsome face full of concern.

“You’re not yourself. What’s up?”

You sigh and stare into your coffee. “It’s dumb.”

He pulls out a chair and sits down, quirking an eyebrow. “If it’s bothering you, I doubt it’s dumb. What’s wrong, love?”

“It’s this stupid essay I’m trying to get finished. I’m missing some of the stuff that would be really useful for it, and I should have gone to see it last time I was in Paris, and I’m frustrated with myself.”

“That’s not dumb, darling. Even if you are being too hard on yourself, as usual.”

You slump forward on the table, mumbling against the wooden surface. “And then I thought about how easy it used to be to just…pop over to Paris, whenever I could, and then I started thinking about it and how much I love it.”

He pats your arm affectionately. “Still not dumb.”

“And then we watched Le Cercle rouge last night and even all those dodgy cops and inspecteurs in their trenchcoats and hats and crime were making me miss Paris. See? Dumb.”

Ben shakes his head and smiles softly. “Not dumb at all. It’s a part of you, of who you are.” He traces a circle on the back of your hand. “And anyway, didn’t you once tell me you had a thing for dodgy cops with moustaches?” He looks at you mischievously and you grin.

“You, Benjamin, are a very tolerant man.” You reach out and trace your fingers over the coarse hair on one side of his face, and he closes his eyes and hums happily.

“I love you, Lyddie. It’ll be okay.” He pushes himself away from the table and heads towards the hallway. “I gotta go for my early seminar, but keep Hemingway in mind.”

You laugh and roll your eyes affectionately. “Of course, the answer is in literature.” He pauses at the door, waiting for you to acknowledge the quotation. “‘Wherever you go for the rest of your life, it stays with you, for Paris is a moveable feast.’”

He does that half-smile that never fails to make you melt, blows you a kiss, and heads off to work.

You meet him later for lunch, having worked at home for most of the morning. In between bites of his sandwich, he excitedly talks about the graduate seminar he’d taught, and you discuss your plans for your workshop on gender and visual culture that afternoon while Ben listens attentively.

“You feeling any better?” he asks, as you brush a stray couple of crumbs from his moustache.

“A bit. I’m sorry, I just spiralled. Probably mostly stress and frustration at my own shitty work ethic and crap ideas.”

He kisses the tips of your fingers swiftly and discreetly, and you giggle. “You have to be kinder to yourself. You’re working too hard, thinking about it too much.”

You clear your table and bring your trays to the designated area, hands brushing lightly against each other as you stroll out of the cafeteria and back towards your building and your offices. You smile to yourself at how, even now, the slightest touch from him sends a current of electricity sparking through your body.

Ben opens his office door and pulls you in for a quick kiss before you have to go and teach. He pulls away reluctantly as you whine softly.

“Please be kinder to yourself, Lyd.” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively as you move into the hallway. “I’m happy to help distract you, you know.”

“I’m home, love!”

You drop your bag beside the hall table and hang your coat up on the rack before kicking off your shoes and stretching upwards as you walk towards the kitchen, where you expect to find him. On days when you have a later teaching schedule, Ben likes to get home earlier, finish his work in his attic study, and then get dinner started for both of you.

Something delicious is cooking away in the CrockPot, but there’s no sign of your boyfriend. You pass into the dining room, noticing the light from the living room coming through the glass-panelled doors.

Ben is sitting on the sofa, wearing his glasses - nothing out of the ordinary there. But he’s also clad in the trenchcoat he wore for his Dave Toschi costume on Halloween, which is decidedly weird.

“Uh, baby? You okay?”

He turns to face you, arching an eyebrow and running his eyes up and down your body as if he’s appraising you.

“Ben?”

“Bonsoir, mademoiselle.”

You scrunch your face up in absolute confusion, and wonder if you should call Jen. Maybe some kind of accident happened at work? Did he take a knock to the head?

“Ben, I’m…what the fuck is happening?”

He holds a hand up to one side of his face and does a sort of stage whisper. “Go with it, Lyd! Just an attempt at cheering you up. You want to stop, just say the word.”

You burst out laughing and shake your head. “No, I’m… I’ll see where this leads, monsieur.”

He grins in satisfaction and stands up. “Je suis Inspecteur Timothée Roquefort, and…uh, I mean, et je suis un…Parisian police homme.”

“Baby, I know your French is better than this.”

Ben holds up a hand and continues speaking in what can only be described as one of the worst comedy French accents you have ever heard. “Mademoiselle! Do not interrupt moi.”

You bite your lip, body shaking with laughter. “D’accord, monsieur.”

“I received une message at the commissariat de police that une jolie femme was…” He looks away as he thinks. “Triste parce que she is not in Pareeeeee.”

“D’accord, mais je ne sais pas pourquoi les flics doivent intervenir dans une question personnelle, en fait, et alors -” [Okay, but I don’t know why cops have to intervene in a personal matter, really, and anyway -]

Ben looks panicked, and starts to rub at one side of his moustache with his pointer finger.

“Uh… HON HON HON. OMELETTE DU FROMAGE.”

That does it. You collapse against him in a fit of laughter, eyes creased and tears rolling down your cheeks. He holds you close against him as you look up at his open, handsome face.

“You are a very goofy man, Benjamin Morales, and I love you for it. Though I don’t really understand how I want to fuck you this badly even with that accent.”

He grins. “You want to fuck moi because je suis a sexy Parisian police homme, non?”

He plants a kiss to your forehead as he hugs you tightly. “L’Inspecteur did have une question de plus, Lyddie.”

“Eh bien?”

You can see him struggling not to laugh as he makes a cheesy, cliched “sexy” face at you.

“La question, s’il vous plait.”

“Well, mademoiselle…” Ben shrugs off the trenchcoat to reveal the shoulder holsters he’d worn at Halloween. The ones that had helped show you just how beautifully broad he was. The ones you’d held onto as the two of you sat as close as it was possible for two friends to sit, both taking any opportunity to make contact with the other’s body.

The ones you’d asked him, a while back, if he’d kept. “Just because,” you’d explained. “They were kinda hot.”

You reach out and trace your fingers over the leather of the straps, biting your lip and feeling the flame of your desire building steadily into an inferno.

“La question, monsieur l’Inspecteur.”

He arches his brow and gives you his most seductive smile. “Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir?”

You make it to the bedroom in record time, laughing as you race up the stairs and sit down on the bed as he stands in front of you.

“Where do you want me for the, uh, investigation, monsieur l’Inspecteur?”

Ben grins delightedly and leans forward, encouraging you to lie back on the mattress as he shifts his broad form over you, arms caging your body as you run your hands over his warm, solid chest and that tummy that makes you absolutely feral. His white shirt is perfectly snug, sleeves rolled up to expose his forearms, and your hips are already shifting upwards to meet his crotch, desperate for him.

You grip the shoulder holsters as Ben chuckles, bringing his head lower and whispering in your ear. “Je think that les clues are hidden dans your body.”

You both burst out laughing, but your eyes stay trained on each other, never breaking the intense intimacy and erotic power of the shared gaze.

“You should probably do some searching, then, Inspecteur.”

Ben kisses you deeply as he moves you towards the middle of the bed and loosens his tie before unbuttoning your blouse, bringing his mouth to every new area of skin exposed. “Might be here?” he murmurs, lips brushing off the velvety flesh of your breasts before sucking on your nipples through the pink lace of your bra.

Your back arches as you gasp. “No, don’t think so…sir.”

You feel his cock twitch in his pants at that and you smile wickedly. “Liked that, did we? Sir?”

Ben hides his face against your tummy and laughs. “Maybe.” His broad hands roam up to your shoulders as he helps you out of your blouse, before tracing the outline of your waist and the curves of your hips and ass as he unbuttons your dark green pants and slips his fingers into your panties.

“Fuck, Ben, fuck, that’s -”

“Maybe the clues are here? What do you think, mademoiselle?”

He shifts his body down the bed and looks up at you lasciviously, eyes burning black with lust as he pulls your pants down and discards them. He eases your legs apart and you react with a gasp and a giggle as he works his way up your thighs.

“Looking for treasure, sir?”

He laughs, low and warm, and brings his face to your core. “Found it, mademoiselle.” The heat of his mouth hits your pussy through the fabric of your panties, and you moan loudly. He hums happily as he kisses your soaking cunt, pulling the fabric aside to grant him more access before he drags them off you completely and buries his mouth between your legs. His tongue moves between your folds, flicking your clit every now and again before diving into the warm wetness of your entrance while the strong line of his nose keeps the pressure on the sensitive nub.

The first orgasm hits you hard, and your hips bear down on Ben’s face as he groans with pleasure. He slips two fingers inside you to sustain the climax a little longer, and with the other hand unbuckles his belt and undoes his zipper, slipping off his pants and boxer briefs while he continues to massage the spot inside you that he knows, having had you so many times, will deepen the orgasm and build to an even stronger one next time.

“Need you, baby,” you whine, eyes drifting to his hard cock, tip glistening with pre-come. “Need you so badly.”

You reach up as he shifts his weight over you, unbuttoning his shirt to reveal his white undervest, clinging perfectly to his gorgeous, solid form. He makes as if to take off the holsters.

“Don’t you fucking dare take those off. They’re staying on, sir.”

He raises his eyebrows and laughs. “Oh, mademoiselle likes them, does she?”

You giggle, feeling his warm breath against your lips, and slip your fingers under the straps around his shoulders. “She really likes them, monsieur. Liked them from the first time she saw them on you.”

He kisses you hard, one hand groping your tits while the other gives his cock a few strokes as he shifts into position. “Sometimes I wish you’d told me back then, that night,” he murmurs, sucking lightly on your neck and making you cry out.

“Think we made up for lost time, though,” you gasp, tilting your head to look at his hard length notching at the wet folds of your cunt. “Please fuck me, baby.”

He slides into you in a fluid motion, moaning long and slow as he bottoms out and the tightness of your pussy takes hold around his cock. He drags back out of you slowly, luxuriantly, savouring every bump and ridge inside you and trying to restrain himself from driving back into you too quickly.

“Jesus, baby, your pussy is fucking incredible. So warm and tight for me.”

He starts to fuck you, picking up pace quickly as you keep hold of the shoulder holsters.

“Tell me, darling.”

He closes his eyes, face a perfect expression of ecstasy. “It’s just fucking perfect. Like you’re made for me, made for my cock. Made for each other.”

You tilt your pelvis slightly so that he’s grinding a little more on your clit as he moves in and out of you, and before long the friction has you coming again. Ben groans at the sensation as your pussy clenches around him and you ride out your orgasm on his cock.

“Fuck, Lyd, I - oh, fuck.” He seems surprised at how quickly his own release comes, spilling into you while he buries his face against your neck, muttering a litany of curses and praise.

“Oh fuck fuck fuck baby, that’s fucking it, that’s - my good fucking girl, fuck.”

When he lifts his head again, his face and upper body are drenched in sweat, dripping onto your neck and chest. He kisses you slowly, deeply, before he pulls out. You whine with pleasure at the taste of yourself, of your cunt, on his lips.

He flops back onto the bed, turning to kiss you again and stroke your cheek as he whispers his love for you, over and over.

You return the gesture, nuzzling against him, sated and feeling completely loved, completely adored, completely safe.

The sight of the shoulder holster makes you giggle affectionately. This beautiful, goofy, sexy man, who would come up with something so silly and so sweet and so insanely hot, just to make you feel better.

“Can the inspecteur come by another time, baby? I think there might be more cases to solve.”

(tape warning by @cafekitsune; star dividers by @saradika)

#pedrotober2023 #pedrotober #tim rockford fanfiction #timothée roquefort #visiting fic #visiting masterlist #mr ben snl #mr ben au #mr ben x ofc #mr ben fanfic #professor ben x ofc #professor!ben #professor!ben x ofc #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal #pedrostories #visiting fic one shot

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harryleatherfit · 1 year

Text

Upper East Side || AU || Frankie Morales

Chapter 3: Guest Star

word count: 2770

warnings: abuse of weed, mom trauma, bridgerton… relationships

🪩Main Master List🪩 Series Master List🪩

—-

On a day where Laylah had her afternoon classes, you decided to walk around the New York streets alone, going into different stores and exploring. It was good for you, being able to find yourself in little slivers in this terrifying city. Raleigh could never compare to Time Square itself.

The thought of being able to reinvent yourself gave you chills. Back at home that would’ve scared the shit out of you, but this idea now makes you want even more.

Headphones in and listening to House Song by Searows, you find this cute bakery called Matildas, a croissant sounded fucking spectacular. You walk and look around, inspecting the ambiance. All the artwork and lighting finds little crevices in your heart.

An older lady comes up to the register, “How can I help you today sweetie?”

“Could I have a butter croissant and an espresso?” You ask.

“6.95, sweetheart.” She says.

You hand her the money star eyed.

“Like what you see? We just fixed it last month, we’ve gotten so much more business with this aura, younger folks like you tend to be drawn here.” She smiles.

“Yeah this place, it’s spectacular, it's like outer space. I can’t quite describe it but it’s just safe. Away from the bustling city, a hole within a hole.” You study.

“Exactly right! No one’s ever said that before, but that’s just how I feel.”

You turn to her and grab your food. “My name’s Matilda.” She says. You tell her your name and shake hands.

You take a bite of the croissant and your eyes almost roll to the back of your head.

“Well Matilda, this is about the best buttered croissant I’ve ever had, so thank you for making my day brighter.”

“Honey, would you like to work here? I say that because you have something about you, and my gut is always right.” She says.

You think about it, it's not far from your dorm, the pay wouldn’t matter. You could always get another job or sell fucking feet pics to survive here. Matilda seems to be a higher power sent to you.

“I would absolutely love to!”

------

“Laylah you wouldn’t believe it, like she just gave me the job and I gave her my number when I’m available and she immediately set everything up, I couldn't believe it!.”

Matilda said she would start you off with 20$ an hour, as shocked as you were, that money was definitely needed to stay at this school.

“Damn mama, look at you go, sugar me up sometime soon?” She asks.

“You fucking wish.” You laugh. “Wanna come on a run with me? I wanted to see if I could go all the way to the bridge and back, watch the sunset and possibly get dollar pizza.”

“Fuck yeah and we could smoke.”

“Tonight I’m good. I kinda want to go with a clear mind, smoking’s made me a little more anxious about everything. You can though, I seriously don’t mind” You reply.

“Oh baby, baby. Trust, I understand. We go with clear minds, I completely understand. No pressure, but when you do want to smoke, I’m always here too.”

This is what you loved about Laylah, she always respected what you wanted to do and vice versa. Smoking was something you loved, but you only did it on days that you could truly decompress without any worries. It was a reward for working so hard.

In high school you smoked so much, you were only sober for homework and when you fought with your mom. Smoking then saved you from reality. You’d go to class high, you go to work high, you’d take as many blinkers as you could before sleep. Just to numb the pain and sadness.

But your reality now was to be sober. It felt good. You were healing from that part of your life and you couldn't feel more refreshed.

A day you said no to weed, was the day the earth met the moon.

You both stay with each other and run to the bridge, listening to your music together watching the sunset, maybe this life wasn’t meant to be bad after all.

--------------------

You walk into your first morning class and you see Ms. Roylance with 2 people huddled at her desk.

You recognize that hair from anywhere. It’s fucking Timothee Chalamet.

Everyone walking in is awe struck, but you all were remotely instructed to not oggle him and take a seat until class was to start. You were instructed to compose yourselfs, but you didn't expect the person Ms. Roylance was to bring in Timothee Chalamet.

Guest teachers were to happen a lot with this kind of school, and it makes sense that he’s here since he went here just some years ago.

Then the other person was… fucking Mr Morales? Didn’t he have classes?

You saw Nina in the back prettying herself up and taking pictures of TImothee, you felt embarrassed for her.

This was not the time to fuck with your head, your stomach was in shambles.

“Class class, I know this is very exciting but today I have invited Mr Chalamet to sit in on some scene work, he was once a beloved student of mine and he asked himself to come in. We have Mr. Morales is here today because we are discussing the Macbeth set. As of now I will post the audition material, slots for you to sign up, and today will serve as your workshop.” Ms Roylance explains.

He was wearing a mouth watering cardigan. How could a man so scary look so damn good in any article of clothing.

What would he look like without any clothing?

Back to class, get yourself together.

“So today we have some scenes printed out, different monologues and you will perform for us and we’ll critique. Timothee, anything to add?”

He laughs, that usual Timothee nervous laugh, “ Hey everyone, don’t be stressed at all. Pretend I’m not here. Act like we’ve been friends for years, pretend you hate me, I’m serious. I’m proud of you all for putting in the work and putting yourselves out there. We’re all proud of you.” He points at himself, Ms. Roylance and Mr. Morales.

Uh Fish, yeah not so much.

They move to the back of the room and it's you and your classmates in the middle staring at the front, preparing yourself.

“Ok we have this love scene from a new netflix show that hasn’t been released yet, it’s a loving scene at the end of the season where the pair realizes they are in utter love with each other, but watch out this ones a tear jerker! We’ll run this one a couple times just to see different versions. Any hands?”

