#my jaw dropped at his goal

[choccorin]

finished the new ep :3

[foldingfittedsheets]

One of the most memorable speeches I've ever heard was given at my beloved's graduation. They attended a pretty crunchy school natural medicine. They went for acupuncture but they also had many degrees including nutrition, naturopathic medicine, and most importantly to this story: midwifery.

The common consensus across campus was that the midwives operated on their own frequency which is a nice way to say they were usually really weird, even by the standards of a pretty alternative crowd of people. Not weird in a bad way. But weird nonetheless. They straddled the boundary between life and death and it changed them.

I had never experienced a midwife before the ceremony which is why I didn't think anything of the fact that a midwife stepped up to give the graduation speech. My friends nearby had a stir of repressed amusement and elbowing each other which did puzzle me slightly.

The speech began as a story, which I heartily approved of. The midwife related an experience in which a woman told her that during her first birth she had screamed too much and used up her energy in that instead of pushing and the midwife, to the collective masses assembled to watch a solemn ceremony, said, "I told her this time she would need to scream with her vagina."

The audience was slightly stunned by this, myself included. I scanned the crowd to see dropped jaws and wide eyes. It was such a bold statement to make in an academic setting and no one quite knew what to make of it.

The midwife continued unperturbed.

She related that many dads didn't know what to do during the birthing process and that this particular dad chose to chant over and over, "You're gonna be huge, you're gonna be huge," as his wife screamed with her vagina to birth their child. The midwife mused that she didn't know if he was talking to their child or his wife or if he even registered what he was saying in that moment.

Then the subject strayed toward how the student body had strained and striven toward this goal, this endgame that was the result of sleepless nights, hard work, and camaraderie. The speech seemed to have moved onto more solid ground and traditional graduation reminiscences. The crowd settled, thinking the worst had passed.

But as the midwife wrapped up she said, "As you go forth into the world, pushed out by this noble institution to help the masses, just remember one thing," she paused and the audience held their breath while the beat drew out before she finally whispered:

"You're gonna be huge."

There was a roar of astonished laughter as her speech neatly tied their graduation into a metaphor for being birthed unto the world and we finally understood the point of her anecdote.

The speech lives in infamy in all our collective memories. Years later my beloved's dad will still be like, "Remember that bizarre graduation speech?"

And it was. It was bizarre. But I'll say this. I've attended a lot of graduations, and I don't remember any of the speeches half so well as I do that one.

[readwritealldayallnight]

When Gaz walks into the bases common room, his goal for making his third cup of tea of the day is diverted when he catches sight of Soap’s expression across the room.

The Scot looks absolutely befuddled, eyes wide and sitting slack-jawed across from his Lieutenant. Gaz walks over to the men, catching the very end of Ghost telling his companion to ‘piss off’.

“Alright?” He asks the lads, raising a brow in question.

“Ye oughta hear the shite LT’s tryin’ to convince me of over here!” Soap is all too eager to inform his friend. Ghost grunts, leaning further back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest and rolling his eyes as far back as he can, as if to tell the Sergeant in front of him ‘this is why I don’t tell you anything’.

Because that’s almost exactly what Ghost is thinking at that moment. He’d just entered the common room when he’d spotted the back of an all too familiar head, fiddling and distracted with the microwave.

When he’d walked up behind the younger man and echoed his call sign out in greeting, his mask hid the smug smirk that appeared at the jump Soap gave, uttering a loud “Shit!” in surprise.

Soap went on to complain about how he was apparently attempting to jumpstart his heart, drawling on about how the Lieutenant was always sneaking up on people like this, moving quiet as a Ghost.

“My missus says the same thing.” The masked man had mentioned casually, as if his chest hadn’t automatically puffed out in pride, standing up a little straighter at the mention of his girl.

“She says you’re too quiet? Aye, LT, think a lot o’ couples have complaints of the sorts in bed ya see-”

“Shut it, you prick.” Ghost quickly shut him down, ending that line of thought. “She says I walk too quietly in the flat. Accidentally scaring her all the time, poor thing.”

At that, Soap’s eyebrows had shot sky high, keen to hear more about the big bad Ghost’s life of apparent domestic bliss, turning him into an absolute sap.

Ghost wouldn’t normally volunteer information about his personal life. But he just loves you so much. And now that he’s not only thinking about you because he is all the time, but also talking about you, his mouth didn’t seem to want to stop talking about you.

“She put her foot down with me recently.” He’d added with a deep chuckle.

“She did what?” Soap had asked bewildered.

“She called it ‘putting her foot down’. I walked up behind her when she was doin’ dishes. Poor bird didn’t hear me and dropped somethin’.”

“Oh, no! Simon! That’s my favourite mug!!” You’d cried out, watching your most treasured ceramic shattering on the tile floor of the kitchen, spreading every which way across the room.

“M’sorry lovie. Didn’t mean to scare ya.” He’d sheepishly responded, reaching to turn off the running faucet. He’d grabbed the dish towel and gave it to you to dry your hands, lifted you by the waist and set you on the counter with ease, not wanting you to get hurt with your bare feet. He’d turned, already in search of a broom and dust pan.

“Again. You mean I’m sorry for scaring you again.” You had corrected him, narrowing your eyes. “I can’t take it anymore Simon. You don’t need to be stealthy at home, my love, you can make noise when you walk. In fact I need you to make noise when you walk at home!”

Simon had nodded along, diligently sweeping up every piece of your ruined mug.

“I’ll try harder sweetheart. I promise.” He’d offered, dumping the remnants into the bin before he’d walked up to you, wrapping his strong arms around your waist as yours slid around his shoulders.

The very next weekend he’d taken you to a local pottery painting class to make up for the lost mug, as well as you telling him off (because yeah, that was what Simon considered you putting your foot down with him, and he never wanted it to happen again if he could help it).

Ghost finds himself grinning further under his mask at the memory however, of how cute you looked as you tried to raise your voice at him, laying down the law in your shared home.

“And so what’d ya tell her?” Soap asked, curious to know how his Lieutenant had reacted, but more so if the man would even reply or rather would tell him to fuck off.

“I didn’t tell her anythin’.” Simon had uttered. “Did as my missus asked me to do, and that was the end of the story. Well, s’pose I did I tell her I’d look into mug making classes or whatever.”

“…”

“You what?!”

[rose24207]

My dad is a dumbass

Summary: Lucas is sent back in time to ensure his teenage father falls for his outcast mother instead of the wrong girl.

Genre: fluff, popular!Lando x bullied!reader, time travel

TW: bullying

A/N: I watched twinkling watermelon. SOMEONE SEDATE ME- anyways… *cough cough* English is not my first language. I hope you enjoy it though! Requests are open and welcome!

P2

Masterlist pt. 2

The moment Lucas felt the world spin beneath his feet, he knew something was very wrong. One second, he had been in his dad’s garage, tinkering with some old F1 tech Lando had insisted was too dangerous to touch, and the next?

He was here—standing in the middle of a high school hallway that smelled like sweat, cheap cologne, and regret.

Lucas stumbled, heart racing. The world had shifted—subtly, but undeniably. Everything around him was different. The posters on the walls advertised school dances from years ago. The fashion was outdated. The phones in students' hands were clunky.

His breath hitched.

This wasn’t just any high school.

This was your high school.

His parents had met here.

And from the way the students around him carried on, oblivious to the fact that a future-born kid had just dropped into their reality, it hit him.

He had traveled back in time.

And then he heard it.

A voice so familiar it made his stomach twist.

“Oi, Carlos, did you see that goal? Absolute beauty, mate!”

Lucas turned his head so fast he nearly gave himself whiplash.

There, leaning against the lockers, laughing with a group of friends, was Lando Norris.

Not Dad, the grown-up who nagged him about cleaning his room and told embarrassing stories to his friends. No, this was seventeen-year-old Lando—loud, confident, grinning like he owned the world.

Lucas nearly choked.

Holy shit. My dad is a dumbass teenager.

You always knew how to make yourself invisible. It was a skill you had mastered long ago—sitting in the farthest corner of the library, keeping your head down, never speaking unless necessary. It was safer that way.

High school had been unkind to you. The whispers, the taunts, the stolen lunch money—they had worn you down over time, molding you into someone small and quiet.

You thought you were alone.

Until a chair scraped across from you, and a boy you didn’t recognize sat down.

You stiffened, gripping your book tighter.

“Uh… do I know you?” you asked hesitantly.

The boy—Lucas, as he introduced himself—smiled, easy and relaxed. “Not yet.”

There was something strange about him. He didn’t feel like a normal teenager. His gaze was too sharp, too knowing. And yet… when he glanced at your book and casually remarked, “Pride and Prejudice? Classic,” you felt your heart stutter.

Nobody had ever paid attention to what you read.

“You’ve read it?” you asked, voice skeptical.

Lucas smirked. “More times than I can count.”

A flicker of warmth spread through your chest.

You hadn’t had a real conversation with someone in months.

And for the first time in a long while, you didn’t feel so alone.

Lucas had a problem.

His dad was an idiot.

A lovesick idiot.

And not for the right girl.

Her name was Jessica. And she was, in Lucas’ professional opinion, the worst person on the planet.

She was the kind of girl who faked sweetness when people were watching but turned venomous the second they weren’t.

And seventeen-year-old Lando was eating right out of her perfectly manicured hand.

Lucas watched in horror as his father practically tripped over himself trying to impress her.

“She’s so obviously playing you,” Lucas muttered under his breath.

Carlos, standing nearby, gave him a weird look. “Do you know Lando?”

Lucas coughed. “Uh, no.”

Carlos shrugged. “Then why do you care?”

Lucas clenched his jaw. Because if my dad doesn’t stop being a dumbass, I might never be born.

He had to fix this.

The first time Lucas tried to break them up, it was simple.

He “accidentally” spilled his entire drink on Jessica’s very expensive designer bag.

“Oh my God!” she screeched, jumping back like she had been set on fire.

Lucas put on his best innocent face. “Oh no. I’m so sorry.”

Lando, ever the gentleman, immediately started panicking. “Jess, I’ll fix it, I swear—”

But Jessica was too busy throwing a tantrum about her ruined bag.

She stormed off.

Lucas grinned, satisfied. Problem solved.

Until the next day, when Lando was still mooning over her.

Lucas groaned. This is going to be harder than I thought.

Lucas wasn’t just here to make sure his parents fell in love.

He was here to protect you.

And it didn’t take long for him to see how much you needed it.

You never told him what was happening, but he saw it.

The girls whispering behind your back. The stolen lunch. The tripping in the hallways.

Lucas’ hands clenched into fists.

One day, he caught a group of girls sneering as you walked past.

“She’s so weird.”

“I heard she eats lunch alone every day.”

Lucas saw red.

“Funny,” he said loudly, making them freeze. “I was just thinking how weird you guys are.”

The leader, a blonde girl with too much makeup, scoffed. “Excuse me?”

“You spend all your time talking about someone who doesn’t even know you exist,” Lucas said, crossing his arms. “Kinda pathetic, don’t you think?”

Their faces burned red before they stormed off.

Lucas smirked. That’s what I thought.

Later that day, you hesitated before looking at him. “Why did you do that?”

Lucas shrugged. “Because you don’t deserve it.”

You swallowed, blinking rapidly. “…Thank you.”

Lucas softened. “Anytime, Mum.”

You didn’t hear that last part.

Lucas had to be tactical.

He orchestrated run-ins between you and Lando.

He got you both paired as lab partners.

He even tripped Lando once just so he’d fall into your arms (which earned him a very suspicious glare from his dad).

And finally, finally, Lando started to notice you.

Lucas saw it—the way his dad’s eyes lingered too long, how he smiled softer around you.

It was working.

Until Jessica struck again.

She cornered Lando after school, batting her lashes. “Landooo, come to the party with me?”

Lucas froze.

If Lando went, he’d fall right back into her clutches.

Thinking fast, he jumped in. “Oh, he can’t.”

Lando blinked. “I can’t?”

Lucas clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Nope! He already has plans. With her.”

He pointed to you.

You turned scarlet. “W-what?”

Jessica scoffed. “Since when?”

Lucas grinned. “Since now.”

Lando looked at you, hesitant but intrigued.

“…I guess we have plans?”

You bit your lip. Then—shyly, hesitantly—you nodded.

“I guess we do.”

Jessica huffed and stormed off.

Lucas smirked. Checkmate bitch.

Days later, Lucas watched as Lando walked you home, a soft smile playing on his lips.

Lucas grinned.

His work here was done.

Now…

He just had to figure out how to get back home.

Thank you for reading!

Taglist: @ipushhimback, @ladyoflynx, @lewishamiltonismybf, @cmleitora, @hmma3 , @same1995, @amatswimming, @llando4norris

[anakinstwinklebunny]

stop i loved your hockey player!anakin headcannons sm and i was wondering if you could write smut where hockey player!anakin takes out his anger on reader after he lost the game

hope you have a great rest of your day!!

ANAKIN SKYWALKER’s hips snapped forward, his movements gaining a frantic, desperate rhythm as he hovered over you, damp curls sticking to his sweaty forehead. Cheeks painted in the dark shade of pink, face scrunched in a mix of frustration, and his words spilled out like a frustrated rant more than anything else.

“You wouldn’t believe the absolute morons I had to play with today,” he muttered breathlessly, voice gravelly. He thrusted into you harder, only making your back arch involuntarily. “The new guy? Couldn’t keep the puck on his stick to save his life. Cost us two--fucking--goals.” Each word was emphasized with a particularly sharp thrust, leaving you gasping, nails digging into his shoulders, dragging down.

“God,” he groaned, rhythm faltering for a moment before he adjusted his angle back, making you whimper. “And don’t even get me started on the ref. Blowing calls left and right--how does someone that stupid get hired?" His hand gripped the headboard "Should’ve handed him a goddamn whistle from a cereal box.”

You tried to respond - really tried - but all of your words were swallowed in your throat as his hips moved faster, the small room filling with the obscene sound of skin slapping. His lips parted again, a broken groan leaving them

“Ani,” you whimpered, reaching up to cling to his broad shoulders again. His skin was slick, his body practically shaking with adrenaline.

He dropped his forehead down and he began to pant, out of any air in his lungs “Sorry, sweetheart. I’m ranting, aren’t I?” His hand cupped your jaw, thumb brushing the edge of your swollen, reddish lip. “It’s just--being here with you? Listening to you moan my name like that? It’s the only thing that keeps me sane after a day like that.”

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @divineani @haydensprettyprincess @skyguys-princess @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @literally-izzy @anisluvrgirl @slutforfinnickodair @xhunnybeeex @fuckmyskywalker @gallerygourmet @deceptiive @ysrjune @anakinskwkler @bimbo-baggins17 @cookybananas @emotionallybruisedx @diorvalentina @sevinax @throughparisallthroughrome @aniiuv @ritosparty @ninastyless @lily-strnlo @thesassypadawan @awhhayden @sydkneez @anisangeldust @l1ttle-misssunsh1ne @anakinca

[oikarma]

sweetener

pairing: franco colapinto x reader

summary: time to start promoting your documentary about lewis hamilton. the best place for publicity is in the pit lane, but there seems to be another hamilton fan on the grid-nevermind, there might be new contender for franco colapinto's heart.

a/n: google translate. i don't speak spanish sorry 😭 here's a happy, cutesy one in celebration of franco becoming alpine's reserve driver!

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liked by f1, lewishamilton, and 3,530,927 others

yourinstagram I'm sure you all know of his triumphs, but there are many struggles that have been forgotten.

tagged: lewishamilton SEVEN UP: THE LEWIS HAMILTON STORY out in theatres April 4th, 2025.

view all 149,103 comments

user1 who put her in charge 💀 hasn't she butchered enough projects

user2 hope the FIA didn't have a say on this one

user3 pfft watch half the documentary end up being an argument on why lewis should've won abu dhabi 21

user4 mother hard at work!!

user5 does this mean she's doing a press tour?? what's the equivalent of a press tour for a documentary

user6 on her live a while back y/n said she would be doing some promotional interviews with lewis and there was a rumor that she'll be showing up at the first few races of the year

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liked by lewishamilton, francolapinto and 5,053,782 others

yourinstagram Now and then. We interviewed Lewis after his first day at Maranello and after his last race with Mercedes.

tagged: lewishamilton

view all 394,332 comments

user1 you can hate her but she got the GOAT scheduling interviews with her

user2 to be an oscar-nominated director and to work with lewis hamilton 🙏 life goals user3 It's literally just PR. It's his film of course he has to show up to talk to her about it user2 @/user3 hello?? he doesn't HAVE to show up or do anything most documentaries r released after the subject(s) pass/r in no condition to comment and neither lewis nor the film need pr it's all a matter of politeness user3 someone's defensive...

user4 he looks so much happier! shame he wasn't wearing red though it's almost like he's still repping mercedes

user5 love that for him but pls whoever picked that outfit needs to be talked to

francolapinto GOAT 🐐

user6 franco being a fan as always user7 SKDFJDS he's so unserious i love him

scuderiaferrari it was so cool seeing you on your factory tour 🤩

yourinstagram anytime, admin!

user8 well didn't merc fumble rather badly on that one

user9 😔 end of an era...but it was great while it lasted

user9 ngl i like the grey. it's still kinda jarring seeing him in BRIGHT RED.

