#george’s red boots | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

theostrophywife · 1 year ago

Text

devil eyes.

pairing: theodore nott x reader.

song inspiration: devil eyes by hippie sabotage.

author's note: this spicy fic is in collaboration with my darling @writingsbychlo. make sure you check out hide and seek. we've been scheming for weeks and i'm so happy to finally share this fun little story with all of you. keep an eye out for some cheeky cameos 👀

The cardinal rule of Gryffindor House was plain and simple—never ever make a bet with the Weasley twins.

Anyone stupid enough to do so either found themselves out a pocketful of galleons or worse, owing Fred and George a no questions asked favour that the pesky redheads could cash in at any time.

Unfortunately, you were a little more than tipsy off of a bottle of firewhisky and bet one of the twins, Fred? George?—you couldn’t remember which ginger you’d sold your soul to—that you could easily outfly him on the pitch during a quidditch after party. After a violent hangover, the annoying git actually showed up outside of your dorm with a Firebolt in each hand.

“Let’s see those skills in action then, Y/N.”

On a normal day, you might’ve managed it. You were smaller and lighter than Fred, which gave you an advantage in flight, but as your head pounded and your stomach churned, you knew there was no way you were getting on that bloody broom. Though your house motto was all about being bold and brave, you weren’t reckless enough to risk it.

Instead, you settled for a favour.

In hindsight, you probably should’ve just stuck to death by eating shit on the quidditch pitch. It would’ve been a hell of a lot better than trying to squeeze yourself into a stupid tiny little costume that bordered on exotic dancer more than scary witch, but it’s not like you had much of a choice. You had a debt to settle. Fred made sure to remind you of that.

While the rest of your housemates headed to the Forbidden Forest, you were busy preparing for the vital role that your ginger overlords had assigned to you for the night. Since it was Fred and George’s last year, the twins were determined to solidify their status as Hogwarts legends. What better way to leave their mark than throwing a huge rager in the forest? Thus, the All Hallow’s Eve Fest was born.

As far as your professors knew, it would be a small festival to celebrate the season complete with carnival games, enchanted rides, and cornfield mazes. All harmless fun. But the student body knew that the Weasley twins had something far more devious up their sleeves.

From what Fred told you, the night would be full of secret passages, elaborate tricks, and actors and actresses who would add to the whole allure. You were to be one of them. Tonight, you were playing the part of a seductive sorceress who ripped out the hearts of unsuspecting men.

You were practically made for the role, Fred joked.

You threatened to resort to method acting and grabbed at the front of his shirt with every intent to rip his heart out of his chest. Luckily for him, George came to his rescue and tore his twin from your grasp before you could inflict damage.

“See you at the Forbidden Forest at seven sharp,” Fred called as he tossed the costume at you. “Don’t be late, Y/N!”

At half past six, you almost considered skipping the event altogether, but that would mean owing the twins yet another favour. It was best to get this over with as quickly as possible. Sighing, you tugged on some fishnet tights and slipped into a pair of high-heeled boots that laced all the way up to your thighs. You placed a hand on your hip, frowning at your reflection in the mirror of the prefect’s bathroom.

“Are you trying to scare the masses or seduce them?”

You turned around to find your friend Chloe perched up against the sink, smirking as she raised a brow at you.

“I’m supposed to be a bloodthirsty sorceress,” you said as you snatched her tube of lipstick and painted your lips with a fiery red shade. “Know any men who wouldn’t mind having their hearts ripped out?”

She chuckled, swinging her legs in the air. “A few. The boys will be in skull makeup tonight, so aim for them first. Save the curly one for me, though.”

“You’ve sent Riddle out on that wild goose chase of yours, then?”

Chloe smirked and blew on her freshly painted nails. “He’s got until midnight to find me.”

“What happens when the clock strikes twelve?”

“Let’s just say that I’m fully prepared to live up to my house’s name and let him slither in.”

“At least one of us is having fun tonight.”

“Who says you can’t? You may owe Fred a favour, but that doesn’t mean you can’t cause a little trouble.”

You smirked in the mirror as you put on the final piece of the costume. The gold mask fit perfectly over your eyes and truly completed the sinister seductive sorceress part that Fred cast you as tonight.

“I like the way you think.”

The promise of mischief and chaos helped to put a little pep in your step as you and Chloe parted ways. You didn’t even recognize the Forbidden Forest as you stepped foot into the haunted woods. There were colourful tents set up all around the clearing, some containing mirrored mazes and others promised fortunes readings. The combination of red lights and creepy fog gave the demented looking carnival an eerie feel. As much as you hated to admit it, the twins have really outdone themselves tonight.

After running through the spell that conjured a hyper realistic heart that you’d be ripping out of unsuspecting victims all night, Fred directed you towards the east side of the forest.

“Remember, it’s not a good night unless someone’s pissed themselves out of fear,” Fred reminded you for the thousandth time.

“You’re a sadist, Forge.”

Fred placed a hand over his heart. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me, Y/N.”

“Piss off, yeah?”

He chuckled. “I’d tell you to act scary, but you’ve got that down pat.” Fred cocked his head, examining your costume. “Although, would it kill you to show a little more leg?”

“It won’t kill me, but I might kill you.”

Fortunately for Fred, George plucked his twin away from your murderous clutches to start greeting their guests. By the time it was half past seven, the clearing was full of your fellow students. Despite your initial reluctance, scaring the absolute piss out of people was actually a lot of fun. As Fred predicted, you had a natural talent for it.

The first group that wandered into your neck of the woods consisted of your fellow housemates. Dean and Seamus led the pack while Ron and Harry followed close behind. The Chosen One was as pale as Peeves. Weasley, on the other hand, looked as though he might vomit at any moment. Leading the rear, Hermione shook her head and marched forward. Neville matched her pace as he nervously darted through the twisted roots choking up the forest floor.

You waited until their group passed through the twisted willow tree before jumping out. Dean screamed in surprise while Seamus scrambled away from you. Thanks to Fred’s little trick, your hand went right through Finnigan’s shirt which caused him to shriek in terror. With a twisted smile, you yanked the hyper realistic heart out of his chest and cackled in delight.

At the sight of the beating organ in your hands, Neville nearly passed out. Dean hauled Seamus to his feet while Ron and Harry hightailed it out of there. Hermione chuckled, shaking her head at the boys.

“Well, they lasted longer than I thought they would,” she said. “Stuck out here for the night, Y/N?”

“Unfortunately,” you replied as you vanished the dry blood with a quick spell. “Anyone you want me to scare the absolute wits out of tonight, Mione?”

She chuckled, shaking her head. “No, I don’t have any scores to settle.” You nodded, wishing her a good rest of the night.

Hermione bid you the same and started to follow the direction that the boys fled to. Before she disappeared through the thicket, a familiar, drawling voice called her back.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the golden girl.”

Draco Malfoy appeared in the clearing. There was skull makeup on his face, but the shock of platinum blonde hair gave away his identity almost instantly. He stalked towards Hermione with that arrogant aristocratic smirk, completely oblivious that you were lurking in the dark.

“All alone in the woods, little lion?”

Hermione’s gaze flickered towards you. A smile curved against her lips as her honey eyes glimmered with mischief. “On second thought…”

The golden girl hadn’t even finished the rest of her sentence before you yanked Draco by the wrist and pushed him up against the weeping willow. The blonde blinked, his silver eyes full of surprise and terror as you raked your nails along the column of his throat. The red varnish looked like blood against his pale skin.

“All alone in the woods, little serpent?”

Draco steeled himself. “And who are you supposed to be?”

You smirked. “I’ll be whoever you want, darling.” Malfoy shivered as you pressed a palm against his chest. He leaned into your touch, his heart beating erratically underneath your fingertips. For Godric’s sake, he was truly making this way too easy. “As long as you give me your heart.”

Never in his life had Draco Malfoy looked so terrified. The colour drained from his face as you reached through his perfectly tailored button down shirt, fingers slipping through the expensive silk material. You laughed maniacally and caressed his cheek.

“Brace yourself, sweetheart. This might hurt a bit.”

Without warning, you yanked his heart out of his chest. Draco stared in utter horror as blood dripped from your fingertips. The tell-tale heart pounded in your palm, the mess of flesh and tissue covering your arm with carnage. To Malfoy’s credit, he didn’t scream or flee like your housemates. Instead, the Slytherin appeared rather impressed.

“The spell work’s not bad.” Draco said with a smirk. He lifted your palm and examined the heart. “A word of advice, though. I would’ve turned the heart black. It would’ve been more realistic.”

Just as you rolled your eyes, a deep, husky voice pulled your attention away from the blonde.

“Who even knew Draco Malfoy had a heart?”

You turned to find a gathering of serpents in the clearing. They were all wearing matching skull makeup, but you could clearly tell who each male was. The gang of Slytherins were pretty infamous and easily recognizable. The curly headed one had to be Mattheo Riddle. His gaze darted through the trees as though he expected someone to appear out of the thick fog. You had to hand it to her, Chloe had the Slytherin eating right out of her hand.

The one beside him stood a little bit taller and though his face was smeared in the same white and black paint, there was no mistaking Enzo Berkshire’s lopsided grin and soft hazel eyes. Flanking either side of him was Blaize Zabini and Pansy Parkinson, the it-couple of your year, which only left one other serpent to account for. The male that had spoken earlier had to be none other than Theodore Nott.

You turned your attention back to him, squinting in the faint light as he prowled towards you. Theodore was considerably taller than the rest of his friends, but not in the awkward scrawny way that most boys his age were. He was slim yet strong, sculpted by years of playing quidditch. The makeup only accentuated his high cheekbones and his ridiculously sharp jawline, but it was his eyes—those dead, cold eyes that had half the school swooning over him that gave you pause.

Theodore grinned as you released your hold on Draco. He cocked his head, arrogance and swagger radiating off of him in waves as his eyes roamed your body. There was something unsettling about his gaze—Theodore’s eyes were neither green nor blue, but rather some undiscovered shade that reminded you of watercolours bleeding into each other.

The manner in which he ogled you was shameless. He drank in your tight corset, the fishnet tights, and the thigh high boots like you were a painting on the walls of a gallery, pinned up for his viewing pleasure. You held your head high, completely undeterred by his stare. Besides, two could play that game.

You schooled your features into indifference. “Who are you supposed to be? The Pumpkin King?”

Theodore flashed you a charming smile that you had no doubt made the rest of the student population swoon. “I’ll be your Jack if you agree to be my Sally, sweetheart.”

As slowly as possible, you dragged your gaze from the top of his head to the bottom of his feet. Theodore smirked as you surveyed him just as he had done to you a few moments ago. Staying true to his Slytherin roots, Theodore wore a black suit and matching freshly pressed trousers, but the silk shirt underneath was maroon—Gryffindor colours. Your house colours.

“Brave of you to wear rival colours.”

“I thought you’d be happy,” Theodore drawled. “Better to hide the blood when you rip my heart out, darling.”

“You think I care about making a mess?” you said with a smirk. “That’s half of the fun.”

Theodore flashed you a smile that spelled nothing but trouble. “Oh, I think you’re just my kind of witch.”

“Oi, Notty boy! If you’re done flirting, we’re heading to the mirror maze.”

Blaise was regarded with a wave of dismissal. “I’ll catch up with you guys later.”

Hermione lingered by the edge of the clearing. She raised a brow in a silent question. You merely shrugged. Theodore Nott wasn’t anything you couldn’t handle.

“Give Longbottom my apologies, Mione. And a calming draught,” you added as an afterthought. “The poor bloke will need it.”

Your friend smiled. “Sure thing. Shall I tell the twins that you’re…indisposed?”

“No, let my wardens sweat it out a bit.”

Hermione chuckled and waved you off. The rest of the Slytherins followed shortly after, leaving you alone with Theodore. You locked eyes for a moment before you spun on your heel and walked off in the opposite direction. The brunette stared after you in stunned silence before you looked over your shoulder and smirked at him.

“Well, are you coming or not, Theodore?”

The sounds of the leaves crunching below his boots indicated that Theodore had snapped out of his stupor and was catching up to you. He did so rather quickly, thanks to those long legs of his. One of his strides was equal to three of yours. It took little to no effort on his part before the two of you were walking side by side.

“You know who I am, then?”

You shrugged. “It’s not hard to tell you and your cronies apart.”

Theodore grinned lazily and cocked his head at you. He squinted against the faint light, no doubt trying to ascertain a hint of your identity from underneath the gold mask.

“It hardly seems fair. You know who I am, but I have no idea who you are.”

You smirked at him. “I’m Sally, remember?”

“Does that mean I’m your Jack?”

“For the night, at least.”

He seemed content with that answer. “Where are we headed now, little witch?”

“The Graveyard.”

Theodore appeared slightly baffled, but brooked no argument as you led him through a thicket of trees. You chuckled at the sight of him following you blindly. “A strange girl just told you she was leading you to a graveyard and you didn’t even bat an eyelash. I thought you Slytherins were all about self-preservation?”

“I have no intention of preserving myself tonight,” Theodore drawled. “Feel free to ruin me, Sally.”

“I suppose you think you’re rather charming, don’t you Jack?”

“I don’t think, darling. I know.”

You rolled your eyes and walked toward the lone tombstone in between the weeping willows. Theodore watched as you waved your wand and muttered an incantation. The ground rumbled beneath your feet, clearing the leaves until an ominous set of stairs appeared in front of the grave.

Theodore peered over your shoulder. “I suppose you won’t be telling me what’s down there, will you Sally?”

“Don’t worry, Jack. I’ll hold your hand in case you get scared.”

It was meant to be a joke, but Theodore took the jest to heart and slipped his hand into yours. You smirked as you intertwined your fingers. If he thought a little hand holding would bother you, then Theodore had no idea what he was in for tonight.

“Lead the way, love.”

You led him down the steps, plunging into darkness the lower you went. Theodore took the opportunity to press up behind you and kept a hand on your waist as the two of you descended. He was so close that the scent of his expensive cologne mixed with cigarette smoke assaulted your senses.

A red hazy light flashed up ahead. The pounding music and excited chatter of your fellow classmates grew louder as you and Theodore were transported into the speakeasy. The bar was stocked with alcohol, shots and cocktails floating mid-air with themed drinks like Merlin’s Mourge-a-rita, Witches’ Brew, and Cauldron Colada. You hailed Parvati down who was apparently serving as the bartender tonight along with her twin sister.

“We’ll take two El Diablos.”

Theodore raised a brow, but didn’t protest as Parvati presented the shots in front of you. Your fellow housemate also floated a salt shaker and a bowl of limes on the counter. You sprinkled salt on the back of your hand and grabbed a lime wedge in preparation. Theodore did the same, minus the lime.

“Bottoms up, Jack.”

“Cheers, Sally.”

After licking the salt off of your hand, you clinked your glass against Theodore’s and knocked the drink back. The El Diablo certainly lived up to its name. The drink was a combination of tequila mixed with pepperup potion and topped off with a hint of cayenne. Needless to say, it had a bit of a kick.

With a slight grimace, you bit down on the lime, which helped with the unpleasant aftertaste. Theodore caught your wrist and held your gaze as he directed your hand up to his mouth. He mimicked your move and sucked hard on the lime, his lips brushing your fingers as he licked the juice from where it had dribbled onto your palm.

A shiver snaked down your spine. You may be a shameless flirt, but Theodore was definitely matching your energy.

“I can’t believe the twins built a speakeasy down here,” Theodore said. He leaned in close so you could hear him over the music. “I’m almost impressed.”

“I’ll tell my wardens you said that.”

“You keep calling them that,” Theodore said, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. “You wouldn’t mean that one of the weasels is your ball and chain in a literal sense, right?”

“Are you jealous, Jack?”

He smirked. “I just want to know which twin I’m sending to the infirmary tonight.”

You chuckled. “I’m not dating Fred or George. I just owe them a favour. Speaking of which, I’ve got some men to scare. Be a good boy and wait for me here.”

Theodore shook his head. “Oh, I’m not letting you out of my sight. I’m yours for the night, remember?” He toyed with the laces on your corset and pulled you towards him, your breasts pressing against the hard muscles of his chest. “I have a proposition for you, little witch.”

You quirked a brow, which made Theodore chuckle darkly. “Not that kind of proposition, principessa.” He twirled the lace between his fingers. “I say we terrorise the student body together.”

“You want to help me do my job?”

Theodore shrugged. “Why not? We can be partners in crime.”

You cocked your head. It certainly would be more fun to have someone else partake in your chore. Curling your fingers around his maroon tie, you pulled Theodore down to your level. His gaze flickered to your mouth and you couldn’t help the thrill that buzzed in your veins as you watched him swallow thickly.

“You’ve got a deal, Jack.”

As it turns out, Theodore was an excellent partner in crime. The two of you concocted a rather effective formula to inflict fear upon your classmates. The Red Room soon became your hunting grounds. In the creepy blood soaked maze, Theodore chased groups through the enchanted room while you lurked in the shadows. As soon as they thought they were safe from skull face, the groups were then led right into your trap.

You could hardly count the amount of people you scared shitless tonight.

Eventually the two of you returned to the bar for more drinks. You ordered another round of shots, which Theodore accepted without question. By the time you were six shots deep, the tequila had annihilated any sense of personal space between you. Theodore leaned down to take a sip of your drink.

“Trying to get me drunk, love?”

“That depends,” you quipped back. “How many drinks do I need to plie you with until you agree to dance?”

“With you? I’d say yes while stone cold sober.”

You grinned. “Come on, then.”

Theodore allowed you to guide him away from the bar and into the throng of your fellow classmates. It was total debauchery out on the dance floor. The music pulsed seductively as bodies writhed to the hypnotic beat and the red light bathed the crowd in a sinister glow as the alcohol loosened both limbs and lips.

The warmth of the tequila made you feel flushed, but it was nothing compared to the heat of Theodore’s hands on your waist. With your back pressed against his chest, you swayed your hips to the beat of the music. You rocked side to side and grinded against him, which caused his grip to tighten. Theodore’s fingers dug into your sides as you wrapped an arm around his neck and arched your back against his chest.

His dark lashes fluttered as your lips brushed against the column of his throat. Theodore shuddered when you nipped at his skin. A low groan escaped his mouth as he tried to chase your lips, but you dropped low to the floor and left him in a daze.

Theodore caught your wrist and pressed you flush against him. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you that it’s not polite to tease?’

“Do I look like someone who gives a shit about being polite?” You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and toyed with the curls at the nape of his neck. “You should know that I have a terrible habit of playing with my food.”

Theodore smirked and fisted your hair between his fingers. “And you should know that I have no qualms about being toyed with. As long as you promise to devour me later, little witch.”

You brushed up against him and felt his hardness rub against you. “Cross my heart and hope to die. I’ll get my taste of you tonight.” He inhaled sharply as you tugged him down to you. His eyes fluttered, fully expecting a kiss. “But before that, would you be a dear and get me another drink? I’m absolutely parched.”

A pained expression dawned on his handsome features. Theodore was fully aware of the little cat and mouse game you were playing, but he seemed keen to play along. If only to please you.

“You’re killing me, bella,” Theodore said with a sigh. He leaned down and pressed a lingering kiss on your cheek, a promise of what was to come. “I’ll be right back. Stay here, yeah?”

“Don’t take too long,” you said with a wink. “I might get impatient.”

With that, Theodore hustled back to the bar. You chuckled at the sight. Your amusement only grew as Chloe approached. As soon as she was within reach, you tugged your friend onto the dancefloor. She happily obliged, the moves flowing naturally. The two of you were known to bring the whole house down at countless parties.

“I take it Riddle hasn’t found you yet?”

“No, but he’s close.” Chloe shouted over the music, motioning to the bar where her boyfriend was currently standing. Mattheo, Theo, and Draco were talking in hushed whispers, looking rather serious.

“Gettin’ colder, he and Draco are heading toward the exit.”

The poor Slytherin was chasing after some unsuspecting blonde girl who looked a lot like Chloe from behind. A mischievous grin curved against her lips as she watched Theodore weave his way back to you, toting a drink in each hand.

“Is that Theodore Nott you’re flirting with?”