You and Nina immediately shoot your hands up, along with some of the men, Ms Roylance pairs Nina and this kid Josh to go first, she hands them the script to go over it. Then she pairs you with Mattias.

He seemed sweet, he was in a few of your other classes so you felt like you could go over this scene pretty well.

Ms Roylance hands you the sheets, and it’s pretty long. Nina and Josh will go first and then you and Mattias. Good, being first would screw you over.

You and Mattias read over the script, being a scene for King George and Queen Charlotte, you both were intrigued. You guys also fangirled with Timothee being there, but serious enough to fully understand what this scene was asking for you guys.

There was a kiss at the end, you both being comfortable with that. This was the reality of acting. He had to make himself look disheveled, but from there you were prepared.

It was time for Nina to go and they started. Feeling the piercing brown eyes back you look down not to think of anything in the room that is happening. Mattias grabs your hand in a friendly way to encourage you.

When Nina and Josh finished you didn’t even realize, you took the whole time calming your heart and focusing on the present.

“Now Mattias’s group!” Ms. Roylance says. The whole room was looking at you both.

You had to block Mr. Morales out more than Timothee.

You heard whispers from the back and that gave you your kick to look down and immediately whip up to Mattias. You are Queen Charlotte now.

George: Charlotte, you’re not listening to me

You falter in step and seriously look him in the eye.

Charlotte: I am. I have heard that you wish I had not come. That you want me to go. That you do not want to see me. I have been suffering and alone and believing I am a failure as a wife and as your queen because you stay from me as though I am a disease. And then today, it suddenly occurred to me that perhaps there is another reason. A better reason. Perhaps you stay away from me because you care for me. Perhaps you stay away from me because you love me.

You slow your speaking pace, putting tension within your words to get Mattias’s attention. Love is serious, it ferociously hurts people, he looks sick in his heart.

George: I’m trying to protect you. I.. I cannot. We cannot… This conversation is.. I can’t do this. I never wanted to marry.

Mattias puts his hands to his chest. And stands up walking away from you, you’re searching for his eyes. Eye contact is what will kill your heart.

Charlotte: Do you love me?

George: Please, stop!

But you can’t stop, you must continue.

Charlotte: Is it because you do not believe that I could love you? I do. I love you, George. I love you so much that I will do as you wish. If you do not love me, say you do not love me and I will go. I will go back to Buckingham House. And we can live our separate lives, and I will have this baby alone, and I will make do and fill my days and survive. All on my own. I will do that. But first, you have to say that you do not love me. You have to tell me that I am utterly alone in this world.

You’re a mother, a wife, a lover, but most of all in this situation, you become home and a protector, a healer for a man that has never been taken care of. You start to tear up, as does Mattias. The emotions and words of Charlotte getting the best of you.

He stands up and gets closer to you.

Goerge: I am a madman. I am a danger. In my mind, there are different worlds creeping in. The heavens and Earth collide. I do not know where I am.

You prepare yourself for everything. You come back to reality and forget that the person you crave is watching you act? Was this how you felt about him?

Charlotte: Do you love me?

George: You do not wish a life with me for yourself. No one wishes that.

Mattias has outdone himself with this, he has made himself look helpless and broken, he looks like he is not accepting what he truly needs.

Charlotte: George!

You yell it out loud, the buzzing in the room stops, it's deafening.

Charlotte: I will stand with you between the heavens and the Earth. I will tell you where you are. Do you love me?

You feel tears trickling down.

George: I love you! From the mo.. From the moment I saw you trying to go over the wall.. I have loved you desperately. Face crumbling into emotion.

He gets closer to you, making the air feel unbreathable in the room. You’re standing there searching for the soul in Mattias’s eyes.

George: I cannot breathe when you are not near. I love you, Charlotte. My heart calls your name.

And finally Mattias kisses you. It was a good kiss, but there was so much tension, you relaxed in his hold and felt your character.

“And scene.” You say.

The whole room cheers. You’ve never felt more accomplished with your life, more than Cabaret. You search for Mr. Morales and you can’t believe he’s even cheering for you.

You immediately clear your tears up and congratulate Mattias, almost cheering that Nina looks pissed off.

The class comes to an end and as you grab your things to leave, Ms Roylance calls you over.

“Hey, that was amazing work today with Mattias, Timothee wanted to ask you about it.”

Mr. Morales was so close to you, you got goosebumps. You could imagine his arms wrapping around you, holding you so closely your hearts could feel each other.

But he never felt so far from you. He didn’t smile when you got back to them, he frowned and his eyes stayed the same, nothing furrowed in his look- he just manages to observe you. This cycle drives you crazy.

You immediately feel tired, giving all your work into that scene but you have to give Timothee your full attention.

“Mr Morales and I have to leave but you guys are free to stay here and chat.”

“Frankie it was nice seeing you man, we have to go see that show this weekend.” Timothee calls to Mr. Morales.

Frankie Morales rolls off the tongue so well.

“Kid you have to come here more there's so much to see, the boys and I want you over for drinks, just text me.” He responds.

“I’ll bet you on that old man!”

They walk out and you smile at the world star celebrity, “So Timothee Hal Chalamet, what would you like to ask?”

“Not the middle name!” He groans. “That’s just foul,”

“Not as foul as seeing your favorite actor in your AM class when you just woke up!”

“Touche.” He says back.

“I’ve seen all your movies, you’re honestly kinda why I’m even here in the first place, seeing you act made me believe I could too. The way you make people feel through the screen is what I want to do.” You mumble.

“That’s my honor.” He smiles. He gets to the point.“So what made you cry?”

You think about it for a second, was it in the moment or because you forced yourself, or because you were about to shit your pants?

“What made me cry was realizing how much Charlotte loves George no matter what, that unconditional love is so rare these days that reading the text made my brain scream. Many people will cheat on you or leave you for little things, and personally I couldn’t deal with that. Me myself, I’m pretty fucked up and if someone told me they would stand with me no matter where I was in life, I would probably raise hell and cry a lot.”

“Because you’ve never felt that before?” He asks.

“Yes because I’ve never felt that.” You look into his eyes, “Feeling for George and Charlotte in this scene ultimately made me fully consume the characters.” You finish.

“Wow, that breakdown is what a true actor does. Well done. Frankie hyped you up so much that I had to come see you.”

“What?” You ask.

“He didn’t tell you? He called me today since I was free and in the city, and he was talking about this brilliant new girl that has ‘taken the department by its feet’. I’ve in my 25 years of life heard a man talk that long about someone.” He goes on.

Frankie, Mr. Morales, was thinking about you? And to Timothee Chalamet?

“Wait, you do know that he talks about you, right?”

“Timothee, we’ve barely spoken 10 words to each other.” You respond.

“Oh shit shit, maybe I fucked up, um don’t tell him I said anything to save both our asses. But yeah he kinda just went on and on and I knew that he had some spectacular. When you were in the scene he was telling me about how serious you are with acting so I’m happy I got to see it.”

How does he know how serious you are?

“I have to run, but this was not time wasted, if you need help with anything as Frankie, or shit Mr. Morales and he can give me a holler. I need to see you in this industry soon.”

“Thank you, seriously Timothee, this means the world.” You praise him.

He leaves and you’re left in your acting class alone, with every worry in the world.

—-

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authors note- you guys don’t understand how bad I want to jump into their relationship but… you know. this is kinda a filler, but trust i want to develop this backstory really good. and of course i had to make their scene work in class be the george and charlotte scene…. that made me cry my brain out🙈🙈 don’t even @ me for putting timothée. i kinda just wrote this for myself but it’s okay don’t worry. the smut is brewing!

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imocean · 2 years

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#call me by your name #cmbyn #elio x oliver #my edit #ofc is a tsoa quote #i will never get over this movie #timothée chalamet #timothee chalamet #i got inspo from somewhere but i can't remember where #armie hammer

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spideysbruh · 6 months

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Big Sis

requested- could you do a timothee chalamet x zendayas sister with taylor russel as the face claim (instagram au) please :)

a/n- HOPE YOU LIKE IT I LOVE THE REQUESTT

liked by zendaya, tchalamet and 3,276,627 others

y/n don't play w my sister!!! or do... see what happens 🤭 Challengers out soon !!!!!!

view all 121,177 comments

mikefaist miss seeing you on set !!!

y/n liked

y/n I MISS YOUUU MIKEYYY

zendaya second pic... I hate you

y/n 😘😘

ynzendayastan CANT WAITTTT

garfieldyn already seated

dunesarrakis timothée getting to know his besties family fr

liked by y/n, tchalamet, tomholland2013 and 3,177,277 others

zendaya happy birthday to my bestest friend!! proud to call you my sister and to know you like I do. forever grateful for you.

view all 123,177 comments

y/n crying.

cinderellayn HAPPY BIRTHDAY Y/NN

tchalamet wonder who took that second pic 🤔🤔

y/n I do be eating

prettyyn omfg.

arrakisyn rue... when was this ?!!

liked by tchalamet, florencepugh, and 3,282,277

y/n so grateful for another year, this one was pretty rad.

view all 99,177 comments

tchalamet heyyy that's me !!

zendaya PRETTY GIRLLL

ynscurtains BITCHHH OMGGG YOU AND TIMMY KNOW EACH OTHER !??!?!

zendayayn her sister is zendaya ofc they know each other 😭😭💀

tomholland2013 missed playing ping pong with you !! best birthday party ever

textyyn I bet timothée took that second picture LMAOO

prettyyn this soft launch is killing me

tchalamet just posted a story!

caption- we may be a bit hungover...

@celebgoss just tweeted- BREAKING ‼️‼️‼️ actress and model y/n, zendayas little sister, and timothée chalamet spotted out and about in NYC getting close and spending a lot of time together!! new couple or just friends?

@scrawnymfyn replied- BROOOOO OMG I'M UP

@twlightyn replied- THEY WOULD HAVE THE CUTEST CHILDREN

@paulsyn replied- such a hot couple

@yn replied- never met him

@realchalamet replied to @yn- same who are you

@amoebayn replied to @realchalamet and @yn- i can't with yall

liked by tchalamet, zendaya, dylanminnette and 4,287,288 others

y/n recently 🌷

view all 211,188 comments

tchalamet wow

liked by y/n

tchalamet gorgeous

liked by y/n

wallowsyn THATS TiMMYYYY

rachelzegler literally flawless!!!

liked by y/n

megarayn this is the best timeline

shawnmendes nice!

yndefensesquad LET IT GO ALREADY 🗣🗣🗣

wonkaswhore he wants her back sooo bad he's embarrassing

laurieslaurence fr it's been YEARSSS

zendaya just posted a story!

caption- if he don't just sit down !!

liked by y/n, zendaya, tomholland2013 and 6,177,188 others

tchalamet happy anniversary, my princess. my love for you knows no bounds. seeing you smile makes me the happiest man on earth.

view all 762,177 comments

y/n love you so much I can't breathe

tchalamet i love you more

zendaya yall disgust me

heryn LMFAOOOO PLEASE

paulsarrakis god is real bc he bought them together

invisiblestringyn they're so cute imma throw up

liked by tchalamet, oliviarodrigo and 4,987,888 others

y/n i wanna leap when you want me to fly

view all 102,158 comments

tchalamet my favorite person

ynsheadphones they're too cute imma kms

spideyxyn THEYRE SO PERFECT FOR EACH OTHERRRR 😭😭😭😭

zendaya yall cute i guess

tchalamet just posted a story!

caption- wowww 😍

liked by tchalamet, rachelzegler, sabrinacarpenter amd 5,716,166 others

y/n just might be the luckiest girl alive 🩷🩵💜

view all

tchalamet ive got the cutest date of all time

ynsbracelet bro when will it be my turn

ynspillow im so obsessed with how happy she is with him

zendaya ill always remember when I first introduced yall 🥺🥺 so cute

rapunzelyn I WANNA KNOW THIS STORY OMFGGGG

tchalamet how are you so perfect?

liked by y/n

liked by y/n, rachelzegler, zendaya and 4,287,299 others

tchalamet ma moitié

comments have been limited

drewbarrymore you guys are too adorable!!!

y/n wait my duolingo isn't there yet

tchalamet liked

#timothee chalamet #timothee chalamet fanfiction #timothee chalamet imagine #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee imagine #timothee x reader #timothée chalamet #timothee chalamet au #timothee chalamet x you #timothée chalamet x reader #timothée chalamet imagine #timothée imagine #timothée x reader #timothee fanfic #timothee chalamet social media au

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agendabymooner · 1 year

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of long lines and names || cl16 fic

charles leclerc x ofc (hearth sister!ofc)

Summary: Aimee Yael and Charles Leclerc are too young to have five kids under six, but those boys became the life and memories that the couple wanted to keep forever. OR a series of scenarios during Aimee’s pregnancies that Charles remembered the most.

Content warning: Pregnancies with twins/five kids, dad!Charles and the grid uncles, based on Charles’ long name, a crying Charles, mentions of Anthoine Hubert, Niki Lauda, Jules Bianchi and the Leclerc dad (nothing too graphic nor personal, mostly based on their names only), loss/grief, Toto being a d-bag for a moment, possible use of explicit language, family-centric/dad!Charles-centric content, mentions of other Hearth sisters children (Lewis Hamilton and Max Verstappen)

Note: This will be a flop but I love these fictional Hearth-Leclerc kids. I love all of their kids! In fact, I have a series of spreadsheets dedicated to the Hearth sisters, and other characters and the names of their babies. Enjoy xx

masterlist

2024 — Hervé Louis Sebastien René Mathieu and Jules Lorenzo Blaise Pascal Timothé Leclerc

Aimee Yael Edmunson (Hearth) had never been stressed before. She had no reason to be. As a woman from a wealthy family — the granddaughter of Scottish billionaires and a daughter of an FIA executive — she had no reason to stress over the little things that were in the area of her control. Like her half-sisters, she had the money and intelligence to handle things well.

All except for the two little things in her womb that were continuously developing as the fourth month of her pregnancy went on. It was hard to hide it from everyone if you were to ask her. She had already spoken to her mother about carrying this amount of children in one go— Amara Louise Edmunson had only given birth to one child, and it was her. Nobody knew the struggle, but her mother had comforted her as much as she could.

Aimee was calm despite the disaster that happened to be an unplanned pregnancy, her rational mind thinking that she shouldn’t be in some form of distress or discomfort to avoid any complications in her body.

Her boyfriend, Charles Leclerc, thought otherwise.

When her body hit the ninth-week mark, there was already a tiny bump that someone might have seen as bloated. A natural one, no? But Charles was known to overthink things, and when he somehow got his prediction right, he had never cried so hard about having not only one— but two kids. He cried as if he was the one with the uncontrollable hormones. Aimee watched him cry empathetically, feeling grateful that she didn’t have this much anxiety that could risk her health and her babies. Still, she wondered if the tears he shredded were tears of joy or something else.

Charles said he was happy, but at the same time, he thought of how their families would react— minus Pascale, Blanche and Amara.

When her body hit the seventeenth-week mark, they couldn’t hide it from their families any longer, hosting a dinner at their home in Monaco where Aimee did all of the cooking. Everything she made were cravings that became stronger as her first few weeks of pregnancy went on—rice, pasta and somehow a good selection of desserts and pastries that Charles ordered before the dinner.

Welcoming each family member into the house wasn’t the most significant part of the dinner. The maternal figures of Charles and Aimee’s lives — Pascale, Amara and Blanche Ford — were on standby just in case someone decided to act differently towards the two.

Stevie and Lewis Hamilton were clearly (too obviously) shocked at the protrusion in Aimee’s stomach but hadn’t made any comment on it for a while. They merely spoke about their daughter Lottie, who would cuddle with Roscoe whenever her little crawling body approached him. They were talking about their child, all while their eyes peered down on Aimee’s growing body.

Sylvie and her fiancé Max Verstappen were surprised. Still, the model had managed to pass off her shock as excitement over the invitation to the couple’s new home before she tried to maneuver through the huge bump in the road— or rather, in Aimee’s body. Max tried asking Pascale and Amara about it by mouthing, “Is she actually?” only to receive a glare from them. Blanche scolded him quietly to keep it shut while she served him a drink.

Charles dreaded inviting his brothers into his new home because they always picked their timing. When Arthur and Lorenzo Leclerc saw Aimee’s bulging figure, they immediately turned away and snorted aloud. Charles wasn’t this anxious about anything as exciting as this, but Arthur’s offhanded comment, “I’ll be attending your funeral when Toto finds out,” definitely had him recoiling. Pascale had to smack both her other children for scaring Charles off. Aimee nearly cried on the spot when Arthur made the joke, to which Charles returned to his composure and glared at his youngest brother for making her feel so shitty.

The mentioned man and his wife were met at the front by the three maternal figures. Toto Wolff wasn’t typically this intimidated. He was usually level-headed, but how they stared at him while they welcomed the couple left him asking what was happening. Tilly seemed to sense some sort of protectiveness towards whatever it was, and when she had gotten a glimpse of it, her eyes sparkled at the sight of Charles’ hand over her little sister’s stomach. She wordlessly grinned before tugging her husband down on a seat right across the two.