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liked by francolapinto, charles_lerclerc, and 340,771 others

scuderiaferrari Best director in our hearts! Academy-nominated director Y/N L/N graced our paddock today for the Australian GP ❤️

tagged: yourinstagram

user1 franco in the likes...ariana what are you doing here

user2 he better take the alpine seat permanently i NEED to see him on the grid

user3 admin have you watched we live in time yet?

scuderiaferrari have watched all of miss y/ns films at least twice. that one destroyed me. ☹️ user4 admin getting a little relatable here

user5 uh oh someone's salty about her losing to jacques audiard

user6 let's be fr though he totally deserved it more user7 but did you see how he snubbed cynthia during her nomination? rude asf at least y/n has class

charles_leclerc Consider yourself booked for my documentary

yourinstagram let's not get ahead of ourselves charles. alexandra on the other hand... alexandrasaintmleux what an honor 🥰 user8 LMFAO

user9 slayed the house (garage?) down

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liked by roscoelovescoco, francolapinto and 410,932 others

yourinstagram thanks for having me this weekend 😚 now say hi to the real star of the show

view all 30,814 comments

roscoelovescoco come back soon please

yourinstagram anything for you <3 user1 SHE MET ROSCOE IVE NEVER BEEN MORE JEALOUS OF ANYONE IN MY WHOlE LiFE

user2 jaw dropped

user3 the color is so cute!!

francolapinto blue looks good on you. wanna match sometime?

user4 franco trying to convince alpine to invite her LOL user5 he shot his shot and it fell flat to the ground yourinstagram sorry, i prefer red

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liked by alpinef1team and 673,410 others

francolapinto back on the grind 💪

view all 49,126 comments

user1 did he-

user2 i think- user3 what- user4 can someone finish their sentence please 😭 im so lost

user5 franco you could use me until my body and mind broke but all i'd ask is if tomorrow works for you

user6 my heart just stopped

user7 am i overreacting or is this a response to y/n's comment about liking red better

user8 THAT'S WHAT I THOUGHT user9 right but mb he just wore a diff color shirt user10 this clashes w all his feed though he's either in light blue/white/navy

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francolapinto has added to their stories

[ translation: i like my coffee bitter, but she's pretty sweet ]

replies

oscarpiastri you finally tried the swiss roll?

francolapinto it was so good 😋 i had two!

yourinstagram you literally called me sour and bitter

francolapinto all my teasing's in the name of love yourinstagram right.

user1 who's she franco??

user2 the only time i ever use google is to figure out wtf franco's writing on his stories

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yourinstagram has added to their stories

replies

lewishamilton how was he?

yourinstagram decent. did not yap as much about you as i expected lewishamilton i guess meeting me reduces a bit of the obsession yourinstagram it's okay lew, he DID ask me how you were doing, what you thought of him, and what it was like working w you lewishamilton maybe he just got sidetracked

francolapinto mi preciosa

yourinstagram okay. francolapinto you like me a bit more, no? yourinstagram you tell me franco

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liked by alexandrasaintmleux and 790,148 others

yourinstagram きれい

view all 61,493 comments

user1 no idea what she said but pop off queen!

user2 her feed...😭 it's so pretty

user3 y/n will we see you @ suzuka??

yourinstagram 🤫 user4 NO WAY I THOUGHT THEY'D WRAPPED PROMO BUT YAYAYAY

francolapinto no hablo japonesa pero te amo en español (i don't speak japanese but i love you in spanish)

user5 am i. seeing things? user6 franco we talked about this you can't be thirsting over random girls it'll make you look like a simp francolapinto @/user6 ¿simp? cualquiera estaría por ella (simp? anyone would be for her) user7 oh the way i will mourn when the pr team gets ahold of him user8 and the way she ignored him 💀

user9 my fatal flaw is thinking that if i had a camera i would be taking pics like these too

alexandrasaintmleux heavenly

yourinstagram muah muah user10 @/charles_leclerc your girlfriend is in love w someone else

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francolapinto added to their stories

viewed by f1gossipofficial and 87,029 others

replies

user1 oh my GOD they're DATING??

user2 y/n folded

user3 franco how'd you bag a baddie like her

user4 one chance mi amor

yourinstagram who took the photo?

francolapinto may have asked a very nice vendor to take pictures of my gf on our first date 🥺 yourinstagram didn't know you had enough rizz to get a girlfriend francolapinto yeah me neither i think she likes me because i get awkward around her

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liked by lewishamilton and 928,137 others

yourinstagram he likes it when i'm mean

view all 60,438 comments

user1 she hard launched him on her main?? omg y/n you are a changed woman

user2 his biceps...

francolapinto i like being degraded sue me

user3 HELLO? user4 franco never let them change you yourinstagram weak.

user5 he's such a puppy for her oml

user6 goals fr

lewishamilton pay up.

yourinstagram we didn't even make a bet?? charles_leclerc @/yourinstagram if you'd just waited ONE day yourinstagram @/charles_leclerc you bet on my relationship?? francolapinto i appreciate your confidence in me lewis yourinstagram @/francolapinto idiot. you don't even know what the specifics of the bet were

[lheesluv]

Salty & Sweet Valentines

Heeseung shows you just how to spend valentine’s day with him even if it means you’re on your hands and knees for him because… he loves it.

PAIRINGS - soft dom!heeseung x fem!reader

GENRE - smut, established relationship

TAGS - smut (mdni), p in v, unprotected sex (dont be silly, wrap your willy), blowjob, cum swallowing, deep throat, fingering, bit of fluff, Imk if i missed anything!

WC - 1.7k

A/N — happy valentine’s day lovies ! if you don’t have a valentine (like me) jake says he got us 🤣 this is the last chapter to my wattpad series "My Secret Lover."

© All rights reserved Iheesluv do not copy, repost, or translate.

You quickly tugged at his sweatpants and pulled them down along with his boxers, pooling at his ankles. "Woah, feisty much?" he teases. You ignored his words and grazed your fingertips on his thighs.

You gave his thigh soft kisses. Licking and nibbling softly until he shifted under your hold. A small smile tugged at your lips when you saw goosebumps erupt on his skin. You rested your head against his thigh and looked up at him.

His eyes looked back at you with lust as he reached his hand out to brush loose hair strands out of your face. "Turned on?" you teased, clearly seeing his leaking tip, red and veiny. Heeseung cupped your jaw, leaning forward. "Suck."

You lifted your head up and leaned in closer. You pressed your tongue flat from the base of his cock to the tip in a long stripe, circling around his slit before repeating the movement. "Stop teasing."

You rolled your eyes and let a glob of spit drop on his tip. You wrapped your hand around his length and started jerking. His hips immediately jerked up in your hold. You leaned down and circled your tongue around his head as you moved your hand up and down his length.

"Y/n– Oh fuck," his words got stuck in his throat the moment you took him in your mouth. You slowly took him as deep as you could, jerking what you couldn't fit. You bobbed your head up and down, licking, sucking, jerking.

His hips thrust up. It made you take him deeper, emitting a gag from you. You dug your nails into his inner thighs, your eyes watering. "Sorry baby, I'm s-sorry, s-so good," Heeseung sighed, his hands threaded in your hair.

Still, you tried to look at him through your wet lashes. The sight of his eyes screwed shut, head thrown back, jaw agape turned you on. It made you want to please him more. Your movements got faster. You fought back the gag and tears, only wanting to please him now.

"G-God, oh, fuck, baby, s-slow down," he whimpers, his grip tightening on your hair. Your throat constantly closes down on him with each gag. You ignored his words as tears streamed down your face. Breathing through your nose and pleasing him was your goal.

Suddenly, he cups your jaw gently and tears you off his cock. "Hey, take it easy, love." His eyes were full of concern, his voice gentle. Your breathing was heavy and uneven. His thumb brushed your tears away as he cooed at you.

"Wanna please you," you said in a small cracked voice. Heeseung cracks a small smile. "You are, babe. Take it easy." You bit on your inner lip and jerked him again. He sucked his breath in at your sudden movement.

You then lowered yourself back on his length, taking him in again. Heeseung took a deep breath in, followed by a sigh. Despite the burning feeling, his deep moans were too addictive and only encouraged you to keep going. The taste of his precum made you hum against him, making him twitch.

"Gonna take it easy, p-promise," he mumbled as he started to control your head movement a bit. "That's it, baby. Yeah, yeah, yeah, just like that," Heeseung groaned, his tip grazing the back of your throat.

You looked up at him again, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. You lifted your head up and continued to jerk him off. The wet sound amplified as you jerked him off, his precum mixed with your saliva.

He thrusted up into your hand with a broken moan. "B-Baby." You focused on bringing him to his climax, jerking his length faster. "Fuck, I c-can't. S-So close." Hearing that, you engulfed your mouth around him again.

You sucked hard and bobbed your head up and down, up and down his wet shaft. You kept breathing through your nostrils and let the tears fall. His whines and moans made you squeeze your legs together.

"So good for me, so, so so, fucking good," he cries out, his muscles tightening as you gag around him again. "So pretty like this," he whispers past his grunts, jerking his hips up involuntarily. You kept your cheeks hollow and hummed.

Heeseung's breathing became erratic, and his moans became a higher pitch. "Feel so fucking good, baby, p-please." His praise made you take him deeper. "F-Fuck! G-God, Y/n, I love you, I love you. C-Cumming," he cried out, his fingers gripping your hair tight.

You felt his warm cum spurt into your mouth. You hummed in satisfaction, letting him finish. "Shit," Heeseung mumbled, still dumping his release in your mouth. Once he pulled himself out, he motioned you to open your mouth. "Good girl."

His grip on you loosens, his chest heaving up and down. "Come here," he pats the couch. You got up and cuddled beside him. "Did I do good?" "My good girl, always so good for me," he mumbles, wiping your tears away.

"Do I get a reward for being a good girl?" You asked. Heeseung's demeanor shifted. "A reward?" he repeats. You nodded, rubbing your thighs together.

"What does my pretty girl want, hm?"

You stuffed your face into his chest and mumbled, "Fuck me." "Hm? Couldn't hear you, baby." "Fuck me," you said sternly.

Heeseung chuckles, "Come up." You look up from his chest and meet his eyes. He leans in, capturing your lips in his. He gently pushes you onto your back and pulls down your shorts. His eyes widened, "Is this..." His hand slides up against your stomach, pulling your top up. He stayed silent for a bit and stared, "Take it off."

You sat up and pulled off your top, leaving you in your new lavender lingerie set. His hands rested on your waist, pulling you closer to him on the couch. "You planned this, didn't you," he said rather than asking. You only stared back at him with a sly smile. "You sly fox."

"Gonna prep you first," he coos, trailing his fingers between your thighs. You nodded and gripped the cushion of the couch to prepare yourself.

He gently pushes you back and pulls the lacy-thin thong to the side. You felt two of his fingers slide into you, causing you to take a short breath in. He thrusted his fingers in and out at a steady pace and leaned down to kiss you.

"So wet, baby," He teased you with a small smirk. You only whined. The wet sound of your arousal made you embarrassed.

Your breathing became heavy, your eyes squeezed shut. Heeseung kept his eyes on you even if yours were closed every now and then. His lips still ghosted over yours as you let out soft moans and whines.

You gripped his wrist to stop him from thrusting into you as you felt your climax approach. "You were close, babe." Of course, he knew. "Wanna cum with you inside me," you said in a small tone, feeling shy.

Heeseung removed his fingers and stuck them in his mouth. He lets out a small hum and adjusts your position on the couch.

He holds his length and rubs his head up and down your sticky slit. He continued this motion — the head of his cock bumping your clit, making the both of you let out a moan.

"Stop t-teasing," you whined. "Be patient," Heeseung demanded, hovering his cock over your hole. He slowly pushed in. The stretch hurt, but it hurt so good. "O-Oh," you gasped, biting your bottom lip. Heeseung groaned once he bottomed out, gripping your waist tightly.

He pulled out halfway and thrusted back in. A loud moan left your lips as your back arched. "M-Mmm, f-fuck, Seungie," you stuttered. "Pussy so good, s-shit," Heeseung mumbles, moving his hips faster gradually.

The sound of your skin slapping together grows louder. Your nails dug into the couch deeper. His arms were wrapped around and under your thighs, pulling you closer to him if it's possible.

The feeling of his cock rubbing back and forth inside you was too overwhelming. Heeseung didn't slow down either, his light gasps getting cut off with deep moans. "Oh, b-baby. So good, so fucking good. I love you, I love you," he rambled on.

A loud high pitched moan escapes your lips when he hits that one spot. His tip ever so bumps your cervix with every deep thrust. You clench around him when your climax approaches, causing him to grunt.

"Hee, baby, I'm c-close, please!" You begged. Soon after three thrusts, you clamped around his cock as your climax hit. Your back was arched, and your grip on the cushion made your knuckles turn white.

Heeseung slowly started moving again, making you mewl from overstimulation. "S-Seung." "I know baby, I-I know. I'm so close, I promise," he says breathily. He thrusts faster, chasing his climax.

"My baby, you're so fucking p-perfect," he rambled, his grip on your thighs tightening. His thrusts soon became sloppy and inconsistent. "F-Fuck, fuck, fuck, I'm cumming. I'm fucking cumming." He pulls out quickly and jerks himself off, spilling his cum over your stomach.

"Fuck," he sighs, dropping his body on top of yours. You both breathed heavily, trying to regain your breath.

"Happy?" You asked him as you ran your fingers through his hair. "Mhm," he hums into your chest. "Did so good for me, baby." You smiled at his praise and hummed back.

"Come on, let's run a bath," Heeseung says, getting off of you. You sat up and then realized something. "You got cum on my new set!" Heeseung chuckles lightly, "I'll get you another, pussy too good." You smacked him, earning an "ow!" "I'll wash it later!"

He then tucked his arms under your legs and swooped you up in his arms. He carried you to his bathroom, setting you on the counter. He turned on the water for the bath and carried you in. You motioned your hand, telling him to get in with you. With a soft smile, he sat across from you.

“Happy Valentine's Day, my love.”

[hjvi]

𝙋𝙚𝙣𝙖𝙡𝙩𝙮 𝙁𝙤𝙧 𝙈𝙮 𝘼𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨

Pairing: Hockey!Chris x Fem!Reader

Summary: Chris promised no more fights, but when a cocky opponent crosses the line and touches you, he can’t hold back.

Warnings: Smut. MDNI. Violence. Make-up sex, fingering, oral, all that good stuff.

Word Count: 7k

The arena hums with anticipation, the sound of skates slicing across the ice filling the space, mingling with the roar of the crowd. You pull your hoodie tighter around you, your breath visible in the chilly air as you glance down at the rink. Chris stands at center ice, his stick resting on his gloved hands, his dark brown hair tucked beneath his helmet but still somehow messy and perfectly him. His blue eyes dart toward you for a fleeting second, and even from this distance, you can see the unspoken promise in them—a reminder of the one he made to you last night.

“No more fights,” you had said firmly, clutching his bruised hands in yours. His knuckles were still raw from his last outburst on the ice, and you couldn’t bear to see him like that again. “You’re getting hurt, Chris. You’ve got to stop. For me.”

He’d hesitated, his jaw tightening, the stubborn defiance you knew so well flashing in his eyes. But then, as always, he softened under your gaze. “M’kay,” he murmured, his voice low but sincere. “I’ll try, for real. No more fights. Promise.”

And now, as you sit on the cold bench near the glass, watching him skate with that effortless confidence, you hope he’ll keep his word. He’s always had a temper, quick to boil over when someone crosses a line, and hockey only seems to amplify it. But tonight, you just want him to play. To stay out of trouble.

The game begins, and Chris is electric, weaving in and out of defenders like they’re nothing. He’s fast, almost too fast, and you can tell he’s showing off a little, especially when he scores the first goal and immediately glances toward you, a smirk tugging at his lips. You can’t help but smile back, your heart swelling with pride and affection.

But as the game wears on, your focus is drawn away from the ice.

It starts innocently enough—a guy from the opposing team, number 27, walking past during a break and tossing you a casual, “Hey, you’re way too pretty to be sitting here alone.”

You roll your eyes, leaning back in your seat. “Not alone. My boyfriend’s playing.”

He laughs, a cocky sound that grates on your nerves. “Oh, the bad boy on your team? Figures. Bet he doesn’t treat you half as good as I would.”

You glance toward the rink, where Chris is waiting for the puck to drop, his posture tense. He must have seen the interaction because his jaw is tight, his eyes narrowed as they flicker between you and number 27.

“Just leave me alone,” you say firmly, turning your attention back to the game.

But the guy doesn’t take the hint. Between plays, he keeps finding excuses to walk by, flashing you a grin or making some snide comment. Each time, you can feel Chris’s gaze burning into you, his grip on his stick tightening. He’s trying to hold back, you can tell, but the strain is visible in every line of his body.

When the second period ends, the guy takes it a step further.

He walks over to your bench, leaning casually against the barrier like he owns the place.

“So, what do you say? One date? I’ll even let your boyfriend keep his teeth—if he behaves.”

You stand up, your hands curling into fists. “I said no. Now get lost.”

But instead of backing off, he steps closer. His tone darkens, his words dripping with venom.

“You know, I think you’re the type who likes it rough. Does he even know what to do with you? I’d bet anything you’d be screaming for me in minutes.”

“Shut up,” you snap, trying to sound firm, but your voice trembles.

He grabs your wrist, pulling you closer, his grip tight and unrelenting. “Don’t act like you don’t like the attention. Your boyfriend’s too busy trying to show off to even notice.”

“Let go of me,” you say, your voice rising in panic.

But instead of releasing you, he shoves you against the cold plexiglass. One hand pins your wrists above your head, his breath hot and sickening on your cheek. “You scream, and I’ll just make it worse,” he murmurs, his tone dripping with malice.

Tears sting your eyes as you struggle against his grip, but he’s too strong. The cold air bites at your exposed skin as his free hand yanks your hoodie upward, exposing your chest. The chill makes you gasp, but it’s nothing compared to the humiliation burning in your chest.

“See? That’s better,” he sneers, his eyes roaming over you. “Betcha Chris love these titties.”

“Stop it!” you cry, your voice breaking, but he presses a hand over your mouth.

“We’ll save that screaming for later,” he whispers, leaning in to brush his lips against your cheek.

“Let me go!” you shout, your voice trembling, but he only presses closer.

“Relax, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice sickly sweet. “I just want a little peek.”

You thrash against him, but his hold is too strong. Red circles form on your wrists from his crushing grip.

“Get off me!” you scream, tears streaming down your cheeks.

The sound of someone shouting your name cuts through your panic, and suddenly, the weight is gone.

Chris’s teammate, Ryan, shoves the guy off you, yelling, “What the hell are you doing, man?!” Another teammate quickly steps in, throwing his jacket over your shoulders to shield you from view as you collapse to the bench, shaking.