“Maybe, maybe not,” you replied with a coy smile. “He doesn't know it’s me, though, so if he asks you, you have no idea who I am tonight.”

“My lips are sealed.”

With a wink, Chloe slipped away just as Theodore returned. He handed you a drink and watched as you sipped it slowly. Theodore downed his cocktail in less than a minute and tossed his cup into the nearest trash can.

“Impatient, aren’t we?”

“You promised a taste.”

You smirked, chugging the rest of your drink and wiping the corner of your mouth with your thumb. Theodore watched intently as you set the empty cup down. “Come and get it, then.”

The words had barely left your lips before Theodore kissed you. There wasn’t a hint of timidness in the way that his lips crashed against yours, a soft moan escaping his mouth as he tilted your chin up to gently bite down on your lower lip. You gasped when he nipped at you, leaving your mouth open for his tongue to slide into.

The taste of him was intoxicating as he massaged your tongue against his, licking the roof of your mouth before he kissed you sloppily, open-mouthed and positively obscene despite the crowd dancing around you. What started out as a kiss turned into a full blown make out session in the middle of the dance floor. Neither one of you felt a hint of shame as you shared another filthy kiss. With a groan, Theodore’s hands roamed along your back and squeezed when he reached your ass.

“Fuck, you have no idea what you’re doing to me right now.”

You smirked, already equipped with a salacious response when your gaze caught on the clock behind the bar. It was nearly midnight and the twins had instructed all the actors and actresses to gather in the main entrance for the grand finale. Fred and George would have a fit if they found out you had abandoned your post. The twats would probably demand another favour out of you. There was no way you were going to shackle yourself to the Weasleys a second time.

“Shit,” you hissed under your breath. “It’s almost midnight. I have to get back.”

“I thought you were my Sally,” Theodore drawled. He looked slightly dazed, his curly hair dishevelled and his lips swollen from your kisses. “Not Cinderella.”

“I’m being serious, Nott. If I’m not back before the clock strikes twelve, I’ll have to owe the twins another favour.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll get you back in time. Besides, if we’re playing into this whole Cinderella fantasy then let’s skip to the good part and see if it fits and by it I mean me inside of you.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine. Before you knew it, you were dragging Theodore out of the speakeasy. The two of you climbed the steps three at a time, nearly tumbling over one another as you raced up the stairs. The woods were dark and foreboding, but provided plenty of cover for your illicit activities.

You tugged Theodore along by his tie and he pressed you against an oak tree, the bark biting at your exposed skin. You were kissing again in no time and the sounds the two of you made were downright lewd. Theodore reached for your mask, but you swatted his hand away.

“The mask stays on.”

He smirked. “I didn’t think it was possible to get any harder, but you seem to be an overachiever.”

“I aim to please.”

Theodore smirked against your neck as he hiked you up and wrapped your legs around his waist. His hand wandered underneath your skirt and those deft fingers of his teased along your soaked core.

“You’re so fucking wet, little witch.” You groaned as he plunged his fingers between your folds. “Such a pretty cunt too. Will you clench this tightly around my cock when I fuck you?”

“There’s only one way to find out,” you whispered huskily.

A stream of curses fell from Theodore’s lips, but not in a language that you understood. Italian, perhaps. Whatever it was, it sounded sexy as hell. You unbuckled his belt and slipped your hand into his trousers, feeling his hard length twitch in response. A choked groan rumbled through his chest as you pumped him between your fingers.

You swallowed thickly. Theodore was long and hard, his cock almost too big to fit inside of you. But you always did like a challenge.

Those watercolour eyes that had been pinned on you all night turned positively dark. The strange blue and green shade that you had grown familiar with was now swallowed by darkness, leaving Theodore with a gaze that would’ve rivalled Medusa’s. You felt it searing into your skin as you sank down on his length, biting your lip as he stretched your walls.

“Merda,” Theodore cursed. “So fucking tight. C’mon pretty girl, that’s it. I know you can take all of me.”

You shuddered a breath as he pushed inside. Theodore watched with hungry eyes as you took him inch by inch. It seemed never ending. “Fuck, you’re so big.”

Tears pricked the back of your eyes. The stretch was an equal measure of pain and pleasure. You could feel every ridge and vein on his cock and your pussy hugged around him as he throbbed inside of you.

Theodore caressed your cheek. “It’s alright, little witch. I know you can take it. I’m yours, remember? Your partner-in-crime. So use me, dolcezza. You’re in charge tonight. Just set the pace and I’ll follow.”

The reassuring words encouraged you to slowly grind against him. Theodore hissed as you lifted your hips until only his tip was inside of you. His mouth was hot and needy against yours as you grinded down to take all of him again.

“Che cazzo,” Theodore murmured as he bottomed out.

The drag of his cock was delicious. He filled you to the hilt and pressed his hand on your stomach to feel his length buried deep inside of you. The tightness it caused made the both of you groan. You rolled your hips and set a steady pace, lowering onto his cock over and over again while you whimpered.

“Oh, fuck. It feels like you’re splitting me apart.”

Theodore groaned as he sucked and nipped at your neck. The heat of his tongue was everywhere, leaving marks on your skin in his wake. It would be a pain in the ass to cover, but you didn’t care as you continued to ride him.

“Salazar fucking save me, your pussy feels like heaven.”

Theodore chuckled darkly as you clenched around him. He untied the laces of your corset impatiently, freeing your breasts from the constraints. Theodore brushed his thumb over your hard nipples before taking one into his mouth. He watched with eager eyes as you moaned, sucking and swirling his tongue while you picked up the pace.

“You look so pretty when you fuck me,” Theodore hummed as he flicked his tongue against your stiffened peaks. “Ride me harder, little witch. That’s it. Yeah, roll your hips just like that. Good girl.”

“Gods, I didn’t expect you to have such a filthy mouth,” you said with a low laugh. “You’re always so quiet in class.”

“So we have a class together,” Theodore said as he thrusted upwards to match your pace. “I thought you sounded familiar.”

“Is that so?”

“It’s on the tip of my tongue, but I can't quite grasp it. I guess I’ll just have to pay extra attention to all the Gryffindor girls in my classes.”

“I’m a Gryffindor? How do you figure that?”

“Besides your entire personality? You seemed friendly with Granger and though you complain about the twins, I’d wager that you’re mates as well.”

“Smart and handsome,” you said with a smirk. “You’re full of surprises aren’t you, Jack?”

Theodore smirked and thrusted sharply inside of you. “You have no idea, Sally.”

“I thought I was in charge tonight,” you said in a stern voice.

“You are, but I think you could use a little encouragement. You’re holding back.”

You circled your hips before lifting them and slamming back down. Theodore’s eyes rolled to the back of his head.

“Does it feel like I’m holding back?”

“I’m a patient man, but if you keep toying with me like this I might just have to fuck that attitude right out of you, little witch.”

You tilted your chin up and smirked. “So do it.”

All that bravado left your body as Theodore rutted into you. He drove his cock deep within you, stretching your walls until you were clawing at his back. Theodore grunted as you squelched and squeezed around his length. His pace was relentless and punishing, guiding your hips to bounce on his cock while you moaned in pleasure.

“Oh gods, right there.” You cried out, burying your face into his neck.

You inhaled his scent greedily and sank your teeth into his flesh. Theodore slowed his pace and chuckled darkly when you whined.

“What’s the matter, little witch? Can’t take a dose of your own medicine?”

“Don’t stop,” you whimpered. “Keep going. I’m so close.”

“Beg me, darling. Tell me how desperate you are. I want to hear those pretty little words.”

Theodore halted his movements, his tip barely inside of you as he teased along your folds. He held your hips in place so you couldn’t sink down to take more of him. Usually, you were used to taking charge, but the way he put you in your place had you creaming all over him. Needless to say, you weren’t above begging at this point.

“Please, I need you. Fuck me harder. Give me everything. I can take it. Every fucking inch.”

“Merda, you’re fucking filthy. Begging for my cock like a good little slut. Brace yourself, bella. Remember that you asked for this.”

A whimper fell from your lips as Theodore bucked into your cunt. His cock impaled you, splitting you apart and knocking the very breath from your lungs as he fucked you roughly against the tree. He squeezed your ass, keeping a firm grip to secure you in place as he jackknifed into you.

“Oh gods,” you sobbed, raking your nails underneath his shirt and dragging red lines all along his back. Theodore hissed as you clawed at him, thrusting so hard that your teeth rattled every time he drove into you. “Fuck, it’s too much.”

Theodore grabbed your chin harshly. “No, it’s not. You begged to be fucked, now take my cock like the perfect little whore I know that you are, yeah?”

You nodded. Words escaped you at the moment. The filth coming out of Theodore’s mouth aroused you in more ways than one. Who knew that the silent Slytherin fucked like a god?

A stray tear rolled down your cheek. Theodore licked it away and chuckled as you whimpered. “Are you crying, sweetheart? Such pretty little sobs. Don’t worry, you’ll get your reward. You’ve been such a good girl for me and good girls get to cum.”

At that, Theodore rubbed your clit and pushed you over the edge. His fingers were magic against your sensitive bundle of nerves and it wasn’t long before you were clenching around him, making his hips stutter as the orgasm blindsided you. A scream echoed through the woods and it was only when Theodore covered your mouth when you realised that the sound had come from you.

“Fuck,” Theodore cursed, dropping his forehead to yours. “Merda, I’m not gonna last much longer. Not when that pretty pussy of yours is milking me dry. Oh gods, I’m gonna cum—“

You wrapped your legs tighter around his waist as his body seized underneath you. Theodore bit into your flesh as he came, leaving a bruised purple mark on your collarbone. You had never seen anyone look as beautiful as he did when he lost control, lips parted, cheeks flushed, devil eyes rolling back as the orgasm thoroughly rocked him.

The stillness that settled over the Forbidden Forest was almost eerie. The two of you looked at one another, dazed and confused as though you weren’t even sure who or where you were at the moment. Through all your romps, no one has ever put your body to the test like Theodore has. You could tell by his intense gaze that he likely felt the same.

Theodore set you down gently. Compared to how rough he was a few moments ago, the contrast almost made you laugh. You heard the chime of the clock echo a beat later.

Fuck. That only gave you a minute to sprint through the woods and make it back in time before the twins reached your clearing. You frantically re-tied your corset and straightened the skirts of your dress. Theodore was busy buckling his belt.

“I have to go,” you said as you shrugged your robe back on. “I’ll see you around, Jack.”

“Wait, you never told me your name!”

But Theodore was too late. You were already gone by the time he looked up. He sighed and started making his way back to the festivities. The last chime of the clock indicated that it was midnight. He could only hope that you’d gotten back in time.

Theodore paused as something crunched underneath his feet. He peered down at the forest floor and found something golden peeking out amongst the leaves. With a smile, he picked up the golden mask.

It looks like his mystery girl left him a clue after all.

Theodore would find his Sally.

He’d make sure of it.

Theodore couldn’t remember the last time he was this excited to attend class.

After the All Hallow’s Eve party, he’d done everything he could to dig up information on his mystery girl. Theodore had even gone as far as to interrogate the Weasley twins, but as usual, the redheaded menaces were unnecessarily difficult about it.

“Sorry, mate, but we don’t reveal the identity of our actors and actresses,” George said with a shit-eating grin.

Fred nodded in agreement. “Confidentiality and all that. We wouldn’t want to go around spilling trade secrets. It’s bad for business.”

The weasels stayed mum even after Theodore offered them a ridiculous amount of money to reveal his mystery girl’s identity. Unfortunately, his desperation only served to intrigue the twins and the sadistic little gits seemed to derive pleasure in seeing Theodore grow more and more frustrated.

“Best of luck to you, Nott,” Fred said with a little smile. “If you do end up finding her, you’ll need all the fortune you can get. She’s a feisty thing, that one.”

“I know,” Theodore said with a glare. “That’s exactly why I want to find her.”

George chuckled. “Godric bless your heart.”

If the twats weren’t his main weed suppliers, Theodore would’ve punched their teeth in. Despite Fred and George’s general uselessness, he was in a good mood when Monday rolled around. Equipped with the knowledge that his mystery girl was in one of his classes, he made sure to pay extra attention to every Gryffindor girl. It was only a matter of time before he found her.

“You’re smiling,” Enzo commented as he caught up to Theodore in the courtyard. “What’s happened? Did my cousin fall down the moving stairs again?”

Theodore snorted. “Even better, Berkshire. I’m going to find my mystery girl today and you’re going to help me.”

“How?”

“You’re friends with literally everyone. Someone has to know who she is.”

“Hmm, come to think of it Mattheo’s girlfriend is good friends with a lot of the Gryffindor girls. I bet she’d know who it is.”

“Good, let’s start there. Where is Chloe anyways?”

“Probably in the Great Hall with Mattheo.”

The two of them headed over to where the rest of the castle was currently having breakfast. Enzo made a beeline for their usual table where Mattheo, Blaise, and Draco were seated, but Thedore didn’t follow. He stopped in his tracks when he spotted Chloe seated with a girl who looked vaguely familiar to him. Theodore was sure that you had Charms together. More than that, you were wearing a red and gold tie. A Gryffindor.

Theodore inched closer, skirting around the edges to listen in on the conversation.

“How was your weekend?”

Theodore froze. He knew that voice. It was husky and seductive and sounded exactly like how his mystery girl had when she’d whispered in his ear.

It was you.

It had to be.

“It was good,” Chloe responded with a grin. “Really good.”

“Mattheo found you after all, then?”

“He did and suffice to say he liked the second part of my costume more than the first.”

You laughed in response. Chloe leaned in and lowered her voice. “What about you? You disappeared from the speakeasy, so I’m assuming I’m not the only one who had an eventful night.”

“It was fine.”

“Just fine?”

You flushed, biting your bottom lip. “It was the best lay of my life.”

Theodore smirked. So it wasn’t just him, then. The sex had truly been something else entirely. He had been confident that you must’ve felt the same way in the moment, but doubt crept in since you’d run off so abruptly. Now he had confirmation and it was satisfying as hell to hear you say it.

“There you are,” Enzo said from behind him. “I brought Mattheo, so we can ask Chloe about your mystery girl.”

“That little witch of yours really put a spell on you, huh, Nott?” Mattheo teased. “Let’s go, then. Maybe my girl can help.”

Chloe looked up and smiled as Mattheo leaned down to kiss her. You glanced up at the exact moment that Theodore came into view. He clocked the way your cheeks flushed as your gaze landed on him.

“You know my boyfriend,” Chloe said. You nodded at Mattheo who shot you a polite smile back. “That’s Enzo and Theo. Boys, meet Y/N. Y/N, meet the boys.”

Theodore took your hand and brushed his lips against your knuckles. “Hello, Sally.”

You smiled back in return. “Hello, Jack.”

Chloe’s eyes widened, immediately taking stock of the situation. Mattheo and Enzo were slower to catch on, but luckily she ushered the boys away.

“We’ll give you two some privacy.”

You tried not to laugh as Chloe winked behind Theodore’s back.

“I found you.”

“So it seems.”

“I guess you won’t be needing this anymore,” he said as he pulled out the golden mask from his backpack. Theodore’s intense gaze swept over you, cataloguing your features.

“You kept it,” you said with a small smile.

“I would’ve returned it sooner if you hadn’t left in such a haste after we—“

“Fucked in the woods?”

You were amused to find Theodore blushing. “I was going to say hooked up, but I suppose that’s another way to put it. Anyways, you left in such a hurry. You didn’t even give me your name.”

“Didn’t really think you wanted me to stay.”

“Are you kidding? I haven’t been about to think about anything else since that night. You’ve taken over my thoughts. It’s fucking maddening.” Theodore caressed your cheek and tilted your chin so he could look at you better. “My mystery girl. You’re more beautiful than anything I could’ve ever imagined.”

“Well, you have the real thing now. It’s your move, Jack.”

Theodore shook his head. “No, not Jack. Theo. That’s the name you’ll be screaming from now on. After I take you out on a proper date.”

You raised a brow. “What makes you think I’ll say yes?”

The devilish grin on his face sent shivers down your spine. “You’re really going to turn down the best lay of your life?” Your eyes widened, which made him smile even wider. “That’s right, sweetheart. You’re not the only one who can sneak up on people. So, what do you say?”

“Pick me up at eight. Don’t be late, Theo.”

Theodore winked. “It’s a date, Y/N.”

TAGLIST

@annaisabookworm @marina468 @yaraasthings @the0doreslover @bubybubsters @moony-artemis @natasha887 @lucyysthings @criesinlies @bunnymallowo @niktwazny303 @letmedownslows @siriuslyalovergirl @wordsarelife @clairesjointshurt @daydreamingabthar

#i am going to faint look at pookie he could chase me around the woods and i'd fold #theodore nott #theo nott #theo nott smut #theo nott x reader #theodore nott x you #theo nott imagine #theo nott x y/n #theo nott x you #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott smut #theodore nott imagine

4K notes · View notes

julietsf1 · 16 days ago

Text

Holly Jolly Faking - Franco Colapinto x St.Mleux!Reader

summary: Two people who can’t stand each other agree to fake a relationship to avoid meddling friends and unwanted matchmaking during their Christmas weekend away. What could possibly go wrong? (8k words)

content: fake dating! reader is Alexandra's sister; Franco is COMMITTED;

AN: who doesn't love a good fake dating scenario? happy holidays sweeties!

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

Snow crunched beneath your boots as you trudged up the icy path leading to the chalet, Alexandra practically bouncing beside you. She clutched your arm, grinning as if dragging you along to a winter wonderland wasn’t her latest attempt at orchestrating your personal life.

“You’re going to love this,” she insisted, her voice carrying above the stillness of the snowy evening. “I don’t think you’ve ever been to a Friendmas like this one.”

You shot her a look. “Alex, you’ve been talking about this weekend non-stop. I know exactly what to expect.”

She huffed, playfully rolling her eyes. “Yes, but actually being here? It’s magic. Charles did such an amazing job with the tree. You have to see it!”

“Is that before or after you shove me into George’s arms?”

Her cheeks flushed, though whether from the cold or guilt, you couldn’t tell. “Oh, stop it. George is lovely. You could at least give him a chance.”

“Alex,” you said pointedly, pausing to adjust your scarf, “I’m here for you, Charles, and the snow. Not a setup.”

“Fine, fine.” She waved you off, though her mischievous grin lingered as she dragged you forward.

The chalet came into view, its A-frame design illuminated by strings of fairy lights draped over its sloped roof. Smoke curled from the chimney, and warm golden light spilled from the windows, giving it a postcard-perfect charm. It was gorgeous. You hated that Alexandra had been right about it being magical.

The door flew open before you even reached the steps, Charles Leclerc standing there with his signature grin. His dark hair was slightly tousled, and he wore a red sweater that made him look annoyingly festive.

“Finally!” he called out, spreading his arms as if to gather you both into a hug. “We thought you’d gotten lost in the snow.”

“Blame Y/N,” Alexandra said, releasing your arm to greet him. “She moves like a glacier.”

“Only because you packed half your wardrobe in the car,” you shot back, but Charles laughed, pulling you into a brief, warm hug.

“It’s good to see you, Y/N. Welcome to Friendmas!”

“Thanks,” you said, glancing past him into the chalet. Laughter and voices carried from inside, blending with the crackle of a fireplace.

“Come in, come in,” Charles urged, stepping aside. “Everyone’s excited to see you—Lando is even more energetic than usual.”

“Lovely,” you muttered as Alexandra pushed you through the door.

The interior was just as cozy and picturesque as the exterior promised. Pine garlands hung from the rafters, and a massive Christmas tree stood in one corner, decked out with ornaments and twinkling lights. The scent of fresh pine mingled with hints of cinnamon and something buttery, probably cookies.

A chorus of voices greeted you from the living room. Lando Norris and Oscar Piastri were sprawled across the couches, mid-conversation, while Carlos Sainz lounged nearby, sipping from a mug. Max Verstappen, wearing his signature Red Bull polo, leaned against the back of an armchair, holding what I can only suspect is a glühwein in his hands.

“Y/N!” Lando called out, bounding up from the couch like an overexcited puppy. “Finally! We need reinforcements.”