Toto couldn’t say a word if he were being truthful. The moment his eyes settled on the bulging stomach, his glare toward the Monegasque driver hardened. This was Toto’s nightmare, but it wasn’t as if he could just say that in front of the most overprotective women to have existed. So he threatened Charles wordlessly, passing words back and forth with other people while he glared at the Ferrari driver whenever he piped up.

“So…” Toto started after finishing what seemed to be his second wine of the night. “Aimee, you’re pregnant. How long?”

“Uh,” Aimee shifted uncomfortably, scared even to look Toto in the eyes. “Seven- seventeen weeks.”

“She’s seventeen weeks and four days—“ Charles was thrilled. He was. But the stare that Toto gave him immediately had his mouth shut as he looked back and only settled to hold his girlfriend’s hands underneath the table. “Four days,” he murmured to himself.

“So explain how,” Lorenzo started but had given up halfway through, gesturing at Aimee’s stomach, “how has she grown this much if she’s only that much?”

“Yeah, about that,” Charles’ grin widened continuously as he announced, “We’re having twins.”

Aimee and Charles’ siblings were cheering for the couple as a series of hollering escaped their mouths. Pascale, Blanche and Amara were grinning from ear to ear while Toto… he was a man that was hard to please.

“Two?” Toto uttered, already pouring himself another glass of cabernet sauvignon. “And you two are… getting married?”

“What?” Arthur blurted out with an incredulous look, shooting in Toto’s direction. Sylvie and Stevie looked at each other, asking themselves, ‘what the fuck is he on?’

“Uh no,” Charles nervously laughed, but no one seemed to understand the memo when Toto glared at him as the Monegasque muttered, “but I suppose this is a wrong answer to say aloud.”

“We’re not going to get hitched,” Aimee laughed in confusion, “why do we have to?”

“Because you’re pregnant?”

“Do we have to get married?” Aimee looked at Tilly for some help.

Tilly, sensing the discomfort from the pregnant woman, reached to pinch her husband in his side, eliciting a groan from him as she glared, “No, you don’t have to.”

“Yeah, you don’t,” Sylvie glared at Toto. “Tils and Toto didn’t get married until Tia came along.”

“So, you’re just going to be waiting for the fourth child to be out until you marry?” Arthur asked bluntly, leaving him to cower when Stevie, Lorenzo and Sylvie shot him a look of annoyance. “Oh mon dieu, je pose juste une question.” Oh my god, I’m just asking a question.

Toto wasn’t sold at the thought of his youngest in-law being pregnant with another driver’s children. He’d seen Stevie get married off to his own driver, Lewis, and it still never sat right with him to witness them being married or having a family with some men. Charles could agree on the same thing, because if his hypothetical daughter was to be courted and even have a boyfriend he wasn’t sure how he would act either.

He didn’t think that he would have the same problem with vice versa until he found out that Aimee was carrying two boys. He wondered how to prevent them from having girlfriends or boyfriends at an early age because he was certain that Aimee would just play mother of the groom on the pretend wedding that the boys would have at a young age.

But his worries withered away when he held Hervé and Jules for the first time. He could still remember realizing how strong they were from the grip they had on his fingers. He could still remember the sight of Aimee crying after she introduced them to their father— not wanting to see Charles cry again due to the tribute that she had given to Charles’ family that passed years ago.

Perhaps it was a good idea that she did the crying this time; she deserved it after watching him have a breakdown over the little things that he didn’t need to worry about — and Charles needed to have the backbone for thinking himself as a shitty father for his unborn children.

“What’re their names?” Esteban almost laughed after seeing Charles stare at Pierre mindlessly. It really wasn’t a good idea for Gasly to have Charles repeat the babies’ names all over again especially when the Monegasque was way too tired for his friends’ bullshit.

Mick kicked Pierre lightly with a hush, rocking the baby in his arms as he quietly asked, “Do you not listen or do you just live to piss your best friend off?”

Charles glared at Pierre, whose smile stood out as he giggled. Scoffing quietly, Charles gestured to the boy in his arm, “Jules Lorenzo Blaise Pascal Timothé.”

Then he nudged his head at Mick’s direction before he introduced the other twin, “and the boy in Mick’s hold is Hervé Louis Sebastien René Mathieu.”

“Sorry, I didn’t listen, Shal can you—“

“Oh my fucking god. Shut the fuck up, Pierre.”

“I’m kidding,” Pierre snorted as he quietly cackled. “What do you call them though?”

2026 — Sacha Niki Pierre Philippe Leclerc

Torger Wolff promised that he wasn’t going to squash Charles Leclerc’s head until it popped once that Hervé and Jules Leclerc were born.

He loved his nephews after all and spoiled them as much as their Uncle Toto could. He made sure the boys had their bunk beds prepared at the Wolff home in Monaco or England just in case they came for a sleepover with his son Adelmo and his niece Lottie Hamilton — who were just about the same age as the twins. He spoiled them equally.

But god, was he ever ready to get rid of their Da the moment he received a text from the Monegasque with the words, “She’s pregnant.”

“Morning, Sainz, is your stupid teammate in the office?” Toto didn’t even listen to the Spanish man’s answer as he continued to make his way to Fred Vasseur’s in-site office at the Scuderia Ferrari area. “Charles Leclerc! I’ve warned you once—“

The Ferrari team principal turned to look at the entryway of his office with a scowl, crossing his arms in annoyance. Toto wasn’t even in his team’s area and he was still acting like he shouldn’t have to knock at the damn door. The man that he was addressing, however, was teary eyed when he turned to look at Toto.

“Is this your third or fourth?” Toto asked, still glaring at the Monegasque.

“Third,” Charles wanted to smile but the last thing he wanted to do was die in this damn motorhome. In the hands of Toto Wolff, of all people.

“And no ring?” Toto then found him holding whatever in his hand, peering down as his mouth opened slightly.

In Charles’ hand was a gold ring, ruby sitting on top of it as he clutched on it tightly. It wasn’t just a gold ring. From what Toto had learned, it was Aimee’s grandmother’s engagement ring.

“I was— proposing to her—“ Charles sobbed quietly, a smile now resting on his face as he begged himself not to ugly cry in front of the Mercedes team principal. “Then she said Herb and J were going to be big brothers. I was on my knees, Toto! I promise! I want to propose first but she just spewed that— oh god, I have three children now.” It didn’t even dawn on him that he was about to have three under five until he cut himself off.

Then he was just crying hysterically in the middle of the office with Carlos barging in frantically. “What the hell, Charles?! Are you okay?”

Toto smiled proudly at the Monegasque driver, clapping him on the back before he shrugged at Carlos Sainz and Fred. “Don’t worry about him,” Toto replied quietly to the other men, “he’s having his third child, that's all.”

Carlos and Fred were confused and scared. They weren’t sure if it was because of Charles’ breakdown on the floor of the Ferrari team principal’s office or if it was because of Toto’s calm demeanour. But regardless, if Toto said not to worry, then so be it.

Baby Boy Leclerc was written on his little hospital bassinet. But Toto got the first glimpse of his birth certificate.

Sacha Niki Pierre Philippe Leclerc.

Toto had no reason to be upset. He wasn’t. He was just as equally as annoyed at himself when he realized how overprotective he was when it came to Aimee - who, as of this point, had already given birth to her third baby. He had no reason to be protective especially when she was doing a damn good job at protecting her two children. Now, he had the chance to witness her protect Sacha — the boy that they named after Niki Lauda, who happened to be close to the Hearth sisters before he passed.

Like Tilly’s second pregnancy, Aimee and Charles welcomed their son to the world with wedding bands in their fingers. Pierre almost had a stroke watching Charles boast about his wife and their third son— but the final nail in the coffin had something to do with Sacha Leclerc having Pierre as a namesake. It wasn’t everyday Pierre got to pass out over such a small thing— but to be a namesake and named the godfather of the child? Yeah, Pierre Gasly would boast about him too.

Arriving back home was easy. However, according to the Leclerc children’s grid uncles, writing down the boy’s name into the banner (which said, “Welcome Baby Sacha Niki Pierre Phi—(with a gap) lippe”) was quite complicated. They had done a good job with the twins’ welcome banner two years ago, but according to them their handwriting got too sloppy.

Lando groaned quietly, “Don’t give them such a long name next time. Look at Max! His name is just Max.”

Max Verstappen reached for a balloon on the floor before hitting Lando with it, “It’s a Leclerc thing to give them six names, of course they have to have the long name.”

“Oi, don’t make fun of my name,” Charles called out from the kitchen, pouring his two boys some glasses of apple juice the toddlers babbled in protest against their Uncle Max’s response. “Even H and J aren’t happy with what you said. You’re not being kind to your own nephews the more you make fun of me.”

Pierre chuckled, sitting next to Aimee as she fed Sacha. The Frenchman said, “I’m so convinced that those two are Charles’ minis.”

“They are becoming more like their Da as days go on,” Aimee pulled her tank top’s strap back on and began to burp Sacha. “I’m so outnumbered as of this point.”

“Baby PJ’s going to be like his Oncle Pierre, I can tell you that much,” Pierre smugly said, reaching out to caress Sacha’s cheek as he said, “I’ll be his big mentor and I’ll make sure his Da doesn’t have much influence on him.”

“His name is Sacha, Pierre,” Aimee rolled her eyes. Pierre, from the moment he was told of Sacha’s full name, had decided that the baby’s nickname was PJ — or Pierre Junior. He hadn’t even held the baby yet when he walked in the room but he had already staked his claim and declared Sacha as a Mini Pierre. “And you said the same thing to Herb and Jules when you met them, look how they turned out. They’re so much like Charles.”

“We all have our trials and errors,” Pierre mumbled, “and you know what they say— third times a charm. Maybe PJ will be the same.”

2029 — Anthoine Charles Elio Perceval and Alain Marc Léonard Arthur Leclerc

“You have quite some swimmers,” Pierre cackled hysterically, slapping Charles in the chest as he tried to get his shit together instead of laughing at the fact that his best friend has five children under seven. He really couldn’t when he had to remind himself that Aimee had given birth to another set of twins just a day ago.

Charles began to curse at him in French, already exasperated after the long night that Aimee had. She had a labour that lasted longer than the previous pregnancies that she went through and it annoyed her more than it made things painful. Charles’ five year olds and his three year old son were fussing about not being around their mother for longer than two minutes and were already on the way to the hospital with their Mamé Pascale and Mamma Blanche, eager to meet their little brothers.

Pierre, Max, Lewis, and Mick were all standing in front of the glass window of the hospital nursery with Charles, eyes all trained on the twin boys that slept peacefully alongside other infants. Charles never wondered, but he was always surprised that Aimee was this strong to even give birth to five of their children— fuck that, she had given birth to five of his boys. He couldn’t even find himself to swear to his best friend when he was too busy loving the shit out of his newborn sons. His boys.

On the men’s left was Anthoine Charles Elio Perceval, whose personality was already showing by the way his resting face wrinkles to a scowl. Pierre couldn’t afford to cry over the tribute to their friend who passed years ago that all he did was laugh at his best friend’s experiences in fatherhood. He could just cry later on, the Frenchman told himself while he continued to pester Charles about his five sons.

Next to Anthoine’s bassinet was Alain Marc Léonard Arthur, whose soft smile had the men outside the nursery melting as he cooed softly and shifted around. Charles and the others could tell that out of the two of them, Alain would be the one to stop the Ferrari driver from ripping his hair out.

Anthoine would most likely give Charles a run for his money and raise hell with Hervé and Jules.

Alain would be the one to be as angelic as PJ — whose nickname stuck after Pierre continued to visit the boys every other week — and his mother Aimee, whose youthful glow remained despite entering her motherhood five years ago. Aimee wasn’t that outnumbered after all.

Max scoffed next to Pierre, “You wouldn’t be saying that if you hadn’t known anything about protection.”

“I’ve had practices,” Pierre winked at Max, making the Dutchman grimace. “Just no luck yet. It’s not as if I’m shaming Charles for it.”

“Five kids are better than none,” Lewis shrugged, still looking at the twins on the other side of the window. “How you’ve done it— fuckin’ beats me— but I sure as hell am jealous.”

“Never hurts to try for one more,” Charles chuckled. “You really think Lottie and Leland would be satisfied to have each other? It doesn’t really make a good playhouse squad.”

Lewis huffed, “They’ve already got your boys, Adelmo and Max’s Millie. I don’t think Steve would appreciate having to push out one more.”

“What about you, Max?” Mick joked before nudging the Dutchman with a smirk. “Opting for one more?”

“I’ve got a girl,” Max deadpanned, “and I’ve another one on the way. I’m not the kind to be greedy but I think Millia and Lila would make good big sisters to a little brother, don’t you think?”

“Are you two settling for the little girl’s name then?” Pierre asked. “Lila?”

“Poor Sylvie doesn’t even have a child named after her,” Mick laughed.

“She named our daughter Emilia,” Max defended himself, “I didn’t ask her to name the girl Emilia. She just said it’s too damn pretty.”

“Besides, Max isn’t really known for giving things good names,” Lewis teased. “Last I checked he wanted to call Emilia ‘Jane’.”

“Fuck off, Sylvie loves Jane Austen,” Max scoffed, shoving Lewis slightly when the British man laughed. “Besides, her name would have been Blue or something.”

“All jokes aside,” Lewis paused before clapping Charles on the back. “I’m pumped to see your bunch hanging out with their cousins. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“Four months,” Max murmured. “It’s been four months for all of us.”

“I know,” Charles rolled his eyes. “H and Jules are looking forward to the Australian GP— they’ve been wanting to wreak havoc in the paddock since Abu Dhabi.”

“Those kids of yours need to lose that energy,” Pierre chuckled. “Have you ever taken them for a walk?”

“I always take them out for a walk,” Charles muttered. They just have a bad habit of running away from their Da. All the freaking time.

Speaking of.

“Da!”

“Look at those little devils go,” Pierre and the other men turned to the direction of the sound of running feet, hoisting little PJ up in his arms while the eldest Leclerc children ran towards their father, who had immediately lifted them up and pressed a kiss on their cheeks.

“Where are they? Where are they?” Hervé and Jules tried to keep their voices down, as they were told by their Mamé before they entered the hospital— begging their dad to show them the newborn babies as he pointed through the window.

“Oncle P,” Sacha reached for his godfather’s scruffy face as he murmured, “où est Maman?” Where’s mom?

“Elle dort comme un bébé,” She’s sleeping like a baby. Pierre whispered to the boy, now pointing to the babies as he continued, “Like your little brothers.”

“Mm? Mais il ne dort pas,” But he’s not sleeping. Sacha pointed at the baby to the right. “He’s no sleeping?”

“He looks like you, Da. Look,” Jules pointed and said in awe while grinned at his father. “And he does too!”

“He’s like me and Jules!” Hervé exclaimed in amusement. “They look the same, Da!”

“Yes they do,” Charles grinned, “because they’re like you two. Twins!”

“How come I don’t have twin?” Sacha asked, slumping against his Oncle Pierre. Max and Lewis turned to the boy and offered him a soft smile.

Mick then reached out, “It’s better that you don’t,” he joked, “you’re one of a kind, little PJ.”

“But he won’t have any driving partner for Ferrari?” Hervé protested in annoyance. Charles laughed at this. His sons were born to be Ferrari drivers, said once by Sebastian Vettel. They were born to a Ferrari driving father and a mother who worked for McLaren. Even the amount of papaya outfit never stopped the Leclerc children from aspiring to become the Prancing Horse’s next generation of drivers.

All but one. Sacha turned to look at his eldest brothers and said, “Me and L’land are driving for Mercedes!”

“No! You’re driving for ‘Rari, ‘member, PJ?”

“Mummy said I can drive for anyone,” Sacha pulled himself away from Pierre’s chest for a second to cross his arms, pouting at his eldest brothers. “I wan’ drive for ‘Cedes!”

Lewis looked at Charles with approval all over his face, obviously cocky at the statement made by the three year old.

“You don’t want to drive for Alpine like your Oncle P?” Pierre asked, goading his godson into joining his team.

“Hm, maybe! But I wanna be like Uncle Lew and Da!”

“Mon chou, you are like Da,” Charles grinned widely. “You and your brothers are mini Charles.”

Seeing his sons now — the two that he held in his arms, the toddler that Pierre had on his own pair and the other two that were just born yesterday — had him thinking about the importance of their names and their existence. Charles didn’t seem to think of himself as someone so sentimental, but his life with Aimee seemed to change his viewpoint. He valued his family more than he did before.

He didn’t care much about carrying the family name as long as he could remember where his sons’ names came from.

If his eldest asked, he was more than willing to tell them a story about how Hervé and Jules got their names from their late grandpa and uncle. If PJ asked, then Charles and Aimee would sit him down to tell the boy about Aimee’s Uncle Niki and great grandfather Philip Hearth. And someday when his youngest grew curious, he’d tell them all about Charles’ good friend Anthoine and a French driving legend named Alain Prost.

He’d sit them all down to let them know about the people that he and Aimee loved and how they loved to keep their memories alive through the boys.