Chris, meanwhile, is oblivious, focused entirely on the game. He scores again and turns toward you, expecting your usual wink of encouragement. But instead, his eyes land on the commotion.

His face pales.

One glance at you, disheveled and trembling, and at the guy being restrained by his teammates, is all it takes for Chris to understand.

Chris throws off his helmet and skates full speed toward the bench. He leaps over the boards in one fluid motion, his entire body radiating fury.

“Chris, no—” Ryan starts, but it’s too late.

Chris grabs the guy by the collar, yanking him to his feet. “You sick piece of shit,” he growls, his voice low and menacing.

Before the guy can respond, Chris’s fist connects with his jaw, sending him staggering.

The sound of the punch echoes through the arena, silencing the remaining murmurs of the crowd. The guy stumbles back, his smirk replaced by a look of shock as he tries to regain his balance. Chris doesn’t give him the chance. He grabs the guy’s jersey, yanking him forward, and lands another punch—this one to the cheekbone.

“You think you can put your hands on her?” Chris snarls, shoving him against the boards. “You think that’s okay?”

The guy smirks through the pain, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. “What are you gonna do about it, lover boy? Hit me again?”

Chris obliges, landing another punch square in the guy’s face. Blood sprays from his nose, and he lets out a pained grunt, but Chris doesn’t stop.

“Chris, stop it!” you cry, but he’s too far gone.

His teammates try to intervene, trying to pull Chris back, but he shoves them off with a force that surprises everyone. His focus locked on the man before him. “You’re gonna learn real quick that you don’t mess with her,” he growls, landing another punch.

The guy struggles, trying to shove Chris off, but it’s like trying to stop a storm. Chris delivers a series of blows, each one harder than the last, the sound of bone meeting bone echoing in the arena.

“You don’t touch her!” Chris yells, his voice hoarse. His knuckles are split open now, blood staining his gloves and smearing across the guy’s face. “You don’t fucking look at her!”

The guy finally fights back, swinging a weak punch that barely grazes Chris’s shoulder. Chris laughs darkly, his eyes wild. “That all you got? Hit me, you coward! Come on, hit me!”

When the guy hesitates, Chris slaps him hard across the face, leaving a visible handprint on his cheek. “What’s the matter? Scared? Hit me!” he yells, his voice echoing through the arena.

The guy takes a shaky swing, but Chris dodges easily, retaliating with a brutal uppercut that sends him crumpling to the ground.

“Hit me back, you pussy!” Chris roars, slapping his own cheek hard enough to leave a red mark. “Come on! Hit me! Show me what kind of man you think you are!”

The guy tries to crawl away, his hands raised in surrender, but Chris grabs him by the collar and lifts him off the ground. “You were so confident before,” Chris spits, his face inches from the guy’s. “Where’s all that big talk now?”

“Chris, stop!” you scream, your voice breaking through the chaos.

But Chris doesn’t stop. He slams the guy against the boards, the plexiglass rattling with the force. The guy’s head snaps back, his eyes dazed, but Chris isn’t done. He raises his fist again, his knuckles raw and bleeding, ready to deliver another blow.

Chris looms over him, his chest heaving, his knuckles split open and bleeding. His jersey is torn, and a bruise is already forming on his cheekbone. He looks more animal than man, his rage consuming him entirely.

“Chris!” you cry again, louder this time, tears streaming down your face.

This time, he hears you. He freezes, his fist hovering in the air, his chest heaving as he glares down at the guy. Slowly, he lowers his hand, his fingers trembling.

The refs finally manage to pull him away, but Chris doesn’t resist. His gaze shifts to you, and the fury in his eyes softens, replaced by something else—guilt.

He starts toward you, his steps unsteady, his face a mess of bruises and blood.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice raw.

But you’re not okay. You’re shaking, your wrists throbbing from the earlier assault, tears streaming down your face. “Why didn’t you listen to me?” you sob, your voice trembling with a mixture of anger and fear.

Chris steps toward you, his hands outstretched, You flinch as he reaches for you, the memory of his violent outburst too fresh.

The reaction cuts him deeper than any punch ever could.

“I’m fine,” you manage to say, though your voice is shaky. You clutch the jacket tighter around you, your wrists still aching where the guy had pinned them.

Chris’s jaw tightens, and for a moment, he looks like he’s about to explode again. But then he takes a step back, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “I should’ve been paying attention,” he mutters. “I should’ve—”

“You promised me,” you interrupt, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and pain. “You promised no more fights.”

“He fucking deserved it!” Chris shouts, the anger bubbling back to the surface. “You think I’m just gonna stand there while some asshole puts his hands on you?”

“You didn’t have to beat him like that!” you shout, your voice rising. “You didn’t have to lose control!”

“I lost control because of him!” Chris snaps, his frustration bubbling to the surface. “Do you have any idea what it felt like to see him touching you, hurting you?”

“I told you I could handle it!” you yell, your voice echoing in the now-quiet arena.

“Handle it? He had his hands all over you!” Chris fires back, his voice rising. “Do you even understand what that looked like? What he was doing?”

“You think I don’t know?” you snap, tears streaming down your face. “You think I wasn’t terrified? But you losing control doesn’t make it better, Chris! It just makes it worse!

Chris stares at you, his chest heaving, his face a mixture of anger and anguish. “I can’t just stand by,” he says finally, his voice quieter but no less intense. “I can’t. Not when it’s you.”

“I didn’t need you to protect me like that!” you yell, your tears coming harder now. “I needed you to be the person you promised me you’d be!”

Chris looks away, his jaw tightening. “You don’t understand,” he mutters.

“No, you don’t understand!” you fire back, your voice shaking with emotion. “Every time you do this, every time you let your anger get the better of you, you hurt yourself—and you hurt me! Do you even see what you’ve done to yourself?”

Chris glances down at his hands, his knuckles bloody and swollen, his jersey smeared with blood that isn’t entirely his. For a moment, he looks lost, like a boy caught doing something he knows is wrong.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly.

But it’s not enough. “Sorry doesn’t fix this, Chris,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “Sorry doesn’t undo the promises you’ve broken.”

His shoulders slump, and for a moment, he looks like he might cry. But then his stubbornness flares up again. “You’re mad at me for protecting you?” he asks, his voice rising. “For doing what he deserved?”

“I’m mad at you for not listening to me!” you shout. “For putting yourself in danger and making me watch you destroy yourself!”

“I don’t care about me!” Chris yells, his voice raw. “I care about you! I care about making sure no one ever touches you like that again!”

“That’s not your choice to make!” you scream, your voice breaking completely. “You don’t get to decide how to protect me, Chris. That’s my choice. Not yours.”

Chris stares at you, his chest heaving, his face a mess of emotions—anger, guilt, pain. Slowly, he takes a step back, his hands falling to his sides.

“I don’t know how to be what you want me to be,” he says softly, his voice barely audible. “I’m trying, but… I don’t know how.”

Your heart aches at his words, but you can’t let yourself soften—not yet. “Figure it out, Chris,” you say, your voice trembling. “Because I can’t do this anymore.”

Chris flinches like you’ve struck him, but he doesn’t argue. Instead, he nods slowly, his eyes fixed on the ground.

“I can’t lose you,” he says, barely above a whisper.

“You don’t lose me by letting me fight my own battles,” you say, your voice trembling. “You lose me by breaking your promises. By scaring me.”

The words hit him like a blow, and for the first time, Chris looks truly defeated. He nods slowly, his shoulders slumping, and turns away, leaving you standing there with tears in your eyes and your heart aching in your chest.

Leaving the rink felt like walking through a fog of tension so thick it pressed against your chest. Chris followed closely behind you, his skates swapped for sneakers, his bruised and bloodied face a painful reminder of the chaos earlier.

“Just get in the car,” he said, his voice hoarse but soft as if he was scared of pushing you further away.

You hesitated by the passenger door, your fingers twitching on the handle but unable to pull it open.

“I can’t,” you muttered, refusing to look at him. The sight of his swollen knuckles and the cut on his cheek only deepened the ache in your chest. “I can’t sit there and look at you right now, Chris.”

The words hit him visibly, his shoulders sagging. He stepped back, giving you space, but his hand hovered by the door handle of the driver’s side.

“I’ll park nearby. We don’t… we don’t have to talk about it yet. I just need to get you home safe.”

Reluctantly, you climbed into the passenger seat, folding into yourself as far away from him as you could manage. The silence in the car was suffocating, broken only by the hum of the engine and the occasional, barely audible hiss of Chris’s sharp inhales every time he moved his bruised body.

You sat stiffly, your arms crossed tightly over your chest, refusing to look his way. Chris’s knuckles gripped the steering wheel so tightly that they turned white, though it was hard to tell under the dried blood. His lip was split, the swelling on his cheekbone casting a shadow over his face.

At a red light, you finally spoke. “Pull over.”

Chris’s head whipped toward you. “What? Why?”

“Just do it, Chris. Please.” Your voice was steady, but the tremor underneath was unmistakable.

He obeyed without another word, pulling into an empty lot. You got out, slamming the door behind you, the sound reverberating through the quiet night. Chris followed, watching as you rummaged through the trunk and pulled out a first-aid kit you always kept there—ironically, because of him.

“Sit,” you ordered, pointing to the curb.

He hesitated but sat down, his shoulders hunched as he stared at the ground. You crouched in front of him, your hands trembling as you opened the kit. The sight of his face up close made your stomach twist. His bruises were angry and purple, a stark contrast against his pale skin. Dried blood clung stubbornly to his knuckles.

“You don’t have to do this,” he said quietly as you opened his hockey bag and fished out a small first-aid kit.

“I don’t want to,” you replied sharply, your hands trembling as you grabbed antiseptic wipes and gauze. “But someone has to, because you clearly don’t care what happens to you.”

The sting in your words made him flinch, but he didn’t argue. He let you dab at the cuts on his face, wincing now and then but staying still. Your hands shook the entire time, a mix of anger and worry making your chest feel tight.

You cleaned his knuckles with practiced care, though your hands shook so much that you nearly dropped the alcohol wipes.

“You promised me, Chris,” you whispered, the words heavy with hurt. “And look at you now.”

His blue eyes, usually so confident, were full of guilt as he looked at you. “I… I’m sorry. I don’t know how to make it right, but I’m sorry.”

Chris’s throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. “I…couldn’t… I saw him…”

“Stop.” You cut him off, your voice trembling with the weight of your emotions. “Just stop. I can’t hear it right now.”

He nodded, biting down on his lower lip so hard you worried he’d split it further. The silence between you stretched thin, filled only by the faint rustle of bandages and the distant hum of traffic.

When you finished, you stood abruptly, stuffing the used wipes back into the kit. “Let’s go.”

The drive home was no better. You stared out the window, your arms crossed, while Chris kept stealing glances at you, his jaw tight. As soon as you reached the house, you were out of the car and inside before he could say a word. You slammed the bedroom door behind you, locking it for good measure.

Chris knocked once, twice, but you ignored him, curling up on the bed with tears streaming silently down your cheeks.

Hours passed. The silence in the house was heavy, punctuated only by the occasional creak of the floorboards as Chris paced the living room. You lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling, your chest tight and your eyes burning from unshed tears. When a soft knock came at your door, you didn’t answer, expecting him to give up again. But instead, his voice broke the silence.

“Hey,” Chris’s voice was muffled through the door. “Can I… Can we talk? Please?”

You didn’t respond. He sighed, the sound heavy with guilt.

“I was thinking… maybe we could go get McDonald’s fries. You love those, right? It’ll… it’ll help. Please. Just let me do something for you.”

Your stomach churned, torn between your anger and the small, stubborn part of you that missed him—that wanted to believe he could fix this. Finally, you got up and unlocked the door. Chris stood there, looking more broken than ever.

Chris standing there, his hands shoved into his hoodie pockets. His face was even more bruised now, the swelling setting in, and you hated the pang of concern it caused.

Wordlessly, you grabbed your jacket and followed him to the car. The drive to McDonald’s was silent, but less tense than before. When Chris ordered, he only got fries for you and a drink for himself.

“You’re not eating?” you asked, your voice quieter than you’d intended.

He shook his head. “My stomach…” His leg bounced nervously as he added, “I’m just��� not hungry right now.”

When the food came, you barely touched it. You sipped on your Pepsi while Chris picked at the fries, holding one up to you.

“You should eat something,” he said softly.

“I’m not hungry either,” you replied, looking out the window.

“Eat,” he urged gently.

“No,” you said firmly, turning your head away.

His hand faltered, You noticed then that his hands looked different—bare.

“You… took off your rings?” you asked, your voice soft as your eyes lingered on his bruised knuckles.

He nodded slowly, his gaze fixed on the steering wheel, his fingers tightening on it briefly before relaxing. “Yeah,” he said, almost a whisper. “They have cracks in them now. And… I know little things like that can… trigger stuff. I just…” He trailed off, his leg bouncing erratically. “I didn’t want to make it worse. Even seeing me like this…” His voice cracked, his words faltering as he turned to you, raw and exposed. “I’m sorry. I love you.”

The sincerity in his voice broke something inside you. You turned to look at him fully, taking in the dark circles under his eyes, the bruises, and the raw guilt etched into every line of his face. Without thinking, you leaned across the console and kissed him.

The kiss wasn’t soft or tentative—it was desperate, almost frantic, a collision of emotions you’d both been holding back for too long. Chris responded immediately, a quiet, surprised sound escaping him as he slid a hand to your jaw, his rough thumb brushing against your cheek. The other hand tangled in your hair, anchoring you to him as if letting go wasn’t an option.

His lips were warm and insistent, moving against yours with a passion that left no room for doubt. He kissed you like he was trying to pour every ounce of remorse, every unspoken word, every promise of love into you. Your fingers gripped his hoodie tightly, pulling him closer, needing to feel the solidity of him, the proof that he was here and not slipping away.

You didn’t realize you’d climbed into his lap until you felt the firm press of his thighs beneath you, your knees brushing the worn fabric of the seat. The steering wheel was digging into your back slightly, but it didn’t matter. You needed this closeness, this raw, unfiltered connection.

Chris’s hands slid down your sides, pausing at your waist as if he was afraid to hold on too tightly. His breath hitched when your thumb brushed over the bruise on his cheek, and he winced slightly but didn’t pull back. Instead, he kissed you harder, his teeth grazing your lower lip in a way that sent shivers down your spine.

You pulled back just enough to catch your breath, but Chris didn’t let you go far. “I’m so sorry,” he murmured against your lips, his voice shaky. He kissed you again, harder this time, his fingers slipping under your shirt to rest against your bare skin.

You gasped at the contact, the warmth of his touch contrasting with the rough texture of his bruised knuckles. It sent a shiver through you, making you grip his hoodie tightly.

“Chris,” you breathed between kisses, your voice trembling with a mix of emotions.

“I’m here,” he whispered, his lips brushing against yours with every word. “I’m here, and I’m so sorry.”

His hand moved slowly, reverently, tracing small circles on your skin. The tenderness in his touch was almost overwhelming, a stark contrast to the raw intensity of his kisses. You could feel the faint cuts on his fingers, each one a reminder of the night’s events, but it didn’t make you pull away. If anything, it made you kiss him harder, needing to feel connected to him in a way that words couldn’t achieve.

“I love you,” he said between kisses, his voice thick with emotion. “So much.”

When you finally pulled back for air, you stayed close, your forehead resting against his. His breath was warm against your lips, his chest rising and falling rapidly beneath you. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the only sound the faint hum of the engine and the soft rain tapping against the windows.

Your gaze drifted downward, and that’s when you noticed the faint discoloration peeking out from the neckline of his hoodie. Your fingers reached out instinctively, brushing against the bruise on his collarbone. Chris flinched, a quiet hiss escaping him, but he didn’t stop you.

“Does it hurt?” you asked softly, your voice trembling with concern.

“A little,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. He glanced down at your hand, his gaze following the slow movement of your thumb over the bruise.

You felt the faintest tremor in his body, and then his leg started bouncing beneath you again. His hands, which had been resting lightly on your hips, moved hesitantly. He began playing with your fingers, his rough, calloused hands dwarfing yours as he twirled them gently, almost absentmindedly.

Your breath caught as you noticed the details of his hands—the rawness of his knuckles, the faint streaks of dried blood around the small cuts, the way his nails were uneven from nervous chewing or a hasty attempt to clean them. His hands had always been rough, worn from years of work and fights, and yet they moved over your fingers so delicately, as if afraid they might break.

“Chris,” you said softly, tilting your head to look at him. His leg stilled for a moment before starting up again.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, your voice gentle but insistent.

He hesitated, his jaw working as he avoided your gaze. His hands tightened slightly around yours, his thumbs tracing circles on the backs of your palms. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, almost shy. “M’so sensitive,” he murmured, his accent thicker than usual. His eyes flickered up to meet yours for a fleeting second before dropping again. “Can I… make you feel better?”

Mere moments had passed before you were both clamoring into the back of the van, limbs bumping into limbs, soft laughter echoing inside the vehicle as Chris reached over your middle to pull the door shut. As soon as the door had shut, your lips were on his, your hands blindly fumbling with the front of his jeans.

You'd just gotten the button undone when his hands wrapped around your wrists, pulling them back as he pulled away from your kiss. You were left pouting, the sight adorable and pitiful enough to pull a laugh from Chris as he set your hands down in your lap.

Elated laughter bubbled in your chest as his hands slid up and underneath your skirt, the fabric bunching up around your hips. You helped him with a gentle lift of your hips, allowing him to hook his fingers around the waistband of your underwear, before slinking the fabric down your legs.

"You're going to cum on my tongue." He stated, tone full of nonchalance as he tossed your underwear toward the front of the car. "And, I want you over me when you do."

"You want me to sit on your face?" You asked, lips quirking up into a smile as you bit back laughter, truly believing he was joking. "Is that what you're asking me?"

Chris only nodded, and only then did the realization of his request register in your mind. Heat prickled at the nape of your neck, spreading forward until it encompassed your chest in a deep blush. Sensing your nerves, Chris's thumbs rubbed gentle circles above your hip bones, his head ducking down to meet your avoidant gaze.