“For what?” you asked, setting your bag down near the stairs.

“To take down Max and Carlos,” Oscar explained, deadpan. “They’ve been dominating every game we’ve played since we got here.”

“It’s not domination,” Carlos corrected, grinning. “It’s skill.”

Max gave a barely perceptible nod of agreement.

“You mean cheating,” Lando muttered, earning a laugh from Oscar.

“Welcome to the madness,” Alexandra said, nudging you forward. “Get comfortable. There’s a lot, but it’s fun.”

“And I’m sure George will be thrilled to see you,” Charles added, his teasing tone making you bristle.

“Where is he?” Alexandra asked, glancing around.

“In the kitchen,” Carlos said. “Probably perfecting the whipped cream on his cocoa or something.”

“I heard that,” George Russell called out, appearing from the kitchen doorway. He carried two steaming mugs, his sweater perfectly fitted and his hair neatly combed, as always.

“Y/N, how wonderful to see you,” George said warmly, handing one mug to Alexandra.

“You too,” you replied, noting the subtle look Alexandra threw you. You shot her a glare in return.

And then, of course, Franco made his entrance.

He leaned against the fireplace, his green eyes glinting with amusement as he surveyed the scene. His tousled hair and casual stance gave him an air of effortless confidence, which only annoyed you further.

“Y/N,” Franco’s voice broke through the chatter, his tone slow and laced with mockery. “What a surprise. I didn’t think you’d make it. Busy schedule of glaring at people, I’m sure.”

“Franco,” you replied, deadpan, without so much as a glance in his direction.

The others continued their conversations, seemingly oblivious to the exchange, but Franco stepped closer, his smirk growing like he could sense your irritation.

“Still radiating warmth and goodwill, I see,” he quipped, his eyes glinting with amusement.

“Still trying way too hard to be funny,” you shot back, finally turning to face him.

His grin widened. “Oh, come on. I’m hilarious, and you know it. People have been laughing all evening.”

“At you, maybe,” you replied smoothly.

The retort earned the faintest snicker from Lando in the background, but Franco remained unfazed. He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice as if to keep the exchange just between you. “I’ve missed this, you know. You keeping me in check. Someone has to, I suppose.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you replied, your tone cutting. “Keeping you in check would imply you’re worth the effort.”

His smirk grew as he straightened, undeterred. “You’re quick today. Must be all that Christmas cheer getting to you.”

“Must be,” you deadpanned, narrowing your eyes.

For a moment, you stared each other down, his grin still annoyingly present as your pulse quickened in frustration. The way he looked at you, like he knew exactly how to push your buttons, made your skin prickle.

“Anything else, Franco?” you asked, your tone clipped.

“Not yet,” he replied smoothly. “But don’t go too far. I’m sure I’ll think of something.”

With a final smirk, he leaned back against the counter, casually reaching for a glass like the conversation hadn’t just left you fuming. You turned back to the others, but the weight of his gaze lingered, prickling at the edge of your awareness.

…

The dining room buzzed with warmth and chatter, the glow of candles reflecting off plates piled high with roasted chicken, potatoes, and vegetables. Alexandra had gone all out, decorating the table with garlands of pine and gold-rimmed glasses, while Charles played the perfect host, ensuring everyone’s wine was topped off.

You were trying your best to enjoy the evening, but sitting between George and Franco wasn’t making that easy.

George, ever the gentleman, was pleasant enough, keeping the conversation light. He asked about your travels and your work, always attentive and polite, and while you appreciated his effort, the attention made you squirm. Alexandra, of course, wasn’t helping.

“So, Y/N,” Alexandra began, a sly smile tugging at her lips. “Isn’t it nice to have someone else here who knows Monaco as well as you do?”

You resisted the urge to sigh. “Sure, Alex. It’s always nice.”

George, ever gracious, smiled at you. “It’s been a while since I’ve spent a proper holiday there. There’s something special about it in the winter, don’t you think?”

“Absolutely,” you replied, forcing a polite smile of your own. “The harbor looks magical with all the lights.”

Alexandra pounced on your response like a cat with a mouse. “Exactly! George, doesn’t that sound like the perfect setting for a romantic evening?”

“Alex,” you warned, your voice laced with both amusement and irritation.

“What?” she asked innocently, though the twinkle in her eye gave her away. “I’m just saying. You two have so much in common. You could plan a trip back together!”

Your face burned, and you quickly took a sip of your wine to hide your discomfort. “I think George has plenty of plans that don’t involve me tagging along,” you said lightly.

“Actually, I wouldn’t mind,” George said, his smile kind. “I reckon it would be nice to have someone to share the nostalgia with.”

Your smile wavered as you searched for a way to steer the conversation elsewhere, but Alexandra was relentless.

“See? It’s perfect!” she declared. “I mean, what are the chances? It’s practically fate.”

Your grip on your fork tightened. “I think that’s a bit of a stretch, Alex.”

Charles, ever the romantic, sighed wistfully. “Love often comes when you least expect it. Imagine walking along the harbor together, the lights reflecting on the water…”

You groaned, though you couldn’t help but laugh. “Why are we discussing this at the dinner table, guys?”

“Because it’s fun,” Lando chimed in, grinning. “So tell me, do you like horses? I know George adores posh shit like Polo.”

Your laughter faltered, your cheeks flushing as all eyes turned to you. The attention felt suffocating, and you fumbled for a response.

“Lando, that’s enough,” you said, your tone more strained than you intended.

“Oh, come on,” Alexandra added, her smile too wide. “You and George would make such a good match. It’s about time you found someone who—”

Franco coughed loudly, the deliberate sound slicing through the chatter. Everyone turned to him, their laughter and conversation abruptly halting. He leaned back in his chair, his green eyes glinting with mischief as he set his wineglass down with theatrical precision.

“She’s with me, actually,” Franco said casually, his voice ringing with the kind of confidence that demanded attention.

The silence that followed was deafening.

You froze, your fork clattering against your plate as your brain scrambled to make sense of what he’d just said. The warmth of the room seemed to vanish, replaced by a prickling heat crawling up your neck.

“What?” you managed to choke out, your voice barely audible.

Franco didn’t so much as flinch. He shifted slightly in his chair, and before you could react, he reached over, sliding his hand over yours where it rested on the table. His touch was warm, his grip firm but not forceful. You stared at him, wide-eyed, as his smirk widened.

“You heard me,” he said, his tone maddeningly smooth. “I couldn’t keep it a secret any longer.”

Alexandra’s jaw dropped, her wide-eyed gaze darting between the two of you. “You’re joking,” she said flatly.

“Not at all,” Franco replied, looking entirely unbothered. His fingers drummed lightly against the back of your hand, a silent challenge. “Isn’t that right, sugarplum?”

The word hung in the air like a ticking bomb. Your pulse thundered in your ears as every pair of eyes at the table turned to you.

Your throat felt dry, and your voice cracked when you finally managed to speak. “Uh, yeah. Sure.”

Oscar was the first to break. His laughter erupted like a tidal wave, loud and uncontrollable, as he nearly fell back in his chair. He clutched his stomach, tears streaming down his cheeks. “This… is… the best thing… I’ve ever heard!” he wheezed, struggling to catch his breath.

Lando wasn’t far behind, his wide grin splitting into a delighted laugh. “No way. You two?!”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” George said, his tone laced with disbelief.

Charles, however, looked positively enchanted. He leaned forward, his hands clasped together like a starstruck poet. “Love and hate are two sides of the same coin,” he declared, his eyes practically sparkling.

Carlos chuckled, shaking his head. “Well, this is a twist.”

Max leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms with a skeptical look. “Ridiculous,” he muttered under his breath, though the faint twitch of his lips betrayed his amusement.

Alexandra, however, wasn’t so easily convinced. She narrowed her eyes at you, her brows knitting together in confusion. “But… when? How? You’ve barely even mentioned Franco to me.”

“It has been a whirlwind,” Franco interjected smoothly, shooting you a sidelong glance. “Right, my little lovebug?”

You glared at him, your jaw clenched as you fought the urge to strangle him on the spot. “Uh, yeah. Something like that,” you said through gritted teeth.

“Fascinating,” Alexandra said, still clearly unconvinced.

“Tell us everything!” Lando demanded, leaning forward like a gossip-hungry child. “When did this start? Was it one of those dramatic, enemies-to-lovers things? Did you secretly kiss during a race weekend?”

“Lando,” you snapped, your voice sharper than you intended.

He leaned back, unbothered, and waved you off. “Fine, fine. Keep your secrets.”

“You’re full of surprises, Y/N,” George said, his expression hovering somewhere between confusion and polite disappointment.

“Trust me, George,” you muttered, unable to meet his eyes. “I was just as surprised as you are.”

The teasing and laughter continued, the group trading increasingly wild theories about your so-called relationship. Meanwhile, Franco seemed to bask in the chaos he’d created, his smirk never wavering as he leaned back in his chair, clearly enjoying himself.

Under the table, his knee brushed yours, and you shot him a death glare. “What the hell are you doing?” you hissed under your breath.

“Saving you,” he replied quietly, his tone annoyingly casual.

“By making my life worse?”

He leaned closer, his voice low enough that only you could hear. “Oh, come on. You’d rather sit through more matchmaking from Alexandra?”

You couldn’t argue with that, but it didn’t make you any less furious.

As the group began to move on, shifting the conversation back to other topics, you slumped slightly in your chair, exhausted from the ordeal.

This was going to be a very, very long weekend.

…

The morning sun streamed into the chalet’s large windows, gilding the room in gold. You stirred your coffee slowly, staring out at the snow-covered peaks in the distance. Peace and quiet were rare in a house full of such chaotic personalities, but you’d stolen this moment for yourself.

Or so you thought.

“Morning, sugarplum.”

The sound of Franco’s voice made you visibly tense. You didn’t need to look to know he was leaning against the doorframe, his green eyes sparkling with mischief.

“You’re really committed to that name, aren’t you?” you asked flatly, turning just enough to shoot him a withering look.

“Would you prefer ‘honeybun’?” he replied smoothly, pouring himself a cup of coffee. “Or maybe ‘snugglebear’? I’m flexible.”

“How about you don’t call me anything?”

“Not very girlfriend-like of you, sweetheart,” he teased, taking a sip of his coffee and leaning casually against the counter. “People might start to doubt us.”

You exhaled sharply through your nose, already feeling your patience wearing thin. “If anyone doubts us, it’s because you’re about as subtle as a flashing neon sign.”

Franco grinned. “What can I say? I’m commited.”

Before you could retort, Lando appeared, sliding into the kitchen with his usual chaotic energy. “What’s this?” he asked, his grin widening as his eyes flicked between you and Franco. “Secret lovebird meeting?”

“We’re not—” you began, but Franco cut you off, slinging an arm around your shoulders with infuriating ease.

“Just waking up my muffin,” he said smoothly.

“Muffin?” Lando repeated, his eyebrows shooting up.

“She’s sweet like one,” Franco explained, giving you a squeeze that you immediately wriggled out of.

Lando barked out a laugh, grabbing an apple from the counter. “You two are ridiculous,” he said, shaking his head as he left the kitchen.

As soon as he was gone, you turned to Franco with a scowl. “What the hell have you gotten me into.”

“Relax, cupcake,” he said, smirking. “Although I am loving seeing you worked up like this.”

You crossed your arms tightly, your glare unwavering. “You could’ve warned me before throwing me into this mess.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” he quipped, his voice maddeningly light. “You’re quick on your feet; I figured you’d keep up.”

Your frustration bubbled over, and you took a step closer, pointing at him. “This is not fun, Franco. This is me playing along so you don’t make it worse.”

“Relax, cupcake,” he said, smirking again. “You’ll get used to it. And honestly? You’re kind of good at it.”

You threw your hands up, exasperated. “Stop calling me that! This isn’t a game.”

His grin only widened, but there was a flicker of something softer in his gaze as he said, “It’s not a game, but it is very entertaining. Trust me, you’ll survive.”

Your jaw tightened, and you turned away, trying to steady yourself. “If you call me ‘cupcake’ one more time, I swear—”

“Duly noted,” he interrupted, his voice filled with amusement.

You huffed, grabbing the spoon and stirring your coffee again, trying to focus on anything but the smug grin you could still feel behind you.

...

Later that afternoon, you found yourself elbow-deep in a bowl of icing, surrounded by flour-dusted countertops and trays of freshly baked cookies. The group had decided on a cookie-decorating contest, and Alexandra had enlisted everyone with the enthusiasm of a drill sergeant.

“You’re going down,” Lando declared, grabbing a piping bag.

“Not likely,” Max replied, his expression as stoic as ever, though his hands worked with surprising precision.

You were concentrating on spreading icing over a snowman-shaped cookie when Franco appeared at your side.

“Need help, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice dripping with false sincerity.

“No,” you replied sharply, but he was already grabbing a piping bag and leaning into your space.

“You missed a spot,” he said, his grin widening as he leaned even closer.

Before you could react, he dipped a finger into a bowl of icing and held it up to your mouth.

“Say ahh,” he teased, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Franco,” you hissed, your cheeks burning as the others turned to watch.

“Come on, sugarplum,” he said. “You’ve got to taste test your work.”

Gritting your teeth, you opened your mouth just enough to swipe the icing off his finger with a quick flick of your tongue. The room erupted into a mix of laughter and groans.

“That’s disgusting,” Lando said, though he was clearly enjoying the chaos.

“Get a room,” Max muttered, though his lips twitched in the faintest hint of a smile.

You glared at Franco, but his smirk only grew. Grabbing the nearest piping bag, you squeezed a glob of icing onto your fingers and smeared it across his cheek.

“There,” you said sweetly. “You missed a spot.”

The table roared with laughter, and Franco’s grin never faltered as he wiped the icing off with a napkin. “You’re feisty today, snugglebear.”

“Stop calling me that,” you snapped, though there was a faint twinkle of amusement in your eyes.

Alexandra, who was trying to keep the peace, clapped her hands together. “No arguing please. This is supposed to be festive!”

“Don’t worry,” Franco said, his voice smooth as ever. “We’re perfectly fine. Right, sweetheart?”

You didn’t dignify him with a response, instead turning your attention back to your cookies.

“Don’t be shy, sugarplum,” Franco added, leaning closer. “Tell them how much you love me.”

“I hate you,” you muttered under your breath.

“Love you too, honeybear.”

…

By the time the chaos of the afternoon subsided, you were desperate for solitude. The chalet’s constant buzz of laughter and chatter had become too much, so you slipped away, finding refuge in the small, cozy study near the back of the house.

The fire crackled softly in the corner, casting a warm glow over the room. You curled up in one of the oversized armchairs, a cup of hot chocolate warming your hands as you tried to collect your thoughts.

The peace didn’t last long.

The door creaked open, and you didn’t need to look to know who it was.

“Found you, sugarplum,” Franco’s infuriatingly smug voice broke the silence.

You groaned, not turning around. “Go away, Franco.”

“And miss this little brooding session? Not a chance,” he said, closing the door behind him.

You heard his footsteps cross the room, and within moments, he was perched on the armrest of your chair, his presence looming far too close for comfort.

“What do you want?” you snapped, finally looking up at him.

“To check on my darling girlfriend,” he replied smoothly, his green eyes glinting with mischief. “You seemed a little… tense earlier.”

“I wonder why,” you said dryly, taking a sip of your cocoa.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he said, feigning thoughtfulness. “Is it because your sister is practically shoving you at George every five seconds? Good thing I swooped in to save you.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “You didn’t save me. You made it worse.”

“Worse?” he repeated, mock-offended. “I saved you from months of awkward George politeness and Alexandra’s relentless matchmaking. You should be thanking me.”

“Thanking you?” you repeated, incredulous. “For turning my life into a circus?”

Franco smirked, leaning closer. “You’ve got to admit, it’s entertaining.”

You glared at him. “For who? You?”

“For everyone,” he said, laughing softly. “But mostly me.”

Your grip tightened on your mug, your patience hanging by a thread. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And yet, here I am,” he said, grinning. “Your knight in shining armor.”

You snorted. “More like the villain in a rom-com.”

“Rom-com?” he mused. “I like that. Does that make you the quirky lead who doesn’t realize she’s in love with me until the final act?”

“I hate you,” you muttered, though the corners of your mouth betrayed you with the faintest twitch.

“No, you don’t,” he said lightly, leaning back as if he had all the time in the world.

The fire popped loudly, filling the silence that followed. For a brief moment, his teasing smirk softened, his green eyes flickering with something unreadable.

You shifted uncomfortably, suddenly feeling too exposed. “Why are you really here, Franco?”

He tilted his head, his smirk returning, but a subtle hint of sincerity was now present in his voice. “Just checking in. Making sure my favorite sugarplum isn’t plotting my demise.”

“I’m always plotting your demise,” you said flatly.

“Good to know,” he said, standing but lingering by your side. For once, his smirk faded, replaced by something softer. “But seriously… take it easy, okay?” He paused, his voice dropping slightly. “I’ll make sure tomorrow isn’t so bad.”

He was halfway to the door when it swung open again, revealing Lando, grinning like he’d just stumbled upon a jackpot.

“What’s this? Private lovebird time?” he asked, stepping into the room without waiting for an invitation.

“Oh, absolutely,” Franco said, his grin widening. “She couldn’t keep away.”

You groaned, setting your cocoa down. “Lando, please.”

He ignored you, leaning casually against the doorframe. “So, Franco, what’s tomorrow’s nickname? Angelcake? Lovebug?”

“Love nugget,” Franco replied instantly, his smirk smug as ever.

Lando cackled, nearly doubling over. “Love nugget! Oh, this just keeps getting better.”

You buried your face in your hands with a groan. “You’re all insufferable.”

“No, no,” Franco corrected, his grin widening. “I’m the insufferable one. They’re just my audience.”

“Exactly,” Lando chimed in, still laughing. “We’re just here for the show.”

Franco clapped him on the shoulder as he left the room. “Come on. Let’s leave my little honey bunny to her brooding.”

You threw a pillow at them as they walked out, but your aim was off, and their laughter echoed down the hall.

…

The living room buzzed with laughter and chatter, the fire crackling warmly in the hearth as snow fell softly outside. Lando stood at the center of the room, waving a bowl filled with folded slips of paper.

“All right, people!” he declared, his grin as wide as ever. “Time for charades! Teams have been pre-assigned by yours truly, so no arguing.”

“Lando, what did you do?” Carlos asked, narrowing his eyes.

“Created the perfect teams, duh,” Lando replied smugly. “Here we go. Team one: Alex and Charles. Team two: George and Oscar. Team three: Max and Carlos. And finally… Franco and Y/N!”

You groaned audibly, shooting Lando a glare. “Seriously?”

He smirked. “You’re welcome.”

Franco leaned closer, his green eyes sparkling with amusement. “Look at that, sugarplum. Fate wants us to win.”

“How wonderful,” you muttered under your breath.

“Okay, everyone knows the rules,” Lando continued, ignoring the tension between you and Franco. “No talking, sound effects are allowed, but only one person on the team acts at a time. And remember, you’ve got thirty seconds per round. Got it?”

Everyone nodded, settling into their seats as Lando pulled the first slip from the bowl.

The first few rounds were as chaotic as expected. Alex’s exaggerated gestures left Charles laughing too hard to guess, and George and Oscar worked surprisingly well together, securing a few easy points. Max and Carlos turned every clue into a competitive showdown, each accusing the other of overcomplicating things.

By the time it was your team’s turn, the energy in the room was electric, and the scoreboard showed a tight race between George and Oscar’s team and Max and Carlos’s.

“Franco, you’re up!” Lando announced, handing him a slip of paper.

Franco unfolded it, his smirk growing as he read the word. Without a word, he turned to you and held out his hand.

“Come here,” he said simply.

You narrowed your eyes, immediately suspicious. “Why?”

“Just trust me,” he replied, his tone smooth as ever.

Reluctantly, you stepped forward, and he wasted no time pulling you into the center of the room.

“Franco, what are you doing?” you hissed, but he ignored you.