But for now, Charles Leclerc was quite content with nurturing his boys with his wife. He was only looking forward to caring for Aimee Leclerc and their children. Then maybe someday, the Leclerc bunch would grow to care for their mother too.

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crispyimagines17 · 4 years

Text

Imagine:

Roadtripping all over Europe with your best friends, Harry and Timothée.

#friday im in love mood #who are secretly in love with you ofc #pa completar el cliché hermoso #i want this #and my whole career paid #Harry Styles #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles imagine #imagine harry styles #Timothee Chalamet #timothée chalamet #timothée chalamet imagine #imagine timothée chalamet #timothee chalamet imagine #timothee chalamet x you #timothee chalamet x reader

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harryforvogue · 5 years

Text

Fine Line*

in which Faye is a lonely local actress, Harry is a tattooist, and together they’re the world’s messiest “friends” with benefits without ever acknowledging it. And Timmy? Timmy just wants to join in on the fun. 12.8k words. happy reading :)

FEEDBACK IS NOT ONLY WELCOMED, BUT ALSO ENCOURAGED!

here is the link to my ko-fi in case you’d like to support me. thank you <3

***

Hey man you home rn?

Timothée looks down at his phone as it dings, expecting a message from his coworker asking why he’s been out for the past two days, but to his surprise, it’s his housemate, Harry.

He picks up his phone and types back:

yea what’s up

Harry reads the message immediately. Think you can come to my room?

He sighs, and pushes the blankets off his body. He sets his feet down on the floor and uses every muscle in his body to stand up. He reaches for his sweatshirts and shivers as he tugs it on before walking over to Harry’s room.

He knocks on the door and then wraps his arms around himself.

Harry opens the door and peeks his head out. He looks fucked out, shirtless and sweaty as if he’s just done a strenuous workout. “Hey man,” he says quietly. “Can you get me a glass of water?”

“You called me here for that? You realize it’s like midnight, right?”

Harry blinks slowly. “Sorry, were you sleeping?”

Timmy shakes his head. “No, but I’ve been sick for the past week and I just wanted to stay in bed…”

“I’m sorry ‘bout that,” Harry says quickly with a frown. “But, I’ve got a girl over and--”

“Yeah, I can tell,” Timmy grits. “I can hear you guys.”

“Right. Sorry. I can’t leave the room. Help me out?”

He doesn’t want to, but he can’t say no to the unkempt man in front of him. He unravels his arms from around himself. “Fine,” he says nasally, turning away.

Harry calls after him, “Make sure it’s not too cold!”

When Timmy returns, the door is closed and he has to knock again. It takes a little while longer to get him to open the door, but Harry mutters a quick thanks and bids him goodnight.

He’s back in his room and lays in his bed, wrapped up in his blankets. His eyes close. After hours of unsuccessfully finding sleep, his eyelids grow heavy and he begins to drift off. Faintly, he hears the shower turn on, and the soothing sound of the water lulls him to sleep.

***

It’s the next morning. Faye rolls over after a yawn rips through her. The one thing she loves about Harry’s place is how sunny it is. The transparent curtains in his bedroom allow the natural sun to stream right onto her face and it’s the best way she can think of to be woken up.

Beside her, Harry’s still asleep. After a tiring night, he needs his rest, and he always sleeps longer than her so she doesn’t ever get offended. She pulls the blanket up to her chin and snuggles closer to his shoulder. He shifts a little bit and turns his head back towards her so it rests on her head.

Faye lays there for a while, stretching and yawning over and over again. With every little movement, she checks if Harry’s awake. He isn't even ruffled and she huffs, stubbornly pushing his calf with her foot. After 15 minutes, she pushes her sheets off of her and sits up. Her feet touch the ground as she bends over to pick up her clothing, forgoing a bra and simply placing her shirt back on. Her jeans are next, but she doesn’t want to look for her panties, so she walks over to Harry’s underwear drawer and picks out a pair of grey briefs.

“Are you stealing from me now, Cherry?” Harry rough voice gruffs.

She jumps at the sound, turning around hastily with his underwear in his hand. He’s got an amused expression, an at folded behind his head.

“Nope. Just needed some fresh clothes.”

“Mhm. After you finished staring at me?”

She scoffs, bending down to shove her legs into the boxers. “Me? Stare at you? Never.”

“A thief and a liar, hmm?” The words are so nonchalant and teasing, her body heats up immediately, fixing her shirt over the underwear.

“Not a liar,” she grumbles. Her legs carry her over to where he’s laying and uses her palms on his shoulders to keep him down as she straddles his hips, pressing her crotch against his. His cock twitches with interest.

His hands fly to her waist, a look of disbelief on his face. “Oh please. Felt it all over.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have been pretending to sleep.”

“So you were staring at me.” He smirks, stomach tightening when she pushes her index finger against his abs with a roll of her eyes.

A smile spreads across her lips as she withdraws her hands away from his skin. She places them in her lap and hums, “Thank you for last night. I needed it.”

“Don’t need to thank me for fucking you right.”

“I know but I really needed it. Been feeling so off recently…”

“S’alright.”

She continued to smile as she rolls off of him, reaching for her jeans at the end of the bed. Her crawl to that side of his king sized bed gives him a perfect view of his ass and he can’t help himself but give her a rough smack.

She yelps, slapping his hand away with a glare. He innocently glances back at her.

She places the jeans on her body and adjusts her shirt once more. “Gonna go brush and leave, yeah? I’ll see you later.”

She doesn’t wait for his response. It’s not as if he’ll stop her from going.

As he hears the water running, his eyelids grow heavy staring at the vacant spot beside him. With a hand, he runs his fingers over the area she once lay and then trailed up to where she rested her head on his shoulder.

He wonders when later will be and hopes it’s soon.

Faye meets his housemate when she’s leaving the house, jacket in hand.

He’s just coming in with just a thin shirt and earbuds in his ears, sweating profusely. She’s surprised when he sends her a smile. “Hey,” he says.

“Hi,” she replies, pushing her shirt back onto her shoulder only to have it slide back down.

“You’re Harry’s girl, right?”

She finds herself shaking her head. “No, uh, we’re just…” she plasters a smile on her face, “friends sort of.”

He laughs. “Weird kind of friend.”

“Yeah.” She shifts her weight awkwardly. “I’m Faye. Aren’t you sick? I think I...heard you say something about that last night…”

He lays a hand on his stomach and takes a deep breath. “Yeah, doing better now. And it’s pretty nice outside so I figured I’d get back into running.”

Faye nods and awkwardly pulls at her sleeves. “Gotcha. Well, it’s nice to meet you.”

“Likewise. I’m Timothée. Are you just leaving?”

She nods a sort of jerky nod. “Uh, yeah, I’ve got to get to work.”

He steps out of her way and motions her kindly to pass him, and she smiles at him once more. He’s nice, from what she can tell, and she hopes he’ll remain anything but a stranger to her.

***

Harry enjoys his job. He loves drawing up sketches for tattoos, watching people’s excited eyes light up as he turns his machine on, beginning the process. Today, he’s already had two appointments and now he’s done with his third one.

Harry sits back and shuts the machine off, placing it in its respective place. “Alright,” he tells the woman, smiling at her. “All done. You did so well.”

It’s a simple bumblebee on the inside of her arm, but somehow Harry’s made it look amazing with wings and the elegant writing on the side. She thanks him over and over and he continues to smile as he brings out the dressing and begins to finish up the tattoo. With his cash tip in his hand and a sticker on her shirt, he’s waving goodbye to her. He remembers enough of her visit to replay them to Faye later when they’re in bed.

Faye, although she’s never set foot inside this tattoo shop of his, loves to hear stories about his clients and the tattoos he’s done since the last time he’d seen her. She lays on his chest, tracing his own tattoos as she sleepily listens to him go on and on about this lengthy tattoos he’s done down the side of a man’s rib cage of a dragon or about how much a teenager had cried over her first tattoo on her wrist. Sometimes, he’ll pull out his phone to show her pictures from his Instagram, but usually she’s already asleep.

He doesn’t know why she likes when he talks about his clients. Once, he asked her if she wanted to come in one day for a tattoo or at least a consultation, but she shook her head and said she just wanted to hear more about the sunflower he did on someone’s thigh. Regardless, he can’t argue with her when she’s sweaty and laying on him, still catching her breath and using this conversation as a form of after care, eyes closed and simply listening to him talk.

Harry leaves soon after his last appointment is done and heads to a sushi restaurant to grab some dinner. The place isn’t that far from his place, so he takes his time walking, not caring if he misses a bus or two, enjoying the rare London warmth that’s been very inconsistent these days. He arrives at his bus stop and brings his phone out. There’s a text from her.

Hiya, wanna come over on Tuesday?

I would. But I have work until seven.

That’s okay! I’ll come over.

How did she reply so quickly? Isn’t she also at work?

Need me to pick you up?

Again, her reply is quick. He can’t help but wonder if she’s thought about this already. Nope, I’m going to be at the bar meeting with my cousins at that place near your shop, so I’ll come to you at seven and we can take the bus back to yours?

Don’t want to take you away from your family.

He enters the bus after swiping his Oyster Card and then sits down somewhere near the back.

Oh, I’m dreading this. I already know the excuse I’m going to give them to sneak away.

You’re terrible.

He can hear her giggle. See you then!

***

Harry doesn’t see her much, with the exception of when she wants to see him. It’s every two weeks or something like that when she texts him (never calls) and asks for him to come over to forcefully invite herself over to his place.

He doesn’t mind when she remembers him suddenly out of the blue. It’s not like she’s his friend. He’s not sure he’d even want a friend whose sole purpose was to fuck.

He doesn’t care for it at all, especially now when she’s laying besides him post sex, snuggled into his side with a fist around the duvet that’s neatly tucked under her chin. He’d gone pretty rough on her, taking advantage of the empty house he has to himself because his housemate has fucked off somewhere.

She blinks her sleepy eyes at him, unfocused and unmoving from his face. “Hi,” she says quietly. “I’m back.”

She likes when Harry shuts her off, making it so she can’t think or form coherent words. This is usually when she’s stressed about work or her family, her friends, or her health. When she calls Harry over, it’s usually a form of therapy for her, something she doesn’t want to admit.

He runs a hand through her hair, gathering the sweat in his palm with a scrunchy of his nose. She giggles. “Welcome back.” Her hooded eyes flutter shut at the feeling, pink mouth ajar as a smile spreads across her face. He admires her features for a quick second, in awe of how pretty she is. When she opens her eyes, he gazes into the dark brown color and when she doesn’t glance away from him, he realizes she’s not fully back yet as she simply stares it at him. She slowly raises a hand and slides a finger down his cheek.

“I like your new mattress,” she says.

“You could tell I got a different one?”

She rolls her eyes. “How could I not notice?”

“It’s funny, I don’t think my housemate even noticed. I got it after he moved in.”

Her eyes become a little less glassy. “Speaking of which. He’s kinda cute, don’t you think?”

Harry shrugs a shoulder. “Not really my type.”

“Is he dating anyone?”

“I’m not sure,” he says uneasily. “I don’t know him that well.”

“Oh.” She sounds sad. “He’s really cute.”

Harry doesn’t really know what to say. He’s terrible at conversing with her so normally, and about something that’s making him so uncomfortable, he almost feels angry at himself for feeling this way. He replies, “Maybe you should fuck him.”

Faye hums, shrugging a shoulder. Then, a slow smile spreads across her face. “Maybe I will.”

He tells her to shove off and go to sleep, but she whines and shakes her head. She instead cuddles closer to him and places her hand on his butterfly tattoo. “Any new stories for me?”

“I did a bumble bee on this teenager a few days ago. She cried almost her entire way through.”

He doesn’t need to look at her to know her eyes are closed. “Yeah?” she says, hushed. “That’s awful. Tell me more.”

“She was happy when I gave her a sticker. It said ‘Survived My First Tattoo!’. You can get one when you get your first one. She had pink hair too, but it was darker.”

“I’m thinking about getting bangs. My cousin has them and they look really good on her. Plus, my forehead is huge so it’ll conceal it.”

He scoffs. “Your forehead isn’t huge.”

“I know it is, don’t worry. I think bangs would look good and my hair is fading out so when I go back to my normal color, it’ll look even better. Maybe I’ll get…” she trails off, yawning loudly, “less stares than I do now.”

“I think people stare at you because you’re hot.”

“Yuck,” she says with a scrunch of her nose. “Don’t say that.”

“Whatever, Cherry. Do whatever you’d like with your hair.”

She hums happily, her eyes closing again. His massive hands rub over her bare back gently, running over the skin wondering how she’s so soft. He’s disappointed in himself for getting distracted so easily when it comes to her. Her pink hair, her red mouth, her almond eyes.

“You’ll still call me Cherry even though my hair won’t be red?”

Harry chuckles softly, placing his leg over hers to encase her in his embrace. “I don’t call you Cherry because of that.”

“Is it because you like popping my cherry?”

He laughs a little louder. “I think you can only pop your cherry once, first of all. And second, I call you Cherry because you wore cherry chapstick the first time we hooked up.”

Her brows pull together for half a second before her face relaxes again. “Oh yeah. You’d told me that.”

“I’ve told you this multiple times.”

She takes a massive breath, holds it in, and waits five seconds before letting it out. “Yeah.” She peeks at him. “I’m going to stay here tonight. That’s okay, right?”

He pushes his bottom lip out and nods, leaning in. Under the impression that he’s going to kiss her, she leans in as well, but instead he simply flutters his lashes against her cheek. She giggles at the sensation. “That’s very okay.”

***

When Faye arrives at the theatre, a sinking feeling in her stomach makes her wants to get on the next bus and go home immediately. The stage is being set up for rehearsals, but excitement doesn't strike her. Instead, she holds her manuscript tighter in her hand, suddenly wishing she was sick or out of town so she didn’t have to experience this. How could a place she loves dearly make her feel so helpless and lonely?

She loves her job. Being a local actress is incredibly fun as it satiates her dire need to be creative all the time, and she’s even landed a role as the lead, however although it comes with songs and dances and a dramatic speech as she stares out into the audience while holding her hand out, she wishes something else could come with it.

Her fellow actress passes by her and says hello. Faye lightens up. She follows the girl to the dressing rooms, but the girl ends up sitting in the chair closest to her other friends and Faye watches them excitedly converse about the play without her. She removes her jacket and sits down, reaching for her script shakily.

Friends. She wishes friends came with this job. Just two or three would do the job. She wouldn’t be needy either, only texting them when she needed to, hanging out once a week.

She wishes there were a limit to just how much of an introvert a person could be. She stutters over her words as she even makes conversation with the makeup artist, and designer, choosing to forgo telling her that the dress she’s in is way too tight, deciding to deal with the indents of the seams on her skin later as she rubs lotion onto them.

This career requires her to be open and in touch with her communication skills, but something tells her that she’s only gotten worse at it. Even her therapist and her agree that she’s become more of a sheltered person because of her nature. It’s not her choice to drive people away; she just can’t keep them in her life long enough to be interested in her.

While she’s on stage though, she can be someone else. She doesn’t have to be the girl she really is: frightened of stepping out of her comfort zone to make a friend or two. In this play, she’s an independent woman and she’s belting out lyrics that represent uniqueness and individuality. She’s nothing like that in reality, but for the time being, she can escape who she’s become. She can dress up in elaborate costumes and convey thoughts that aren’t her own. Her therapist thinks it’s not a good idea that she buries herself into her work because she’s pretending to be someone else nearly every night, fooling the people around her, but Faye simply argues back that without fooling other people, she wouldn’t be anyone memorable. Making a lasting impact on people so they have some sort of memory of her in their minds...that’s what she wants.

She sits in her chair after rehearsals are over. The opening night is in two weeks. The other actors and actresses have left and she’s sitting there in the dim lit room, trying not to reach for her phone as she removes her makeup.

Giving in to the urge, she picks up her phone and sighs as she checks her emails and messages. They’re from her mom and the group chat for the play. Nothing else.

***

Faye sits in the chair as her hair dresser works around her, grabbing the spray bottle. The woman asks her to close her eyes, and then she sprays the water onto her separated hair, causing them to stick together. When she opens her eyes, there’s a pair of scissors dancing in front of her, and before she can open her mouth and back out, the snip of the utensils is heard and her beautiful pink hair falls to the ground. She gasps, and the hairdresser hides her smile, asking her to keep her head up.

She looks good though. Her lashes peek through her sparse bangs and she looks older. She had thought she would look younger, but she looks confident. She even ties her hair up and stares at herself in the mirror, bringing her phone to to the window to take pictures. She even smiles in one of the pictures and saves it for her social media profile picture.

The days are getting warmer, and although she’s been trying to be more happy herself, there’s a bit of her that hardens to stone and falls to the pit of her stomach when she thinks about how lonely she’s becoming. Staring at herself in the mirror has become too much for her, and even though she’s feeling good about her appearance right now, she can’t help but look away after she peers closer at herself, noticing that her eyes are sad. Her mouth is curved upwards, but nothing is reaching her eyes.