"Hey," he whispered. " Nothin' I haven't seen before. It'll feel good, doll, promise."

So, you allowed him to help you into a position that didn't have both of you groaning in discomfort. Maneuvering into a position where you straddled his shoulders, in the back of an already narrow car, wasn't exactly the easiest to accomplish. Somehow, you both managed, mostly thanks to Chris's hands keeping you steady as you moved over him.

The chill of his scarred fingers bit into your thighs, keeping you sunk in the present, hovered over him as he looked up at you from below. There was nothing other than pure, unadulterated lust pouring from his eyes, pupils blown so heavily there was only a crescent of color visible. His fingers tapped, once and then again, a nonverbal request for you to lower yourself.

So you did.

He met you halfway, tongue licking a fat stripe up your cunt, delving between your folds to collect your essence against his tastebuds. He wanted to savor you, that much was readily apparent by his hardened grasp on your thighs, all but cementing you atop his face. Your head fell back, eyes fluttering shut as a plethora of broken-off moans tumbled past your lips.

You begged for him, murmuring his name between praises lost on your ears, but not his. Each word, no matter how garbled by pleasure, left his hips rutting up into the air as he circled his tongue around your clit. Your hips moved in synchrony with his tongue, adjacent swirls, and he let you. He had always favored dominance, being in control of the situation, but having you atop him had him praising every divine figure he could conjure in his lust-riddled mind.

“Chris-“ You crooned, the noise so sweet it pulled a moan from his chest, the vibration left directly against your aching cunt. You smiled, a mixture of a laugh and moan leaving you as your hands raked through his hair, tugging at the short strands. “So good, Baby.”

With an open-mouthed kiss to your clit, he pulled away. It was for a fraction of a second, needed to slip his right hand between your thighs, but you were left whining and pouting. He tutted from between your thighs, lips, and chin glistening with your cum.

“C’mon, doll.” He whispered as his middle and ring fingers pushed inside of you, delicately curling to brush against a spot that had your thighs clamping down around him. “It'll feel good, I promise.”

His left hand squeezed your hip, guiding you just as he would if you were riding him. You unconsciously followed his guidance, sliding down onto his fingers, before raising yourself, only to repeat the motion over, and over. Lewd squelches sounded from between your thighs, your cunt dripping a mixture of cum and saliva down onto his palm.

“See?” He asked through a breathy laugh, quickly resuming his position between your thighs. “Told ‘ya I’d make you feel better.”

You wanted to berate him for his cockiness, you truly did, but the feeling of his lips encircling your clit left you breathless. If anything, any ridicule would’ve turned into a garbled mess of his name.

A groan of a laugh reverberated in Chris’s chest, yet he never pulled away. His tongue lapped at your clit, intervals of swirls and sucks following each grunt he managed to sound out. The sounds were carnal, stoking the steadily building flame in your lower stomach. Your fingers tightened their hold on his hair, pulling him closer, yourself closer. In truth, you weren’t sure if he could breathe, but neither of you moved from where you were.

“That’s it, Baby.” He rasped, words hardly audible, muffled from your cunt. You managed a sighed moan in response, your hips rolling, sliding your cunt against his tongue. His fingers thrusted into you, mimicking the tempo of his eager tongue, each lap and circle of the muscle pushing you closer to the edge.

The uptake of an octave, your head rolling back as your eyes squeezed shut; Chris knew each instinctual move of your body by heart. His eyes stayed locked on you, memorizing the sight of you coming undone above him, riding his face like a woman starved. His free hand lifted from your hip, curving around the plush of your ass, knowing he needed a tight hold on you to keep you steady.

“Chri-“

There it was, the familiar beckon of his name. His cock strained against the confines of his boxers, tip leaking precum, smearing against the now dampened fabric. His thighs tensed as his hips rolled, desperately seeking some form of reprieve as your cunt twitched around his fingers. Instead of verbalizing his reply, he squeezed the swell of your ass, wordlessly urging you to cum.

White-hot pleasure seared your veins, unconsciously twitching your limbs, tightening your hold on his hair. Your cunt spasmed, clit throbbing against his circling tongue. You cursed under your breath, eyes squeezed shut, mind solely focused on the ecstasy overtaking your body. Chris grounded you with slow brushes of his hand along your thigh, fingers still inside of you, lips placing gentle kisses on your oversensitive clit.

“Alright?” He asked, tone rough enough to pull a surprised laugh from you. You nodded, threading your fingers through his hair.

“More than alright.” You replied. “Way more.”

Instead of hovering over his face for another second with wobbly legs, you moved yourself back, giving Chris enough time to situate himself upright. His hands found your hips quickly after, gently guiding you back to his lap.

In an almost instinctive move, you lowered yourself to place your lips on his. His hands slid around your back, fingers absentmindedly grabbing at the fabric of your hoodie as his lips moved with yours.

You braced yourself against the rear windshield, the slick condensation gathering in the palm of your hands, smearing your fingerprints down the pane as your lips moved against his. If anyone had passed by, anyone at all, they would've gathered what you both had gotten up to.

Neither of you could bring yourself to care, not when Chris slipped his hands underneath the back of your shirt, his fingernails scraping along the curve of your back to have you closer as he sucked your tongue.

Your lips curved into a smile at the move, the lucrative, nearly addictive slide of his tongue against your own. He knew you, knew your body and how to make it tick. Your hips rocked against his lap, causing his already hard cock to twitch and pulse against the confines of his jeans.

"You're still hard," you rasped into the kiss, "I can make you feel good, too."

He groaned, his eyebrows knitting together as his hips bucked up into you. You bit at your bottom lip as you moved your hands from the rear windshield, letting your now cool skin slide down his front, keeping your eyes locked with his as you unzipped his jeans.

His lips parted in a silent moan as your hand slipped underneath the hem of his boxers, your fingers curling around the thick base of his cock. You could feel each twitch of his cock beneath your palm, the skin slick and warm, coated in his precum. You slid your hand up, leisurely pumping him, the act enough to have him grunting out your name.

You savored each lecherous moan that fell from his lips. With a shift of your hips, you centered yourself over his thigh, rolling your hips down in tandem with each stroke of his cock. You knew you were dampening the denim, soiling it, yet all you saw reflected in Chris's eyes was the same debauchery you held heavy in your mind.

“Fuck me.” You begged, tired of the hassle, of denying yourself the most innate of pleasures. He relented with a lift of your body, allowing his hard cock to slide along your folds, catching against you. You watched as he lowered you onto him, his cock sliding into you deliciously slow.

Thin, red lines followed his nails as they dragged up the skin of your thighs, coming to a halt at your hips where he steadied you. You could feel his cock pulse inside of you, twitching just before your cervix. You watched him with bated breath, allowing him to guide each movement of your hips, and he did so with precision.

"So tight," he murmured, eyebrows knitted together in a mixture of pure lust and concentration, as though the mere sight of you atop him would undo him if he gave into it. "So fuckin' good."

All you could muster was a moan in response, your hips rolling forward, each forward motion brushing your clit against his lower stomach. Your thighs strained, muscles burning, yet you paid them no mind in favor of the persistent push of Chris's cock, the way his tip brushed against your g-spot with each shift of his hips.

His eyes flitted, sight torn between your breasts and the needy, desperate look in your eyes. He shifted beneath you, planting his feet against the floorboard, giving himself enough stability to thrust upward, pushing himself deeper than before.

The shift in position forced the air from your lungs, a pitiful, broken-off mess of a moan passing your parted lips as you grasped his shoulders. He whispered something to you, but whatever it was had been lost on your muddled mind in favor of the budding feeling of ecstasy coiling in your lower stomach.

"Chris-" You whined, the urgency in your call not lost on him. He nodded, wetting his lips as he rolled his hips upward. You could feel your arousal dripping between your thighs, smearing along your skin as well as his, coating his lower stomach in your cum.

"That's it, doll." He whispered, his left hand moving between your thighs to circle his thumb around your clit, rhythm syncing with each pump of his hips. "C'mon, cum for me."

Ecstasy coiled tight in your stomach, and with each swirl of his thumb and pump of his cock, you felt it twist tighter and tighter. Your hands moved from his shoulders, fingers threading through the back of his hair where you pulled. His mouth fell open, eyebrows lifting as an expression of shock-induced euphoria crossed his face.

So, you pulled harder, the harshness of your hold mirrored in the desperate way you fucked yourself on his cock, movements so frenzied you felt your muscles burning beneath your skin.

A deep, almost sinful moan rumbled in his chest. You swallowed it with a kiss to his lips, hands moving to his jaw as your tongue moved with his. His thumb was slick against your clit, and with a gasp of his name, your cunt spasmed around his cock.

"Fuck, that's it." He groaned, words strained as he teetered on the edge of his orgasm. "Let it out, doll."

Your lips moved from his, kisses trailing down his cheek, onto his jaw, before you settled your cheek to his shoulder, simply choosing to give yourself over to the onslaught of pleasure Chris had you wrapped up in. Chris's hold on your hip tightened as his head fell back, his eyes screwed shut, jaw clenched as his cock twitched inside of you, each pulse filling you with his cum.

You both shared the blissful silence that came afterward, the only noises being the occasional breath and whispered praise, the brush of his hands against your skin.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, words muffled by the press of his lips against your throat. "I'm sorry."

You nodded, leaning into his touch, his lips, with a thread of your fingers through his hair. He continued murmuring into your skin, you drank in each word, heart slowing in your chest, calming with the promises he spoke only to you.

His hand moved from your hip, thumb, and forefinger resting against your chin, tipping your head up to meet his eyes. His eyebrows were furrowed together, skin coated in a thin veneer of sweat. His thumb brushed across your bottom lip, yet his eyes never left yours.

"You're my girl." He whispered, and you nodded. "I'd never do anything to hurt you."

You placed a kiss on the pad of his thumb, the sincerity in his words causing you to smile. He smiled in return, fingers splaying against your cheek where he held you gently.

"It won't happen again, alright?"

His voice was gentle, his eyes reflecting the same tenderness. You leaned in, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck and pressing your face into the crook of it. As your head rested there, the faint bruise on his skin seemed to fade under the warmth of your touch. He pulled you closer, his arms encircling your waist, and his hands softly brushing between your shoulder blades, meeting your embrace with a soothing comfort.

"Good apology, been workin' on it for a while?" You joked, placing a kiss on his jaw with a soft bout of laughter. You felt him laugh, the vibration of his chest against yours.

"Nope." He admitted, turning his head to press a kiss to your temple. "You're worth a genuine apology."

"Sap." You teased, but your tone gave way to your true feelings, how much you appreciated his honesty, his words. He caught on, but never made it known, instead choosing to reply with another kiss to your skin.

"Yeah, guess I am."

A/N: I can’t tell you how long I’ve been waiting to post a fic about Chris playing hockey. The idea of him being so competitive, passionate, and, let’s face it, a little too quick to throw punches has been living rent-free in my mind forever. Thank you so much for reading! It means the world to me that you took the time to dive into this story any interactions are appreciated 😊

tags- tags - : @swagalicious260 @watercolorskyy @coquettechris @lovesturni0l0s @christmastreecake @ellbowmacaroni @blog-luvdance @sophand4n4 @meg4-matt44

[pucksandpower]

So Good to Her

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary: the public reacts to the TikTok challenge you and Charles inadvertently participated in

Read So Good to Me (about the TikTok challenge) here

The TikTok that the British influencer posted of his encounter with you and your incredibly generous boyfriend quickly goes viral, racking up millions of views, likes, and comments within mere hours.

It spreads like wildfire across social media platforms, with people sharing it on Twitter, Instagram, Facebook — even LinkedIn of all places. Everyone marvels at this mystery woman with the boyfriend of all boyfriends who casually sent her €10,000 just to buy a pair of shoes.

In a cozy London flat, a group of university students and diehard Charles fans gather around a laptop, eyes wide as they watch the now-viral video for the umpteenth time.

“I can’t believe Charles has a secret girlfriend!” Megan, a petite blonde wearing a red Ferrari cap, exclaims. “How did we not know about this? We follow his every move!”

Her best friend Ethan nods in agreement, his brow furrowed. “Seriously, who is this girl? She’s drop dead gorgeous and apparently Charles is just casually sending her 10 grand for shopping sprees?”

“Okay but like, goals though,” Lexi chimes in dreamily, clutching a Charles Leclerc poster to her chest. “Imagine having a boyfriend who’s not only mega hot and talented but also spoils you rotten. She’s living the dream.”

Ethan scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Oh come on, he can’t just throw money around like that. I bet this whole thing was staged for clout.”

Megan shoots him a withering glare. “Don’t be ridiculous. What would be the point? Charles is already one of the most popular drivers on the grid, he doesn’t need to pull PR stunts for attention.”

“Plus did you see the way he talked to her on the phone?” Lexi points out, rewinding the video. “That was not acting, that was real love and affection in his voice. I’m so soft for them already, ugh.”

The trio falls silent as they watch the clip again, zeroing in on every little detail and facial expression from both Charles’ mystery girlfriend and the clearly shocked TikToker.

Ethan chuckles and shakes his head. “I still can’t get over her reaction though. Just a guy who loves driving fast cars — I mean, the cheek! She really knows how to keep a secret, gotta give her that.”

“An icon, honestly,” Megan declares. “The fact that she told him to donate the money to an animal shelter too ... okay, I can’t even be mad. She seems like a sweet person.”

Lexi sighs happily, starry-eyed. “They’re literally a power couple. The sheer confidence and BDE of it all. I’m so jealous but also like, rooting for them? We have to find out who this girl is!”

As if on cue, Megan’s phone pings with a Twitter notification. Her eyes widen as she swipes to view it. “Guys. GUYS. The TikToker just confirmed her first name is Y/N and posted another video with a few more details about her!”

“Well don’t just sit there, play it!” Ethan demands, practically launching himself across the couch to peer over Megan’s shoulder at her phone screen. Lexi scrambles to join them, bouncing with anticipation.

In the new clip, the TikToker is grinning excitedly at the camera, an extra bounce in his step as he walks along the same Monaco street where he first approached you.

“Right, so I’m sure by now you’ve all seen my video with Charles Leclerc’s girlfriend go absolutely mental viral,” he begins, running a hand through his artfully tousled hair. “Which, can I just say — thank you so much for the insane support and love, you lot are the best fans ever.”

“Get to the point,” Ethan mutters under his breath, earning a sharp “Shh!” from both girls.

“Anyway,” the TikToker continues. “After she left and I finally picked my jaw up off the floor, I did some digging. I headed to that little boutique she mentioned in the call with Charles, just to see if she actually went in and bought anything. Thought maybe if I asked the staff, they might be able to give me some more info, you know?”

Megan, Ethan, and Lexi all subconsciously lean closer to the small phone screen, hanging on to his every word.

“So get this — not only did she buy the shoes, she apparently also went next door and purchased, and I quote, a frankly alarming amount of lingerie. The cashier said she dropped over 5 grand like it was nothing!”

Lexi lets out a scandalized gasp as Ethan chokes on his sip of Red Bull. Megan just shakes her head in wonderment. “The actual legend,” she murmurs reverently.

The TikToker laughs and waggles his eyebrows suggestively at the camera. “I don’t know about you lot, but I’m definitely sensing some spicy thank you for the shopping money activities were planned for a certain Ferrari driver, if you know what I mean. Get in there, Charles!”

“Gross, I so did not need that visual,” Ethan grumbles, but there’s a slight smirk playing on his lips all the same.

“Oh shut up, as if you wouldn’t do the exact same if you were dating Charles,” Lexi retorts with a playful shove to his shoulder.

“ANYWAY,” the TikToker presses on, “I did manage to squeeze a few more details out of the lovely shop girl. Apparently Charles’ girlfriend is named Y/N, no last name given for privacy reasons. But she’s a regular customer and, I quote, an absolute sweetheart who only ever has glowing things to say about her man. So there you have it, folks — Y/N and Charles are the real deal and we’re all just peasants watching a fairytale unfold.”

Megan sighs dreamily as the video ends. “Y/N and Charles,” she repeats to herself, already typing the names into her social media search bars. “God, even their names sound good together. I have to find out everything about her.”

“Dibs on making their ship name hashtag go viral,” Lexi calls out, already furiously typing away on her own phone.

Ethan snorts and rolls his eyes affectionately at his friends, but there’s no denying the small, reluctantly impressed smile tugging at the corners of his mouth too. “I give it two days before they’re papped together on some glamorous date night now that the secret’s out. Hope she’s ready for the attention dating an F1 star brings.”

“With that level of confidence and the way Charles clearly adores her? I think our girl Y/N will handle the spotlight just fine,” Megan says confidently.

Lexi nods in firm agreement. “Yep, a true queen. Charles better lock that down and wife her up real quick before one of us tries to snatch her for ourselves!”

***

In a cozy apartment not far from the very street where you had your memorable encounter with the TikToker, three young women huddle around a laptop screen, eyes wide and jaws slack as they watch the now viral video for the umpteenth time.

“I can’t believe this,” mutters Isabelle, a pretty brunette with an impressively encyclopedic knowledge of Formula 1 stats. “Charles has a girlfriend? Since when?”

“And he just sent her €10,000 like it was nothing!” Exclaims Maia, nervously twirling a strand of her platinum blonde hair. “I mean, I know he’s loaded but holy shit, the way he spoils her ...”

The third girl, Claire, bites her lip, a pensive look on her delicate features. “Did you hear what she said at the end though? Just a guy who loves driving fast cars. She was obviously talking about Charles. But the way she said it, all mysterious and like it was some inside joke ... I don’t know, it just rubs me the wrong way.”

Isabelle scoffs and rolls her eyes. “Please, she was totally gloating. Didn’t even have the decency to act a little humble about the fact that THE Charles Leclerc is apparently head over heels for her.”

“Exactly!” Maia chimes in, nodding vigorously. “Like okay, congrats, you bagged a hot, rich, famous race car driver. No need to rub it in the rest of our faces.”

Claire wrinkles her nose. “I just don’t get the vibe that she actually cares about him, you know? I mean, who asks their boyfriend to send them money in the middle of the day for some stupid shoes? While he’s working? She seems like such a gold digger.”