The room fell silent as everyone watched him intently. Without warning, he placed one hand firmly on your back and clasped your other hand in his.

“Wait—”

Before you could protest, he spun you out dramatically, then pulled you back in, his movements fluid and precise.

“Is this—”

“Shh,” he whispered.

Your heart stumbled in your chest as he led you through an impromptu tango, his grip firm but surprisingly gentle, his hand steady on your back as his green eyes locked with yours.

The room erupted in cheers and laughter, but all you could hear was the sound of your own heartbeat, loud and insistent in your ears.

You barely had time to register what was happening before he spun you out dramatically, then pulled you back in for a final dip.

“Guess the word, sugarplum,” Franco whispered, his voice low and teasing.

Your brain refused to cooperate. You opened your mouth, but no words came out as your heart pounded in your chest as you stared up at him, completely flustered..

“Uh…”

“Time’s up!” Lando shouted, his laughter ringing above the chaos. “The word was ‘tango!’”

“Oh, come on,” Franco groaned, straightening up and releasing you. “She had one job.”

“I—” You struggled to form a coherent sentence, still reeling from the unexpected intensity of the moment.

“She was too flustered,” Oscar said with a grin. “Can’t blame her for that.”

“You call that acting out?” Max asked, raising an eyebrow. “That was more like showing off.”

“Showing off or not,” Charles interjected, his eyes alight with romantic fervor, “it was beautiful. Truly.”

Carlos clapped Franco on the back. “Points for commitment.”

Lando was practically in tears, clutching his stomach as he laughed. “Please, we should do Friendmas more often! You guys are killing me.”

You crossed your arms, glaring at Franco. “Was that really necessary?”

“I wasn’t trying to win,” Franco said casually, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. “Just wanted to make it memorable.”

The laughter and teasing in the living room still rang in your ears as you slipped away into the quiet of the kitchen. The glow of the firelight from the other room faded behind you, replaced by the soft hum of the under-cabinet lights. Snow fell steadily outside the large window, each flake illuminated by the warm outdoor lanterns.

Leaning against the counter, you cradled a glass of water in your hands. The coolness seeped through your fingers, grounding you, though it did little to steady the erratic beat of your heart. The tango performance replayed in your mind—Franco’s confident hold, the sharp dip, and the way his gaze lingered on yours a moment too long.

“Y/N?”

The familiar voice made you turn, startled. George stood in the doorway, his posture upright, his expression thoughtful but tinged with hesitation.

“George,” you said, offering a small smile. “Everything all right?”

He stepped inside, his shoes tapping softly against the polished wood floor. “I was about to ask you the same. You seemed, well, rather unsettled during charades. I wanted to make sure you’re… alright.”

You laughed softly, trying to deflect. “Just overwhelmed, I guess. All the attention gets a bit much sometimes.”

George raised a brow, clearly unconvinced. He moved a little closer, his hands sliding into the pockets of his trousers with an air of casual elegance. “May I speak frankly?”

“Of course,” you replied, though a sinking feeling began to settle in your chest.

He hesitated for a moment, his gaze fixed on you, his words carefully measured. “Are you and Franco actually serious?”

The question hit harder than you expected.

George continued, his voice soft but deliberate. “It’s just… unexpected. I didn’t think he was, er, your sort of man. But if he makes you happy, that’s what matters. I merely—” He paused, his eyes searching yours. “I’d hate to think you’re settling for anything less than what you deserve.”

Your throat tightened. The sincerity in his tone was disarming, and the lie you’d been weaving all weekend felt heavier than ever.

“I—” You faltered, words failing you.

The door swung open, cutting through the tension like a knife.

Franco stepped inside, his presence filling the room instantly. His gaze flicked between you and George, his green eyes sharp but unreadable. His usual smirk was tempered, his expression calm but watchful.

“Hi there,” Franco said, his voice light but laced with a quiet edge. “Am I interrupting something?”

George turned slightly, his shoulders still relaxed but his tone more clipped. “Not at all. Y/N and I were just having a chat.”

Franco’s eyes lingered on you, and without a word, he stepped closer, his hand sliding to rest gently on your waist. The touch was subtle but deliberate, his fingers warm against the fabric of your sweater.

“Well, don’t let me stop you,” Franco said, his smirk returning faintly. “But don’t keep her too long. I might start missing her.”

George’s brow twitched, his eyes flicking briefly to Franco’s hand before returning to yours. “Right,” he said after a moment, his voice still measured. “Well, I’ll leave you to it, then.” He hesitated, his gaze softening as it lingered on you. “Do let me know if you need anything, Y/N.”

“Thank you, George,” you said, your voice quieter than you intended.

He nodded once before stepping out, the door closing softly behind him.

The room fell silent, save for the faint crackle of the fire in the distance. Franco didn’t move, his hand still resting firmly on your waist.

“You okay?” he asked finally, his voice quieter than you expected.

You nodded quickly. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

His lips twitched, a faint smirk threatening to appear, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Really?”

“Yes, really,” you replied, though the slight shake in your voice betrayed you.

He tilted his head, his gaze fixed on yours. “Because you disappeared pretty quickly after the game.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but he continued before you could.

“I came to check on you,” he said, his tone casual but deliberate. “Can’t say I’m surprised though that George went to find you first.”

Your brow furrowed. “What does that mean?”

Franco shifted slightly, his thumb brushing subtly against your waist in a way that sent an unexpected jolt through you. “He clearly wanted to test the water,” he said, his voice low, almost conversational. “Cornering you in here like that. Asking questions he knows might throw you off.”

“Sure, sweet George had sneaky intentions,” you said, though a soft laugh escaped you.

“For sure,” Franco insisted, the faintest flicker of irritation crossing his features. “He’s too polite to make it obvious, but trust me, he knows what he’s doing.”

You couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “You’re exaggerating.”

“I’m not,” Franco replied, the smirk returning. His thumb moved again, a slow, absent stroke against your side as he spoke. “He’s clever enough to know when to push without it looking like he’s pushing.”

“And you think that’s what he was doing?”

“Even is he wasn't,” Franco said, meeting your gaze squarely. For a moment, his usual bravado was replaced by something more sincere, more grounded. “I just wanted to make sure he knows you’re mine.”

Your breath caught, the words hanging in the air between you like a delicate thread.

He must have noticed the way your expression shifted because he chuckled softly, his smirk softening. “You know, for now. Until this whole thing is over and you can go back to being everyone’s favorite single lady.”

You rolled your eyes, though your heart was pounding. “Oh, how noble of you.”

“Very noble,” he said, his tone teasing again. “It’s hard work being such a convincing fake boyfriend.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You’re impossible.”

“Impossible?” he repeated, his smirk deepening. “Or exactly what you need?”

The moment stretched, his hand still resting on your waist, his touch grounding and unnervingly warm. For a split second, it felt like the world outside the kitchen had disappeared, leaving only the two of you in this small, quiet space.

“You know,” you said quietly, barely meeting his gaze, “Alexandra’s matchmaking ideas don’t exactly… line up with what I want. So you don’t have to worry about that.”

Franco’s brow lifted slightly, but the faintest smirk tugged at his lips. “Good to know.”

He cleared his throat, stepping back just enough to give you some space but not enough to completely break the connection. “Come on, sugarplum. We should get back before Lando starts a search party.”

“Right,” you said, your voice quieter than you intended.

He gestured for you to lead the way, his hand lingering just long enough to make your skin tingle before he finally let it fall.

As you stepped back into the chaos of the living room, you couldn’t help but glance at him out of the corner of your eye. The smirk was back, his confident demeanor firmly in place, but something about the way he’d spoken lingered in your mind.

…

The lake glistened under the pale winter sun, the ice reflecting the snowy peaks surrounding it. The group was a riot of scarves, gloves, and thick jackets, their breath visible in the crisp, cold air.

“Right, bets are open!” Lando declared, pulling his gloves tighter. “Charles versus Carlos: who’s wiping out first?”

“Carlos,” Max said flatly, tightening his own skates.

“I’m offended,” Carlos shot back, puffing his chest dramatically.

“I’ll take that action,” Oscar quipped, producing a crumpled bill from his pocket.

Meanwhile, Franco stood next to you, his hands tucked casually in his coat pockets as he watched the scene unfold with a grin. “Think you’ll make it through without falling, pudding pie?”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Think you can go a full hour without making a comment like that?”

“Nope,” he replied, his grin widening.

Charles and Carlos were already on the ice, their playful bickering carrying across the frozen expanse as they started an impromptu race. Charles was fast but clumsy, slipping every few strides, while Carlos cackled loudly, skating circles around him.

Lando and Max, true to form, took their positions at the sidelines to heckle and place more bets.

You laced your skates carefully, trying to ignore the fact that Franco’s gaze was on you the entire time.

“Ready?” he asked as you stood, wobbling slightly.

“Don’t laugh,” you warned.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he replied, though the smirk playing at the corners of his lips said otherwise.

The ice stretched out before you, gleaming under the pale winter sun like a vast, treacherous mirror. Each step felt like a gamble, your skates threatening to slip out from under you at any moment. Franco skated backward effortlessly in front of you, his movements smooth and confident, as if he’d been born to glide.

“You look like a baby deer,” he teased, his green eyes alight with amusement.

You shot him a glare, your arms flailing slightly as you tried to regain your balance. “Thanks for the support.”

“Relax,” he said, skating closer. His hands reached out instinctively, steadying you with a touch that was firmer than necessary but far from unwelcome. “You’re doing fine.”

“I don’t need your help,” you muttered, though you made no move to pull your hand away as he laced his fingers with yours.

He smirked, his thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles in a way that sent a small jolt of warmth through you. “Sure you don’t.”

Behind you, Lando’s voice rang out, cutting through the stillness of the lake.

“Max is going down! I can feel it!”

Max, ever unbothered, glided past with surprising ease. “You’re the one who’s going down, Lando,” he retorted without looking back.

Franco chuckled softly, his gaze flicking briefly toward the chaos around you before returning to your face. “You’re lucky I’m not like them.”

“What, loud and extremely present?” you quipped, your lips twitching in the beginnings of a smile.

“Exactly,” he replied, his grin widening.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the way your shoulders relaxed slightly under his steadying touch.

Taking a deep breath, you let go of his hand, feeling a surge of confidence as you took a tentative step on your own.

The sudden scrape of blades against ice drew your attention to George as he skated up beside you, his posture impossibly straight, his movements smooth and deliberate.

“Need a hand?” he asked, his tone warm and polite, as always.

You glanced at him, your heart sinking slightly at the hopeful look in his blue eyes. His hand hovered just in front of yours, an offer you knew he thought you might take.

“That’s sweet of you, George,” you said gently, forcing a small smile. “But I think Franco’s got it.”

His hand lowered slightly, and his expression shifted, though he recovered quickly.

Before the silence could stretch too far, you turned back to Franco, raising your free hand toward him. “Hold my hand again?”

Franco raised a brow, clearly surprised by the request, but he didn’t hesitate. His hand slid easily into yours, his grip firm and steady as he pulled you closer. “Anything for you, sugarplum.”

The words, playful as they were, carried a softness that hadn’t been there before, and for a moment, you forgot about the chill in the air.

George hesitated briefly, his gaze flicking between you and Franco, before nodding once. “All right then,” he said, his tone polite but slightly clipped. “I’ll let you two be.”

He skated ahead with a precision that seemed a little too deliberate, his back straight and his strides measured.

Franco watched him go, his lips twitching in the beginnings of a smirk. “Smooth,” he murmured, turning his attention back to you.

“Don’t start,” you said quickly, though the warmth of his hand made it impossible to sound annoyed.

He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping just enough for only you to hear. “You could’ve let him help, you know.”

“I didn’t want his help,” you replied, your gaze fixed on the ice in front of you.

“No?” Franco’s smirk deepened, his thumb brushing over your knuckles again in a motion so casual it felt intentional. “Guess I’m doing something right then.”

You didn’t respond, though your cheeks burned under his gaze. Instead, you focused on moving forward, your steps growing more confident with his hand in yours.

Around you, the chaos of the group continued unabated—Carlos yelling at Charles for cutting him off during their makeshift race, Lando shrieking as Max lunged at him with outstretched arms, and Oscar laughing so hard he nearly fell over.

But for a brief moment, it all faded into the background, leaving only the sound of your blades against the ice and the warmth of Franco’s hand in yours.

…

The chalet buzzed with noise and laughter as we stumbled back inside from the frozen lake. The warmth from the roaring fire hit me like a wave, thawing my frozen fingers and toes. Everyone was shedding layers—scarves, coats, gloves—creating a chaotic pile near the doorway.

“I had him!” Charles was practically shouting, his voice thick with indignation as he gestured wildly at Carlos. “He tripped me on purpose!”

Carlos, leaning casually against the back of a chair, raised a brow and smirked. “I didn’t trip you, mate. You tripped yourself.”

“Oh, sure,” Charles shot back, throwing his gloves down dramatically. “You just happened to be in my way.”

“Can someone trip him again? I need a replay,” Lando quipped, flopping onto the armrest of the couch with all the grace of a cat falling off a ledge.

“You’re all terrible,” Charles muttered, though the corners of his mouth betrayed his amusement.

“You know what’s really terrible?” Max cut in, pointing a finger at Lando. “Lando’s skating. I’ve seen toddlers with more grace.”

“Excuse me!” Lando sat up, mock-offended. “Who got you to fall, hmm? Oh, right—it was me. Call it strategy.”

“It was chaos,” Oscar said, sipping his tea as he perched on the edge of the couch. “Pure chaos.”

“Chaos,” Alexandra chimed in, walking past me as she unwound her scarf, “is you all trying to one-up each other like you’re in some kind of Winter Olympics tryout.”

“Alexandra, be honest,” Carlos said, leaning toward her. “Who was better—me or Charles?”

She pretended to consider it for a moment before shrugging. “Neither. You were both disasters in your own way.”

I snorted, pulling off my gloves and tucking them into my coat pocket. “She’s not wrong.”

Max turned his gaze to me, smirking. “Speaking of disasters, I saw you almost fall twice.”

“Almost being the key word,” I shot back, narrowing my eyes at him.

“You only survived because of him,” Max said, jerking his chin toward Franco, who was currently leaning against the fireplace like he had all the time in the world.

“Is that true?” Alexandra asked, her eyes flicking between Franco and me.

“Absolutely,” Franco said, his grin lazy as he met my gaze. “Graceful as ever, aren’t you, sugarplum?”

The group burst into laughter, and I felt my cheeks heat. I rolled my eyes, grabbing the hem of my sweater and pretending to brush off invisible dust. “I’m going to make hot chocolate. At least that won’t involve falling on my face.”

The kitchen was warm and quiet, a perfect escape from the chaos of the living room. I stirred the bubbling cocoa on the stove, letting the rhythmic motion calm me as the faint hum of voices filtered through the walls.

The door creaked open, and I glanced over my shoulder to see Franco stepping inside. His hair was still tousled from the cold, and his green eyes sparkled with a mix of amusement and something softer.

“Couldn’t resist joining me, huh?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, someone had to check on the quality control of this hot chocolate,” he quipped, leaning casually against the counter.

I snorted, turning back to the pot. “As if you’re qualified to judge.”

He grinned, pushing off the counter and taking a step closer. “Bold words for someone who didn’t even add marshmallows.”

“They’re coming,” I shot back.

“Sure they are,” he said, his voice teasing but light.

For a moment, neither of us spoke. I focused on the cocoa, feeling his eyes on me. When I glanced at him again, he was fidgeting slightly, his hands shifting in his pockets.

“What’s up?” I asked, my brow furrowing.

He hesitated before pulling a small, slightly crumpled package from his pocket. “I wanted to give you something,” he said, his voice quieter now.

That caught me off guard. “You? Giving me something?”

“Yeah,” he said, pulling out a small package wrapped in slightly crumpled paper. He set it on the counter between us, his movements slower than usual.

“You’re serious?” I asked, eyeing the little package, still in shock.

“It’s nothing big,” he said grinning shyly. “I just… wanted to give you this before the whole Secret Santa circus starts later.”

I stared at the package, my curiosity piqued. “You’re not my Secret Santa.”

“Nope,” he said, popping the “p” as he placed the package on the counter between us. “I’m just really bad at following the rules.”

I looked at the package, then back at him. “Is this going to explode?”

“No, it’s not going to explode,” he said, his grin softening into something almost sheepish. “Just open it.”

I stared at the package for a moment before taking it, the weight of his gaze making my chest tighten. Carefully, I peeled back the wrapping, revealing a delicate gold bracelet with a tiny heart-shaped charm.

I turned it over, my breath catching when I saw the engraving on the back: Sugarplum.

“Franco…” I trailed off, brushing my thumb over the charm.

“It’s just a silly thing, got it in town this morning,” he said quickly, his words tumbling over each other. “For when this weekend’s over and you’ll start missing my nicknames. Or, you know, to apologize for dragging you into this whole fake-dating mess in the first place.”

“I don’t mind as much as I thought I would,” I said softly, my voice barely above a whisper.

He glanced at me, his green eyes flickering with something I couldn’t quite place. “Still. I thought it might be nice to have… a funny memory. Or whatever.”

I slipped the bracelet onto my wrist, the charm resting lightly against my skin. It fit perfectly, as though it had always belonged there.

The bracelet’s charm glinted softly in the light as it settled against my wrist, the chain fitting perfectly. I turned it over once more, running my thumb across the tiny engraving.

“You really didn’t have to do this,” I said, glancing up at him.

Franco shrugged, leaning back slightly against the counter. “I know. But… I wanted to. It felt right.”

I raised an eyebrow, a small smile tugging at my lips. “Right?”

“Okay, maybe ‘right’ is overselling it,” he admitted, his grin faint and a little sheepish. “But I figured, if we’re doing this whole fake-dating thing, we might as well have something to laugh about later. You know, when we’re telling everyone how much we hated it.”

His words were light, but something about the way he said them made my chest tighten. “I don’t really hate it,” I said quietly.

He blinked, his grin faltering. “No?”

I shook my head, the bracelet shifting slightly as I let my arms fall to my sides. “It’s been… weird. Definitely not what I expected, but not all bad.”

“Not all bad,” he repeated, his tone teasing but softer.

“Yeah,” I said, shrugging a little. “I guess I’ve gotten… used to you.”

He tilted his head, his green eyes narrowing slightly. “Used to me? Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

“Take it however you want,” I said, fighting back a smile.

“Noted,” he said, his lips curving into something closer to his usual smirk. “I’ll put it right up there with, ‘Franco, you’re annoying, but tolerable.’”

I laughed softly, shaking my head. “Don’t push it.”

He chuckled, the sound low and warm. “You know,” he said after a moment, his voice dropping slightly, “it hasn’t been all bad for me either. I mean, you’ve got your moments.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Moments?”

“Yeah,” he said, his grin softening. “Like when you aren’t rolling your eyes at me or threatening to throw something. Those are nice.”

I rolled my eyes instinctively, but the warmth in his gaze made my stomach flip. “Oh shut up,” I muttered, though there was no real heat in my voice.

For a moment, neither of us spoke. The air between us shifted, growing heavier, and I felt the distance between us shrink even though neither of us moved.

“You’re going to keep calling me Sugarplum, aren’t you?” I asked finally, breaking the silence.

“Oh, absolutely,” he said, his grin returning. “You’re stuck with it now.”

The room felt smaller suddenly, the warmth from the stove and the weight of his gaze wrapping around me like a blanket. My heart pounded as the silence stretched, the unspoken words hanging between us growing louder with every passing second.

“Franco,” I began, not even sure what I was going to say.

His eyes searched mine, his lips parting slightly, as though he wanted to say something but didn’t know how.

Without thinking, I leaned forward and kissed him.

The movement startled him at first—his breath hitched, his hands hovering awkwardly—but then he responded, his touch finding my waist as he pulled me closer. His lips were warm and soft, hesitant at first, as though he wasn’t entirely sure he was allowed to kiss me back.

When my hand slid up to the back of his neck, threading through his hair, the kiss deepened. His grip on my waist tightened, his other hand brushing lightly against my arm before settling on my lower back. The air between us seemed to crackle, the faint scent of cocoa mingling with the heat of his touch.