After many conversations with her therapist, they’ve collectively decided that Harry provides her with the only form of sanity these days. She is encouraged to talk to him more and befriend him and go past sleeping with him, but it’s been difficult.

Even now, she’s sitting on her bed, phone open, typing in a message to send to Harry. She’s telling him that she wants to come over, but she can’t bring herself to press send. When she finally does, Harry answers quickly, agreeing with her.

He’s surprised when he opens his door to see her, but he just politely said that it looks nice and then grabs her by the front of her jacket and drags her inside.

Sex with Harry can never get repetitive. He finds new ways to treat her body right, and it makes her wonder if he thinks about doing these things to her beforehand. Perhaps while he’s tattooing someone. Or when he’s stroking himself late at night.

This time, he holds her wrists above her head and fucks into her until she’s nearly crying and biting his neck to muffle her noises. When the tears fill up her eyes, that’s when he knows she’s feeling the best. Sometimes she’ll whisper words of encouragement, but as she slips, she resigns and accepts the feeling.

Giving up her control is something she’s struggled with especially the way her life is going, but when Harry wraps a hand around her neck and whispers in her ear, she has no problem handing it over.

He lands kisses onto her neck and continues down to her chest. Her body is still sore from how he’d fucked her a few minutes ago, but she’d been so eager for him to enter her that the pre game teasing wasn’t enough for her to begin slipping, and he really wants her to slip. So he’s gathered her into his arms and began lazily kissing her. He has his boxers back on because the attention was supposed to be turned to her, but something tells him that’s not what she entirely wants.

She’s releasing soft, beautiful moans that have him squirming under her. He places a hand around her throat, not squeezing, but just holding her as he pulls her lips away from his cheek. He presses a bruising kiss to her mouth as he slowly backs away.

“No,” she whispers with a whine in her voice, “keep kissing me.”

“Hey, who is in charge here?” he replies, tapping her jaw. Her eyes open and her hands slide down to her sides. Just from her hazel eyes, he can tell that she’s still slipping. “Tell me.”

“You. You, but please, I just wanna…”

“Wanna what?”

“Kiss!” she moans, forcing her hands into his hair again. “I wanna kiss and then suck you off.” Her eyes suddenly become large and pleading. “Please? Will you let me?”

“Since you’re asking so nicely,” he tells her, removing his hands from her neck and putting them around her waist. “Come here and give me a kiss.”

She nods eagerly and slowly leans in, catching his bottom lip with her mouth. She suckles on him before kissing him, something that makes him twitch, and she feels him against her thigh so he hand drops to wrap around him. “Okay,” she says breathlessly. “Now I wanna--”

“Watch your teeth,” Harry tells her warningly as she climbs onto his lap, eagerly pawing at his boxers. “Hey, do you hear me? Look at me.” It takes her a second, but she finally looks up at him and blinks. “Good girl. Mind the teeth, yeah?”

“Yeah I am going to…” she trails off, voice quiet.

“Go ahead.”

She nods once more before dragging her fingers down to his bulge, giving him a quick squeeze before pulling his boxers down. He lifts his lips up to let her pull them down and then kicks them off. He hears her take an audible breath before climbing up the length of his body and kissing him.

He’s momentarily taken aback by her confidence and kisses her back roughly. She opens her eyes to look pleadingly at him.

“Please?” she mumbles. “Can I suck you off?

He doesn’t want to push her too hard, so he nods and pushes himself upright onto his elbows. “Already told you. You can. Go ahead,” he repeats.

She spreads his legs and sits between them. With a gentle hand, she wraps her fist around him and gives him a tentative pump, glancing up at him only once to gauge his reaction and when his breathlessness seems enough for her, she opens her mouth and envelopes him into her mouth.

Getting a blowjob from Faye seems to be the highlight of whenever they fuck. She’s not very well experienced and often needs guidance, but Harry knows she wants to make him feel good. The ambition behind it is what drives him insane, as if there’s nothing better than having his cock in her mouth.

She pulls back and swirls her tongue around him. Harry takes his bottom lip between his teeth and let out a hiss.

“There you go,” he murmurs encouragingly, looming his hand over her head. As she gets a better latch on him, he buries his fingers in her hair.

But after a few sighs and her shifting her head from under his hand, he releases her and allows her to sit up, heels under her butt.

“Changed my mind.”

“Yeah? You okay?” Harry asks quietly. He brushes her bangs away from her face, making a note to remind her to pin them back next time.

“Tired. Jaw hurts."

“Good job on letting me know,” he says. “Alright, let me take over and then we can go to bed. How does that sound?”

Her eyes light up. “Good!”

He has to hide a smile as she crawls closer to him. With a quick movement, she straddles his lap and then reaches over to his drawer to pull out a clean condom. She holds it out to him and he takes it from her with a nod of gratitude.

She watches him put the foil in his mouth and rip it. He discards it, rolls it onto his cock and then wraps hand around her thighs to draw her closer and then presses himself to her entrance.

“Alright. Put me in,” he says quietly. “C’mon baby, go on.”

She reaches for him immediately, pushing him inside of her.

“That’s...wow,” she whimpers, throwing her head back. “You feel so....”

His hands are splayed on her waist, pushing her down on him further. “Yeah? Feel me right here?” He presses his fingers into her navel gently. “Second time in an hour.”

“Yes!” she breathes. “Yes, it’s so good. Thank you.”

“Good,” he mutters at her manners, but it’s hushed, only for himself.

“Feels good for you?”

Harry has to smile at that, nodding. “Yeah. Feels amazing. You always feel amazing.”

“Thank you, H.”

He bucks his hips against hers over and over, before throwing his head back and letting out a low groan. It makes her glance down at him excitedly. She picks up her speed to coax another sound out of him and it’s enough to make his eyes flutter shut, pressing his tongue to the roof of his mouth.

“Want you to cum,” she whispers to him, tears in her eyes. “Can you, please?”

“Aren’t I supposed to be saying that?” he says roughly, grabbing onto her waist. “Turn around.”

She pulls off of him slowly and then follows his hands as they mold her into Harry’s favorite position. He mounts her from behind and lines himself up, pushing against her folds as she lets out a broken moan. “Harry…” she hiccups, followed by a sniffle. “Harry, please, I need—”

She drops her face to the mattress and wiggles her fingers behind her back to entice him into holding her hands. He enters her and then grabs her hands tightly in his, lacing their fingers together. “Fuck,” he curses, sweat covering his entire body. “Fuck me, always treat me so good, don’t you?”

“Y-Yes...always so good.”

“When I tell you to cum, what are you gonna do?”

She gasps, digging her nails into the back of his hand. “Gonna cum.”

“Good girl,” he grunts, enjoying the sound of their skin slapping.

“I can’t hold it off!”

“Don’t have to.”

The sharp thrusts are what send her over the edge. She orgasms loudly, whining and clawing at his hands desperately as she rides through her high, Harry joining quickly, unable to keep it down as she pulsates around him. He throws his head back and groans, releasing himself into the rubber over and over.

She falls onto the mattress on her belly as he’s pulling out, removing his hands from her waist because he was her only support. He discards the condom and then lays beside her, also on his tummy.

He brushes through her bangs once more, watching her eyes flutter shut and a slow smile spread across her face. A smile is on his own lips. Now she’s under.

“I like your bangs,” he whispers, still running his fingers through them. She reaches up to kiss his palm slowly, before opening her eyes and shifting closer to him. He ends up on his back and lets her cuddle with him, her hands on his tummy. It tickles him, and he laughs, but doesn’t push her away.

“Thank you.”

He turns his head and kisses her forehead. “You’re welcome.” He drags his nose down her cheek. “How are you feeling?”

She blinks, owlish. “Best I have in a long time.”

He chuckles and doesn’t speak. Silence with Harry is never awkward. They lay there and catch their breath, and he only turns to speak after she yawns. “Can I say something?”

“Yes.”

“Are you really attracted to my roommate?”

She giggles. “He’s hot.”

“And you’d like to fuck him?”

“I wouldn’t be opposed to the idea.”

He pinches her cheek. “Cute. And would you like me to talk to him about it?”

She wiggles in his arms, pressing her naked body against his, both of their bodies hot like furnaces. “I’d be interested in a threesome more.”

He blinks in surprise. “You’d want me there? You don’t want him to yourself?”

She shakes her head and takes a deep breath. “No. Not at all.”

He smiles. “Well, I can ask Timothée.”

Her eyes fly open and she hums, pursing her lips. “Are you comfortable with that?”

“Absolutely,” he whispers, dragging his hand down her cheek. She pushes her face closer.

“Okay then. Only if you’re okay with it.”

“I’m in no position to keep you to myself.”

The smile doesn’t leave her face as she says almost inaudibly, “Wouldn’t it be nice if you did?”

Harry’s heart flutters, a pain in his ribs. His eyes dance over her beautiful face from her pink hair to her lips. “You’d be okay with that?”

She hums, a yawn ripping through her. “I’d just like to imagine that one day someone will want me only for themself.” She turns her head to look at him sleepily. “You know?”

His entire body might as well be trembling from how hard his heart is beating. “Yes,” he breathes. “I know. I’d like that very much too.”

She presses her face into his neck and hugs him tightly. Well, as tight as she can do with her jelly-like arms. “I think we’ll find our person soon. Don’t you worry.”

He kisses her head once more. “Do you want to take a bath?”

She shakes her head and yawns again. “No, H, I just wanna sleep.”

“Get under the covers then.”

Harry pulls away so Faye can lay down properly and he drapes the comforter over them. She latches onto him like a magnet, face in his neck. “Goodnight,” she murmurs, lacing her fingers with his. He checks the time and it reads six pm. He smiles and repeats the word and squeezes her hand anyway.

***

On Friday, she sends him a text that has him nearly falling over. He has to check over his shoulder and make sure nobody is looking at his phone. His pants are tight, his breathing hard.

It’s her. It’s a picture of her shirtless in just her underwear and her hair covering nothing below her collar bones. Having just freshly showered, she’s still in the bathroom. He suddenly chokes on his own saliva.

A coworker comes up and slaps a hand on his back. Harry quickly shuts his phone and shoves it into his pocket. “Heading out for food. Wanna join us?”

Harry shakes his head and his cheeks are pink. He already knows. “Uh, I’m good actually. I’m going to head to a friend’s place.”

“Oh, okay.”

Harry licks his lips and takes a shaky breath. “Actually, you know what? I’m pretty much done for today and I’m going to make the rest of the designs at home. I’m going to take off.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. Have fun.”

The man departs with a wave and when the coast is clear, Harry drags a gloved hand down his crotch. He sends her a text back as he’s heading to his station to grab his jacket and keys.

Leave your door open. I’m coming in twenty minutes.

***

He brings it up when Timothée is in the kitchen making dinner. There’s rice in the rice cooker and beans or something on the stove, and when Harry comes down to grab a glass of juice, he realizes this is his best chance.

“Hey,” he starts, resting his back against the counter he leans on. “Wanna talk to you about something.”

Timothée looks up from his stirring. “Yeah?”

“You know Faye?”

“Your girl? Yeah.”

(Harry tries his best to ignore the way his mouth molds into a smirk when he calls her his girl.) “Would you be interested in a threesome?”

The smirk falls right off his face and he raises his eyebrows instead, turning his body fully towards him. The stirring is completely forgotten about. “Like with you and her?”

“Yeah, man.”

“I’m not…”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. You don’t have to touch me. It would be you and me, and her. She wants it.” He adds quietly, “And I’m up for it too, if I’m honest. Doesn’t have to be with you if you don’t want it to be.”

“So, like, she’s talking through you?”

Harry chuckles. “She can be a little shy sometimes, but she wants this. Have you done it before?”

Timothée’s eyes light up. “Have a threesome? Yeah, once. Really fun.”

Harry reaches across the counter to grab an apple. He bites into it without washing it, something that irks Timmy, but he doesn’t comment on it.

“It can be like that. Why don’t you think about it and let me know or something, yeah?”

“Sure,” he continues to stir again. “Have you got a day set?”

“Nothing set yet. Just wanna know what your thoughts are.”

Timmy nods. “I’m down. Are you guys like...a thing?”

“No, no. We just hook up.”

“She seems pretty hooked on you.”

Harry snorts and shakes his head. “No. We just sleep together.”

“If I join you guys, is it going to get messy with feelings and all?”

“Of course not. There aren’t any feelings between us. She thinks you’re really cute though, so don’t be surprised if she falls in love with you or something.”

Timmy laughs, scratching his ear absentmindedly. “Nah, I’m not looking for anything.”

“Alright well, I’ll tell her you’re up for it, yeah?”

“Yes. Finally something to look forward to.” Harry doesn’t press about the matter anymore as he walks around the roommate and bites into his apple again.

***

When the day arrives, they’re both bouncing with anticipation. She comes over, and Timmy is the one to open the door this time, and while her heart spikes at the mere sight of him, imagining what she’ll be doing to him as the day progresses into nighttime, Harry’s face behind him eases her instantly. Her safe person. He’s there to keep everything running smoothly.

They each have one drink and when things escalate, Harry says it’s time to go to the bedroom to which his roommate and Faye both agree. The order of them going up the stairs is her, then Harry, and then Timmy who has already been told what to expect from her.

She’s gentle, and loving, and not at all what his last threesome consists of, and as she shyly motions Timmy closer, he decides that he’s fond of her. She’s a very sweet person.

When he kisses her, Faye learns the first difference between Harry and him. While Harry is firm and at times arrogant, Timmy is a little cautious and keeps opening his eyes to silently ask her if his hands are okay on her waist, on her shoulders...on her hips.

“Just one thing. Be careful with her neck,” Harry murmurs, kissing down her shoulders as Timothée’s hand caresses her jaw soothingly. “Always has pain there, so I’d just avoid putting too much pressure on it, yeah?”

As Timmy withdraws his lips from hers, he nods to show his understanding, but Faye is quick to jump to her own defense. “I got adjusted like two days ago, so I’m good.”

“Adjusted?” Timmy asks, pressing his thumb against her bottom lip.

Her large doe eyes blink at him as she smiles. “Yeah, like at the chiropractor? The pain is barely there anymore.” She watches Timothée sink to his knees on the floor, cupping her face sweetly.

“You take care of yourself, don’t you?”

She just smiles and nods, a bit shyly, and it makes Timmy happy that she’s communicating very well, however it makes Harry’s heart spike with adoration and he’s suddenly very proud of her for doing this for herself. He wants to vocalize that he’s pleased with her, however his kisses portray that well because as his feathery touch continues down her back, she giggles and looks over her shoulder at him.

“Are you happy, H?”

Timothée’s a little surprised at her words, but Harry easily replies, “Yes, very.”

“Good.”

The look Harry receives from the other man makes him shake his head and say, “She likes making me happy.” He turns his attention to her hair, scratching her skull gently. “Isn't that right?”

“Yes,” she whispers, closing her eyes at the nice feeling. “I love making you happy.”

There’s a smile on Timmy’s face as he slowly understands the dynamic between his roommate and the woman he supposedly only hooks up with. There’s a romantic message hidden within every scratch of her scalp and every hum she releases, and he shifts closer, cupping her cheeks again.

“You guys are cute,” he remarks, bringing Faye in for a gentle kiss. She giggles against his mouth and kisses him back.

Harry begins to run his hands down her back, and then lets them wander around to her stomach, dipping lower to unbutton her jeans. She pulls away from Timmy long enough for him to remove the jeans from her and Timmy joins them on the bed.

She turns around and wraps her arms around Harry as Timothée places his arms around her waist. Faye looks into Harry’s eyes and Harry sends her a soft smile back before kissing her gently. Their kisses are very different, she realizes, as Harry is firm but careful while Timmy is urgent and hot. Together, they make the best combination and she can only hope that she makes them feel as good as she’s feeling right now.

With a quick tug, Timmy pulls Faye towards him and Harry follows eagerly, dragging his hands down her shoulders and the sides of her breasts again. She hums, craning her neck to catch more of his lips. He lets her kiss him as much as she’d like.

She lets Harry move the duvet away, after he asks her if it’s alright, because he knows she enjoys being under the covers. There’s something more intimate about it, but that won’t work with three people in a bed. As he’s removing a condom from his drawer, Timmy takes a step back and points his thumb towards the door.

“I’ve got my own box,” he says quietly. “I’m gonna go get it.”

Harry nods and doesn’t watch him leave, turning his attention on Faye. He pokes her cheek. “Hey. You alright?”

“Really good. Really happy.”

“Me too, Cherry.”

“Timmy’s nice.”

Harry nods again. “Yeah, he’s nice.”

“Kind of awkward, too. Like he doesn’t know what he’s doing.”

“I’m pretty sure he knows what he’s doing,” he answers, tugging on a strand of her hair. “Wouldn’t let him be here if he didn’t know.”

“This is fun.” She says it like it’s a secret.

Harry taps her nose. “And we haven’t even started yet.”

Timmy returns and finds Harry holding Faye, and the smile on his roommate’s face tells him that everything is good. Faye eagerly pulls away from Harry and goes to Timmy. He’s already unbuttoning his shirt and Harry follows him, a hand on her back to let her know he’s right there.