“Ugh, you’re so right,” Isabelle agrees, her lips curling in distaste. “Poor Charles is probably blind to it because he’s so gone for her. He didn’t even hesitate to transfer that money!”

Maia sighs dramatically and falls back on the bed. “God, it’s so unfair. Why can’t I find a man who’s that generous and totally obsessed with me? I’d treat him so much better than she does, you can already tell.”

Claire hums and taps her chin thoughtfully. “You know what, I think this smells fishy. How do we even know she’s actually Charles’ girlfriend? For all we know, she could have paid some guy who sounds like him to play along for a TikTok clout.”

Isabelle’s eyes narrow as she considers this possibility. “That’s true ... I haven’t come across any photos of them together or anything. Why has no one ever seen her before if they’re supposedly so in love?”

“Exactly!” Claire exclaims, growing more animated. “I’ve been a Charles fan for years and I’ve never seen or heard anything about a girlfriend. If they’re really dating, there’s no way it wouldn’t have come out before now.”

Maia sits up, suddenly energized by this new conspiracy theory. “Oh my god, you’re right! She’s probably just some wannabe influencer trying to get famous by pretending to be with Charles. That’s so pathetic.”

Isabelle nods slowly, a determined glint in her eye. “You know what? We should do some digging. Try to find out who this girl really is and expose her for the fraud she clearly is. Charles and the world deserve to know the truth.”

“Yesss, I’m so down for an investigation!” Maia says gleefully. “Imagine if we’re the ones who reveal that this whole thing is fake. We’d be doing Charles a huge favor.”

Claire is already pulling up Instagram and Twitter on her phone. “Let’s start by going through the comments on that TikTok and seeing if anyone has identified her or posted any receipts. There have to be some clues somewhere.”

The girls spend the next few hours poring over social media, searching for any scrap of information they can find about the mystery woman who has supposedly captured Charles Leclerc’s heart. They work themselves into a frenzy, convincing each other more and more that you can’t possibly be Charles’ real girlfriend. In their minds, you’re clearly just an opportunistic clout chaser looking for your 15 minutes of fame.

“God, I hope Charles sees through her act soon,” Isabelle says for the hundredth time, shaking her head. “He’s too good for some two-bit gold digger who’s just using him.”

“We’ll make sure he finds out who she really is,” Claire assures her firmly. “And then he’ll have no choice but to dump her lying ass.”

Maia sighs wistfully, hugging a throw pillow to her chest. “Do you think once he’s single again, I might actually have a chance? Like, if I run into him at a race one day and strike up a conversation, maybe he’ll realize I’m the girl he’s meant to be with ...”

“Okay, let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Claire says with a laugh. “First step is taking down this fraud of a girlfriend. Then we can daydream about being Mrs. Leclerc.”

The girls giggle and go back to their social media sleuthing with renewed determination. They’ve decided you’re public enemy number one and they won’t rest until they’ve exposed you for the fake, money-hungry, clout-chasing liar they’re certain you must be. In their eyes, they’re crusaders for truth, fighting to save their beloved Charles from your clutches.

What they don’t realize, of course, is just how very real and very deep Charles’ feelings for you actually are ... and that you’re not going anywhere anytime soon, Internet conspiracy theories be damned.

***

In a dimly lit basement somewhere in Italy, a group of die-hard Charles Leclerc fans huddle around a computer screen, their jaws dropping as they watch the video for the umpteenth time.

“Guys, are you seeing this shit?” Enzo, the self-appointed leader of the group, asks incredulously. “Who the hell is this girl and how did she bag Charles freakin’ Leclerc?”

“Dude, we don’t even know for sure that it’s actually Charles,” Giovanni points out skeptically. “She never said his name. It could be some other rich dude with a fast car.”

Enzo scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Oh come on, who else could it be? €10,000 like it’s nothing, is it possible that Leclerc has a secret girlfriend we don’t know about all this time? A guy who likes driving fast cars? It’s obviously Charles! Our boy is LOADED and that’s exactly how he’d spoil his girl.”

Luca nods in agreement, a dreamy expression on his face. “God, can you imagine being with Charles though? Having him call you all those cute pet names and just showering you with love and gifts? I’d fucking die.”

“Yeah, she has to be the luckiest woman on the planet,” Enzo sighs wistfully. “I mean, I’m straight, but even I’d let Charles ruin me, you know what I’m saying?”

The other guys murmur and nod in emphatic agreement, all of them momentarily lost in a fantasy of being Charles Leclerc’s pampered significant other.

“Okay but like, how is this even fair?” Giovanni gripes, breaking the spell. “The rest of us mere mortals are out here busting our asses on Tinder and Hinge, praying a decent girl will swipe right, and Charles just gets to date a literal goddess who is probably a model?”

“Life isn’t fair, Gio,” Enzo says solemnly. “Charles is on a completely different level. He could have any woman he wants and they’d all say yes before he even finished asking. The rules don’t apply to a guy like that.”

Luca suddenly sits up straight, his eyes widening with realization. “Holy shit, guys. Do you know what this means? If Charles is taken, that’s one less F1 driver on the market for all those grid girl groupies to throw themselves at! Maybe the rest of us actually have a chance now!”

Giovanni snorts derisively. “Yeah, you wish. Those chicks are still gonna be busy trying to get with Sainz or Verstappen or Norris. They’re not gonna settle for some nobody Ferrari fan. Let’s be real.”

“Wow, way to kill the vibe, Debbie Downer,” Luca mutters. He turns back to the computer and hits replay on the video, watching enviously as the TikToker clearly shows the €10,000 bank transfer on your phone. “Seriously though, how is this chick not freaking the fuck out? If Charles Leclerc randomly sent me 10 grand I’d be screaming and probably pass out.”

“She’s probably used to it,” Enzo says with a shrug. “I bet this is like, a regular Tuesday for her. Just casually strolling around Monaco, stopping into designer stores whenever she feels like it, Charles’ black credit card weighing down her Hermès purse. The bougiest of WAG lives.”

“God, what I wouldn’t give to trade places with her for just one day,” Giovanni says longingly. “Can you imagine getting to wake up next to Charles every morning? Having him make you breakfast and give you forehead kisses and tell you how much he loves you in that sexy accent?”

“Okay, now you’re just torturing yourself, bro,” Luca laughs. “You’ll be lucky if you can get a Tinder match to agree to split the bill at McDonalds.”

“Why you gotta bring me back to my sad reality like that?” Giovanni groans, chucking a throw pillow at Luca’s head. “Let me live vicariously through Charles’ bougie mystery girlfriend for a little while longer, damn.”

Enzo sighs and leans back in his chair, hands behind his head. “You know what the craziest part of all this is? The fact that Charles managed to keep a whole ass girlfriend hidden from the world. Like, the media has been speculating about his love life forever and no one had a clue he was actually in a serious relationship. That man moves in silence like a ninja.”

“Yeah, and did you see how he just casually threw out that he loves her?” Luca gushes. “He was all I love spoiling you, you deserve the world. My dude is head over heels for this girl and I am LIVING for it.”

“Ugh, why can’t I find a man like that?” Giovanni whines dramatically. “All I want is a guy who will write me cute Instagram captions in three languages and buy out the Gucci store for me but I guess that’s too much to ask!”

“Maybe if you stanned Charles harder, the universe would reward you,” Enzo snarks. “Start leaving thirsty comments on his shirtless pics, see if that manifests your dream F1 boyfriend.”

“Bold of you to assume I don’t already do that,” Giovanni retorts with a smirk. “How else do you think Oscar Piastri ended up in my DMs last night?”

“Wait, WHAT?” Luca and Enzo exclaim in unison, whipping their heads around to gape at their friend.

Giovanni bursts out laughing at their shocked faces. “I’m just kidding, jeez! You think I’d be sitting here listening to you losers if Oscar freaking Piastri actually messaged me? Puh-lease.”

“Man, don’t even joke about that,” Enzo grumbles, clutching at his heart. “You really had me going there for a sec.”

Luca huffs and slouches down in his seat. “Can we get back to being jealous of Charles’ sugar baby girlfriend now? I was enjoying that more than whatever the hell this conversation turned into.”

“She’s not his sugar baby!” Enzo argues. “They’re clearly in love! Did we watch the same video? The way he talked to her was mad cute. That’s his GIRL girl.”

“You’re right, you’re right,” Luca concedes, holding his hands up in apology. “Charles might spoil her but he obviously adores her for more than just her looks. That’s the real relationship goals right there.”

“Imagine being so secure in your love that you can just ball out on your partner like that and know it’s only going to make them love you more,” Giovanni muses. “Cannot relate.”

Enzo nods sagely. “Charles is just built different, man. In more ways than one.”

“Truer words have never been spoken,” Luca agrees. “So, are we watching this video another 50 times or are we moving on to the Grill the Grid compilation I found of all of Charles’ most adorably flustered moments?”

Enzo grins maniacally and reaches for the mouse. “Oh, you know we’re watching the hell out of this absolute gift again. And then we’re gonna spend the next three hours cyberstalking Charles and seeing if we can find any other crumbs about who this legendary mystery woman is. For research purposes.”

“This is the most productive thing we’ve done in months and I’m not even ashamed,” Giovanni declares, cracking his knuckles in preparation for the intense social media deep dive they’re about to undertake.

***

In a crowded sports bar in Dublin, a group of die-hard Ferrari fans gather to watch the latest race. But today, there’s another bit of F1-related content that has their attention. They huddle around a phone, repeatedly watching the now-infamous TikTok video.

“Can you believe it? €10,000 just like that!” Exclaims James, a tall, lanky guy with a mop of curly hair. “I mean, I knew Charles was loaded but damn ...”

“Forget the money, did you see his girlfriend?” Tom, a stocky redhead, chimes in. “Absolutely stunning. Like, how does a race car driver land a girl like that?”

Mark, a quieter guy with glasses, rolls his eyes. “Uh, maybe because he’s Charles freaking Leclerc? The man’s a beast on the track and has the face of a Greek god. Girls probably throw themselves at him left and right.”

The guys all mutter in begrudging agreement, a note of envy coloring their voices. On screen, the video replays yet again, showing you confidently calling up your boyfriend and securing the small fortune without batting an eye.

“God, what I wouldn’t give to have a woman look at me the way she probably looks at Leclerc,” Tom sighs wistfully.

“In your dreams, mate,” James scoffs. “Girls like that are way out of our league. We can’t compete with a Ferrari paycheck and Monaco real estate.”

“Still doesn’t seem fair though,” grumbles Mark. “The dude’s already got it all — talent, fame, money. Leave some for the rest of us!”

On screen, the video reaches the part where you coolly inform the gobsmacked TikToker that you don’t need his measly €2,000 and he should donate it to an animal shelter instead. The guys let out low whistles, clearly impressed by your classy move.

“See, that right there, that’s what separates the Monegasque princess types from regular girls,” says James with an air of authority. “We would’ve taken the cash in a heartbeat.”

“Speak for yourself, I’m a man of principle,” Tom jokes, puffing out his chest exaggeratedly. The others snort and shove him playfully.

As the video ends, the guys sit back, each lost in their own wistful imaginings of what it must be like to be Charles Leclerc. To have the money, success, and effortless charm to win over a girl like you.

Mark is the first to break the contemplative silence. “Maybe we’re looking at this all wrong,” he muses thoughtfully. “I mean yeah, Charles is a lucky bastard, no doubt. But that girl, she seems like a real catch too. Like the kind of person who’d keep you humble and grounded, even when you’re a superstar athlete with the world at your feet.”

The others consider this, nodding slowly. “Fair point,” concedes Tom. “Behind every great man and all that jazz. Leclerc may have his millions but he still needs someone to call him out on his BS from time to time.”

“Exactly,” agrees Mark. “And did you hear the way he spoke to her on the phone? The dude’s completely smitten. He may have all the money and fame, but I bet she’s the real prize in his eyes.”

“Alright, alright, settle down Dr. Phil,” James interjects with a good-natured eye roll. “You gonna start writing romance novels in your spare time now? Maybe they’ll make a movie — The Tifosi Who Loved Me: A Charles Leclerc Story.”

The guys all crack up laughing at that, the tension broken. Their envy towards Leclerc’s charmed life remains, but it’s now tinged with a newfound respect and even a touch of empathy.

“Y’know, jokes aside, I do hope he realizes how lucky he is to have her and treats her right,” Mark says sincerely as their chuckles subside. “A love like that seems rare these days.”

Tom reaches over to clap Mark on the shoulder. “No worries, mate. Did you see the dopey grin on Charles’ face in those paparazzi pics of them together that came out earlier? That man is whipped with a capital W. He knows he’s got a keeper.”

“As he should,” nods James sagely. “Behind every great Ferrari champion is an even greater woman keeping his ego in check. Tale as old as time.”

On that note, the guys clink their pint glasses together, silently saluting the unnamed woman who stole the heart of Charles Leclerc and the envious admiration of Formula 1 fans worldwide. The mystery girlfriend with impeccable style and a heart of gold.

As the pre-race coverage starts up on the bar TV, the guys settle in to cheer on their favorite driver, their fleeting jealousy replaced by the camaraderie and excitement of race day. But in the back of their minds, a single wistful thought remains — what they wouldn’t give to find a love like Charles and his girl seem to share. Guess that’s just one more thing to add to the list of reasons to idolize Charles Leclerc.

***

Among the hordes of viewers obsessively replaying the clip are three best friends gathered for a girls night at a posh Parisian penthouse. Colette, the willowy blonde draped across a velvet chaise lounge, takes a sip of her champagne and shakes her head in wonder.

“God, can you imagine having a boyfriend who just casually drops 10k on you like it’s nothing? Talk about relationship goals,” she sighs dreamily.

Next to her, Nadia snorts derisively while scrolling through Instagram on her phone. “Oh please, like that’s hard to find. I bet loads of rich guys would do that for their girlfriends. It’s not that impressive.”

From her perch on a tufted ottoman, Stephanie raises a skeptical eyebrow. “Really? You think Liam would send you that kind of cash without batting an eye? Mr. I-Need-To-Check-With-My-Financial-Advisor-Before-I-Buy-A-New-Tie?”

Colette erupts into giggles at the scathing impression of Nadia’s banker boyfriend. Even Nadia cracks a reluctant smile before tossing her sleek dark hair.

“Whatever. I’m just saying, that TikTok chick’s boyfriend can’t be THAT special. I’m sure if we did the same challenge our boyfriends would come through too,” she declares with more than a hint of competitiveness in her voice.

“Oooh yes, let’s do it! Let’s recreate the video and see what happens!” Colette squeals, bouncing up and down on the chaise with excitement.

Stephanie, ever the voice of reason, looks uncertain. “I don’t know, guys ... isn’t it a bit tacky to demand money from them like that? What if they get mad?”

Nadia rolls her eyes. “Oh come on Steph, live a little! It’s just a silly experiment. Where’s your sense of adventure?”

“Okay, okay fine,” Stephanie relents, unable to resist her friends’ cajoling. “But I’m blaming you both if Omer breaks up with me over this!”

“Deal!” Colette grins impishly as she grabs her phone. “I’ll go first — let me call Henry and we’ll see if he’s as generous as Mystery Monaco Man.”

With a deep breath, she dials her property developer boyfriend and launches into her rehearsed plea as soon as he picks up. “Baby!” She whines. “You’ll never believe what happened. I’m out with the girls and my Louboutins broke! Like the heel just totally snapped off. I’m absolutely gutted, these were my faves. Is there any way you could send some money to my account so I can grab a new pair on the way home? Pleeeaaase, I’ll love you forever!”

There’s a heavy pause before Henry’s clipped voice comes through, tinged with annoyance. “Christ, again with the bloody shoes? What is it with you women and wasting my hard earned money on bits of leather you don’t need? Can’t you just take the broken ones to get fixed?”

Colette’s perfectly glossed pout trembles, her blue eyes shining with disappointed tears as Nadia and Stephanie look on in pity. “Never mind,” she mumbles. “Forget I asked. Chat later.” She hangs up and flings her phone down despondently.

“What an ass,” Nadia spits. “You deserve so much better.” Colette shrugs sadly but rallies as she turns to Stephanie expectantly.

“Okay Steph, your turn to give Omer a ring! Let’s hope he restores our faith in rich boyfriends everywhere.”

Stephanie grimaces but dutifully calls her Qatar-based hedge fund manager beau. In her most saccharine voice, she makes her case. “Habibi, you know that gorgeous YSL bag I showed you last week? It finally came back in stock but only for today! Could you maybe pop some cash in my account so I can treat myself? I’ve been working so hard lately and-”

“Wallahi Stephanie, how many handbags does one woman need?” Omer cuts her off irritably. “If I buy you this one, I don’t want to hear any more whining for designer things for at least 6 months, got it? I’ll send you 500 euros, that should more than cover it.”

“Oh. Right. Thanks, I guess ...” Stephanie replies glumly before ending the call. She shakes her head at her friends. “Well, it’s something at least?”

“Hardly,” Nadia scoffs. “These men, I swear. Okay, time for me to show you girls how it’s done. Watch and learn, ladies.”

With a confident smirk, she video calls Liam who answers distractedly, clearly still at the office despite the late hour. “This better be important Nadia, I’m right in the middle of-”

“Liam. Focus,” Nadia cuts him off crisply. “I need you to send €10,000 to my account right now. No questions asked.” She arches a commanding eyebrow, daring him to argue.

Liam just blinks at her for a moment before letting out an incredulous laugh. “I’m sorry, you need me to do what now? 10 grand, are you mad? For what possible reason?”

“To prove you love me,” Nadia retorts smugly. “I saw this thing on TikTok, some girl’s boyfriend sent her-”

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Liam interrupts. “I’m not one of your little social media playthings to manipulate for views, Nadia. My money is not a toy. I’ll buy you a thoughtful gift for your birthday next month, but I’m not in the business of flinging cash at you for no reason. Now if you’ll excuse me, some of us have real work to do. Goodnight.”