He kissed me like he was trying to memorize it, his lips moving slowly but deliberately, as though he didn’t want to rush.

When I finally pulled back, my forehead barely brushed against his, our breaths mingling in the warm air of the kitchen. My cheeks burned, and my pulse hammered in my ears, but I couldn’t bring myself to step away just yet.

Franco’s green eyes searched mine, his usual confidence replaced by something quieter, softer. His lips parted slightly like he wanted to say something, but the words didn’t come right away.

“I didn’t think you’d do that,” he finally murmured, his voice low and uncertain.

“Good surprise or bad surprise?” I asked, my tone light despite the way my chest tightened.

“Good,” he said without hesitation, his lips curving into a faint smile. “Really good.”

His hands were still resting lightly on my waist, his thumbs brushing against the fabric of my sweater. The warmth of his touch was bringing my head back to earth, making the moment feel more real than anything that had come before it.

I wasn’t sure who moved first, but before I knew it, I was leaning back in, capturing his lips in another kiss. This one was slower, more deliberate, the kind of kiss that felt like an unspoken promise. His hand slid up to cradle my face, his thumb brushing softly against my cheek as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss.

The sound of the door creaking open made us jump apart, and I turned sharply to see Lando standing frozen in the doorway, his mouth hanging open.

For a moment, none of us spoke. Then, Lando blinked, his gaze darting between us as his brain seemed to catch up with what he’d just walked in on.

“Oh my god,” he blurted out, his voice a mix of shock and triumph. “You’re actually for real..”

“Lando—” Franco started, his voice low and exasperated.

“No, no, wait. This is—wow. I mean, Oscar’s gonna lose his mind. And ten euros.” Lando grinned, his excitement building.

I groaned, burying my face in my hands. “Lando, can you please just—”

“Leave you to it?” he interrupted, smirking as he leaned casually against the doorframe. “Sure, I can do that.”

The sound of his retreating footsteps was immediately followed by his voice erupting from the living room. “OSCAR! MAX! THEY’RE ACTUALLY TOGETHER! PAY UP!”

Franco let out a long sigh, dragging a hand through his hair. “I’m going to kill him.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, the sound bubbling up unexpectedly.

I glanced down at the bracelet on my wrist, the charm catching the light. The warmth spreading through me was impossible to ignore, a quiet certainty settling in my chest.

“Still worth it?” I asked, my tone teasing but soft.

His eyes flicked to the bracelet and then back to me, and the smile that followed was warmer, more genuine.

“Yeah,” he said simply. “Definitely.”

#f1 x reader #fc43 x reader #franco colapinto #franco colapinto x reader #franco colapinto imagine #franco colapinto fanfic #f1 fanfic #formula one #Franco Colapinto oneshot #Franco Colapinto x you #formula one x reader

777 notes · View notes

arieslost · 10 months ago

Text

loudest in the paddock | cl16

summary: you’re charlie’s biggest fan.

word count: 1,013

warnings: suggestive comments at the end, possible bad writing (apologies in advance if this ends up being true)

masterlist — join my tag list here!

being charles leclerc’s girlfriend is a badge of honor that you wear with pride, and you love to make it known to everyone, whether there’s a camera on you or not.

the fans have a field day with all of your reactions that get captured on camera during race weekends, to the point where charles has a folder on his phone that is home to a number of memes that they’ve made of you. you just get easily excited, and clips of you yelling about something, whether good or bad, have gone viral on many separate occasions.

things are a little different this race. since the moment max’s brakes caught fire and then exploded as he was coming into the pit lane, you’ve been laser focused on the fact that your boyfriend’s teammate is in the lead, with your boyfriend himself only a couple seconds behind in p2. the only time your eyes weren’t glued to the tv was when you noticed someone standing in front of you to block the camera’s view of your celebratory dance when it was official that max had DNFed.

you’re practically biting your nails off as the laps go by, praying harder than you ever have before that this race ends well for ferrari. you hadn’t been able to attend the last race, so the possibility of witnessing charles on the podium in the flesh had you shaking in your boots. especially after how rough last season was.

and then george crashes on the last lap.

“what?!” you exclaim, flying out of your chair and covering your mouth with both hands.

the tv switches to a different camera that shows his car on its side in the middle of the track, and you can feel your heart in your throat as you wait for what looks like an obvious red flag. you can hear someone say your name, and out of the corner of your eye you can see your own face on another tv. usually you smile, wave, or make a funny face at the camera when you catch it filming you, but right now you’re too worried about the fact that only a yellow flag has been called along with a virtual safety car. your hands go from your mouth to your head as it’s confirmed that the race will finish under the virtual safety car, meaning a guaranteed ferrari 1-2 and charles on the podium.

you waste no time in throwing your headset down and cheering, getting wrapped up in hugs by the team as they pass you by to head to the side of the track and cheer carlos and charles across the finish line. while they do so, you rush out of the garage to find your way to the podium in order to get the best spot to see both ferrari drivers up there and hear the dulcet tones of a different anthem than that of the dutch one.

the wait goes by quicker than you thought, and they’re announcing lando’s name as he walks onto the podium to claim his third place finish. then the graphics behind the podium change to charles’, and the second his name is called you do what you’ve been waiting to do since the moment max retired from the race.

years of attending concerts and dance competitions had thoroughly prepared you for this moment. you cup your hands around your mouth, and the second you spot charles, you shout as loud as you possibly can.

“CHARLIEEEE!”

your scream renders everyone else silent for a few shocked moments, and you giggle when charles nearly trips over his own feet as he cranes his neck to try and find you. you shout his name again, sending the ferrari team into a chorus of similar cheers, and when charles finally spots you, his smile grows impossibly brighter and he blows you a kiss from the second place position on the podium.

he looks nothing short of ethereal— his hair fluffy and messy from being encased in his helmet, the rings adorning his fingers, the way he holds his chin up with barely contained pride as the team sings the italian national anthem. you make a mental note to tell him he’s been looking a lot like tony stark lately, and you’re loving it. even more so when he gets drenched in champagne, the confetti sticking to his soaked skin.

he has no struggle in finding you after the ceremony— as soon as you spot him, you let out a wolf whistle that has him blushing.

“there’s my girl,” he laughs as you launch yourself into his arms, kissing the top of your head. “made sure i could hear you all the way from the podium, huh?”

“of course, what did you expect?” you ask, smiling widely as you look at the trophy that got sandwiched between you both. “i’m so proud of you, charles. the whole world needs to know about it.”

“here,” he holds the trophy out to you. “pour toi, ma belle.”

“you’re shouldn’t have,” you tease, taking it into your hands and admiring it as best you can while trying to ignore your reflection in its surface. “this is amazing. you’re amazing. where’s carlos?”

“i thought you were my girlfriend,” he snatches the trophy back. “no more trophy for you.”

“but he won,” you continue, rolling your eyes when he pouts. “hey, i only gave him gracious applause. i seem to recall screaming your name before.”

“and it’s the only name you ever will.” he says with a wink, and you elbow him in the ribs.

“you are so…” you trail off, at a loss for words courtesy of his audacity.

“correct?” he supplies, wrapping an arm around your waist and pressing a kiss to your temple.

“i was thinking ‘unbelievable.’”

“i’m taking that as a compliment.” he says, before leaning in and whispering in your ear. “now let’s go back to the hotel and see how loud you can be for me there, hmm?”

you can only hope that the hotel walls are soundproof.

note: for some reason writing for charles is like fucking impossible for me so if this flops i have nothing and no one to blame but myself 💪🏼💪🏼

my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation! feel free to pop in!

reblogs are greatly appreciated <33

tags: @venusacrossthestars @67-angelofthelordme-67 @emails-i-can-send @nelly187 @cixrosie @fangirl-dot-com @sainzluvrr @imheretoread @mellowarcadefun @yourbane @monsieurbacteria6 @c-losur3 @papayatori @ssprayberrythings @namgification @maih23 @evlkking @witchycarmen @ilovethispookie @maxverstappenfan79 @sya-skies @sweatrevenge5436-blog @kimis-gloves @mia-rrrs @decafmickey @customsbyjcg-blog @bigheartsthings @tania2748 @scuderiadevils @iloveyou3000morgan @ctrlyomomma @hiireadstuff @daemyratwst @arian-directioner @evelyn-ny @avg-golden-retriever @likedbygaslyy

#blurb #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fluff #cl16 x reader #cl16 x you #cl16 imagine #cl16 one shot #cl16 fluff #formula one x reader #formula one imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic

1K notes · View notes

spookycreepycookie · 1 year ago

Text

🥺🤏🏻❤️‍🩹

#nicholas is one of those gems of an actor that don't need words cause he can say everything with his eyes #insanely expressive #love him #can't handle his puss on boots eyes though #he really deserve to win awards for this role #i mean where do i sign the petition for it?#red white and royal blue #rwrb #red white and royal blue movie #rwrb movie #henry fox mountchristen windsor #henry george edward james hanover stuart fox #nicholas galitzine

836 notes · View notes

solaireverie · 11 months ago

Text

aa23 | put it into speed drive

summary: [ lawyer!alex albon x f!driver!reader — social media au ] alex is contracted to help you get out of trouble after you land in hot water

faceclaim: florence pugh

warnings: language, dirty jokes

author’s note: hello party people!! so happy to bring you the first installment of in their shoes, my series with @lorarri about driver!reader. chaotic reader is the love of my life frfr

liked by landonorris, redbullracing, tatemcrae and 4,582,193 others

yourusername eat pasta drive fasta 🏎🍝

view comments

user mother is mothering 😩

user i live for y/n's photodumps

user everyone say thank you y/n for feeding us!!

redbullracing let her cook 😌

user the way y/n looks at the camera in slide 2 🫣

liked by christianhorner, sebastianvettel, redbullusa and 9,105,273 others

tagged: yourusername

redbullracing Oracle Red Bull Racing is aware of the charges being brought against driver Y/N L/N. Oracle Red Bull Racing respects all official decisions and will be assisting Y/N in any legal proceedings. We ask for privacy and discretion during this period of time.

comments on this post have been disabled

7,482 likes

y/nupdates y/n left the monaco police station this morning accompanied by her lawyer, alex albon. alex is also a family friend and was contracted by red bull to help y/n with any legal issues that may arise. y/n and alex left on motorcycle shortly after she was released. when asked about recent events, y/n stated that she isn't worried and that she's in good hands (implied to be alex's)

pictured above: y/n this morning, a photo captured by passerby of alex on his bike waiting for y/n, and a picture of alex found on his firm's website

view comments

user y/n's slaying everywhere 😍 even getting arrested isn't stopping her from serving with every outfit

↪ user omg fr i love her jacket and boots

↪ user we should have a y/n style account ngl

user damn her lawyer's hotttt 😳

↪ user yeah exactly!!! so glad someone else sees my ✨ vision ✨

user lol i can already see this dude getting a migraine within the first two hours of dealing with y/n

↪ user she's a menace and while i love her for that i pity her lawyer 😂

↪ user our thoughts and prayers for mr albon 🕯🕯🕯

628,192 likes

effwontea ok so who was going to tell me that y/n's lawyer is hot, cute, AND good with animals - admin g 👾

what crimes do i need to commit to hire alex to defend me 😳 - admin t 💃

view comments

user idk if anyone's noticed but he's actually in a few of her older vlogs 👀 guess they've been friends for a while

↪ user and she hasn't showed us him until now???

↪ user i went back to watch the videos with alex in them and omg they're so cute togetherrrrrr

↪ user ikr!!! did you see that part where she drives them around monaco and he's literally scared for his life but also staring at y/n with heart eyes 😍

↪ user guess this isn't the first time that y/n has terrorized alex with her driving skills then 😂

user is it just me or are they really freaking adorable together

↪ user omg fr!! he balances out her chaos and she makes him laugh so much ❤️ my heart can't take this

liked by landonorris, alex_albon, georgerussell63 and 28,492,123 others

tagged: alex_albon

yourusername everyone say thank you to alex_albon's savior complex 😌 love u 🫶

view comments

user did she just... hard launch???

↪ user i think???????

↪ user knowing y/n she kept him a secret just for the chaos 😂

georgerussell63 about time, mate!

↪ landonorris thanks a lot for making me lose my bet with george 🙄

↪ alex_albon what were you two even betting on?

↪ yourusername when i would get arrested and you'd have to defend me in court 😜 btw georgerussell63 i expect dinner from whatever lando needs to give you

alex_albon love you too (even if you exhaust me sometimes 🙃)

↪ yourusername don't lie, you like it 😘

user so now on top of dealing with y/n in court he has to deal with her every day 😭 thoughts and prayers dude

↪ yourusername i promised to behave in public if he lets me misbehave in private 😉

↪ alex_albon you call that behaving???

↪ landonorris ewww get a room

↪ yourusername get a win 🤷‍♀️

↪ georgerussell63 MIC. DROP.

↪ landonorris alex_albon can i hire you to sue y/n and george for emotional damage

↪ alex_albon i'm afraid that you're on your own 😔 i have no intention of stepping into a courtroom with y/n ever again

↪ yourusername guess who's sleeping on the couch tonight!

↪ alex_albon lando because he insists that we've adopted him?

↪ yourusername correct ✅

likes and reblogs are appreciated!

series masterlist | masterlist | lola's masterlist

taglist: @scenesofobx @vellicora @boiohboii @julesbabey @flannelforthetoads

#solwriting #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #formula one x reader #formula 1 #f1 #f1 fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 x you #f1 social media au #f1 imagine #f1 smau #alex albon #alex albon x reader #alex albon x you #alex albon imagine #alex albon fanfic

1K notes · View notes

filmsmakkari · 6 months ago

Text

your highness

fred weasley x slytherin!reader

Summary: When Slytherin beats Gryffindor in the final quidditch match of the season, Fred Weasley decides to give the Slytherin princess a little reward

CW: NSFW, semi public sex(?), oral (f receiving), dirty talk, praising.

Author's Note- As usual, I had a black reader in mind, so (Y/N) is described as having braids, but that's the only physical description. Anyone can imagine themselves in this fic. Also emmm I have never written smut in my life saurrr... I hope this makes you horny and I'm sorry if it doesn't!

To say that (Y/N) (L/N) hated Fred Weasley would be an understatement.

The Princess of Slytherin was in the prefect’s restroom, trying to wash the red and gold dye out of her hair. The last quidditch game of the autumn term was the next day, and Fred fucking Weasley thought it would be funny to make a mockery of the Slytherin team captain by having Peeves throw ink at her as she tried to run down the moving staircases.

“That bloody…” she muttered as she roughly scrubbed her scalp. She’d been at it for what felt like hours when the dye finally washed away, and the raven-winged color of her long braids was finally visible again.

Enraged, (Y/N) stomped out of the bathroom, envisioning ways to get her revenge. In her anger and fantasies of all the means of torture she could inflict upon the irritating prankster, she was barely aware of her feet carrying her down to the ever-calming bioluminescence of the Slytherin common room. She waved her wand violently, blowing around a stack of papers and knocking over a desk, catching the attention of Blaise Zabini.

The boy seemed slightly frightened as he said, “Hey (Y/N/N), you alright?”

(Y/N) huffed with irritation. “Oh, I’m more than alright. I’m ready to knock Weasley off his bloody broom.”

The Great Hall was alive with conversation. Some students excitedly cast charms, creating fireworks with their house colors and animals, while others feasted on fruits and vegetables in preparation for the big match. Slytherin vs. Gryffindor games were always the most anticipated. The extreme disdain between the two teams brought out the absolute best in them as players. Even if it was occasionally violent, it made for a great game.

Fred and George Weasley sauntered into the hall with the typical swagger of Gryffindors, scanning the tables and admiring the displays from the students. As Fred eyed the Slytherin table, his gaze fell upon her. There in her quidditch sweater, brown knee-high boots, and a horribly tempting skirt, the Slytherin Princess, who’d earned her title by getting the best grades in her house, being captain of the quidditch team, and being so ridiculously beautiful that even the proudest Gryffindors tried their luck with her, was sitting on the table, locked in conversation with Blaise Zabini and Emma Vanity- the Slytherin chasers.

“Discussing a new and improved strategy for the pitch?” Fred asked, approaching her. “I might as well tell you now, you’re wasting your time.”

(Y/N) turned to him with an eye roll. “Keep taunting me, Weasel. It’s the most satisfaction you’ll get today.”

“Keep dreaming. Tell me, how’d you like my little gift yesterday?” Fred asked, resting his hands on the table and leaning close to her face.

(Y/N) hummed. “To be honest I’d expected more from you, beater. You couldn’t even do the job yourself. That scared of little old me?”

“You wish. You’ll see out there today. Tell you what. If you win, which you won’t, I’ll reward you,” Fred smirked.

“Please, what could you possibly have that I want?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know? Too bad you’ll never find out.” Fred winked and walked over to the Gryffindor table, filling (Y/N) with so much irritation that it made her face hot.

Fred Weasley was eating his words.

The match was over before it began, the Slytherin players flying like bullets, (Y/N) ’s strategy working to absolute perfection, giving (Y/N) the perfect opportunity to catch the snitch without hesitation, winning the last game of the season.

The after-party was a blur of green and silver, fireworks, and cheering. One second (Y/N) was being hoisted up in the air by her teammates while they chanted her name; the next, she was playing games with giggle juice and fire whisky with her classmates. The snake lair was on fire with passion and excitement. While (Y/N) was reveling in it all, she had another celebration in mind. While her friends chanted so loud that the paintings were all forced to cover their ears, (Y/N) quickly slipped out of the common room and skipped happily up the stairs with a clear destination in mind.

As the sleeping form of the fat lady came into view, (Y/N) suddenly realized she had no actual plan. She couldn’t get into the Gryffindor common room, and even if she could, what would she do? Find Weasley in his dorm room and slap him? Cast a spell turning all the furniture silver and green to boast Slytherin pride? Steal Fred’s clothes while he was in the shower and- oh. Somewhat embarrassed at how eager she’d been to go to the Gryffindor common room and at how her thoughts kept wandering back to Fred, (Y/N) quickly turned around and began to go back to her dorm but was quickly stopped in her tracks.

Standing before her was the very person who’d been nagging at her thoughts all night. There was Fred Weasley, with dripping wet red hair and no shirt, looking down on her with irritation and amusement.

“Well well,” he said tauntingly, stepping closer and closer to her until her back was pressed against the wall. “Just what is the snake princess doing so close to the lion’s den? Came here to gloat?” Heat was radiating off of him. He was angry about the match.

(Y/N) swallowed, suddenly nervous, her usual Slytherin pride and confidence nowhere to be found. “As a matter of fact, Weaselbee, I’m here to see you. I told you I’d win, I’m here to claim my reward.”

Fred raised an eyebrow at this. He walked over to the fat lady, knocking on the portrait softly. The fat lady awoke with a jump, giving Fred a frustrated glare. “Sorry about this,” said Fred. “Iced Mice.” The fat lady hesitated. “And just what are you doing bringing her in here?”

(Y/N)’ s bite finally returned as she spoke, “I can show you better than I can tell you. How about a charm for taking the tongues of bad singers?” Fred chuckled at that.

“Why, I never!” said the fat lady as she finally swung open the door.

Fred took hold of (Y/N) ’s hand as he walked in, dragging her behind him.

(Y/N)’ s words were full of venom as she whisper-shouted, “Just what do you think you’re doing, you slimy-”

“Just be quiet for once, princess.”

Indignation swelled in (Y/N) ’s chest, but she obeyed. Though she toothlessly fought back, attempting every now and then to snatch her arm away from him, deep down, she wanted to see where this would go.

Fred dragged her to a dark corner, taking her by her hips and lifting her onto a desk.

“What the hell are you doing?” (Y/N) asked with a furious look, but there was no bite behind the glare. Her heart was pounding so loudly she was afraid he’d hear it.

“You came for your reward, didn’t you? You were so desperate for it that you were willing to cheat during the match,” he said, moving her hair and leaning into her ear.

(Y/N) shuddered at the closeness before pushing him away. “I didn’t cheat, Weasley, the hell are you talking about?”