Timmy kisses Faye nicely, bringing her to him with a swift motion, laying his mouth on her. He’s cautious again, Harry’s hands behind her around her waist creating a sandwich. She giggles at it, and Timmy pulls away, murmuring, “Somethin’ funny?”

She shakes her head and smiles. “Nope.” And then she kisses him again. His hands slide under her shirt and slowly begin to pull up, which means Harry needs to move back to allow the material to pass through the small gap between them. Once the material is discarded, he latches himself back onto her and kisses her neck. She sighs and tilts her head, enjoying the soft, wispy kisses. She smells like vanilla and tastes so sweet, he has a hard time pulling away from her, but she’s palming Timmy through his jeans and he clearly wants something too.

She pulls away and slides out from between them. She sits on the bed instead on her heels and holds her hands out, waiting for them. Harry joins her on the bed behind her while his roommate stands in front of her, unzipping his jeans. “Is this alright?” he asks her, thumbing at her lips. Faye nods eagerly, so Timothée continues, “You’ll tell me if you want me to do something different, right? Because I don’t really know you and I don’t want to make you uncomfortable in anyway.”

“I’ll tell you if I’m uncomfortable,” she promises, hearing Harry’s belt hit the floor so she pulls Timmy’s down as well. “And you’ll do the same?”

“Yes,” he whispers, tangling his fingers in her hair as he pulls her forward. “Wanna get me in?”

She nods again, eyes shining with excitement. He turns to the side and grabs a rubber from the box. As he busies himself with that, Harry leans forward and says in her ear, “Gonna let me fuck you? Wanna get on your hands and knees?” With a soft moan, and she brings herself into that position and enjoys the sensation of his hands all over her body, closing her eyes. Harry slowly drags her panties down and tosses them aside, gently spreading her legs.

Meanwhile, Faye’s got her hand on Timmy’s dick, slowly running her hand over him, making sure to note all the things he likes. He enjoys the extra attention at his tip, and also the squeezes she gives him. They bring a moan forward from his body, and she finds that she likes his sounds so he continues. She opens her mouth and takes him in, feeling the lube on his length to be a little annoying, but it still gathers a beautiful noise from him, so she continues without hesitation.

Harry fumbles with his condom a bit as he puts it on, because he is in awe of the way she wraps her lips around him. His breathing has accelerated and his fingers tremble a bit as he places it on, but eventually he gets it and he sighs, giving himself a warning squeeze. He runs his middle finger along her wetness and nearly chokes on his saliva at how ready she is to take him. “Need lube, baby?” She pulls away from Timmy long enough to croak, “Just a little.”

“Okay. Timothée, open up the drawer next to you and hand me the little bottle.” Timmy does as he’s told, gently pushing her away and reaching for it. He hands it off to Harry who places a small dollop on his condom covered tip and slides his hand down to coat himself.

“Please,” Faye says, with a pout, no doubt. “Just do it already. C’mon on.”

“Well alright, Ms. Bossy Pants,” he hums back, tugging on her hair warningly. He brings himself to her and slowly enters, stopping halfway to check with her. She’s whining against his roommate and pushes herself back to take the rest of him. From there, he begins an even, gentle pace.

“So good,” Timmy whispers to her, scratching her scalp lightly as he’d seen his roommate do. Timmy is astonished as he hears the wetness that Harry and Faye have created. Harry’s hands grip her waist as he increases his thrust, pushing into her harder than before, but not enough to make her throat hurt from the shrieks she’s known to let out. The hand around Timmy tightens the better he fucks into her.

“Fuck, Harry,” she groans, taking a break from massaging Timmy with her skillful tongue. “That’s so fucking…”

After a few slow thrusts, she attaches her mouth back onto Timmy. His head is thrown back with pleasure, the only sound between then being their breathy moans and Faye’s gentle hums as she rolls forward.

Harry jokes, “Should have put some music on.”

“You guys never do that,” Timmy replies. “Or else I’d get some sleep every time you guys have sex.”

Faye would laugh if she could, but she does make a noise similar to a cocky scoff which only has Harry grabbing her tighter and presses into her.

He continues to fuck her at different speeds. Sometimes he hurries and uses his full force and other times he watches himself slowly leave her body up to his tip and then slowly enter her again. The lazy rolls of his body cause deeper groans from her and it makes Timmy jolt from the sensation.

Only ten minutes later, her hands are trembling around Timothée, and his whispering words of encouragement have only gotten louder. She pulls off of him and whimpers, removing one hand from the mattress and places them behind her. She wiggles her fingers at Harry, silently pleading him to hold her hand.

Harry looks down at it, and instead of helping her out, he slides his hand over to her waist and squeezes her.

Faye looks at Timothée with a pout. He’s being mean.

“Hold her hand,” he breathes, almost pleading with him, bringing himself back to her lips.

“You want that? Want me to hold your hand, baby?” Harry says.

Faye pulls off of Timmy and nods, quick and jerky motions.

“Ask me, then.”

“Can you hold it, please?”

There’s a bit of a whine to her voice, and it catches him off guard. Gently, he grasps her hand and laces their fingers together. She lets out a sigh of relief and squeezes his hand.

Harry slides his fingers into Faye’s hair as she eagerly latches onto Timmy, pulling her away a bit. Timmy sends Harry a quick nod of thanks, but he’s still understanding the relationship between them, so he’s a bit confused still.

“Wanna switch places? Put on a fresh rubber.”

Timmy’s nodding before his roommate can even finish his sentence as they both pull out and switch sides. He keeps a hand on her shoulder to steady her, making sure she doesn’t fall and Harry crouches in front of her. Timmy busies himself by grabbing another rubber from the box.

Harry gently holds her head up. “Cherry. How are we doing?”

She smiles at him, leaning in for a kiss. “Really good. Best idea ever.”

“Yeah?"

“Feels too good.” She beams as Harry laughs, kissing her temple gently.

He brings her in for an urgent kiss again. His lips feel different than Timmy’s and she immediately is reminded of how well he kisses. How had she forgotten in fifteen minutes? She leans in to catch more kisses, refusing to open her eyes. They lazily kiss until she feels Timmy’s hands on her waist, and Harry slowly pulls away.

“Good?”

She hums, tilting her head. “So good. How ‘bout you?”

His cheeks stretch apart with a smile. “Really good.”

He doesn’t really ask, not wanting to ruin their moment, so Timmy applies the small dollop on lube on himself as well. As he enters her, her eyes flutter shut and she holds back a groan that Harry knows she’s desperate to make. Instead of pressing her closer to get her mouth on him, he simply watches her take him. His thumbs run over her cheeks and when her eyes reopen, her brows press together and she quickly takes a hold of his wrist. He opens his fingers and lets her weave her own through, a teasing sentence coming to mind, but he forces it down and instead comments, “You really like holding my hand.”

She just nods, unable to suddenly speak, digging her nails into his skin.

“You’re so cute,” he purrs, kissing her forehead. “Wanna lay back?”

Timothée’s already pulling her in that direction. He pulls out of her as she lays on her side, turning around to check for him. Timmy smiles and pulls her closer by the waist, kissing her shoulder and neck softly, making sure not to do anything but sensually tickle her with his mouth as he slowly enters her again. They both release relieved sighs and he picks up his rhythm immediately.

Harry follows them onto the bed and lays beside Faye, hands on her tummy. He leans down and pulls her chin up to kiss her lips once more. One of her hands holds Timmy’s wrist on her stomach, and the other cups Harry’s face. His tongue slides in easily to play with hers, dominant and wanting, a small growl bubbling in the middle of his throat when she clutches his curls. He withdraws only once to catch his breath (to which she gives him a crooked, triumphant grin) and when he pulls her back in for a kiss, a moan falls from her lips, tightening her hold on him.

“Is he treating you well?” Harry purrs in her ear, biting down on the lobe.

“Yes,” she whimpers, eyes shut. “So well, oh shit…”

“Moan so pretty, you know that?” Timmy adds himself into the mixture, wetting his finger before dragging it down the valley between her breasts and bringing it down to her clit. “So glad I agreed to this.”

“Fuck...”

Harry carefully drags his fingers across her tummy and uses her to pull himself closer. His cock rests on her thigh. She giggles at the feeling on her stomach ad he drops his wandering his hand down to his dick, wrapping his hand around himself. She glances down at him and bats him away, replacing that hand with his.

Timothée turns her head and kisses her feverishly, not allowing her time to breathe, but after a few thrusts, she’s gasping and pushing her head back into his chest, stars dancing in front of her eyes as she mouths, “Gonna cum.”

Harry’s fingers slide into her hair, bringing her in for a gentle kiss. They both have a hand on her cheek to push her face toward them after the other person is done kissing her. “Yeah? Gonna cum for us?”

“Fuck!” Timmy swears as she clenches around him at Harry’s choice of words. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

“Yes! Please, please. Oh...that’s s-so...I’m gonna...oh fuck!”

He rubs over her clit almost desperately, and Harry attaches his mouth to her breasts, licking and kissing every inch he can, roughly palming the rest of her torso. Her hand in Harry’s hair tightens to the point where tears form in his own eyes and he hisses, but still runs his tongue on her.

She cums with a desperate whine, pressing herself closer to Timmy as he suddenly stops as he begins to unravel himself, unable to withdraw himself from her tight heat. The tears in her eyes run down her face, her toes curls and her frown relieved. Her moans are beautiful and nonstop as she cums, back arched. Her legs twitch, clenching herself around Timmy once more as if unable to let him go.

When she’s finished, he pulls out of her and removes his hand from her clit. That’s the other difference between Timmy and Harry. Harry wouldn’t have stopped there.

“Fuck,” Timmy breathes as he lays on his back, spent. “Such a good girl.”

“Isn’t she?” Harry whispers, cupping her jaw, raising his head from her chest. He kisses the corner of her mouth. “So perfect, right?”

“Right. Fuck.” The other boy messily removes the condom from himself and ties it off. His chest is rising and falling over and over, eyes trained on Faye to make sure she’s okay. He even reaches over and wipes her cheek with the back of his hand, to which she responds with a kiss to his knuckles. Harry really appreciates how caring Timmy is post sex. “Gonna go, uh…” Timmy clears his throat and stands up after a few seconds and walks to the bathroom where he throws the rubber out.

Faye hums contently as Harry presses his lips gently all over her skin, especially the areas he had touched without being tender. He kisses along her hip and her sternum, and finally her cheeks, the tickling sensation causing a smile to grow on her face. With weak palms, she shoves him away, but he insists on laying with her. His hand runs through her pink hair and she shuffles over to him without raising her body from the sheets.

“You didn’t cum,” she mumbles, running a shaky hand against the scalp she abused seconds before.

“That’s okay,” he replies, kissing her shoulder now sweetly. Timmy returns and sits on the bed.

“But, I wanna make you cum.” Although she’s tired, she sits up and reaches for his cock. He’s so sensitive, a mere brush on his head make him shudder with need. “Look, I’ll help you.”

“H, I’m gonna head to work now, yeah?” Timothée interrupts. He smiles at Faye. “It was nice finally meeting you.” He leans in and kisses her, something that catches her off guard, but Harry watches her smile into the kiss anyway. “Properly anyway.” Faye replies with something inaudible and then Timmy’s out the door.

“He’s nice,” she says faintly, and then returns her attention to him. With a gentle sweep, she pulls his condom off and throws it into the garbage. She misses, but neither of them care. Her mouth engulfs him and he nearly hits his head on the headboard as he lets the warm feeling wash over him.

“Mmm fuck.” He tries to hold himself back from bucking his hips, but he’s unable to as the enthusiasm she has to use her mouth all over him if enough to make him whimper and grab onto her hair. A string of spit is the only link between them when she pulls away to glance at him before opening her mouth wider, attempting to take him deeper.

Watching her and Timmy has riled him up more than he should admit, and he’s stiff in her mouth, and although his hands are tightening in her hair and making her wince, his eyes are imploring with her even more, wide and staring at her whenever she makes eye contact with him. Even with his dick in her mouth, she’s cocky, arrogance written all over her face. She pulls him out, runs her hand over him a few times, and then bobs her head.

He releases a low guttural sound as her tongue against him and slowly drags up, savoring the moment with her eyes on his face. He doesn’t know what will make him cum faster: her pretty eyes or her skillful tongue.

Gently, he drags his hand down her face and cups her cheek. Her lashes flutter at the feeling and he prods at the place his penis bulges from her mouth.

When he releases, it’s with a low moan, his lips parted. She nearly stops using her tongue on him as she watches his face, and then his neck as his veins protrude, practically begging her to kiss them. She gets too caught up in his appearance, glancing up at him because she suddenly chokes and closes her eyes. They’ve watered up immediately, and Harry holds her hair in a makeshift ponytail quickly. She keeps him in her mouth, resting him on her tongue as she swallows down what she could get and then lets him fall from her. A bit of his release spreads across her lips and cheek with a gentle sweep, he removes it and wipes it on the sheets.

She giggles as he lays down, watching his butterfly tattoo rise and fall rapidly.

She reaches over and grabs his hand, resting her head on his chest as she pushes his digit into her mouth. It rests between her teeth. “You’re welcome,” she mumbles happily. Still breathless, Harry offers her a choked laugh. Only a few seconds later, she checks him out and wonders, “I’m happy. Are you happy?” in her little voice.

He holds her tight against his rigid chest, his trembling hands raking through her hair. “So happy,” he tells her blissfully. “You make me so happy.”

***

He sees Faye next week. She practically flies to his room, and he shuts the door behind her before bringing in for a kiss that’s so satisfying, it has her seeing stars. There’s something about kissing a mouth that’s so cold and refreshing as hers is, as the temperature outside has been dipping back to the single digits in Celsius.

Harry’s lips are intoxicating, and on a regular day she would have melted right into the kiss, but right now she’s too distracted, having wandered too far off to focus on his bruising mouth. He feels it almost immediately, and he slowly pulls away, partially to see if she’ll pull him back in, however she simply lets him slip away. They sit on the edge of the bed.

He passes it as her just being absentminded and kisses her jaw and neck, and she sighs tilting her head back so he can continue the wonderful motion, her hands clawing at his sweater so nicely, he wishes she was doing it at his bare chest. The way he smiles as he runs his fingers fondly over the marks she leaves the day after, pressing on them hard enough to feel a slight pain only reminds him to tell her to be harsher with him next time. Bite him, hurt him, anything. He welcomes it.

The second time she seems unfocused is when he unbuttons her jeans and drags them off her legs, sliding his hands between her thighs to spread them. She does so, but it seems too automatic, and she doesn’t hold her arms up as if to invite him back to her. She lays on her back and watches him through her wispy bangs.

Instead of kissing her, he bites her lower lip, slowly applying more pressure until she’s whining and pulling away just to kiss him.

He opens his eyes to look at her, pressing his thumbs into her cheeks. “What’s the matter, Cherry?”

She hums. “Nothing is the matter.”

Her chirpy voice is there, but her eyes are still dull. “You seem like you’re somewhere else...”

“I am not, actually.”

“Faye.”

“Harold.”

“Tell me.”

“Nothing to tell.”

His eyes narrow and he sits up. She grouses and grabs his sweater. “Tell me,” he insists. “Or no more kissing.”

“What? You’re being ridiculous. Come back!”

“No.”

“Harry come here and kiss me! There’s nothing wrong with me. Don’t annoy me.”

He removes his hands from her and crawls over to the furthest corner of the bed. “Be that way. I’ll just be over here, not touching you or talking to you. Until you tell me, at least.” He even turns his head away and crosses his arms.

She has a sad look on her face, her bottom lip pressed between her teeth as she gazes at him. He looks genuinely upset. Her fingers absentmindedly run along the edge of the comforter, feeling the warmth of the thickness. She lasts all of thirty seconds before she crawls over to him and whines, “Harry!”

“Are you going to tell me why you’re so far away from me?”

“I’m not--”

“Faye.” His voice is hard and when he looks at her, his eyes aren’t joking.

She slumps her shoulders and moves closer. “Okay, I’ll tell you.” She reaches for his hand, forcing his pinky up. She wraps her own with it. “Promise you won’t tell anyone.”

He scoffs. “And who would I tell?”

“Timmy.”

“Timmy doesn’t care.”

Her eyes darken, and she looks away as she drops his hand back into his lap. “I wish he didn’t.” She takes a deep breath and continues softly, “I asked Timmy out the morning after the threesome and he said no.”

He’s tempted to say “that’s it?!” or maybe “you really liked him that much?”, but he just nods and says, “Oh. I didn’t know that.” But what is this weight in his chest that drags him down so much? And why is it sending waves of dull pain throughout his body?

“Yeah. He said, um, that he’s not ready for anything right now, so…”

“Ouch.”

Her head hangs low. “Yeah.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Do you want to talk about it some more? Or do you want to cuddle…?”

She gives him the largest doe eyes he’s ever seen and shakes her head. “No, I just want you to fuck me.”

He leans in a bit. “Cherry, I can be a friend for today. We don’t have to do anything.”

“Harry, I know what I want. Thank you for the kindness, really, but I know what I’d like.”