With that he abruptly ends the call, leaving Nadia staring at the blank screen, a red flush of embarrassment and anger creeping up her elegant neck. Stephanie and Colette exchange knowing looks.

“So … that went well,” Stephanie quips sarcastically.

Colette sighs morosely as she flops back onto the chaise, hugging a silk pillow. “Maybe that girl’s boyfriend really is one of a kind. God, I bet she feels like the luckiest woman alive. Can you even imagine being THAT loved and adored?”

Nadia seems to deflate, her bravado evaporating. “No,” she whispers. “I can’t. You’re right, Col. Mystery Monaco Man is clearly in a league of his own. I bet he makes her feel like an absolute queen every damn day.”

Stephanie nods thoughtfully, twirling a lock of hair. “You know what though? Good for her. She seems lovely and down-to-earth in the video. If anyone deserves that fairy tale romance, it’s a girl like that who doesn’t even realize how special it is.”

“Ugh, so true. god I’m depressed now,” Colette groans, reaching for the champagne bottle to refill her glass. “To Mystery Monaco Man — may he set the standard for rich boyfriends everywhere. And to the girl who’s lucky enough to love him — may she live happily ever after and never take a single moment for granted.”

“Hear, hear,” Nadia and Stephanie chorus, clinking their glasses against Colette’s.

As the bubbles fizz on their tongues, the wistful faraway looks in their eyes betray the same thought — what they wouldn’t give to trade places with you for just a day, to know what it feels like to be cherished so completely by a man like Charles. To them, you’re living the ultimate dream.

If only they knew the best part isn’t the extravagant gestures or lavish gifts.

It’s the little moments. The soft kisses pressed to your temple. The fingers intertwined with yours. The sleepy smiles over morning coffee. The shared laughter and inside jokes. The unwavering support and unconditional acceptance. The bone-deep feeling of safety and coming home.

That’s the real fairy tale. And no amount of money could ever buy it.

***

Back in Monaco, Lando Norris slouches comfortably in his gaming chair, eyes glued to the triple monitors in front of him. He’s meant to be reviewing telemetry data in preparation for the upcoming race weekend, but the notification chime from his phone proves far too tempting. Lando picks up the device, fully intending to only glance at it for a second before dutifully returning to his work.

But then he sees it — the TikTok that at least a dozen people have sent to him in the past hour alone. Curiosity piqued, Lando clicks on the video and watches intently, his brows steadily rising towards his hairline with each passing second.

“Wait, is that ...” he mutters to himself as the clip plays out. When your boyfriend’s voice comes through the speakers, Lando’s eyes bug out comically. “Holy shit, it is Charles! And Y/N!”

A knock on the door makes Lando jump slightly. Before he can respond, a familiar mop of tousled chestnut hair pokes into the room. “Hey mate, did you see-” Max Verstappen starts to say.

“The TikTok of Charles simping hard for Y/N? Yup, watching it right now,” Lando finishes for him, eyes still glued to his phone screen in fascination.

Max invites himself into the room fully and flops down on the couch. “Absolutely crazy, right? Who just casually sends their girlfriend 10k for a random pair of shoes?”

Lando snorts. “Certainly not you, you stingy Dutchman,” he ribs playfully. Max chucks a throw pillow at him in retaliation.

“Hey, even I splurge on my girlfriend sometimes!” Max protests. “I just bought her ... erm ...” He racks his brain trying to remember the last lavish gift he purchased unprompted.

“A six-pack of Sugar Free Red Bull last week?” Lando supplies dryly.

“... Shut up.”

The two dissolve into snickers before turning their attention back to the TikTok, which has now looped to the beginning again.

“Charles is so whipped for Y/N,” Max observes, shaking his head in amused disbelief. “He’s just asking to get taken advantage of, throwing money around like that.”

“I think it’s kinda sweet,” Lando admits with a shrug. “He just wants to make her happy. Don’t act like you wouldn’t do the same if your girl asked!”

Max scoffs. “What, fall victim to a gold digger? No thanks mate.”

“Y/N’s hardly a gold digger and you know it,” Lando chides. “She works hard for her own money and buys plenty of expensive gifts for Charles too. They just like spoiling each other ‘cause they’re in luuurve.” He draws out the last word in a silly voice, making dramatic kissy faces.

“Yeah, yeah, true love and all that sappy bullshit,” Max says dismissively, though there’s no real heat behind it. “I’m just saying, no way in hell I’m sending 10k on command for a pair of fucking shoes!”

Lando hums thoughtfully. “I would.”

Max’s head whips around to stare at him incredulously. “You what.”

“If it was the right girl? Sure, I’d do it,” Lando says nonchalantly. “Maybe not for something frivolous like shoes, but if my girlfriend called me up and said she needed 10k transferred ASAP? I’d do it, no questions asked. You gotta have that level of trust.”

Clearly torn between wanting to take the piss out of his friend and feeling a reluctant sort of respect, Max just grunts noncommittally in response before turning back to rewatch the clip once more.

Debate rages online among the fans about the cute interaction. Most find the whole thing adorably romantic, cooing over what a doting and generous boyfriend Charles is. They swoon at the obvious love and care between you two, speculating excitedly in the comments about when Charles might pop the question.

Others are more cynical, rolling their eyes at Charles “simping” so hard and accusing you of only dating the Ferrari driver for his money. However, these naysayers are quickly drowned out and ratio’d by your legions of adoring supporters.

Through it all, you and Charles pay the speculation little mind, blissfully wrapped up in your fairytale romance.

Charles returns home that evening to the mouthwatering aroma of his favorite pesto pasta dish wafting from the kitchen. He grins when he spots you at the stove, swaying your hips to the sultry jazz music playing from the speaker as you stir the sauce. Quietly, he comes up behind you and slips his strong arms around your waist, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“Mmm, smells amazing,” he murmurs appreciatively.

You turn in his embrace and loop your arms around his neck, smiling radiantly up at him. “Welcome home, Cha-Cha,” you greet him, using the silly pet name that never fails to make him chuckle and scrunch his nose adorably. “Dinner’s almost ready.”

“And what’s for dessert?” Charles asks with a playful waggle of his eyebrows.

Biting your lip coyly, you untangle yourself from his arms and saunter off towards the bedroom. “Come find out after we eat. Oh, and I picked up a little something special to express my gratitude for earlier ...” you call over your shoulder with a wink.

Charles’ megawatt grin could power all of Monaco for a year. Viral TikTok or not, the Monegasque knows he’s already the luckiest man in the world to have you as his partner through this crazy ride called life.

No amount of money could ever compare to the joy of being loved by you.

[babydollslibrary]

LABYRINTH — JACK HUGHES

jack hughes x fem! reader

published: January 26th, 2023

summary: y/n goes through the 3 stages of falling in love with her best friend; realization, fear, and relief. based on the 3 “i’m falling in love” lines in Labyrinth by Taylor Swift.

gif not mine.

REALIZATION

i felt like my fingertips may freeze off. and the longer i sat in the glass seat in Prudential Center, the colder they got. i’d been to too many of Jack’s games to count, but it never failed that i always forget how cold it really was sitting directly by the ice.

“i’m freezing my tits off.” i looked over to Luke Hughes, who occupied the seat next to me.

“Luke, you don’t have tits to freeze off.”

“what are you talking about? mine are bigger than yours, eh?” he jokes. i let loose a mock gasp and hit his arm.

“how rude!”

with two minutes left in the third period, i was grateful the game would be over soon. i was less grateful, however, that it was looking like the Devils would be breaking their six game win streak tonight. they’re currently down by one, with the Panthers having four goals against the Devils three.

i had my eyes glued to the puck, mumbling to whatever higher entity would listen, praying for a last minute game tying goal. luck was on our side tonight because with ten seconds left on the clock, Dougie managed to slap shot the puck straight past the head of Bobrovsky and into the net. i shot to my feet, clutching onto Luke’s arm as he stood beside me, both of us with wide eyes and our jaws dropped open.

we settled back in our seats a few minutes later to watch the additional five minutes of overtime, both of us hunched closer to the glass, my hands fidgeting in anxiety. i watched as Jack, Nico, and Dougie skated to the center of the ice for puck drop. Dougie gains possession of the puck quickly, skating it into the Panthers zone before dropping it back to Nico, who tries for a one-shot, which is knocked away by Bobrovsky. Jack gains control of the rebound puck and makes quick work of snapping it into the goal.

Luke and i once again raise to our feet, cheering for his brother and my best friend. Jack skates around the glass bordering the ice, arms up in the air in celebration before skidding to a stop in front of us. our eyes lock and he lifts his hand against the glass. heart fluttering, i place my hand directly against the glass to match his and he mutters out two words.

“for you.”

a low simmering arises in my gut and i feel my heart skip a beat, or three, as he skates away to hug his teammates. what was that? am i having heart palpitations? should i be going to see a doctor?

i catch Jack’s eye once more as Nico taps his helmet and he flashes a smile my way. in return, my heart flips again. my mind whirls through thoughts faster than a hummingbirds wings before settling on the only real explanation.

uh oh, i’m falling in love.

now i meet Luke’s gaze and he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, though his reason for it, i’m not too sure. i’ve been friends with all of the Hughes brothers since elementary school, it’s not as though he should suspect anything between Jack and i.

FEAR

it’s been 2 months since i came to the realization that i was falling in love with Jack, and now i’m leaned against the doorway leading into his bedroom, watching him pack for a roadie. the heart fluttering and stomach butterflies have long since vanished, leading me to believe that my traitorous heart got the memo that he and i will never be more than best friends.

“you’re sure you don’t wanna bring a friend out to the game? you can bring Luke if he can get away from UMich for a weekend.” Jack’s voice snaps me out of my thoughts and i give a slight shake of my head to clear my thoughts.

“i don’t know, i’ll let you know. i already talked to Luke but he said he has his own games this weekend. maybe i can find someone to come out with me, but you know i’ll be there regardless.”

“i would be sorely disappointed if you weren’t there. you know how happy it makes me to see you in the crowd.”

and as if a flip switched, the heart flutters were back.

“i’m your biggest fan Jacky, of course i’ll be there. no matter if i have to go alone or not.” i moved my way fully into the bedroom and picked up his messily packed bag, flipping it over and scattering the clothes on his bed before idly folding them and placing them right back into the duffel bag.

“you know you don’t don’t need to fold my clothes, right? i can do it myself.” Jack folds his arms and hits me with a half smile.

“obviously not, you still pack like a teenage boy. you’re gonna end up with wrinkles in all your shirts.” i roll my eyes and sit on the edge of the bed as i continue to fold.

“you love me.” he retorts, finally joining into the folding. my heart skips a beat once again, and i know that he doesn’t mean it in the way that i do, but my hopeless romantic side doesn’t seem to understand that.

**

after dropping Jack off at Prudential Center to catch the bus to the airport with the rest of his teammates, i’m laid in bed on the phone with my friend, Emma.

“the game is on Saturday, if you wanted to fly out with me. Jack is willing to pay for your flight so that i won’t be alone. but if not, that’s cool. i can go on my own.”

“yeah, i can go! although, i’ve gotta say; you’re really sure this guy is JUST your best friend? i mean, what “just friend” is willing to pay for someone to fly out to one of his games JUST so you won’t be alone?”

“that’s just the kind of person Jack is. he’s exceptionally sweet. and he has this protective nature. he doesn’t like the idea of me going to games alone because he knows how people can be. he’s so thoughtful and always prepared to help in any way he can.” i can feel the smile gracing my lips but no matter how much i try, i can’t will it away. i always get happy talking about my best friend.

“you’re in love with him.” Emma singsongs and i can hear her smirk through the phone. “i can tell by your voice. you get the same airy lilt that my sister gets when she talks about her husband. like you would do anything for him. like he hung the moon in the sky just for you.”

“he’s my best friend, Em. i’ve known him since i was an awkward little girl with lopsided pigtails and gap teeth. obviously i would do anything for him. just being his friend makes me immensely happy.”

“but you want to be MORE than friends. you can’t fool me. i’ve been where you are right now. you love him, but you don’t think he feels the same way. but i can tell you right now that any guy that would go through the lengths that he does to make sure you feel happy and safe, definitely loves you in more than a friend way.”

oh no, i’m falling in love again.

my sigh is loud and clear. rolling onto my side, i place my phone on speaker on-top of the pillow next to me.

“you need to tell him how you feel. or better yet, just kiss him.” Emma speaks again.

“it’s not necessarily just that i don’t think he feels the same way, although i do think that observation is wildly inaccurate. it’s the fact that it could ruin everything if i made a move and i was wrong. he’s my best friend and i can’t afford to lose him.”

RELIEF

the off season has officially arrived, and the thought of having Jack to myself for a few months has me more excited than i’d care to admit. we arrived at the Hughes lake house yesterday, meeting Luke who was already here, and Quinn and Trevor both arrived this morning.

We were all sat outside around a fire now, the guys all drinking beers and reminiscing on past summers spent here.

“oh, remember when Jack was dating that Stacey girl that was renting that house down the street a few summers ago? god she was awful.” Trevor’s voice was a few octaves higher than needed, due to the alcohol in his system, but it mattered little to the others because Quinn and Luke laughed along with him.

“oh c’mon you guys, she wasn’t that bad!” i could spot the red tinge to Jack’s cheeks from my spot beside him, the firelight sharing an orange glow to admire him in.

“uh dude, yeah she was! she was so jealous of y/n that she pushed her off the boat!” my eyes get wide and i start shaking my head at Trevor, dragging my hand in front of my neck in a stop motion, but he just kept talking. “and don’t you remember all those nasty things she said about her? girl was just plain awful!”

i look back up to Jack just in time to see the frown that takes place. he looks towards me with furrowed eyebrows.

“wait what? why did you never tell me any of this?”

“oh shit did you not know?” Quinn’s laughter cuts off and he looks genuinely concerned. “y/n, i thought you told him when you told us.”

i shake my head and avert my gaze down to my feet but Jack has other plans. grabbing ahold of my chin, he moves my head to look towards him again.

“i didn’t say anything because i didn’t wanna ruin your relationship or sound like a jealous bitch. and you guys eventually called it quits anyways, so what’s the big deal?”

“the big deal is that you didn’t tell me sooner, y/n. the big deal is that i would’ve tossed her to the curb immediately if you had told me she was acting that way. YOU wouldn’t’ve been the one ruining the relationship, SHE would’ve.” his voice is sharp and kind of daunting, contradicting his soft gaze pointed on me. i can see the worry in his eyes and know his next words before he says them. “are you okay?”

“i’m fine, Jack. it was a long time ago. can we please just forget about it?” i sigh and muster up a smile before turning back towards the fire. “do you guys remember the time we saran-wrapped Luke to his bed while he slept?”

“YOU WERE IN ON THAT?! I THOUGHT YOU WERE MY FRIEND!” Luke’s words make the other three guys all burst out in laughter.

“who’s idea did you think it was, Moosey?” Quinn is hunched over in laughter at the memory and i’ve slowly started scooting forward in my seat in preparation for what i know will come next.

“oh i’m gonna get you for that!” Luke shoots to his feet and that’s all it takes for me to set off like a race horse.

i can hear his footsteps not far behind me, chasing me into the house. i shut the back door behind me, in order to save me a few precious seconds and i run straight into the living room, leaping behind the couch and settling into a hiding spot between the sofa and the wall. i can hear Luke bound into the room before he moves onto the next room, but then i also hear the footfall of the other three coming in from outside as well. no longer than ten seconds pass before Jack’s head pops up above me, a large grin spread across his face.

“hello there.” the shock makes me jump and i laugh and poke his nose.

“shhh, don’t let him find me.” Jack pretends to think, nodding his head and tapping his chin with an index finger before-

“LUKE! SHE’S HIDING BEHIND THE SOFA!”

i let out an incredulous gasp and pop back up into a standing position, ready to run once more, but Jack wraps his arms around my midsection, keeping me planted in the spot.

“i thought you were my best friend! how could you betray me like this?! our friendship may never recover! i don’t think we can ever be friends again after this!” my mockery and jokes come to an abrupt pause when he takes a seat on the couch, pulling me down to fall into his lap. i can feel the blood rushing to my cheeks and i look away, hoping he can’t see my blush from this angle.

“you can’t get rid of me that easily. we’re soulmates, y/n, remember?” and cue the butterflies once more. “you said that when we were 10. i didn’t really understand it at the time, but now i think you might’ve been right.”

oh, i’m falling in love.

i can feel his breath fanning my ear, and i peek over my shoulder to look at his face. our eyes lock and i know my entire face must be red and spotted from my blushing, but the look in his eyes makes me feel like the most beautiful girl alive right now.

his eyes flicker down to my lips once. twice. and one final third time, before he starts to lean in. and with a mind of their own, my lips follow until they graze his. the kiss is light at first, nothing more than a peck, before he finally captures my lips with his. his arms loosen around my middle and his hands trail to settle onto my hips, turning me mid-kiss to fit better on his lap. i pull back, leaning my forehead against his, and a wide and breathtaking smile graces his lips.

“i’m falling in love with you, y/n. i think i have been for the past eleven years.”

[rosiecosy]

the joker

(seventeen x reader) - fluff

a/n - thank you to the anon who requested this! i hope you enjoy!

"welcome back to another episode of going seventeen!"

the staff's voice boomed through the speakers as the members sat in their seats, waiting for today's game to be announced.

"i swear if it's carnival again, i'm leaving," jeonghan muttered, slumping in his seat.

everyone not-so-quietly agreed. but before the complaints could continue, the staff revealed the game.

mafia.

with a secret role.

silence.

"what kind of secret role?" jeonghan asked, already thinking of ways to cheat.

the staff handed out the role cards—one mafia, one doctor, one detective, the civilians, and one joker.

"what does the joker do?" dino asked.

the staff grinned. "the joker wins alone. they don’t care if the mafia or civilians win—as long as they survive."

the members turned to look at each other.

"oh," woozi said. "so you want us to die."

round one

they started discussing immediately.

"i think it’s hoshi," vernon said.

"what?!"

"you’re being too loud."

"i’m always loud!"