Fred hummed, smoking at her and placing his arms on either side of her, caging her in.

(Y/N) scoffed. “This is ridiculous, I can’t believe I wasted my time coming here. Have a nice life carrot top.”

(Y/N) pushed him again, hopping off the desk and starting to walk away from him, but Fred quickly grabbed her by the waist, pulling her back into him and placing a wet, passionate kiss on her lips. (Y/N)’ s eyes widened in shock as Fred Weasley, the person she hated most since first year, slipped his tongue into her mouth and lifted her back onto the desk. Shocked and confused, she pushed him away a third time.

Fred looked deeply into her eyes, a tendril of red hair hanging over his eyes, making him impossibly more attractive. “Oh c’mon, love, don’t act like you don’t want it too. Like you haven’t wanted it since fourth year when you walked in on me showering after the quidditch cup.”

(Y/N)’s face got hot at the memory. “I hate you. You hate me. I’m the “princess of Slytherin,” remember?”

“Well then, your highness, allow me to serve you,” said Fred, dropping to his knees.

“What are you doing?” (Y/N) asked, her voice shaking as Fred ran his hands up and down her thighs, barely past her skirt. The tight little green dress and those white knee-high socks she was wearing had been driving him crazy since he first saw them, and he wanted nothing more than to see what was hidden underneath them.

“I’m rewarding you, even if you did cheat like a naughty little serpent, somehow I feel like this will be just as much as a reward for me.” He spread her legs wide, getting in between them and slowly peeling back her skirt.

(Y/N) breathed in sharply. “You have tormented me for six years, and now you expect me to let you use me to get off?’

“‘M sorry,” said Fred, kissing her thigh softly. (Y/N) shuddered. Fred kissed his way up to her sopping wet heat, muttering “I’m sorries” between every kiss. He finally made his way to her lacy undergarment, placing a soft kiss there. “You’re so wet, darling,” he said, popping his head out and looking at her, “It seems like you’ve already forgiven me.”

“In your bloody dreams, Weasley,” (Y/N) said with an unconvincing scoff. “I’ll hate you until the day I die.”

Fred hummed before quickly dipping his head back between her thighs, sliding her panties to the side, and licking a long stripe through her slick.

(Y/N) let out a throaty moan at the sensation, gripping the desk tightly.

Fred chuckled against her, the vibrations making her breathe in deeply. “What was that about you hating me, love?” he asked.

“Shut up and get on with my reward, asshole.”

Fred smirked. “As you wish, your grace.”

Fred grabbed her thighs tightly and went to work, taking her clit into his mouth and sucking it like a starving man. (Y/N) moaned loudly before placing her hand over her mouth. Fred looked up at her, his sudden pause making her whimper. “No, no, no, darling. Don’t hide the noises.” He slowly pushed a single long finger inside her. “Let the whole school know.” Another finger. He looked into her eyes with a wicked smile. “Let them all hear how the snake princess let a lion make her scream.” He added two fingers that time and rapidly pumped in and out. And, just as he said she would, (Y/N) screamed. She went to cover her mouth again, but with his free hand, he took both of her wrists and held them in front of her. It burned, but it felt so good. (Y/N) began to move her hips slightly to increase the sensation, making Fred smile. “That’s it, beautiful, good girl. Good girl.” Fred spoke in a way that was almost patronizing. If she weren’t so close to the edge, she probably would have made some snarky remark, but (Y/N) couldn’t think straight as the pressure in her stomach was building up, and the Weasley boy was making her see stars. She let out another loud moan, throwing her head back as the pressure became unbearable.

“Fuck, fuck, FUCK,” (Y/N) screamed as Fred’s fingers slammed into her g-spot, and she finally couldn’t take it anymore. (Y/N) let out a scream as she came, barely aware of anything around her. Her vision went blurry as the hot juices spilled out of her. Fred wasted no time re-attaching his mouth to her drenched cunt, licking up her juices until she was clean. “Mmm, sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted. Surprising for such a nasty girl,” Fred said, slapping her thigh, sliding her panties back over, and standing up.

He placed his arms on either side of her, staring at her intensely, his hair disheveled and her cum around his mouth. (Y/N) matched his gaze with equal intensity, her heart pounding, a million questions running through her head. After a few beats of silence, she finally spoke.

“I still hate you.”

Fred actually laughed at that, shaking his head before looking back at her. “Beat me again, princess, and I’ll give you a better reward then my fingers and my mouth,” he rasped into her ear before walking off to his dorm room, leaving her with her legs spread on a table of the Gryffindor common room.

“We’ll see how much you hate me then!”

#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley smut #slytherin reader #fred weasley x yn #fred weasley x fem!reader #harry potter imagine #fred weasley #slytherin #gryffindor #zarina's stories 🫧𓇼

626 notes · View notes

just-wanna-draw-em · 6 months ago

Text

They decided to all come in wearing something red, but forgot to tell Paul about it. Accidentally, of course.

It’s okay tho. He found a way to match. Almost. Kinda. Close enough.

#beatles #poly bugs #george harrison #john lennon #ringo starr #paul mccartney #george’s red boots

373 notes · View notes

annebd · 23 days ago

Text

winter warmers, day 16: secret santa. ~1800 words <-holy shit.

There’s a little box on the corner of Daniel’s desk, wrapped neatly in green paper and topped with a gold bow. The tag is a small square card, no more than a couple inches across, with a short message on one side:

To: Daniel

From: Your Secret Santa

Daniel opens the box and unfolds the carefully wrapped tissue paper bundle inside to remove the expected Scrabble tile. Today is the letter H. He tucks it into the top drawer of his desk, along with the rest of the tiles. The bow is also gently removed and stuck up on the pinboard next to the other twenty-two bows that he’s gotten so far this month. Some are gold, some silver, a few red and green.

There’s one particularly sparkly bow that’s been shedding glitter on him and all of his possessions for the past week. Halfway through the marketing team meeting last Thursday, Max reached over and brushed his thumb across Daniel’s cheekbone.

“You are all shiny, Daniel,” he said and showed him the sparkles of golden glitter that he’d rubbed off. “Always you’re so handsome, but today you’re like a shining star, too.”

Daniel was pretty sure he’d turned bright red, not even the deep tan in the middle of an Australian summer able to hide the color rising in his cheeks.

“Oh, uh, thanks, mate,” he replied and then turned back to the meeting on the last marketing push for Christmas sales, while trying not to think about the feeling of Max’s hand against his skin.

Today’s bow isn’t quite as glittery, but it does glint prettily in the glow of Daniel’s desk lamp. It’s 8:52am on December 23rd. Early enough that he has time to sip his coffee without interruption for a few minutes as he waits for his computer to boot up and he has to hop into the workday.

He eyes the drawer that holds the Scrabble tiles and decides he’s got time. As he’s done so many times so far this month, he pulls them all out and scatters them across his desk. Twenty three tiles so far. One of them is a blank, but a little question mark has been drawn on in black sharpie.

The ? tile showed up on the 17th, and he assumed that that was the end of it, so he’d spent the entire day trying to unscramble the letters, but couldn’t get anywhere. When another N arrived the next day, he realized that it wasn’t quite over yet.

The first box had arrived on the first of December. He wasn’t expecting it. George, over in operations, had floated the idea of doing a Secret Santa exchange a few weeks prior, but there had been so much hemming and hawing, with no one really wanting to commit, that he’d given up and moved on. Daniel hadn’t given it any further thought until the first box showed up.

Like every day since, the little box was wrapped inexpertly, though neatly, with green paper, and had a red bow stuck right on top. The same note, from “your secret Santa,” was attached. The Scrabble tile that day had been a D. Daniel assumed it stood for Daniel and that someone was either playing a silly joke, or truly had the worst taste in gift giving.

That assumption was only further confirmed on the second, when another box arrived, containing an R, which he could only assume stood for Ricciardo.

Thoroughly confused, he stopped by George’s office to poke his head in the door and ask when the Secret Santa drawing had been and why he hadn’t been involved.

“There was no drawing, mate,” George told him. “You lot were all too cool for the idea, so I didn’t bother. Why d’you ask?”

“Huh,” Daniel said, flummoxed. “Never mind. Don’t worry about it.”

He brought it up to Max when they had lunch that Friday. It was Daniel’s favorite part of the week- getting Max all to himself for an hour, to make ridiculous jokes and watch Max turn pink from laughter.

“Strange, isn’t it? Just a random couple of Scrabble tiles. What, am I supposed to use them to make a name tag for myself?”

“Maybe you have a secret admirer,” Max replied. “And they are, of course, just using the Secret Santa as an excuse to send you gifts.”

“They’re some weird gifts, then,” Daniel said, and took a bite of his pastrami on rye. It was good. Mustardy.

“They might get better. It could be fun.” Max looked over at Daniel, who was in the middle of another big bite of his sandwich. “You’ve got a little-” and pointed to the corner of Daniel’s mouth. He reached out, as though he intended to swipe away the crumb with his own finger, but he pulled back and let Daniel dab at his mouth with a napkin.

“Thanks, Max. And I guess you’re right. But I reserve the right to be annoyed if it’s just a bunch of letters spelling my name.

Day three put a wrench in the name theory when he popped open the box and found a V. So definitely not his name then.

Over the next couple of days, he received a W and a Y. On the following Monday, he showed up to two Ls and another E, each tucked into one of three boxes lined up carefully along the edge of his desk. He’d wondered what would happen over the weekend, and he was quietly pleased that his secret Santa had taken into account the extra days.

And today, as Daniel sits sipping his coffee with twenty two letters and a question mark, he decides that he’s got to be able to figure this out. Christmas is in just two days, which means that he’s only expecting two more gifts. And really, he’s only expecting one gift, since the office is closed on the 25th, and he’s not coming in for anything- even a secret Santa surprise.

Daniel mixes the tiles around, trying different combinations of words. The twenty three tiles at hand read NOIVUHHTLEMIWARELDYNIE?, which he’s pretty sure isn’t a thing. He can spell various words. He’s got the letters for DANIEL, but not RICCIARDO, so he’s mostly ruled out his initial name tag theory.

He’s been able to make a few phrases, some more promising than others. He had “HAVE YOU LET ME DIE?” laid out when Max stopped by his desk last week.

Max had raised an eyebrow at the phrase and given Daniel a disapproving look. “You don’t think that’s what your secret admirer is saying, do you?”

Daniel shrugged. “No clue, mate. Your guess is as good as mine right now.”

Max didn’t offer any actual help, but he scrambled the tiles again so that the question was no longer visible. “I don’t know either, but probably it isn’t about death.”

Daniel tries a few more letter combos, but nothing is jumping out at him. As the clock on his desktop ticks over to 9:00, he gathers up the tiles and places them back into his drawer.

When he heads out of the office that afternoon, he bumps into Max in the elevator. “You’re wrapping up early today!” he exclaims.

Max is always staying late at the office, and Daniel is forever trying to get him to leave on time, have a life outside of work. But Max insists that software engineering waits for no man, and he’d rather just get as much work done in the office as possible, instead of having to take it home with him and continue with it there.

“Hello, Daniel,” Max says. “Yes, today is an early night. I have some things to do today. Before Christmas, you know.”

“I’m glad,” Daniel replies. “See you tomorrow?”

Max gives him a big smile. “Yes. Tomorrow. See you then.”

The next day is Christmas Eve, and, Daniel assumes, the last day of his Secret Santa gifts. He still has no clue what the tiles are supposed to be telling him, but he feels a nervous energy thrumming in his stomach. Something big is coming, he thinks.

He gets to his desk by 8:45, eager to unwrap his final gift and finally figure out what’s going on. To his surprise, instead of just the one little green box he’s expecting, there are three wrapped presents on his desk. The first is the usual green box, but the tag that he’s expecting to proclaim the usual salutations instead proclaims “open me first.” He checks the other two. The box to its right reads “open me second.” And, just to be sure, he confirms that the final box on the end says to open it last.

With a slight shake in his hand, he picks up the first box and plucks off the bow to secure it to the pinboard. He opens it up and pulls out the last tile, another W. He adds it to the stash in his drawer and then reaches for the second box.

It’s the same size as the first, wrapped in the same way- no bow on this one. Perhaps it’s a one bow per day kind of deal.

Inside, there’s a small slip of paper folded in half. Daniel unfolds it to find a clue:

W_ _ _ Y_ _ H_ _ _ D _ _ _ _ _ W _ _ _ M_?

He waffles for a moment. Does he open the third gift, or does he unscramble the letters? The opening instructions didn’t say, so he supposes he could do either. Tiles, he decides.

He pulls open the drawer and tips the tiles onto his desk, then carefully arranges each one face up and pointing in the right direction.

Slowly, he starts moving tiles around. The Y is probably You, he guesses. So perhaps the M is Me? And then H could be Have. W is What? No, he realizes; that wouldn’t make sense. W for Will?

A sentence begins to take shape.

WILL YOU HAVE D_ _ _ _ _ W _ _ _ ME?

Daniel is fairly certain where this is going. He arranges the last few letters into place and then reaches for the third box. He tears open the paper, carefully as usual, and opens the box.

Inside is a card, on which is printed the name of the fanciest restaurant in Perth, which Daniel has been wanting to try for months, but which he has lamented to Max several times is impossible to get reservations for.

Beneath the name of the restaurant is today’s date, the 24th, and a time, 7pm.

Beneath that, there’s a final line, which simply says “TURN AROUND.”

Daniel takes a deep breath, steadies himself, and then swivels in his chair.

Behind him, Max is leaned against the doorframe to his office.

“So?” he asks. “I asked a question, I think.”

Daniel looks back over the tiles, laid out neatly on his desk. He looks back at Max and grins helplessly. “Yeah, Maxy. I would love to.”

#winterwarmers2024 #my fic #maxiel #i had so much fun with this one!

204 notes · View notes

blueiscoool · 3 months ago

Text

Remains of Andrew 'Sandy' Irvine Who Vanished in 1924 Found on Mount Everest

The foot, boot and sock thought to belong to Sandy Irvine, who disappeared during George Mallory's 1924 expedition to climb Mount Everest, have likely been found. They could be a vital clue in unraveling an even bigger mystery.

Remains believed to belong to a British explorer who vanished more than 100 years ago while climbing Mount Everest have finally been found.

Andrew Comyn "Sandy" Irvine, aged 22, disappeared along with the mountaineer George Mallory in June 1924. The pair were attempting to become the first people to scale the world's highest peak.

It's still a mystery whether they succeeded in their goal before they died. Mallory's remains were discovered in 1999, which were missing a photograph of his wife that the climber had planned to leave on the summit. Irving, who had been carrying a Kodak camera that may have recorded a possible historic summit, was never recovered. The summit was officially first reached 29 years later, when Edmund Hillary and Tenzing Norgay scaled Everest from its south side in 1953.

Now, a National Geographic documentary team, including the Oscar-winning director Jimmy Chin and the climbers and filmmakers Erich Roepke and Mark Fisher, have found what they believe is Irvine's foot.

Encased in a boot and wearing a sock stitched with his name, the foot was discovered on Everest's Central Rongbuk Glacier, further down the mountain from Mallory's remains.

"I lifted up the sock," Chin told National Geographic, "and there's a red label that has A.C. IRVINE stitched into it."

Irvine and Mallory were last seen on June 8, 1924, as they set off to scale the summit. One of their expedition teammates, Noel Odell, reported spotting the two near the second of the mountain's three steps as two tiny black dots. One of the dots broke past the skyline during a brief parting of the clouds, then they disappeared.

Mallory's body was found less than 2,000 feet (600 meters) from the summit by the U.S. rock climber Conrad Anker. Mallory's remains were tied by a rope around the waist and had injuries suggesting that the pair had fallen while connected together.

By searching near these remains and scouring the glacier for clues, Chin and his team located the boot melting out of the ice.

"This was a monumental and emotional moment for us and our entire team on the ground, and we just hope this can finally bring peace of mind to his relatives and the climbing world at large," Chin said.

The team sent the remains to China Tibet Mountaineering Association, which is responsible for climbing permits on Everest's northern side. The find was also reported to the Royal Geographical Society, which organized Irvine and Mallory's expedition, and Irvine's great niece and biographer, Julie Summers.

"I have lived with this story since I was a 7-year-old when my father told us about the mystery of Uncle Sandy on Everest," Summers said, as reported by the Guardian. "When Jimmy told me that he saw the name AC Irvine on the label on the sock inside the boot, I found myself moved to tears. It was and will remain an extraordinary and poignant moment."

The Irvine family has volunteered to take a DNA test so that the identity of the remains can be conclusively determined. Meanwhile, Chin and his team will continue to search for more artifacts. If Irvine's camera is found and it can prove they scaled the peak, it could potentially rewrite history.

By Ben Turner.

#Mt. Everest #Mount Everest #Sandy Irvine #Remains of Andrew 'Sandy' Irvine Who Vanished in 1924 Found on Mount Everest #George Mallory #1924 British Mount Everest expedition #mountain climbing #archeology #archeolgst #history #history news

161 notes · View notes

etfrin · 1 year ago

Text

— ᴄᴀɴ ᴀ ɢᴀʏ ɢɪʀʟ ɢᴇᴛ ᴀɴ ᴀᴍᴇɴ !

regina george x virgin! fem! reader

navigation | masterlist

tw: partying, cunnilingus, loosing virginity (reader), fingering, mean-ish! Regina, dom-ish! Regina , semi-public sex, scissoring, multiple orgasms, hints of overstimulation if you squint, college! Regina, face riding, dub-con if you squint in the beginning, <33 | lmk if i forgot anything

dividers : @cafekitsune @rookthornesartistry @saradika

a/n: first time writing wlw, be kind 💋❤️

You pretend the red cup you held had vodka. It's water. Boring yet the safest choice for a party like this, loud, filled with drunks humping each other. None of them will remember the night tomorrow. You will though. Because you weren't drunk like them. And you certainly didn't enjoy the party.

You came to socialize but within minutes of saying hello to everyone you were tired. There's one girl you haven't seen yet, the queen of your college, Regina George. You weren't the only one who thought that this party was lame.

On second thought, maybe not, because Regina George was on the dance floor swaying while holding her red cup high in the air. You swallow as heat begins to pool between your legs. Fuck, she was sexy. Her pink top, black boots, perfectly styled hair.

Regina George was Aphrodite in disguise.

Your panties get wet with your slick as you lean on the wall and watch her. You rub your thighs subtly and wonder if liquor would give you the courage to talk to her. You close your eyes, wondering how the conversation will even go.

It ends terribly with her laughing at your face. You open your eyes and let out a squeak. Aphrodite (Regina) in front of you in all her glory was smirking down at you. “Hello,” you squeaked out, your voice abnormally high. You feel your face heating up. Stop being an obvious fuck, you tell yourself.

“Hi,” she leans in, her expensive vanilla scent attacking your senses, much more overwhelming than the reek of vodka. She grins, “You're cute.” She whispered, coming in closer, pinning you to the wall, “You look like you wanna play with me, sweetheart.”

You let out a surprised laugh, trying to play it off. You didn't need her rejection, not after the shitty day you had. “I am not sure- ah!”

Regina giggled her hand under your skirt. Her fingers pull your panties aside. “I don't think you're this wet for a man, sweetie.” Her thumb finds your clit and she pressed into the sensitive pearl. Her eyes showed that she enjoyed the gasp you let out.

“Regina,” you moan, as she rubs fast circles onto your clit. Your juices coating her fingers. She hums in response, “I am not hearing a no.”

Regina George begins to fuck her fingers into you. Your walls are sucking her digits in. You let out a moan, your eyes rolling back as she drags her dainty, long fingers against your walls. She pressed into your G-spot, finding it like an expert. You cry out, your legs nearly giving out because of how sensitive you are.

Regina pulls back and you let out a whimper of pure desperation. “But that's not a yes either,” the goddess said, her fingers glistening with your juices. Her tongue peeks out to lick the nectar of your cunt off her fingertips. You moan at the sight, your pussy walls pulsating.

“Yes- play with me,” you consent.

She smirks with triumph. “Good girl.”