He purses his lips as he watches her before nodding, “Alright. Come here and give me a kiss.”

The makeout is lazy and soft, and it feels nicer than she’d like to admit because she’s asked for the rough treatment, and instead he’s caressing her skin, trailing down to her thighs, gently wrapping them around his waist. A fire between her legs, and she pulls him closer with a wet gasp.

He cups her cheeks, gliding his lips against hers. She smells like she usually does -- like vanilla -- and she tastes like the cherry chapstick he’s kissing off of her. He wonders if she enjoys spreading her chapstick onto his mouth. She presses herself to him, her chest against hers, and his fingers dip down to her neck. If he concentrates enough, he can feel her thundering heart beat.

“Harry...”

“Right here.”

“Don’t stop.”

Why does the pain in her voice make him want to melt? He holds her tighter. “Not gonna stop.”

With his mouth he tells her that she can have him whenever she wants. She can ask people out, but the only one who will be running to her will be him.

She lets out soft noises, mainly gasping as he adds his tongue in, pressing it just gently to her mouth before retreating it to check if she’s okay with it. Faye tilts her head and allows him in, digging her nails into his skin. He imagines how they look right now, desperately clinging to one another, mouths inseparable. She tastes him and smells his cologne. His perfect, intoxicating scent that could have a Pavlovian effect on her.

His hands don’t travel any lower than her waist, not even bothering to lift her shirt over her head and devour her with his entire body. Instead, he coils himself around her, and even though she insisted she didn’t need it, she realizes he’s comforting her. Panic flashes through her head because he should not have to be doing this for her. His soft hands shouldn’t be rubbing her back as if she’s about to fall apart against him and he’s trying his best to stop it. He shouldn’t be the one she runs to because she doesn’t have any friends because he could be something more productive with his time.

She pulls her mouth away from him to object, but he just shakes his head and brings her back to him. “No,” he mouths against the corner of her mouth. “Come back.”

There’s no way she can argue with him, so she simply lets her guard down and accepts his kisses, holding onto his sweater. She moves her lips against his, spellbound.

Many minutes pass. Faye’s mouth is suddenly dry, and as she pulls away once more to look at his face, she realizes that her heart hasn’t stopped thundering the entire time she’s been in his arms. He doesn’t speak, bringing her to the mattress with a soft push, and he follows her. He lays on his back.

As she catches her breath, she lays a hand on her tummy and turns her head to glance at him. With a giggle, she pokes Harry’s dimple over and over until his eyes open up. He runs a hand over his mouth and she watches his adam apple bobble as he swallows. Her finger finally presses in a dimple that appears and he turns his head to catch onto her digit with his teeth. He nibbles softly before releasing her.

The pain in his briefs is nagging, but he ignores it to take extra care of the girl. With a hum, he turns over to her and slides a hand over her tummy, hooking it to her waist and then bringing her closer to his chest. She forces her calf between his thighs and cups his jaw, running her thumb over his clean shaven skin.

He smiles and says, “Wanna hear about a tattoo I did?”

Her lashes flutter as she shakes her head and her mouth forms a “no”.

“Then what would you like?”

The gaze she sends him almost makes his most emotional he’s ever been. Her eyes are twinkling, the slow growing smile on her face as bright as ever. Her breathing has calmed and she blindly reaches around her to grab onto a pillow and thrust it against her chest. With a soft noise, she turns to her side and places a folded arm under her head. Her soft lips part and after a quick brush of her tongue, she says, “I want to know about you.”

“Me?”

“We’ve been having sex for five months and I don’t even know your favorite color.”

His nose scrunches. “Red,” he decides. “Like cherries.”

Clearly not expecting this shattering answer, her breath hitches in her throat. “Yeah?”

“Yes. I love the color.”

The smile fades and her teeth suddenly worry her lips. He hears her swallow. “You know,” she says faintly, “you’re a really good person.”

“Thank you.”

Her eyes wander down to his lips. “We should hang out outside of this.”

“I’d really like that.”

The answer satiates her for a couple seconds at most, because the worried look stays on her face. The gears in her head are clearly turning as she considers her next words. Perhaps it’s the haziness of her mind that forces her to ask this next question, or it’s the nagging voice that convinces her that Harry has feelings and she needs to acknowledge her own towards him.

He opens his mouth to ask her why she’s still making that face, but she beats him to it, shaking her head and suddenly blurting, “Did it make you jealous? That I asked your roommate out instead of you?”

Although his insides somersault, he tries to keep his face straight. His eyebrows, however, shoot up. His mouth opens, clearly taken aback from the question. But instead of answering, he thinks about it first. Was he jealous? Should he admit he was jealous? In an attempt to remain casual, he avoids the question, countering it with his own. “Why would it make me jealous?”

“I was talking to my mom the other day and she said that I’m dumb for asking Timmy out instead of you.”

“You talk to your mom about me?”

Her cheeks burn. “That’s not the point.”

“I’ve forgotten what the point is.”

She sits up and pokes his shoulder. “Stop it!”

“Stop what?” he grins.

She grabs both his shoulders and uses him to push herself up, straddling his waist. His hands fly to her waist to stabilize her, sliding his hands under her shirt. Her tummy is soft and it trembles as he prods it with his fingers.

“Stop being like that.”

“Like what, love?”

She stops, exhaling as if she’s tired. “Like that. Like you’re my friend.”

He narrows his eyes and muses, “Aren’t I your friend?”

“I hope so. That means you weren’t jealous?”

He sighs, removing his hands from her stomach and placing them on her thighs instead. “I don’t think it would be my place to be jealous. You’re not exactly anyone to call my own.”

She bites the inside of her cheek and thinks this over. Her fingers walk up his sweater and clutches his collar. “Yeah,” she says softly. “I guess I’m not.” She glances away from him and rolls off, laying on her back beside him. “Harry, can I tell you something? Because we’re friends.”

“Go for it.”

She stares at the ceiling. “Sometimes I feel really alone. And I think I asked Timmy out just because I’ve been single for so long, and I thought it was the right thing.” A breathless laughs falls from her lips. “And the best part is that as soon as it came out, I regretted it because I knew it wasn’t what I wanted.”

He leans in and brushes the back of the hand against her cheek. “Tell me Faye, then. What exactly do you want?”

Her mouth opens to accept his thumb and he smiles at the sensation. When she expels him from her mouth, she says quietly, “I want something meaningful. I want a genuine person in my life who loves me for me. And a friend.”

“Well, you’ve got a friend in me.” She turns her head back towards him and sighs contently, his hand still brushing over her cheek.

Her eyes light up a bit. The smile on her face returns, and it seems like the conversation is over, until she says, “So, I have a show next week. Would you want to come? It’s a musical and I’m the lead.”

“What day?”

“Saturday at 5pm. There will be drinks and refreshments and you can come over to my place so we can try out a new flavored lube I got.”

He groans and buries his face into the mattress. “Okay. How much is a ticket?”

“$45, but if you promise to fuck me really good afterwards, I can pull some strings for you.”

His body rumbles with laughter. “Thank you. I’ll be there with my dick.”

She leans in and kisses him, hands dragging up his chest. “Okay. I’m off now.”

A pout is on his face before she even gets up. “You don’t want to stay the night?”

Faye stands up and glances around for her jeans. “I can’t. I have rehearsals early tomorrow.”

“Oh.” Harry watches her place her jeans back on and walk over to the mirror to fix her hair. She reaches into her back pocket and swipes her Cherry chapstick onto her mouth and rubs her lips together. With a wave, she says, “Bye! I’ll see you!” and then walks out.

***

He runs his hand over the side she was laying on, a deep need in his chest. He comes to the conclusion when it’s later at night and he’s scrolling through her instagram. He’s checking out every guy that’s commented on her pictures, and soon he realizes it’s out of pure jealousy. It’s this anger at himself for not admitting that he was horribly jealous when she told him she’d asked Timmy out. His roommate out of all people! He was the one who took care of her.

It’s 2am. He’s just set his alarm for work tomorrow and placed his phone on the side table next to his glass of water. As he tosses his comforter over his body and nestles into bed, he looks at the other side of the bed, envisioning the curve of her waist as she slumbers next to him. When he closes his eyes, he feels her presence even more.

It’s 2am, not an ounce of sleep in his body, and that’s when he realizes he’s in love with Faye.

To Be Continued...

read part two here!

#harry styles au #harry styles angst #harry styles smut #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles #timothée chalamet #timothee chalamet #harry styles timothee chalamet #timothee chalamet fic #harry styles x ofc #harry styles x oc #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles fan fic #harry styles tattooist #tattooist au

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eventhedarkestlightshines · 2 years

Text

Caught at Coachella

Masterlist

Same AU - Caught on Instagram - Caught on Instagram part 2 - It Doesn't Matter What they Think

Pairing: Timothée Chalamet x Fem!Reader

Summary: Timothée and Y/N at Coachella as seen by Twitter

Notes: This is just an excuse for me to freak out over Utada Hikaru, Jackson Wang’s, CL’s and 2NE1’s performance at Coachella. No regrets. I decided to change things up and use twitter as it was more of a react in real time platform than instagram. I know I didn’t do this justice but I tried my best with the formatting and tweets. I also may be fudging the times that these performances were taking place, but I think Billie Eilish had a performance shortly after 2NE1?

Not beta’d!

---

User1 @user1 handle

Guys! Timothée Chalamet and Y/N are at coachella!!!

[Photo]: Tim talking to a group of people with an arm casually slung over Y/N’s shoulder while she was facing slightly to the side talking to another group

User2 @user2 handle

Y/N’s so sweet, before we could ask anyone, she offered to take our photos with timmy and we had to ask her for a photo as well

---

User1 @user1 handle

So Timmy and Y/N were just chillin, talking to a group of ppl. Normal right. I look away for one second and then from the corner of my eye, I see her mad dashing away with Timmy chasing after her… Uhh… what happened?

User2 @user2 handle

She must've found out about something cuz she looked Timmy in the eye, before dramatically clutching her chest and goes, “My dear sweet tea, it breaks my heart to say this but we must part now. I’ve been seduced and must leave you. Please forgive me.” I kid you not i thought… (1/2)

User2 @user2 handle

…she was going to cry. She had tears in her eyes and everything, but then she giggled out, “see you in an hour” then gave him a peck before running off (2/2)

User3 @user3 handle

😂 girl should be an actor

User4 @user4 handle

Timmy’s prob giving her some tips

User5 @user5 handle

Guess he didn’t want to wait that hr 🤣

User6 @user6 handle

Where was she going??

User7 @user7 handle

To one of the stages, i think 88ring?

---

User1 @user1 handle

Y/N getting emotional and teary eyed at Utada’s performance

User2 @user2 handle

Who?

User3 @user3 handle

OMG OMG OMG, do u not know who that is

User4 @user4 handle

Utada Hikaru wrote and sang for kingdom hearts!

---

User1 @user1 handle

We know Y/N is a kpop stan but she also knows Utada Hikaru!

---

User1 @user1 handle

LOL, someone’s a lil jealous

[Video]: Timmy pouting with his arms crossed. He said something to Y/N who looks distracted as she replies back to him. Video ends with Y/N, still distracted, gave him a quick peck on his cheek.

User2 @user2 handle

Wat r they saying?

User3 @user3 handle

T: u don’t even like this type of music

Y/N: *distracted* he’s part of GOT7, so ofc i know him… besides, I only know a few of his solo songs

T: for someone who only knows a few, u seem to be into it

Y/N hums: ur the one who followed me here, i told you to meet up in like an hour

---

User1 @user1 handle

OMG OMG OMG DID YOU SEE THAT?? JACKSON TOOK HIS SHIRT OFF 😍

User2 @user2 handle

Timmy’s jaw drop and tried to cover Y/N’s eyes, she laughed and said, “u can’t be the only one with their abs out”

---

User1 @user1 handle

[Video]: Camera focused on Y/N. CL just ended her Hello Btches performance. As soon as the next song started, the crowd went wild and Y/N’s eyes goes wide and her jaw dropped. Y/N: oh my god, oh my god.

User2 @user2 handle

Looks like we’re not the only one excited for this performance

User3 @user3 handle

Def a kpop stan

User4 @user4 handle

First a MAMA doc feature and now Coachella, r they coming back?? Please come baaaaack, u know u want tooooo

---

User1 @user1 handle

I stand corrected, i thought Y/N couldn’t get any more amped up until this solo artist brought in some people for a song

User2 @user2 handle

It’s not just any people! It’s 2ne1!!! They disbanded in 2016, anyone would freak out when they’re back performing!

User3 @user3 handle

THIS IS THE B-E-S-T!

---

User1 @user1 handle

ARE YOU READY FOR THE B-E-S-T! Clearly, Y/N was not ready, she went all surprised pikachu

User2 @user2 handle

Tbh no one was ready, whoever said that they were are lying

---

User1 @user1 handle

Ok, so we know coachella isn’t Y/N’s thing but she literally lit up once utada came on stage and her energy kept going for all the performances after, and when u thought she hit her final form, 2NE1 came out

User2 @user2 handle

Whyd she even go if she wasn’t interested

User3 @user3 handle

@user2handle Cuz we love a supportive gf

User4 @user4 handle

Imagine if Big Bang ended up performing as well, she’d probably explode

User5 @user5 handle

Ok, we now know, she’s been kpop stan since 2nd gen

User6 @user6 handle

DID YOU SEE BIGBANG’S NEW SONG??

---

User1 @user1 handle

From Utada Hikaru to Jackson Wang to CL to 2NE1, Y/N’s knows them all. She’s been lip syncing and dancing to their performances. We love a supportive bf Tim.

User2 @user2 handle

He barely tolerated Jackson’s performance tho 😂

User3 @user3 handle

Tim got competition!

User4 @user4 handle

Watch out Timmy!

---

User1 @user1 handle

LOLOL Y/N had to cheer Timmy up

[Video]: Timmy pouting and turning away from Y/N as she tries to get him to look at her. He stops and faces each other. Timmy held onto her wrists as she rests her hands on his cheeks. They stared at each other, sharing a soft look before Y/N started pulling his cheeks. This goes on for a while before they started laughing.

User2 @user2 handle

Is he still sulking about jackson’s performance? 😂

User3 @user3 handle

I mean… it’s jackson 😋 i’d want him to step on me

---

User1 @user1 handle

Timmy and Y/N at Billie Eilish’s performance

[Video]: Timmy rocking to the performance while Y/N was next to him moving her head to the beat.

User2 @user2 handle

looks like she's into Billie Eilish as well?

---

User1 @user1 handle

GUYS! I just caught Timmy and Y/N making out but by the time i took out my phone, they broke apart… I think they saw me… cuz they ran off

User2 @user2 handle

OMG REALLY?

User3 @user3 handle

Dw guys, i gotchu, it's a bit blurry but i got’em!

[Photo]: Timmy and Y/N locking lips, their bodies glued to each other. Y/N’s arms were wrapped around Timmy’s neck while his arms were around her waist.

User4 @user4 handle

>//////<

User5 @user5 handle

Looks like it was getting hot and heavy before they were interrupted

#timothee chalamet x reader #timothee x reader #timothée chamalet #timothée chalamet x reader #tiomthée fanfic #timothee chalamet imagine #timothee chalamet #timothée chalamet imagine #timothée x reader #timothee chalamet fanfic #timothee fanfic #timothée chalamet fanfic #timothée fanfiction #timothee chalamet fanfiction

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rues-daya · 3 years

Note

Can you do a Timothee x reader with Savannah Smith as the face claim?

ofc!!! hope you enjoy <333

yourinstagram

liked by tchalamet, abbeycowen and 907,903 others

yourinstagram: xoxo gossip girl 💋

view all 7,900 comments

y/nfan002 proud proud

gossipgirlfan love your character already even though we didn’t meet her yet

y/nfan875 I feel like a proud mom

rickeythompson okay, miss girl I see you

yourinstagram I love you so much Rickey

timotheefan26 does anyone know if Timothée was with her ?

gossipgirlfan267 he was, he looked so proud of her 🥺

tchalamet proud of you my love♥️

yourinstagram timmy 🥺🥺🥺

tchalamet

liked by yourinstagram, tomholland2013 and 1,345,890 others

tchalamet: date night stroll with this angel. proud of you my love ♥️

view all 10,998 comments

timotheefan123 he’s so lucky to have her 🥺

y/nfan987 okay, does anyone know where her dress is from because I need asap 😭

zendaya love birds ♥️♥️

timotheefan98 Timothée how did you like the new gossip girl?

tchalamet it was amazing

y/nfan86 i love her and that smile

* liked by tchalamet

selenagomez ♥️✨

timotheefan803 my mom everyone

yourinstagram best date night ever 🥰

tchalamet wouldn’t have it any other way 🖤

yourinstagram

liked by thomasdoherty, maudeapatow and 1,009,002 others

yourinstagram: oh hi, can i get your number?

view all 9,103 comments

timotheefan18 he’s so HANDSOME AND RESPECTFUL

y/nfan167 I wonder what he’s looking at 🤔

thomasdoherty what a king 👑

gossipgirlfan96 imagine Timothée in gossip girl

y/nfan167 did Timothée take this ?

yourinstagram yes he did, found it in my camera roll, it was too cute not to post

timotheefan87 since Timothée took this photo than it’s clear he was looking at y/n

tchalamet oh hello, that’s me ;)

yourinstagram oh hello handsome, so can I get that number :)

timmy_y/n_fan

liked by y/nfan45 and 409 others

timmy_y/n_fan: these two 😍

view all 112 comments

y/nfan65 no you don’t understand, I’m in love with them

y/nfan134 idk if i want to be y/n or be Timothée

timotheefan98 Timothée in that photo tho

y/nfan86 the most hottest couple out there

gossipgirlfan13 <333

yourinstagram story

#instagram au #instagram concept #actress!reader #savannah smith #gossip girl #gossip girl hbo max #timothee chalamet x y/n #timothee x you #timothee x y/n #timothee fluff #timothee chalamet x reader #timothée chalamet imagine #tchalamet #model!reader #singer!reader #x reader #reader insert #timothée chalamet #timothée imagine

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imnotoverlyobsessive · 4 months

Text

Return to the Water

Chapter One: Like Blood in the Water

AO3 one two three four five six seven eight nine

We barely met, and still I cross the street to your door.— Vanessa Carlton, Hands on Me

Humans were dangerous. Human men were the most dangerous of them all.