"exactly," vernon deadpanned.

hoshi sulked. "you guys suck."

meanwhile, she stayed silent. she wasn’t mafia. she wasn’t a civilian.

she was the joker.

which meant she had one goal—survive.

and what better way to survive than to act completely, painfully average?

so she did what any normal civilian would do—she accused mingyu.

"mingyu looks suspicious."

mingyu’s jaw dropped. "i literally just breathed."

"exactly," seungcheol said, nodding. "too calm."

mingyu groaned. "i hate this game."

and just like that, he got eliminated.

round two

the next morning, the game resumed. when they opened their eyes, they saw joshua sitting quietly with his arms crossed.

"wait…" dino furrowed his brows. "are you—"

joshua sighed. "yeah, i’m dead."

seungkwan gasped. "who killed joshua?!"

woozi rolled his eyes. "obviously, the mafia."

"wow, they really went for an easy target," jeonghan muttered, sipping his tea.

joshua turned to glare at him. "excuse me?"

she sat back, watching. she didn’t care who won—as long as she wasn’t eliminated.

so she did something risky.

"guys… what if there’s no mafia?" she said suddenly.

the room fell silent.

seungkwan gasped. "what are you saying?!"

"i mean, what if it’s all a trick? what if the staff just told us there was a mafia but secretly… there isn’t one?"

chaos. immediate chaos.

dino: "huh?!"

woozi: "shut up."

seungcheol: "oh my god."

jeonghan: "wait… that’s actually genius."

and just like that, they forgot about her.

round three

it was down to four people—her, seungcheol, jeonghan, and seungkwan.

one mafia. one civilian. one detective.

and her—the joker.

she needed one more person to go before the final round.

so she turned to jeonghan and whispered,

"it’s seungcheol."

jeonghan’s eyes narrowed.

he turned to seungkwan. "it’s seungcheol."

seungcheol: "what?!"

"he’s been too quiet."

"that’s just my personality?!"

seungkwan nodded. "true. he’s always the fake leader in mafia."

seungcheol got eliminated.

she smiled.

one step closer to victory.

final round

three left.

jeonghan. seungkwan. her.

one mafia. one civilian. one joker.

seungkwan squinted. "wait… who’s lying?"

jeonghan pointed at her. "it’s her."

she gasped. "you’re really gonna betray me like this?"

"you literally started this whole thing!"

seungkwan turned to her. "are you mafia?"

she gave him the most innocent look ever. "do i look like a liar?"

"…yes."

"…fair."

jeonghan sighed. "look. let’s be logical."

"oh my god," woozi mumbled from the ghost section.

jeonghan continued. "if i was mafia, would i have gotten rid of seungcheol?"

"yes," she said.

jeonghan blinked. "wait—"

too late.

seungkwan eliminated him.

the staff clapped. "congratulations! the civilians win—"

"actually."

the staff paused.

she grinned.

"i was the joker."

seungkwan froze. "wait… does that mean…"

"she won," woozi groaned.

jeonghan looked personally offended. "you backstabbed me."

she shrugged. "that’s the game."

seungkwan fell to the floor. "i can’t believe this."

the members screamed. mingyu threw a pillow at her. jeonghan stormed off.

but all she did was sit back, smile, and say,

"well… see you next episode."

[jjkbambi]

the morning after luigi mangione x reader (18+)

summary!!! part two of is it new years yet because you do not get back together just cuz he has good dick OMG 🖕🖕🖕🖕😒 he also has a great personality and loves eating pussy

warnings: smut, kinda angsty, he’s manipulative but honestly he’s such a nice guy, you should really give him a second chance

^ not edited let’s alll just practice gratitude 🙏

seven days, thirteen hours, and nine minutes and thirty six seconds.

that’s how long it had been since luigi had seen you. not that he’d been counting, he was truly trying to be normal about the distance this time around.

he replays the morning after on a loop, searching for the slightest hint he’d done something wrong to no avail. as a matter of fact, your quiet body was beside him until deep into the afternoon, nothing but soft snores exchanged between the two of you. he wakes before you, kissing your forehead before taking his leave. his frat brothers whistle at him as he enters the wretchedly messy house, throwing him a water.

“happy new year, big guy,” one of them, hasan, greets. “did’ya spend your night thinking about new goals or scoring the same one?”

luigi rolls his eyes. “fuck off.”

another brother chimes in, bright-eyed. “when are we meeting her?”

“in your dreams.”

he had no intention of sharing you in any way; the thought of anyone else even looking at you irritated him. but starting the new year off by your side was far too great a fate to be stoic about. he grabs a plate of what’s left of their shitty communal breakfast (jar salsa from the night before, scrambled eggs, and two pieces of mostly burnt toast) and brings it into your room.

“y/n,” he calls out while entering. the door to the bathroom is now closed, and he sees your shadow shuffling around the room.

hesitant, the door creaks open. youre back in your black minidress, holding onto your heels. “hey, pretty.”

“hi,” you say tightly, the mistakes and soreness from the night before lingering in your mind. you’ve just wiped away the tears still streaked on your face, yet your ex-boyfriend hardly looks hungover.

“dressed up just for me?” he jokes, kissing your cheek. he offers you the plate of food but you shake your head.

“lacy’s waiting for me. i’ve got to go.”

“stay,” he says, his voice honey-sweet, like the boyfriend you knew months ago. it makes you feel sick, the familiarity of it all suffocating you. the room feels too small.

you push away from him. “i have to go.”

“baby,” he drops everything he’s holding to grab you again. “what’s wrong? is everything alright?”

he always blows your mind with his audacity. “no, everything’s not alright, luigi,” you spit back. “we shouldn’t have—none of that should’ve happened.”

“what do you mean?”

“luigi,” you sigh. “we’re over, alright? it’s done.”

“y/n—”

“i mean it,” you raise your voice so slightly, but still it breaks. “you cheated on me, then pulled all this shit, i can’t do it anymore.”

“you can’t do it anymore? are you serious?”

“yes!”

“you ignored me for weeks then showed up at my fucking party, dressed like that,” his voice was low, but angry. brows furrowed, he doesn’t lose his grip on you. it scares you. “you can’t tell me you weren’t bartering for my attention.”

“i wasn’t.”

his jaw sets. “then who’s?”

“oh my god. nobody’s!”

“don’t fucking lie to me—”

“lu, stop, seriously.” your voice trembles this time, and you both notice it. he drops your hand.

“i didnt mean to hurt you,” he says, soft at your upset. “i swear—i dont remember cheating on you. i’m not gonna mess up like that again, i promise.”

he leans in to kiss you, to seal the pledge with his gentle touch, but you pull back. “it doesn’t matter that you didn’t mean to hurt me—you did. you can’t just pretend it didn’t happen.“

his big brown eyes bear into yours and he swears, “i can make it up to you.”

“luigi,” you hadn’t even realized you’d been crying until he brings his hands up to wipe your tears away. “i just don’t think this is a good idea, i’m sorry.”

“come on,” he says, frowning. “i love you. only you.” his lean-in to kiss you is successful this time. the kiss feels much better—softer—than last night’s. he’s gentle with his desperation, intent on making you stay. “‘m sorry, okay?” he says between kisses. “let me make it better.”

“no, luigi, we shouldn’t—”

“you’ve got to hear me out, y/n,” he takes your lips again. his hot kisses move down your neck—and it all feels so different this time around. even the air in the room feels lighter. his voice is against your ear when he swears, “i’ll be good to you, sweetheart, i promise.”

saying no to him is near impossible—it’s why you shut yourself off of him for weeks, avoiding places he frequented, deactivating your social media, ignoring his constant stream of messages and calls. now, he has you, and within minutes, you’re pressed against the wall again.

“feels good?” he teases, grinding his hard-on into your core. you melt underneath him, you can’t help it, he’s so warm.

“lu,” you whimper. you’re still sensitive from how selfishly he took you the night before, you can’t help but react to his touch so quickly. it felt so raw.

“wait—” he never does. his hands are on your hips again, moving your body against his.

“just let me take care of you,” he says, trailing kisses down your neck again. this time, he was sure to leave marks.

he keeps the dress on this time. he places you back onto the bed, and as you gather the courage to take him in again, he moves beneath you.

“knew i recognized these,” his voice hot against the fabric of your panties.

you told yourself the lacy black panties were just meant to match the dress, but it all seemed so intentional—the party crash, the kitchen drive-by, the fact that you were wearing his valentines day gift. whether this was a manifestation of your greatest fear or desire, you couldn’t tell.

he kisses your thighs, then runs his tongue against your core through the fabric of your panties before ceremoniously ripping them off. he kisses and sucks at your wetness. you tremble at the suddenness of his movement. his big nose is so prominent in your pussy, you can’t help but grind yourself against his perfect face and whine as he drinks you in.

“you’re such a fucking mess,” luigi says, smiling into your warmth. his unshaven stubble tickles your sensitive cunt, sending a tremor through you. “so wet, i’ve barely even touched you.”

“i can’t help it,” you whimper.

he grabs your ass, pulling you closer to his relentless mouth. it’s ridiculous how good he feels. he’s completely shameless in his endeavor to ruin you.

“look at me,” luigi orders, so you do. you look down to see him, finding that he’s already gotten to touching himself. his hard length at the edge of the bed, furiously red, as he strokes himself. “i think about you everyday,” he admits in between licking at your core. “i missed how this pretty pussy tasted. i missed having you like this. holding you down so you can’t squirm away. missed hearing you beg.”

you’re almost there, fidgeting underneath his hands. “luigi, please. it’s too much.”

“you’ve taken worse,” he growls into you.

he feels like he’s on fire. one hand moves up and down along his cock fervently, while the other lends itself to fingering your frothing pussy. you mewl at the sudden entry, back arching.

“luigi,” you whine. “please.”

“i’m trying to do a nice thing for you, y/n,” he hums, “but you want me to be selfish, hm? want me to take you?”

“yes,” you say, breathless.

“fuckin’ slut,” he grumbles, pulling himself away from your wet cunt. he grabs your ankles and pulls you to the edge of the bed. “what d’you want from me, huh?”

“want you.”

“course you do,” luigi says, surprising you with hard slaps against your sensitive clit. you cry out at the sensation, the unfamiliar storm of bliss and torment, and he chuckles darkly. “you fuckin’ belong to me.”

he grabs your chin and forces you into another kiss, your wetness now staining you both. he lifts your leg up and slides himself back into your wet warmth. “you’re dripping,” he praises as he pounds into you. the exhilarating pain sets your senses alight, you grip onto him tighter without even realizing. “all for me, yeah?”

“all for you.” you nod. this is not how you expected this conversation to go. you writhe at how big he is, how hard.

“you can take it,” he grunts. he’s not fast, this time—his thrusts are agonizingly slow and tortuously deep—just as you think it’s all entirely too much, one hand grips your clothed tit, the other lifts to cradle your chin, forcing your lips to part open. he spits into your mouth. “swallow,” he orders.

you do.

“good girl,” he places sloppy, wet kisses along your jaw, your neck, then goes to bite at your tits. “so fuckin’ pretty.”

“i thought about you too,” you admit sheepishly, out of your mind. he looks up at you, raises his eyebrows, urging you to go on. “i missed you.”

to your surprise, he scoffs. “fuckin’ bitch.” he suddenly loses the interest in being gentle with you, returning to your body rough and angry. his fingers massage against your clit, unraveling you. “you’re just as crazy as i am, you know that? running around town like you don’t belong to me. like you don’t touch yourself late at night thinking about this cock. wishing those fingers were half as good as mine, huh? fuckin’ idiot.”

“luigi,” you cry out. was this him being nice?

“be a good girl f’me,” he grunts. he feels you pulse around his cock and drives into you with even more force. “cum all over me, baby. have my fuckin’ kids.”

“luigi,” you mewl again, desperate for release.

“come on, pretty, show me how good it feels.”

his lips return to yours, hot wet and desperate, as he cums inside of you. you’re a complete mess—squirming and whimpering as you unravel onto his cock, he catches your moans with kisses and leaves you shaking underneath him.

“good girl,” he hums, kissing your forehead.

for a fleeting moment, the two of you are perfect. everything feels just right. he slips into the spot beside you, the disarray of tangled sheets forgotten as he pulls you into his warmth. you sink into the nape of his neck, and though there are no more words spoken, the air is thick with an undeniable love, quiet but all encompassing.

but when he stirs awake, reaching for you, all that lingers is the soft, fading smell of your spring perfume.

MASTERLIST send requests ! <3

[seungkw1]

all to myself — ljh

♡ pairing: lee jihoon x afab!reader ♡ theme: smut [18+ mdni], pwp ♡ wc: 1.7k ♡ warnings: dom!jihoon, sub!reader, possessiveness!!!, wrist grabbing/pinning, manhandling, sir kink, size kink, degradation, praise kink, dacryphilia, unprotected piv sex (pls don’t do this), fingering (f. receiving), gagging, marking, doggy, creampie, cockwarming, breast/nipple play, gr8 aftercare!, petnames (darling, slut, babygirl) ♡ a/n: i’m literally so feral for this man idk what to tell u

It’s easy to make Jihoon jealous. And you know just how to take advantage of that.

Your goal for tonight was to piss off Jihoon, and you succeeded. 

He managed to hold his cool all night, but the moment you returned home from the party he began to exact his revenge. 

As he locks the front door you pretend to wander off into the other room, but before you can take two steps he snatches you by the wrist. 

“And just where do you think you're going?” he inquires. You ignore him, continuing on your way, but his grip around your wrist tightens. He jerks you back into his grasp, forcing you to face him. The nonchalant expression he maintained the whole night is gone, replaced instead with a deep ire that has been stewing for hours. You flash him a sweet smile, feigning naivety - but his grimace only sharpens. You lean in to give him a kiss, but he’s faster - his hand snaps to your jaw, gripping your face firmly, stopping you. 

“Oh no, darling,” he tuts as he leans in, drawing your face in so close yet remaining just out of reach. “You don't get to do that.” You pout, but he is unwavering, his breath hot on your lips.  

“Bedroom. Now.”

He releases his grip on you, turning you back around and giving you a light shove in the direction of your room. You smile to yourself as you flutter through the doorway, pleased with yourself, fantasizing about how he's planning to punish you this time. You take a seat on the bed, crossing your legs as you wait for him to follow you; your thighs squeeze together, attempting to relieve the aching in your cunt - to no avail. 

Jihoon enters the room, undoing the buttons on his sleeves and rolling them up to his elbows. He saunters over, towering over you as he drags his fingertips up and down your thigh, grazing the skin lightly as he shifts your skirt up to your hip. 

“Did you really think you could flirt with my friends all night and get away with it?” 

You say nothing, a cheeky grin creeping onto your face; he scowls. 

“You think you can wear a cute little miniskirt and sit on another man’s lap as I watch?” He shoves his hand between your closed legs. “You get off on that, babygirl? Let me see.”

He pries your legs apart, grasping you by your inner thighs and tossing you onto your back. He holds your legs open, gesturing to your skirt with his face. 

“Go on, show me.”

Slowly you grab the hem of your skirt, lifting it up to reveal an utterly ruined pair of sheer white panties. 

“Fuckkkk, look at you,” he growls. “Pretty little pussy on display for the whole world to see. I bet you let Mingyu take a look, hmm? When you were all over him?”

You shake your head. 

“I bet you let Wonwoo feel you up when you were making pathetic little faces at him, isn't that right?”

You shake your head again, pissing him off further with your silence. 

“I asked you a fucking question. Answer me.”

“No, sir,” you respond sweetly with wide doe eyes. Jihoon stares at you as if you just spat in his face. A bewildered smirk comes over him - you certainly know how to push all his buttons. He releases his grip on your thighs, dropping your legs. You yelp as he grabs you by the hips, flipping you over onto your stomach and shoving you into the mattress. He pushes your skirt up, taking your panties in both hands and yanking them down, squeezing your ass with both hands as he admires the view.

“God, you’re fucking soaked,” he groans. You whine as he touches you delicately, stroking your slit with the pads of his fingers. He teases your hole for a minute, before slipping two fingers inside you. You let out a high-pitched moan as he pushes them all the way in, curling his fingertips to reach your g-spot. He begins to work them in and out, fucking you slowly, your juices getting all over his hand as your pussy turns slick with your arousal. 

“You can be a flirty little slut all you want, darling - but I’m the only one who gets to touch your pretty little pussy.”

“Yes sir,” you mewl.

“Fuck, I love when you call me that.”

He presses his thumb against your clit - you let out a sharp cry at his touch. The bud was already tingling with sensitivity, and you can tell this is going to quickly send you over the edge.

“Does that feel good, baby?”

“Mhmm,” you whimper.

“Do you want one more?”

“Please.”

He carefully inserts a third finger, allowing you a moment to adjust, but you can’t wait. Your hips begin to grind against his hand, fucking yourself on his fingers, the stretch somewhat painful - but you can’t get enough of it.

You cling onto the bedsheets, bunching the fabric up in your fists as he slowly begins to pick up the pace. The pad of his thumb rubs back and forth over your clit, making your stomach churn as your body is overtaken by the stimulation. 

“Jihoon…” you moan as your breathing grows labored.

“Yes, baby?”

“Want your cock in me.”

“And do you think you deserve my cock?” he taunts, still pushing his fingers into your cunt. “After giving all your attention to my friends today?”

“I’m sorry baby,” you grovel. “I’ll never do it again.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

“Good girl,” he says as he removes his hand from your hole. You whine at the sudden lack of fullness.

“Because I want you all to myself.”

He reaches his arm around, shoving his fingers deep into your mouth. You gag, accepting them obediently, sucking on them as you lap your own juices up. Once you’ve cleaned up every last drop, he draws his hand back, reaching for his belt as he begins to unfasten his pants. He groans as he pulls his cock out, already fully erect. He strokes himself a few times before pressing his length against you, slowly rubbing it back and forth over your dripping core. You try to slip it inside you, but he grasps your hips tightly, holding you still, preventing you from taking his cock just yet.

“So eager,” he coos. “But not yet.”

You whine in protest. He lines his tip up with your entrance, teasing you even further. You’re so fucking horny at this point, it’s practically unbearable.