She brings you upstairs, pulling you into an empty room and pushing you onto the bed. She lets her clothes drop on the floor, revealing her body for worship. Your mouth waters as you look at her. Fucking delicious of a meal she was.

Regina straddles you. “Played with girls before?” She questions, her hand tilting your chin upwards to look at her in the eyes. You shake your head, nervous.

“But I want to…” you admit shakily, wondering if your lack of experience would be a turn-off for her.

She pushes you down on the bed, a hand on your shoulder to keep you pinned. She took off your skirt along with your soaked panties. “I'll make you cum several times tonight,” she remarks, “but let's see how much of a mess you can create for the first time. Don't be too loud, pretty angel.”

She spreads your legs and lets her body fall onto yours. Her soaking cunt pressed onto yours. You let out a gasp at the feeling, your hands clutching the bedsheets. She grinds into you slowly, overwhelming your senses with pleasure. Her clit rubbed against yours with every small thrust of her hips. You whine, pathetic and needy. You wanted her to go faster.

Your hips begin to rut against her, fastening the pace. She lets out an annoyed huff from your sudden enthusiasm and dominance. She holds your jaw with her hand, her nails digging into your cheek. You stop your desperate movement and wait for her to speak.

The silence was loud enough. She pressed a wet kiss to your lips. You laid pliant for her to use. A toy for Regina to break. You were the lucky one chosen. You won't let the opportunity go to waste. You wanted to be broken by her.

She picks up the pace. Squelching wet sounds seemingly louder than either of your moans. It was obscene, and your blood was on fire. You feel yourself wanting more, wanting to lose control. You pull Regina into a kiss, feeding on the broken moan she released. Your hand gets tangled in her blond hair, your free hand digging into the plush of her ass.

“Please,” you beg. Your pleas go unheard and your cunt throbs with need. Desperate to cum like this. “Please, please, Regina. My Aphrodite please.”

“You're talking too much,” she murmurs, her cherry lips brushing against yours. “Shut up, doll.” You whine in response, and she kisses you all sloppy and wet, just like the movements of her hips slowing down. Her pussy fucking your cunt with agonizing strokes, her clit seemingly kissing your swollen pearl.

Your walls begin to clench around nothing, painting her cunt with your nectar. She moans into your mouth, and you hear a whisper of some kind of insult.

You couldn't bring yourself to care, not when your body is feeling like jelly. You seemed to be melted on the bed, panting, your eyes blown. Regina chuckles at the sight. “You're too fun,” she snarks, “I am not done yet.”

Regina presses several kisses over your breasts, her tongue teasing your nipple and savoring the salty taste of your skin. She continues down the path until she's between your thighs. She playfully bites into your flesh. You cry out from the sudden sharp pain that borders on pleasure. She does it several times, pulling back when she's satisfied.

She dives into your weeping cunt. Regina pressed a kiss to your swollen clit, before her tongue began to lick your pearl. You swear she was licking her name onto your sensitive nub.

And, fuck, that thought got you off.

Your moans got louder, and it spurred Regina on. The way she was eating out your cunt was fucking filthy. It was as if she was a succubus feeding on you. You enjoyed it, feeling heat gather again in your body. You whine her name, telling her that you're close. She didn't respond; instead, she takes your clit in her mouth to give a harsh suck. She even lets her teeth nip the bud.

You let out a small scream from the pleasure, nearly passing out from bliss. Your juices were coating her face as you calmed down from your sudden, intense orgasm. Your slick walls spasm around nothing. She watched the sight of your fluttering cunt, utterly mesmerized.

She pressed a kiss to your pussy when your orgasm ends. She sits back up. She runs a hand through her silk, blonde hair. Her eyes heated and glazed with lust as she looked at you.

“Think you can return the favor, doll?”

You nod. Your lips are ready to beg for her taste on your tongue. She hums in response and gets in position to ride your pretty, ruined face. Before she blesses you with her cunt on your lips, she gives you a stern glare. “Follow what I did, sweetheart,” she ordered before she lowered down onto your face.

You knew you were too enthusiastic. Your mind is hazy from the lack of air. You lick her cunt sloppily, long stripes all over her folds. You couldn't help yourself, you wanted to have as much of her nectar as possible. Then when you hear her moans getting higher, you focus on her clit.

You do the same thing she does. You spell out your name on her sensitive nub, and it works like a charm. She begins to move her hips, suffocating you with her cunt. You could have died happily like this, you suck her clit harder. Your tongue is getting faster and desperate to taste as much of her. You moan into her cunt, and the vibration of the sound sets her off.

She cries out of bliss as more slick comes out of her cumming pussy. You eagerly gather her slick onto your tongue, not caring about how sensitive she is right now. You keep going until she gets off your face. You let out a whine of displeasure when she does. She readily ignores the pathetic sound. She lays down beside you on the bed.

Her voice was breathless as she asked,

“So what's your name, pretty girl?”

998 notes · View notes

jude-duarte-wannabe · 5 months ago

Note

crepes, english muffin with a side of sparkling water, cider, dark roast served by lewis hamilton please? wife reader trying to help lewis to get off one night where he cant sleep 🥺

watch you sleep

order up!

hi lovely thanks for the request, i have been dying to write this and i took the liberty of making your order is extra sweet, i hope that's okay <3 your requested prompts will be bolded

pairing; lewis hamilton x female wife reader

blurb; your husband wakes you late at night after being gone for months during the race season during which he realized that he can't sleep without you or your help aka needy sub lewis missed his beautiful wife.

warnings; oral fem!receiving, switch!reader cockwarming, body worship, sub!lewis, gentle sex, thigh kisses, belly bulge, riding and somnophilia kink [let me know if i missed anything]

crepes; "go back to sleep, you don't have to be awake for this sweetcheeks" english muffin; "i could die between these legs" sparkling water; gentle sex cider; body worship dark roast; sub character aka lewis and i added coffee; somnophilia kink which this story relates to and victoria sponge; "you wanna hold my hand" for some extra tooth rotting sweetness

currently playing; watch you sleep by girl in red "we're safe here under the sheets, i don't ever wanna leave, i'll watch you sleep and listen to you breathe, i don't ever wanna leave, i'll watch you sleep"

"shit" lewis cursed as he ended up knocking over a lamp before stilling, listening but when he heard nothing he sighed in relief glad to have not woken you up, he trudged into your shared home late in the evening feet heavy and body aching, all he wished for in this moment was to curl up in your arms were he belonged.

he'd been gone for months due to the race season and while you visited when you could, he still couldn't help but miss you every day, his heart aching to be home with you, during their time spent together these past months, george hated how much lewis talked about you mainly because he would never shut up no matter how hard he begged. kicking off his boots as to not risk making any more noise, lewis found himself shuffling towards your bedroom, aching to hold you close but what he found left him speechless as he leaned against the door frame merely watching you sleep peacefully, hair splayed out across the pillows in a way that reminded him of a halo, cheeks rosy from the warm air that blew in from the open window and your nightgown... oh that damn nightgown always drove him completely mad, making him feel like a man starved whenever he saw your body adorned in the light blue fabric. the soft sighs that left your parted lips made his mouth curl up in a smile, you never ceased to make him breathless. you always looked angelic no matter what you did, his own personal angel. he stood there just admiring the beauty that was his wife for the longest time and as you shifted, your leg moved causing your nightgown to rise and reveal even more skin, skin that he was dying to taste.. any air he had breathed in left his lungs and his thoughts died down, the only thing on his mind was you as he sat next your sleeping form, mattress dipping under his weight as his fingers grazed up the skin of your thigh, stopping just below the hem of your nightgown, he smiled at the thought that came to his mind then. moving to lay on his stomach between your legs, his hands running up your thighs taking your nightgown with them until they found a home on your hips where he gently gripped in order to keep himself grounded and not loose his mind at his discovery of you going to bed commando. and while he was glad that there was one less layer between him and you to deal with, he also felt disappointed, he loved the way your lace panties hugged your curves and the way you squeaked when he snapped the band against the skin of your firm ass but most of all he loved tracing the hemline of them until you were begging him to do something, anything. he nuzzled against the skin of your thigh taking in the way you smelled; like strawberries and vanilla, he loved that smell so much that he'd even tried to take your perfume with him when he left so that he could spray it on the pillows in every hotel he stayed at so when he lay awake at night missing you, you seemed just a little bit closer than you actually were. he nuzzled more against your skin beginning to place sweet pecks to your thighs moving up, up, up until he found himself exactly where he wanted to be, his face level with your center and he couldn't stop himself from placing the softest of kisses there too, groaning at the very light taste of you on his lips "i could die between these legs" he mused to himself, pushing your legs further apart eager to taste you.

it could have been the warm breeze that had snuck through the curtains or the chirping crickets outside that woke you, you weren't completely sure as your arms stretched above your head, back arching off the mattress but then you felt it, the soft tickle against your thigh and the deep groan against your core as he licked through your folds, the taste of you sending his brain into overdrive "shit" you cursed, hands darting down to thread through his twisted braids and press against his scalp "lewis.." you mumbled, voice still hoarse from having just woken "go back to sleep, you don't need to be awake for this sweetcheeks" he murmured, his grip upon your hips tightening and the squeak that left you as he tugged you closer so that his tongue could slip inside had him chuckling against your core, sending sparks shooting up your spine "just wanted a taste, missed this sweet little pussy so much" his words warmed you, made you feel even more loved than you already knew you where and while his words couldn't be seen that way to most people, it was the way he said it that would have given his love for you away, the love he held for his angel of a wife. he hummed as your juices met his tongue the sweetness of you overwhelming, he didn't want to leave but when you pulled at his arm, his body listened, climbing over you hands pressed against the mattress either side of your head, he watched as you nibbled on your bottom lip the sight making him needier than he already was, oh how he wanted to bite that lip for himself but when your hands cupped his cheeks, lewis couldn't help but melt letting you pull him close to kiss him.

oh how he had missed this, the press of your lips against his own, the hum you made as his tongue slipped past your parted lips letting you taste yourself, the only sounds that could be heard within the four walls of your bedroom were the rustling of bed sheets and the sounds of your sloppy kiss "missed you so much sweet girl, can't sleep without you" he informed you in between the consistent kisses you continued to press against his lips, loving the taste of him on your tongue, when you pulled away the sultry look in your eyes told him everything he needed to know. rolling onto his back he brought you with him, hips slotted snugly against his own, oh how he loved this sight, his gorgeous wife straddling his lap with her nightgown pushed up around her hips and his fingers digging into the flesh of her thighs, bound to leave fingertip bruises to be discovered at a later date. "you gonna let me help sweet boy, let me help you dream" you soothed him, hands pushing his shirt up his body eager to get it off and so when he pulled it over his and tossed it into the corner to be forgotten you couldn't help yourself as you leaned down to kiss across his chest "your so perfect, my sweet boy always is" you mused against his flushed skin as he moaned, unable to hold it in any longer.

the press of your lips against his skin left him feeling euphoric like he was on cloud nine "missed you so such" he hummed, fingers threading through your hair as you kissed his chest paying special attention to his tummy, you loved the feeling of the soft skin against your lips just like he did, lewis loved laying with his head snuggled against your tummy placing kisses to the soft skin every now and then just imagining what it would be like when you were pregnant.

how he'd always wanted to see you pregnant with his child, stomach round and breasts heavy with milk, oh how he would feed from you himself, he thought but was soon distracted from that delicious thought when you kissed across his waistline causing him to gasp, head slamming back against the soft pillows of your shared bed and his sudden movement caused lewis to tug at your hair a little too hard which made you wince "careful baby, you gotta be gentle with me" you giggled, god your laugh never failed to set his heart alight "i'm sorry love" he soothed, rubbing his fingers against your scalp to soothe the ache "i didn't mean to hurt you" he smiled as you hummed from the feeling of his little massage "i know my sweet, i know" you replied, moving back up his body, enjoying his facial expressions when you dipped your hand into his sweatpants to gently stroke his already painfully hard cock.

lewis couldn't believe his luck, how lucky he was to have you and how lucky you were have him "lift your hips for me sweet boy" you asked, tugging his sweatpants off his hips and down his legs, leaving him to kick them off as you once again straddled his hips feeling the tip of his cock poke against your entrance as you kneeled above him slightly and as you sank down on his cock, your pussy clenching around him, lewis pulled you down against his body, chest pressed against his with one hand gripping your hip, the other still tangled in your hair, as you rocked your hips you couldn't help but kiss the beautiful man below you, thumbs running over his cheeks as his cock dragged along your inner walls, it was a feeling you had missed, feeling him so deeply. "so fucking deep lew" you moaned.

your forehead pressed to lewis's as you panted against eachothers mouths, your hips moving faster and faster never wanting to stop. his breath was hot against your face when he jerked his hips up trying to met your thrusts only to have you push them down when you sat back up "tsk tsk tsk, your not the one in charge tonight baby boy" you scolded playfully, balancing yourself by pressing your hands against the damp skin of his chest, the only sounds heard now were the sounds of your hips slamming down against his and the hot pants and moans leaving both of your lips, a euphoric feeling zapped up your spine when lewis pushed your nightgown further up so he could press his hand against the bulge that appeared in your tummy when you rode him like this, lewis loved the sight; in fact it was one of his favorite things in the world and the feeling of him so deep inside of your pussy was one that you'd never forget.

your hum turned into a low moan as you watched him reach for you with grabby hands, eyes begging "you wanna hold my hand" and so your fingers tangled together with his own, holding his hands tight as you bounced up and down on his cock, you knew he was close when his hips starting rutting against your own.

lewis knew he was done for and so he couldn't help himself as he pulled you back down, lips locking with yours in a messy kiss, spit coating both of your faces in the process and then he groaned so deeply you almost came from the sound alone, his arm around your waist forcing your hips down and against his own as his hot cum painted your insides white, rope after rope being released, your pussy clenched around him as your body shook, a tell tale sign of you reaching your own high, juices mixing with his own.

you collapsed against lewis, listening to his erratic heartbeat as his chest rose and fell all while he held you tightly against him so that he could place kisses upon your damp forehead "i fucking love you so much" lewis murmured while his long fingers tangled in your hair, oh how you loved those fingers and the things he could do to you with them.

you kissed at his chest just above his heart "welcome home husband" you giggled which almost sent him into a frenzy once more "don't start wife" he chuckled darkly holding you closer, never wanting to let go again.

it was in this moment that the both of you knew this, right here was your forever. you weren't going to let anyone or anything change that you promised yourself, watching him doze off, cock still buried deep in your cunt growing softer with each passing minute but you couldn't care so long as your sweet boy was content and at peace, this was the perfect forever.

#lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton smut #lewis hamilton fluff #formula one fanfiction

297 notes · View notes

dilemmaontwolegs · 2 years ago

Note

What do you think about a wolff reader being engaged to Charles. And a "Who did this to you" trope, so.etjing bad happened to the reader, or she was mugged or harrased a hurt. We also get protective Charles, Toto and Lewis

All That Matters || CL 16

Warnings: 18+ only, violence, blood, reader injuries, medical procedures WC: 5.7k

F1 Masterlist

The line to the ladies room was longer than you expected when you told your step-mother that you would catch up. Susie had given you a quick wave, not wanting to miss out on the qualifying races, and departed without you. While you waited, you had pulled out your phone and busied yourself with a few replies of well-wishes from friends before going on Instagram and liking all the photos of Charles that you had missed earlier.

One particular photo brought a smile to your face as you knew exactly who he was looking at off camera. You were wearing Mercedes merch for quali and planning to wear Ferrari for race day, so his team had avoided taking photos of the two of you until tomorrow. That didn’t mean your own camera roll wasn’t bursting with pictures of the contrasting black and red team colours. You were so consumed in the pictures of your fiancé that you didn’t hear the door open behind you.

A shoulder bumped into you and your phone clattered to the ground before a heel quickly stomped on it, shattering the screen. What you had thought was an accident suddenly turned into an attack and the other women waiting in line screamed at the man and pushed each other away to reach the door.

You couldn’t comprehend what was happening as you were thrown to the ground, pain lacerating your stomach from the kick you received as you went down. You tried to crawl away but a boot planted down on your back pinning you in place as you screamed for help despite the pain it caused.

You reached out, your fingers clawing the dirty floor as you tried to grab your phone before the man stood on your wrist. His joyous laugh sent a wave of nausea through you and he bent down to grab your hand that you fisted tightly.

“No, no, please don’t,” you begged as he pried your fingers open. “I’ll give you anything, I have money, please.”

You screamed as your engagement ring was torn from your finger and you raked his arms with your nails trying to get it back before he closed his fist and sent stars exploding across your vision. Blood smeared across the linoleum floor as you tried to drag yourself after him, the pain of the door closing on your fingers no longer registering in your senseless state. No amount of money could replace what the ring meant to you and you couldn’t just let it go. You were a Wolff, and Wolff’s never give up - your father had instilled the value into you since you were a child.

Pulling yourself up the door, you gasped at the pain in your ribs and clutched the aching bones as you chased after the stranger running through the paddock. The determination was there in your heart and your mind, but it was your body that was failing you as your vision faded and the distance grew. The man was going to get away with taking your prized possession and there was nothing you could do as you crumpled to the concrete and let the darkness take you.

Toto gave his wife a distracted wave as he listened to the engineers discussing the weather with his drivers and he leaned back looking for you behind her.

“She’s on her way,” Susie said, knowing her husband well as she reached him and massaged his tense shoulders.

The qualifying round soon ended and Toto laid his headset down with a smile at the decent result. “Where is she?” he asked when he looked around the garage and noticed you still hadn’t arrived.

“She probably stopped in to see Charles, he could do with some cheering up.”

Toto shook his head feeling sorry for the man who would soon be his son-in-law before standing up and stretching his legs while Lewis and George finished the warm down lap and returned to the garage. “Maybe he’ll finally be ready to leave them if they keep ignoring his wise opinion.”

“Hello Toto, Susie,” Charles greeted politely as he walked through the garage, his bright red racing suit standing out among the black and white uniforms. He stopped to shake Toto’s hand and kiss Susie’s cheeks before looking around. “Have you seen Y/N? She’s not answering her phone.”

“I thought she was with you,” your father frowned, pulling his phone out to call you. “Voicemail. Hi sweetheart, give me a call when you get this.”

“Toto, it’s the stewards,” his engineer interrupted with a frown as he held Toto’s headset up for him.

“What do they want?” he growled as he took them and pulled them over his ears.

“I don’t know, they only mentioned your daughter.”

Charles grabbed the spare headset that Susie usually wore and caught the end of the news. His stomach dropped and his heart beat so loud he could only hear pieces of information. Assault. Unconscious. Hospital. Hurry. He couldn’t stop hearing the words as he tore the headset off and saw the horror and fear reflected in Toto’s eyes. While Toto’s fear stemmed from the love of a father, Charles was that of a soulmate, the one person above all else in the world who he entrusted his heart to.

“Go,” Toto ordered, knowing Charles was the faster man with youth on his side. “Run!”

Charles broke into a sprint, weaving through the crowds as they left. Stunned fans watched the man who usually stopped to sign autographs and take photos push his way to the exit with tears in his eyes.

He didn’t stop, not when his breath was raspy or his legs turned weak. He pushed on, fear driving him to run as fast as he could through the city he called home.

Every slap of his shoes on the pavement jolted through his body and he didn’t even have to think about the route to the hospital as his feet carried him along the familiar streets. He was in a world of his own, trapped in his mind thinking through his afternoon.

He had sat in his car while it was wheeled into the garage, taking a few minutes to calm himself down after the shit show he had endured. He had bit his tongue and listened to the excuses his engineer waffled on with, preparing his own argument in silence in the meeting room. He wondered if those precious moments of waiting had cost him everything. If only he had got out of the car, if only he had been more assertive, he could’ve found you first.

“Monsieur Leclerc!” a nurse called out the moment he stepped foot in the hospital. For once he was glad almost everyone in the city knew who he was as he was quickly ushered into the emergency room where he heard your soft whimper.

Harsh lights welcome you back to the land of consciousness and you tried to shade your eyes but the movement caused a bolt of pain to streak up your arm. Your head spun with stars dotting your periphery as you rolled your head to the side weakly to see your wrist hanging limply, the angle making your stomach turn as a whimper passed your lips.