Lea knew that. And they scared her, but, well… humans were fascinating, the men in particular.

Especially one specific man. She didn’t want to get any closer to him—or any other human, really—other than watching him on his boat from her place behind a rock.

It wasn’t just his legs that fascinated her (although for a mermaid such as herself, they were very interesting). It was everything about him. When he was on the boat, his chest was often bare, and she could see how flat it was, so unlike her own chest. His form was long and slender, also unlike her own body. He drank often, slender fingers wrapped around a bottle, and he seemed to enjoy inhaling on a small white stick, exhaling smoke. He had a mate, she rather thought, for he frequently grabbed at a girl with black hair and skin that was almost orange. That was fine; she just liked to observe him, watch his dark hair curl over his brow, hear his musical laugh.

She watched him laugh and drink and smoke, her curls swirling around her like blood in the water.

In the early hours of the morning, before the sun had risen, he was alone on the deck, watching the waves and dancing along to music she couldn’t hear very well.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, he turned around abruptly, but he was too close to the edge of the boat and couldn’t seem to keep his balance. He toppled overboard, hitting his head as he hurtled towards the dark water and hit it with a splash.

Lea’s breath caught, and she waited, watching to see if he’d come back up.

He didn’t.

He’ll die, she realized. No one else is here to help him. He will die.

She dove beneath the waves, her sapphire blue tail propelling her towards where the human was sinking deeper and deeper into the water.

How long could humans go without air? She didn’t know, but she didn’t want to risk it. Upon reaching him, she found he was infinitely more beautiful up close, even in the darkness of the water.

Not taking the time to examine his features, she grabbed his arms and pulled him towards her. His hair swirled around his face as she leaned in to press her lips to his, exhaling into his mouth.

Within seconds, he took a deep, gulping breath, though he didn’t awaken.

She couldn’t get him back on his boat, but hopefully his mate would find him where she dragged him ashore.

Timothée came to slowly, the sound of the waves exacerbating the pounding in his head. Forcing himself up onto his hands, he examined the beach he was on. What had happened? Where was he? Where was Kylie? God, she’d be pissed if she woke up and he wasn’t in bed with her.

And then—

And then his eyes landed on a girl near the tide. She was gasping, wheezing, clearly trying to turn herself back around to face the ocean again. He was pretty sure he’d fallen into the water; had she saved him? Shit, he should thank her.

Wait, was that a tail? Did this girl have a fucking tail? Weird costume, but okay.

He couldn’t see her face, concealed as it was with red curls that dripped onto the wet sand.

“Hey, are— are you alright?” he asked, his voice hoarse from the saltwater. The girl’s head snapped up, dark brown eyes widening in horror. “You saved me, right?” He stumbled in his effort to stand. “Thank you. I dunno what would’ve happened if you hadn’t.” The girl—she was awfully pretty, actually, even with so little of her visible since she was propped up on her elbows that way—did nothing but look at him silently, so he added, “That’s a hell of a costume, by the way. The tail looks like it could be real.”

She looked panicked then, pushing on the sand in an apparent attempt to maneuver herself back towards the water.

“It’s okay,” he reassured her gently. “We should probably take the tail off so you can get to a doctor or something. Here, let me help—“

But when he stepped forward, his hand outstretched towards her, she bared her teeth in a hiss, and her tail flicked like a cat’s, almost.

He wondered how she managed that (and also why she’d hissed at him, because what the fuck?), but didn’t question it further. She’d saved him, so even if she was fairly weird, he needed to help her, too. “It’s okay,” he said again. “I’ll help. I won’t hurt you.”

She hissed again, pushing against the sand more frantically the closer he got to her. And then, when he finally brushed his fingertips against the skin of her bare shoulder, she collapsed back into the sand with a whimper.

Biiiiig thanks to my beta @lilmaymayy

@ellamaianderson @shika1200 @blackqueenstarseed1 @gatoenlaciudad @esmaada @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @softhecreator @timolaurence @timmymyluv @oddlyenoughiamweird @leecrunchybones @s-we-e-t-t-ea @almostg @leespparker @bubblebuttwade @glizzymcguirex @starberry-cake @camille-1019 @lixzey @shycreationdreamland @gossamer19

To be added, please ask 💗

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chalametsimp · 2 years

Text

Love Again 18+

Pairings: Timothée Chalamet x Reader

Summary: Takes place pre-Photographic Reverie. It’s Sunday night at Coachella, you and Timothée share it alone, doing indecent things to each other (while under the influence).

Warnings: drug use ! , alcohol and nicotine mentioned, face f*cking, unprotected sex (I don’t condone this or the use of illicit drugs).

Word Count: 2,550

Authors Note: Hi yall, sorry this took me so long, I’ve been really busy lately for absolutely no reason, thank you universe. Sorry if this is short ): I know I say that every time oop. I hope you guys like it. I also want to say I don’t condone the use of MDA or any other illicit drugs. *When I use the term “designer drug” I don’t mean a designer drug, a dd refers to a “pharmaceutically created” drug, one that is not natural, grown in a lab. Not glamorizing drug use. This is for the request below and for the other Coachella anon :) (sorry I lost that screenshot). Title by Run the Jewels ofc.

masterlist

“Face fucked you in your kitchenette

Fucked you like we tusslin'.” His voice was low, quiet enough for only you to hear it as he sang along to the song. His chest was pressed to your back. His voice sent tingles through your body, you couldn’t tell if it was the words spoken or the chemicals coursing through your body.

Timothée continued “Do you ask him pretty please? Do you crawl on hands and knees? Like you used to do for me?” His hands rubbed your sides and you sighed with pleasure, all of his touches in this moment felt amazing.

“Pleasure come from punishment

Your threshold astonishin'

I think I'm in love again..”

His hands gripped your hips and he pressed himself against your back, breath fanning over your neck. You felt around in the near-dark for his hand on your body and you held your sweaty hand in his.

“Found my perfect drug again

Feel better than heroin” you finished for him, ass pressing backwards into him. Your gaze turned to meet his. Timothées lips turned into a smirk and he took your face in his hands, pressing a sloppy kiss to your lips. You kissed him back, tongue dipping out to rub against his parted lips.

The music sounded a little distorted for both of you, almost as if you were listening from underwater, but the bass was clear. He knew all the words and you could always hear his voice, just his voice. He pulled away to mumble “I put that dick in her mouth all day.

She got that dick in her mouth all day.” A giggle erupted from you and fell onto his lips. You thought back to all the times you did have his dick in your mouth all day. Another shiver ran through your body as salacious images ran passed your eyelids.

A restaurant bathroom, on your knees in front of him when he just couldn’t wait until you got home. Another time at home, his body sprawled across the bed as you laid below him, lazily lapping up his cock as he whimpered and whined under your mouth. You loved having his dick in your mouth, and he was more than well aware of that.

Suddenly your gazes were pulling away and then darting to meet each other and before any words could be said, Timothée was grabbing your hand and pulling you through the crowd.

“Here I am, my love

Just like when we first hooked up

Feeling like I'm animal

Feeling like you're edible

Bendable.” Played in the background as a soundtrack to this rendezvous. Peoples faces swirled as you passed the both of you, but you were too high and horny to acknowledge that. You stared at the back of the head of the man you loved, who was helping you weave through the crowd all the way back to your tent. It seemed as if everything was dark but him, he was your only focus. Timothée was immediately unzipping the tent and clambering inside, tugging his shirt off as soon as he got passed the threshold. You followed after him, doing the same with your own shirt. Before you could register anything with your slow reaction time, he was fumbling with your bra and as soon as your tits spring free. His hands were immediately glued to them, squeezing and kneading.

“Fuck, you look so good.” Is all he could manage before he was dipping down to attach his mouth to one of your nipples, his tongue swirling around the sensitive nub. You moaned out loud and he nipped down gently, your arch backing upwards at the feeling. Timothée pulled away to give the same treatment to the other one before he started creating a trail of kisses all the way down to your hips where he kissed and kissed again. He was now tugging off your skirt and before he could do the same with your panties you nearly pushed him away, reluctantly.

The lyrics of the song played in your head. “No, wan’ your dick in my mouth, please.” The way you were nearly begging for him, made him immediately sit up on his knees to push his pants and boxers down and he kicked them both away, whining, his cock springing forward to slap against his stomach.

“Please, yes, please.” His voice was pleading and before he knew it you were shifting from where you were laid and moved to sit on your knees in front of him. “What a pretty sight.” He purred.

Timothée stood up to give you a better angle and ran a hand through your hair, silently urging you. You took him in your hands and he hissed, hips immediately bucking forward. You licked one, hot stripe up his cock and swirled your tongue around the tip, gathering the sweet precum. “You taste so good.” You hummed, which made him whimper out loud.

“Thank you, baby. Please.” He whined for more contact, the sassafras making him even more needy and horny than he usually would be. You were eager to please him and you enveloped him in your mouth, your hands holding what your mouth wouldn’t fit yet. You swallowed around him and he moaned, tugging at your hair.

You ventured forward, your nose now grazing against his tummy as he slid all the way down your throat. Your hand dipped down to rub your clit over your panties, moans stifled by his cock. The vibration made him go crazy and he pleaded with his eyes to allow him to do one of his favorite things. You stared up at him through thick lashes and gave him a look that gave him the go-ahead. And before you could even think, his hands were both snaking in your hair and he was pulling himself out of your mouth before sliding back in, slowly at first, not wanting to hurt you.

But when he felt you hollow out your cheeks, getting ready for him, he knew he could do what he loved. Suddenly he was gripping your hair tighter and his hips snapped faster. His head fell back, along with his eyes, a litany of curses and your name tumbling from his lips. Your hands splayed at his hips, rubbing soft circles into his skin. It must have been twenty minutes of him fucking your face, but it felt like seconds for the both of you, eyes interlocked the entire time, gagging quietly against his dick. Before you knew it his hips were stilling, his body was freezing in place and he was cumming down your throat. The feeling was one you had never felt before. Sure, he had coated your throat more than a fair share of times. This time it felt different, like he was quite literally pouring love through your body.

He pulled himself out of your mouth, taking care to lovingly rub his tip along your wet lips. “Thank you so much, my angel,” Timothée was getting on his knees now to face you “I love you so much, you’re my world, thank you so much for allowing me to do that.” Teary eyed, but a smile painted his lips. Your hands came up to cup his warm cheeks, he whimpered quietly and leaned into your touch, I love you’s flooding from the both of you. Just I love you, and nothing else.

Your brain felt like it was buzzing in the silence, your high begging you for some kind of touch, but also music. You reached over for your phone and hit shuffle on a playlist, the song Fuckin’ n’ Rolling playing up first.

The name of the song and the situation made both of you burst into a fit off giggles. “Fucking AND rolling? This song was made for us, Timo.” You couldn’t help but giggle again and lay back, relishing in the way your body felt when you stretched out. You sprawled out some more on the air mattress below you. You stared at him, licking your lips, both of your pupils blown wide from the lust and the designer drugs.*

You laid there in all of your glory in front of him, thighs pressed together hard as you rubbed them against each other. “Poor, horny baby.” He cooed, running his hands down them to toy with your panties. “You need something too, don’t you?”

You couldn’t say anything, your words were caught in your throat. A puddle in his hands as he bent over you to run soft fingers up your sides, coming closer to your core with every cadence of his motions. “Timothée, please.” Finally something was able to escape from your diaphragm and he dipped his head down to press wet kisses to your cheeks. He rubbed his pelvis against yours, cock grinding against your soaked panties. “God, that feels so g-good.” Your hips bucked up against him.

“Oh, sweetheart,” the nickname made you whine loudly, “I haven’t even touched you yet, and you’re still this wet for me?” Still this wet for you? How could you tell him that it was nothing compared to how in this very moment you wanted to rip your heart out of your still beating chest and place it into his inviting hands? He always drove you crazy but right in this moment, you had never felt so connected with him. So connected with anyone. You whined fervently, hips oscillating upwards against him. You said nothing, just propped yourself up on your elbows and stared up at him, pout painted on your lips.

Timothée stayed silent too, something inside of him told him to shut the fuck up and enjoy the karmic experience that was about to happen. A blush spread across his cheeks and he was pulling your panties to the side carefully. He hiked your leg up on his shoulder and he pressed soft kisses to the inside of your knee. “I love you.” He whispered.

You wanted to cry with joy, “I love you too.” You whimpered and laid back down, motioning for him to come closer to you.

Which he complied with, feeling the same as you did. That if he wasn’t close to you, he just might die. So he was suddenly pushing himself inside of you, his face inching closer to your own. He didn’t move once he had sheathed his cock inside of you completely. His grip on your leg loosened and he pressed his forehead against yours. “Thank you so much for everything you do for me, thank you for allowing me to have you whenever I want,” Timothée was whispering again “I appreciate your body, I appreciate your mind.” He didn’t know why he was saying it, but it was true.

“I love you, Timothée.” You really really wanted to cry now, the sensation of him inside of you and the sweetness of his words felt incredible. You were sure you had never loved anyone more than you loved him, in this moment. A long moan slipped from your parted lips as you wiggled your hips against his desperately.

He couldn’t take this for long though, so he started to rock his hips against you, slowly at first, but increased his speed with every sound you made. The noises fueled his thrusts, becoming more needy by the moment. His hands gripped your hips now, your leg slumping down from his shoulder, legs spreading wider as he fucked into you, groans rumbling from his throat. His head fell forward and he pressed kisses to your lips to silence your moans.

Your hips rocked against his and your legs wrapped around his waist to pull him impossibly closer to you. Timothée leaned down to bury his face in the crook of your neck. When he started to press kisses to your skin, you could feel his wet face. You almost thought you had hallucinated that, until he sniffled quietly, hands running up your thighs and torso. You placed your hands on his face and gently moved him to look at you, noses touching. You whimpered softly, tears starting to fall down your cheeks just at the sight of him. He didn’t look sad, but he was crying, and it made you cry too. Connected completely.

The fluidity of his thrusts didn’t slow and he kissed your lips before whispering against your lips “I feel you.” You knew what he meant. You stayed quiet and pulled your hands from his skin in favor of reaching down to hook under your knees, spreading your legs wider for him. Timothée was extremely grateful for the newfound access. “Oh god, yes.” It was guttural and it made you wetter than before, he noticed this. “You feel fucking fantastic.”

“YOU feel fucking fantastic, Timothée, don’t stop. Please.” You moaned, voice breathy and anguished. The sound of his name made his pace quicken, the sound of both of you was impure and disgusting to anyone who heard. Your back arched up into his chest and one of your hands reached up to grab one of your tits, rolling the sensitive nipple in between your fingers. The both of your heads were thrown back in pleasure, your leg stretched impossibly high.

He hit your sweet spot and you nearly screamed out, hand lunging forward to grab his shoulder as your walls clenched around him. “Oh fuck,” he whined, “you’re going to make me cum, again.”

You were already way ahead of him, but the thought of being the reason his balls were almost completely empty sent you over the edge and the tension in your body released, cumming hard on his dick. Before your body could go limp, almost as if reading your biological next move, one of his arms was slipped under you and he pulled you close into his chest as he fucked into you, his own release following yours. Timothée cried out, his thrusts not slowing until he was completely finished.

He laid your body down gently and then he collapsed to your side. You instinctively crawled up and laid yourself in the crook of his arm, head laying on his chest. His heart beating loudly against your eardrum. “Thank you for fucking me.” You sighed and he turned to wrap his other arm around your warm body.

“You never have to thank me for that.” Timothée hummed and closed his eyes, sacred geometry etching faintly on his closed eyelids in ethereal colors. Ones he wasn’t sure he had seen before. He felt completely at peace, and so did you.

The both of you whispered I love you’s back and forth, lazily running fingers across each other’s back, taking pleasure in the almost silence in each other’s presence.

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