“Mon amour.”

The voice of an angel, that’s what you heard before the privacy curtain was brushed aside and Charles froze as he saw the state of you. You had no idea how bad you looked, everywhere ached, you could taste blood in your mouth and the same red liquid seeped through the gauze that wrapped your hand that was naked of the engagement ring that had split your skin as it was stolen.

The memory brought tears to your eyes and your lips trembled with a sob that spurred him into action, crossing the room and gingerly taking your right hand. He pressed his lips to your knuckles and the tears he had been holding back broke away, streaking their way down his cheeks.

“Who did this to you?” Anguish tortured his voice, emotion choking his throat as he dropped his head and clutched your hand to his lips like a prayer. “They won’t get away with this, I swear.”

You nodded but the pounding in your head was only exacerbated and you fell back to the pillow with a groan as the nurse finally returned with a team of doctors. You understood why everything hurt as they clipped x-rays to the lightboard and even from the bed you could see bones snapped like twigs. Charles' hand clamped over his mouth with a choked sound and he looked at your stomach as if he could see the broken ribs hidden beneath the bruised skin.

You were grateful the nurse was there, promising to make you feel better with pain relief, but she took your hand from Charles’ and you missed the warmth of his touch as she prepared the site for an IV. A cool rush ran up your arm as she flushed the line before the dose of morphine left you feeling weightless and you could finally relax as the pain retreated.

“He stole my ring,” you slurred like you did after too many drinks. “I tried to stop him but he was too strong. I really did, Charles, you have to believe me.”

“I know you did, mon amour, and I’ll get you another one,” he promised as he gently wiped your tears away. “All that matters is you. You are my everything and I love you with or without that ring.”

You smiled as he cupped your face tenderly and gave you the softest of kisses before you whispered against his lips, “I love you too.”

The doctors circled your bed as Charles took a seat beside your head, his fingers softly brushing your cheek as they spoke, but their jargon went in one ear and out the other as you stared at your fiancé. The fluorescent light caught the rarely seen dark red undertones in his hair and the shadows made his jaw even more defined. He really was your angel and when he looked back at you, you got lost in his beautiful eyes.

“Please, do whatever you need to,” he said, but you couldn’t remember what it was about.

You felt like you did when you went scuba diving with Charles in St Tropez, like you were underwater and your body was growing heavier with each passing second as the pressure squeezed your head. The more you tried to focus, the worse you felt and you barely heard Charles call out to the doctors as he saw your eyes starting to close and your jaw falling slack as you slipped out of consciousness again.

–

Charles hadn’t moved from where he had been told to wait. His elbows had left dents in his knees where he sat forward, ready to spring to his feet at the first sign of news coming from the surgical rooms. The hot sweat from running across the city had long turned cold but he didn’t feel the damp chill from his fireproofs he still wore, all he could feel was the suffocating hopelessness of waiting.

“Where is my daughter?”

Charles jumped at your father’s voice breaking the oppressive silence and he jogged to the administration area at the end of the hall just as the receptionist pointed him to the waiting room. There was nothing Charles could say to ease the suffering in Toto’s eyes as they walked towards each other so the older man just wrapped his arms around him and held him for a moment.

“Thank you,” Toto said as he pulled back and squeezed Charles' shoulders. “We got here as fast as we could but with the roads closed…any update?”

Charles shook his head. “Not since she went in.”

Charles had called Toto in a panic after you had passed out and the doctors noticed the trickle of blood running down the diamond earrings he had given you for your anniversary. The nurse had escorted him from the room and he had been forced to watch as you were wheeled away from him. He had feared he would never see your smile or hear you tell him you loved him ever again.

He still feared that.

“They took her for a CT scan before surgery but that’s all they said.” Charles brushed a hand through his hair as more voices filled the hall and he saw Susie arriving with Jack, Lewis, Enzo and Arthur behind her. “Please tell me they found the bastard who did this.”

Toto’s jaw clenched as he shook his head. “Not yet, but there’s a million CCTV cameras - it’s only a matter of time. We’ll get him, son.”

Jack had run along the corridor after seeing his dad and Toto scooped the boy up and closed his eyes as he held him close. Leaving the father and son, Charles met his brothers and accepted the hugs they offered, following Toto’s lead and holding them tighter after being reminded how precious and uncertain each moment was.

“I brought you some clothes,” Enzo said as opened the bag slung over his back. “Thought you might want to look half decent for her when she wakes up.”

Charles nodded his gratitude and took the bag to the bathroom, locking the door behind him before taking a moment to centre himself like he did at the end of a bad race; inhale, hold, exhale.

It was as if his body recognised that he wasn’t alone, that his brothers were there when he needed them most and he didn’t have to pretend to be strong anymore. He didn’t even realise tears were freely falling down his cheeks until he saw his reflection in the mirror, eyes red and hair a mess. He was falling apart and he needed you to put him back together.

One minute. Sixty seconds. That was all he allowed himself to cry before he turned the tap to cold and washed away the sweat and tears. Dressed in a pair of jeans and t-shirt with a clean face, he returned to the waiting room and found Joris had also arrived.

“I don’t understand how this happened, man,” Lewis sighed, his tattooed hand cupping his chin as he stared at a poster on the wall while deep in thought. “It was inside the paddock. She should have been safe. Where was the security? Was it random or did someone target her?”

No one had the answers but they hoped time would tell.

The hours ticked away and Jack eventually fell asleep on Toto’s lap. Other groups of families came and went, Charles’ hopes being dashed each time the doors opened only to find the news wasn’t for them.

“Maman’s on her way,” Arthur whispered, though there wasn’t a sign to keep quiet, it only seemed appropriate. “Is there anything you need?” Charles looked at his brother, giving him a glimpse into his broken soul that needed good news. “Besides that.”

“Maybe coffee and food?”

Arthur nodded and went to reply but the doors suddenly opened and there was no other group in the waiting room.

Jack startled awake as Toto rose to his feet, passing the boy over to Susie before clapping Charles back and leading him forward to meet the doctor half way.

“Family of Miss Wolff?”

Toto nodded and cleared his throat after hours of tortured silence. “How is she?”

“She’s not out of the woods but she’s strong. The next 24 hours will be critical in her recovery,” the doctor said as everyone gathered around. “We repaired her broken wrist with pins and screws but a broken rib punctured her lung causing it to collapse so she has a chest drain that will remain in place for the next few days. It would appear the same blunt force trauma that broke her ribs also ruptured her spleen so we removed it to stop any further internal bleeding.”

Enzo curled his arm around Charles to stabilise him as he swayed on his feet with the news. But still the doctor wasn’t finished and his already sombre mood turned morose.

“What we are most concerned about is the bleed in her brain and the swelling. We released the pressure but will monitor her closely in the ICU. Miss Wolff is on her way to the ward now so you can see her shortly.”

“Thank you,” Charles managed to choke out but it was a miracle the nausea he felt didn’t spill all over the doctors shoes. “You have our gratitude.”

He pursed his lips together and nodded with a sad smile. “I‘ll come by in a few hours to check up on her, just head up to the ICU when you’re ready.”

Visiting hours were wrapping up as the group took the elevator to the next floor in silence, they were all consumed by their own thoughts. Their hearts fluttered with hope while prudence choked it back and no one dared to say a word as they entered the quiet ward. Even Jack, the chatterbox, didn’t make a peep as they entered your room.

“Oh, my darling girl,” Toto broke the silence as he fell into the seat beside you and his hand trembled when he couldn’t immediately find a way to hold you.

Charles could clearly remember the shock of seeing you but this was somehow both better and worse. Though you had been cleaned up and were no longer in blood stained clothes that had been cut away from your body, now thick bandages covered your head and you were littered with wires and tubes connected to beeping machines.

“Papa’s here,” Toto murmured as he settled his hand on your elbow to miss the cast below and the blood pressure cuff above.

Charles swallowed down the lump in his throat and took Jack’s hand, leading him quietly out of the room as Susie placed a hand on her husband’s shoulder that shook with silent sobs. He could feel the looks of pity he received as he leaned against the corridor wall and slipped down to the floor with an exhausted sigh.

“She’s gonna pull through, mate,” Lewis said as he took a seat beside him. “She’s a Wolff and they are fighters.”

“For now,” Charles corrected. “She’s only a Wolff for now.”

Lewis huffed a short laugh. “Leclerc’s are pretty good fighters too, I guess. She won’t lose that when she loses the name.”

The room was silent except for the reassuring beeps of the monitors showing your steady heartbeat.

Everyone had reluctantly left throughout the evening until only Charles and Toto remained. Neither man was willing to close their eyes for a moment, no matter how exhausted they were. The coffee Pascale had brought initially helped but now it was a matter of surviving on the packets of instant coffee and long-life milk from the refreshment station down the hall.

Toto cleared his hoarse throat and broke the silence as he stared at your face that still held the same resemblance to that baby faced girl he had raised and was thinking of. “When she was five, there was this boy at school who tried to take her doll. He was a few years older, and at least a foot taller, but she was so determined to stop him that the toy broke in half. She was so mad, she threw it at his head and the Headmaster called me because she refused to apologise to the boy.”

“What happened?” Charles asked curiously as he heard the story for the first time.

“I took her out for a hot chocolate, bought her a new doll and told her how proud I was. We don’t let people bully us, and we don’t give up on what matters.” Toto’s eyes were full of guilt as he looked at the man he already considered to be a part of his family. “What if this is my fault?”

Your father hung his head in shame as he remembered the information the police had managed to gather from the witnesses. They had all said the same thing; you had fought back and refused to give him your engagement ring.

“He was younger than me, and shorter,” you rasped as you blinked your dry eyes and let them adjust to the dimly lit room.

“Y/N,” Charles breathed a sigh of relief that ended in a sob and you squeezed his hand that held yours before it slipped away to hit the call button.

“He always gets the story wrong.” You smiled at Charles as he placed his hand back in yours before seeing your father’s red eyes and well up with tears. “It’s not your fault, papa.”

Toto nodded but you could see it was only for your benefit. “I’m just glad you’re awake, meine liebe Tochter."

“It must be bad,” you huffed a laugh but it froze as your ribs burned at the sudden expansion. “You haven’t called me that since I was a child.”

“Doesn’t matter how old you get, you’ll always be my little girl. How are you feeling?”

“Got a killer headache,” you admitted as you tried to reach for it but Charles tightened his hold and shook his head.

“Careful, mon amour, you’ve been through so much. They had to…” he choked on his words and you wondered what had happened before you woke but the doors opened and the doctors arrived.

You had been moved out of ICU after the doctors were happy with the results of the CT scan and the chest drain was removed, but it would be a few more days before you were able to return home. In the meantime, they had found you a quiet room that overlooked the city and you could see all the way to the Nouvelle Chicane where labourers were working hard to dismantle the track and grandstands so Monte-Carlo could return to normality.

Normality. No one knew what that would mean for you.

Though you could remember your anniversary and Charles' phone number by heart, you would suddenly find yourself struggling to recall the name for what colour the sky was. It was frustrating to know exactly what you meant but you just couldn’t seem to articulate it.

When it wasn’t your brain causing you grief, it was any movement from the neck down. The pain relief could only do so much without leaving you in a drug haze and you would rather be in pain and lucid when Charles returned.

“Good news, I get to break you out of here for an hour,” he said as he arrived in a fresh pair of clothes, pushing a wheelchair to the side of your bed. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

Your eyes drifted back to the window you had spent three days staring out of. “It’s almost gone.”

“What?” He gingerly took a seat on the edge of the bed and tried to see what you saw. “The track?”

“You could’ve won, Charles. You should’ve won.”

“Maybe, maybe not. But if I had to choose between you and a race, I will always pick you.” He leaned back and draped his arm over the back of your pillow, careful not to touch the stitches on your head. “I could be content never racing again as long as I have you by my side. You are all that matters to me. That’s why I can’t wait to marry you and spend the rest of my life with you.”

“Even if I can’t even remember how to sign my name?”

“Then we’ll make a new one, it is going to be changing soon anyway. Y/N Leclerc,” he mused as he pulled a marker pen out of his pocket that he always carried around. “We can start practising after you’ve had some fresh air.”

Your teeth clenched as you swallowed the pained groan down but it quickly passed once you were settled into the wheelchair. “I’m sorry,” he apologised as he saw your brows pinched and he eased his arms out after carrying you to the chair.

“I’m okay, babe,” you reassured him as he gently pushed you down the hall to the elevator. “It doesn’t hurt as much today.”

It was a lie but you weren’t going to tell him that you had been declining the pain relief offered every few hours.

“Where are we going? Do you have a getaway car ready?”

“Not quite,” he chuckled as the elevator doors closed and he bent down to give you a quick kiss. “I thought you might be sick of hospital food.”

If Charles noticed your reservations he didn’t mention it, filling the silence along the corridors with updates and gossip for you instead. It was amazing that he found the time to catch up on news when he spent almost every minute by your side, only leaving to get fresh clothes and even then he tried to wait until you had another visitor so you were never alone.

He had tried to get you to talk about the nightmares that haunted your sleep but you weren’t ready to face that demon yet. The sleepless nights didn’t just affect you and you could see the dark circles around Charles’ eyes from staying up with you, holding your hand and wiping away the tears that regularly found their way down your cheeks.

“I love you.”

He paused the story he had been recalling and put the brake on the wheelchair as he pointed it to a bench at the front of the busy hospital. Sitting down in front of you, he took your hand. “I love you too.”

“I want you to go home.”

“Just a few more days and we’ll go home,” he said with a sigh, looking down the road as if he could see your apartment on the waterfront. “I know it’s hard, but please be patient a little longer, mon amour.”

You squeezed his hand and your eyes closed as flashes of light danced across your vision, the migraines a recurrence thanks to the concussion. “No, I want you to go home. Go rest and sleep in a proper bed, see your friends, your team. I don’t want you missing out on anymore because of me.”

“You stubborn woman, beautiful, stubborn woman.” Charles leaned closer and tucked some of your hair behind your ear, your hair that was missing a patch at the back where it had been shaved for surgery. “What is it going to take for you to get it? I’m not missing out on anything. I’m right where I am meant to be, with you.”

You opened your eyes to see the sincerity on his face and your argument faded away with his kiss.

“I’m sorry for being stubborn,” you murmured against his lips. “I guess you could say I have a thick skull.”

“Ma chérie,” he groaned and pulled back to laugh softly. “That’s not funny.”

“I beg to diff-” your words froze as the doors up ahead opened and panic contracted your chest.

“Y/N?” Charles asked, his hand cupping your cheek as your lips parted with rapid breaths before he followed your fixed gaze. “What is it?”

Charles saw you staring at a newcomer in reception. He was asking to see a doctor as he held his arm that was streaked with angry red and weeping cuts that were clearly infected and in need of antibiotics.

Charles’ head snapped back to you and saw the fear written on your face along with the cold sweat that broke on your forehead. You were terrified of the stranger, terrified he would recognise you like you had recognised him.

The man glanced over his shoulder and you looked down at your hands. It was as if you could still feel the skin that you had raked your nails down and feel the blood that had coated them.

“Charles,” you stammered as your hands began to tremble. “It’s him. He did this to me.”

Charles was on his feet in an instant and crossing the room, his shoulders back so he stood at his full height when he faced the person who assaulted you. Your sweet, gentle fiancé was gone and the man who stood in his place was one you didn’t recognise. There was no warmth in those green eyes, no smile on those lips. You had seen him furious after races ended badly but nothing came close to the rage that simmered close to the surface.

“You,” Charles growled as he stepped toe to toe with the man who blanched back in realisation. “Don’t even think about it.”

Your fingers dug into the vinyl padding along the armrest as you watched the man turn and try to flee, but Charles was faster. You were too stunned to do or say anything when the receptionist screamed for security and Charles tackled the man around the waist, taking him to the floor with a heavy thud.

Sanity returned as quick as it left when Charles’ fist connected with the man’s jaw and security burst into the building. “Shit, Charles!” you screamed as thick arms curled under him and dragged him away.

“I promise you,” Charles growled angrily, his eyes wild as they narrowed on the man cradling his jaw. “You’re gonna pay for what you did.”

He shook the arms off him and brushed a hand through his hair before pointing to the man. “Will someone call the fucking police? This bastard assaulted my wife!”

You should have been focused on what was unfolding but your heart fluttered at the words that rolled so naturally off his tongue and a small smile tipped your lips up.

Your attack had been widely publicised by the major news outlets, and there were plenty of grainy CCTV images of his face, so when Charles pointed his finger at the man responsible the security guards quickly turned their attention to him.

“Charles,” you called softly, his hair bouncing as he rushed back to your side. “Are you alright?”

You took his hand, gently unfurling his trembling fist as you saw the reddening skin across his knuckles. He slipped his hand out of your grasp and shook it out with a wince.

“Hurt more than I thought it would,” he admitted as he stared at the hand that had struck violence before dropping to the bench seat and hanging his head in shame. “I didn’t mean to scare you, mon amour.”

“You didn’t scare me, Charles. You could never scare me,” you assured him as you lifted his head so you could see the eyes you had fallen in love with. “I’ve never seen you like that before.”

“I’ve never felt anything like that before,” he admitted. “Something just flipped and I was so angry I couldn’t control it.”

You saw his eyes start to drift away but you brought him back with a soft kiss. “You called me your wife.”

“I did, didn’t I?” His eyes widened before crinkling with a smile. “You’re already my everything, mi alma, ma cœur, mia amata. Marry me.”

“That’s the plan.”

“No, now, as soon as we can. Marry me, please.”

The thought of waiting six months suddenly felt like a lifetime and you were already nodding your head, the doors crashing open as police swarmed the reception. “Okay, yes, of course,” you said with a beaming smile as cuffs were slapped on the strangers wrists.

“Yeah?” Charles seemed shocked you actually agreed but when your smile widened and you nodded he blessed you with a smile you hadn’t seen since you saw him before the qualifiers, the one that defined his dimples. “I’ll call your father now. I, ah, should probably update him about that too.”

You looked over to see the man receiving some treatment and heard the police officer remind the doctor to keep it to ‘just the basics’ so he could be transported to the station.

You nodded numbly, in a state of shock, as he pulled his phone out. The last ten minutes had been a roller coaster of emotions and you ran a hand down your face to find your cheeks wet once more. This time they were tears of joy and relief.

“I’m getting married,” you whispered to yourself before a surprise giggle bubbled in your chest. Despite the terror and pain you had survived, your dreams were about to come true and if anyone could manage to organise last minute nuptials in Monte-Carlo it was Charles. The man had connections everywhere.

“Your father is on his way,” Charles said as he returned, tapping his phone against his thigh in his nervous habit. “I hope that bastard is taken away before he gets here or it might be Toto that ends up behind bars.”

“He’s all bark, no bite. I think he’s safe.”

“Don’t underestimate what a father would do for his child,” Charles said softly. “If we had children I know there is nothing I wouldn’t do for them.”

You swallowed at the sincerity in his voice and placed your hand on his. “You’ll make a great father, Charles.”

He leaned forward and captured your lips in a searing kiss before resting his forehead on yours. “But first I have to be a great husband, and to do that I have some favours to call in.”

“Who?”

Charles just smiled but you saw the name on the screen before he hit the call button. Prince Albert of Monaco.

“You’re hoping to use your favour with the Prince on this!”

“I can’t think of a better use,” he said with a wink as the line trilled. “All that matters is by the end of the day you are mine and I am yours in every sense. Ah, hi, hello, it’s Charles Leclerc, I was hoping to speak with the Prince…”

You watched Charles pace as he spoke, his free hand fidgeting with his rings and his hair until it dropped to his side and his jaw fell slack. You feared the Prince wasn’t going to be able to help with fast tracking the legal side of the marriage but then Charles fist punched the air and his laugh reached you. “Thank you, your highness, thank you.”

He ended the call and smiled brighter than the times he had stood on the centre podium. “We’re getting married!”

#charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x y/n #formula one imagine #formula 1 fanfic #formula one fanfiction #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 rpf

2K notes · View notes