“Not until you tell me that your pussy is all mine.”

“It’s all yours,” you answer immediately. “Only for you. I only want you.”

He leans over, kissing you on the cheek.

“That’s what I like to hear,” he mumbles into your ear.

“Let’s see if you’re ready for me, baby.”

His grip on your hips loosens, just enough for you to shift yourself onto his cock. The fullness you feel is immediately overwhelming, becoming even more intense as you slowly push your hips back to take the rest of his length. Your ass presses against him as you bottom out, holding still for a few moments, adjusting to his size.

“God you’re so fucking huge,” you moan. 

Jihoon leans over, nearly laying his torso upon your back. His hands find yours, currently gripping onto the sheets for dear life. You let go; he grabs you by the wrists, pinning you down as he shifts his cock somehow even deeper into you. You cry out as he begins to fuck you, slowly and steadily thrusting into you, his cock hitting your g-spot perfectly with each motion. 

“Feels so fucking good,” you cry, tears starting to build in your eyes at the overwhelming pleasure. 

“Your pussy is so perfect,” he praises, voice starting to waver as he begins to lose his composure too. “Perfect little pussy taking me so well. All mine.”

He buries his head into the crook of your neck, sucking on the tender skin in a way you know is going to leave a mark. Your wails resonate through the room as he pounds into you, your pussy overwhelmingly full, the burning in your core rising rapidly. His soft little grunts begin to grow louder in your ear, becoming longer and more drawn out as he approaches his climax.

“Cum in me,” you plead, your voice quivering as you orgasm, your walls squeezing around him, quickly sending him over the edge too.

“Oh god,” he groans. “Oh my god, fuck- ohhhh.” 

His moan fills the air, long and low. His hips buck into you, releasing his cum deep in your pussy. Tears stream down your cheeks as you take all of him, hot ropes filling you up completely. His motion slows; he exhales heavily as he comes to a stop, resting inside of you, his weight squishing you into the bed as his body begins to relax. After a few moments he pushes himself up and off the bed, slowly pulling his length out of you. You sigh as his cum begins to drip out, missing the feeling of him already. 

Jihoon gently rolls you over, laying you on your back with your head comfortably upon the pillows. You grab his hand as he pulls away, clinging onto him. He leans over and plants a deep kiss onto your lips.

“I’ll be right back, baby.”

He returns quickly with a soft towel, gently patting your folds clean, tidying up both your juices. You yelp softly as he gives you a sudden kiss on your clit, giggling as you pull him back onto the bed with you. You’re both sticky with sweat, too hot to be cuddled up together, but he laces his fingers through yours, squeezing your hand tightly as you lay side by side.

“That was great, I should piss you off more often.”

Jihoon lets out a laugh.

“Fuck off,” he says with a wide grin.

He rolls over, pulling your shirt off of you and removing your bra.

“Come on, let’s go take a shower.”

He grabs your boob in one hand, placing his mouth upon the other and licking your nipple.

“Aaahhh-” you groan in surprise. “This is not a shower.”

Jihoon says nothing, his lips attached to your breast.

You run your hand through his sweaty hair, sighing contentedly as he sucks at your nipple.

“But I guess that can wait.”

[runnning-outof-time]

“You Came.” “You Called.” | Tommy Shelby x Reader

Request: yes by anonymous

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x fem!Solomons Sister!Reader

Summary: Tommy Shelby and (Y/N) Solomons despise each other…….or do they?

Warnings: language, slight sexual situations, weapons, threats

Word Count: 1304

A/N: I’m sorry this isn’t as long as the others have been. I need to get these requests finished and this is what I was able to come out with. I hope you’ll still enjoy! Also I’ve tried something a little different at the end - hopefully you’ll participate and not be too mad at me for it! :)

A/N 2: Oh and this is the story where the Solomons!Sister won the poll — I’m not sure if it’s angsty enough…I tried my best with it. Also I’m sorry if Alfie seems ooc here…it’s been a bit since I’ve written him and I’m rusty.

COMMENTS & REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED! — I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THOUGHT OF THE STORY!

comment/message me if you’d like to be tagged!

"You came," she sounded surprised.

"You called," his response was nonchalant.

"Yeah, but I didn't call you."

The story of Tommy Shelby and (Y/N) Solomons is a long, complicated one.

To give a quick summary: they first met the day that Tommy showed up at Alfie's 'bakery. She was the first to greet him and instantly was able to realize that there was more to his motives than what he was letting on.

She was cautious when dealing with him at first, but his charm soon enough chipped away that hesitant exterior she'd put up.

Neither could help but cross the line one late evening after a successful business dinner.

She thought that that would be the end of Tommy Shelby. But now he'd shown up at her door...when she was expecting her brother.

"Where's my brother?" (Y/N) asked, looking to either side of the doorway, hoping that Alfie would be close by.

He wasn't.

"He's busy," Tommy answered.

"So he sent you?" she asked, her brows furrowed.

"Not exactly," he shook his head.

"I'm not understanding what you're saying. Ollie told me that he'd take a note down for Alfie and that he'd inform him as soon as he became available." (Y/N) was confused now.

"I saw the note," he began, "took it upon myself to see what was needed to be discussed."

(Y/N)'s jaw just about dropped. "Tommy, why did you...would you, you shouldn't, you..."

"My name was on the note, love," he cut off her attempt to string words together.

"Just because it was on the note does not mean you were to be involved!" she couldn't stop her voice from raising, her eyes widening as she spoke. Now she was wondering how Ollie had phrased his note to Alfie. A few beats passed before a sigh escaped her lips. She ran a frustrated hand across her face before asking, "what...what did the note say?" Her thoughts had gotten the best of her.

"It said that you needed to speak about Shelby...had some information you wanted to be made known," he answered her, his eyes boring into hers. (Y/N) opened her mouth to say something but he didn't let her, taking a step inside, making her back up in the process. "What is it you wanted to tell him, hmm?"

His close proximity made her heartrate increase. She was quickly losing her ability to think. "Tommy, I..."

"What really was your goal last night, (Y/N)?" he asked her, his brows raising.

The willpower to keep her hands by her sides and not reach out to take hold of him was leaving (Y/N) by the second.

"I thought your intentions aligned with mine..." he trailed off, raising his hand so that he could run it down her jawline in a slow, teasing manner, "at least it seemed that way when you brought me back here."

Instead of dropping his hand when he reached her chin, he grasped it; taking it between his thumb and index finger so that he could raise her fleeing eyes to match his. This action made the breath get caught in (Y/N)'s throat, and every valid argument left her mind the second her eyes locked onto his icy blue ones. All hope was lost now.

"What are your intentions with me, (Y/N)?" he asked her.

"You know them, Tommy, I.." she couldn't quite string a thought together.

"Tell me."

"I.." she paused again, interally freaking out. Think of something, anything, (Y/N), come on! "I wanted to tell him about you...about us," she decided on telling him a lie, hoping that he would take it as the truth.

"Yeah?"

She couldn't decipher what he was truly thinking from his one word response. His widened eyes didn't help either, other than making her fall deeper into his trap with each second that passed. Now she was wracking her brain to think of ways to sell this.

The last thing she wanted to tell him was that she was going to sell him out...to tell Alfie what she felt his true intentions were.

"Yeah," she breathed, nodding her head as much as she could with his fingers still holding her chin. Sell it, (Y/N)!, her mind screamed before she raised her hands up to grip his lapels. All coherent thoughts flew out the window as she leaned in and kissed him.

This wasn't a loving kiss. It wasn't a slow one, unlike the ones they shared last night. She kissed him hard, hoping that the passion she put into it would be enough to get his mind off of the damn note and seal her lie for good.

His hold tightened on her chin, but he didn't break the kiss. In fact, his other hand moved from his side to her hip, where he began bunching up her skirt in order to make contact with her bare skin.

Success.

(Y/N) also became absorbed by the passion that they both were showing. It was hard not to given the fact that he was Tommy Shelby. The night they shared was one of the best she'd ever had. Conniving business man or not, she would remember it for the rest of her life.

"What in the bloody fucking hell is going on here?!"

What (Y/N) did not remember before getting sucked into this situation was to shut the door to her home.

Her eyes shot open and she became frantic, trying to break the kiss and move away from Tommy as quick as she could. "Alfie!" she shrieked, surprise clear on her face.

"Why're you fucking kissing my sister, mate?!" Alfie asked Tommy, speaking with a seething anger.

While (Y/N) was just about shaking from the shock of her brother showing up, Tommy didn't seem to be phased.

"Alfie he...he was just..."

"No," Alfie cut (Y/N) off, shaking his head and stopping her attempt to cover for the man now standing beside her, "I asked him not you. He knows family is off-fucking-limits, so I want him to answer me why."

Tommy said nothing. (Y/N) shrunk into herself more and more with each passing second. She'd never seen Alfie this angry.

"I said fucking answer me!" Alfie bellowed, drawing the revolver he had tucked into his waistband. He wasted no time in cocking it and holding it in Tommy's face.

Tommy still didn't move; didn't even flinch.

"You're going to fucking answer me," Alfie demanded, his voice low and menacing, "yeah, you're going to fucking answer me or it'll be your fucking brains blown out all over (Y/N)'s fucking foyer."

"Alfie, don't," (Y/N) begged her brother, reaching a shaky hand out in hopes that he would see it and lower his weapon.

"She called for you," Tommy spoke, his voice level and stoic.

"She fucking what?" Alfie asked, his brows furrowing slightly, confused by why Tommy was saying this.

“She called your office. You weren’t around. But my name was on the note,” Tommy shared more details.

“And what does that have fucking anything to do with you fucking kissing my sister?!” Alfie’s anger had returned.

“It has everything to do with it,” Tommy was still level-headed. “You see, she was going to tell you about this, about us,” he then dropped the bomb, motioning between himself and (Y/N) to emphasize the point he was making.

“I can explain,” (Y/N) was quick to blurt out, her eyes trained on the gun in Alfie’s hand, which he’d - thankfully - lowered from being aimed at Tommy’s head.

She couldn’t read the look in her brother’s eyes. The seconds felt like hours as they passed. She stood frozen as Alfie rose the revolver again and…….

Ok I’m evil, I know but……..

Don’t fret, if the poll’s closed by the time you’re reading this, you’re still more than welcome (and I’d encourage you, actually) to share what you think would happen next!!

p.s….this story won’t be getting continued. I’m just curious as to what y’all think.

MASTERLIST

Tagged: @mystcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21

@mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @theshelbyslimited @peakyswritings

@just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry

@captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @mischievouslittlecreature @stevie75

@lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder @cillmequick

@dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @garrison-girl-08 @insanitybyanothername @depxiety

@justrainandcoffee @dragons-are-my-favorite @mrs-bond @cljordan-imperium @brummiereader

@red-riding-wood @everythingelseisextra @little-diable @thomashelbyswife @shaddixlife

@ryecosse @padfootdaredmetoo @novashelby

[y3sterdaysproblem]

hear me out… nye with chris where his goal is to make u cum as the new year starts

“yeah, you’re gonna let me fuck you into next year, pretty girl?” type vibes y’kno

you’re already three orgasms into the night, body completely spent as your boyfriend, chris, languidly thrust into you, your left leg lifted up to rest against his torso where his hand held it up, your right leg lax on the other side of him. “that’s my good girl,” he praises, pressing his lips into your ankle as he watches your blissed out expression, barely able to form any coherent words at this point. “can you give me one more? c’mon, baby, I know you can, just one more.”

“can’t,” you choke out, tears filling your eyes when his hand comes down to press his thumb into your clit, rubbing small circles around the over sensitive, swollen nub between your lips. his movements were slow, but it was almost excruciating the way his fingers overstimulated you, threatening to send you over the ledge for a fourth time. “chris, it’s too much.”

“no it’s not,” he coos, pushing his thumb harder into your core. “we got thirty seconds left, baby, give me one more.”

“fucking hell, chris,” you whine, arching your back off of the bed as his thrusts pick up pace, his free hand holding your thigh tight while the other moved quicker on your clit.

“you got it,” chris smiles down at you, watching as you start to tense up again, hearing the loud countdown from upstairs echoing into his room, leaning his body over yours, your leg now pressed against your chest. “ten….” he whispers softly.

“nine…”

your jaw drops slack as he starts counting down, feeling the familiar coil of tension in your stomach as he brings you to your fourth and hopefully final orgasm.

“eight…”

you let out a small whimper as you exhale, hands coming up to grip at his back.

“seven…six…”

you dig your nails into his skin as he moves into you even faster, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room.

“you’re doing so well, angel, five…”

“chris!” you cry out, fat tears spilling from the corners of your eyes.

“good girl, hold on four more seconds.”

“I-I’m- shit- c-chris…” you babble between gasps.

“three… two…”

“fuck!”

you’re spasming around his cock, thighs trembling as he rubs your clit through yet another climax, small spurts of clear liquid squirting around his length every time he pulls out of you, covering the sheets underneath you. you’re loud, unable to control the sounds leaving your mouth as he fucks into you and fucks you through your final orgasm, his own moans loud and whiny as he shoots his load inside you, coating your walls with his release.

“so fucking good for me, princess,” he praises once he’s buried deep inside you, no longer moving.

he leans down and places a kiss to your lips that you struggle to return, laughing breathily at the way you stared up at him with glazed over eyes, like you could barely even focus, his own lips moving down your cheek until they reach your ear, whispering softly.

“happy new year.”

[iris-qt]

𝚜𝚕𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗 𝚜𝚔𝚒 𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝

ᴘᴛ. ᴠ ᴛᴏ (ɴᴏᴛ ꜱᴏ) ꜱᴇᴄʀᴇᴛ ꜱᴀɴᴛᴀ - ꜰɪɴᴀʟᴇ

❆ ᴀᴄᴀᴅᴇᴍɪᴄ ʀɪᴠᴀʟꜱ | 10.0ᴋ

❆ ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ: ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇᴏᴅᴏʀᴇ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ɢᴏɴᴇ ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ ᴄᴜʟᴍɪɴᴀᴛᴇꜱ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ᴠᴀᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴀʟꜰᴏʏ'ꜱ ʟᴏᴅɢᴇ ᴅᴜʀɪɴɢ ᴡɪɴᴛᴇʀ ʙʀᴇᴀᴋ. ᴡɪʟʟ ᴛʜɪꜱ ʀᴇᴛʀᴇᴀᴛ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱɴᴏᴡʏ ᴍᴏᴜɴᴛᴀɪɴꜱ ꜰɪɴᴀʟʟʏ ʟᴇᴀᴅ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴏɴꜰᴇꜱꜱ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ꜰᴇᴇʟɪɴɢꜱ?

❆ ᴀ/ɴ: ɪ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴀɴᴅ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ᴏɴᴇ ᴏꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ꜱᴜᴘᴘᴏʀᴛᴇᴅ ᴍᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ. ɪᴛ ᴍᴇᴀɴꜱ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ!! ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴅᴇᴅɪᴄᴀᴛᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴀʟʟ ᴏꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡʜᴏ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛᴇᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ, ᴀ ʙɪɢ ʙɪɢ ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ. ᡣ𐭩

It was a late evening in the Slytherin common room, a week before winter break.

 A crackling fire illuminated the room as Theo lounged on a green velvet sofa, flipping through a book, while you scribbled furiously in your notebook at the opposite end of the room.

Mattheo strutted into the common room, his usual smirk plastered across his face, followed closely by Blaise who looked far too amused for Theo’s liking.

“You know,” Mattheo began, plopping himself into the chair between you and Theo, “I think it’s time we had a little chat.”

Theo groaned, not even bothering to look up. “Can’t you see we’re busy?”

“Busy ignoring each other? Very productive,” Mattheo quipped, glancing between you two. “But don’t worry. I’m about to change your lives.”

You shot him a glare. “If this is another one of your ridiculous schemes-”

“Oh, it is,” Blaise interrupted smoothly, flopping onto the sofa beside Theo. “And it’s brilliant.”

Mattheo leaned forward, his smirk widening. “You two ever wonder why we’ve been pushing you together so much lately?”

Theo snapped his book shut, narrowing his eyes. “Because you’re a meddling prat who has nothing better to do?”

“Accurate,” you added without looking up from your notes.

Mattheo held up a finger. “True, but not the full story.”

Blaise chuckled. “This is the good part.”

With a dramatic sigh, Mattheo leaned back, folding his arms behind his head. “See, here’s the thing. Your constant bickering? It’s been exhausting for the rest of us.”

You frowned, pen pausing midsentence. “Excuse me?”

Mattheo waved a hand. “You heard me. The snark, the eye rolling, the glares. It’s like watching a soap opera unfold. Minus the dramatic music and commercial breaks.”

Theo scowled. “We do not bicker that much.”

“Mate,” Blaise interjected, “you both argued for twenty minutes last week about whether the library smelled more like parchment or mildew.”

“It smells like parchment!” Theo defended, throwing up his hands.

“Exactly,” Mattheo said, pointing at him. “Proving my point. So, the gang and I decided to do something about it…for an end goal of course”

You crossed your arms, clearly unimpressed. “And what, exactly, is this end goal?”

Mattheo’s grin turned positively wicked. “We orchestrated this whole winter break thing.”

Theo blinked. “What whole thing?”

“A ski retreat to Malfoy’s family ski lodge!” Mattheo says as if it’s the brightest plan of the century.

Your jaw dropped. “You mean to tell me you’ve been meddling just so we wouldn’t annoy you?”

Mattheo held up his hands in mock innocence. “Not just that. It’s also been incredibly entertaining.”

Theo pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Oh, come on,” Blaise said, smirking. “It’s not like it didn’t work. You’ve been a lot less...murdery toward each other lately.”

You opened your mouth to retort but stopped, glancing at Theo. He looked just as caught off guard as you felt.

Mattheo leaned forward, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “Besides, you two needed this. You just didn’t know it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked, narrowing your eyes.

Mattheo smirked, standing up and patting your shoulder. “You’ll figure it out. The mountains have a way of making people see things clearly.”

As Mattheo sauntered off, Blaise followed, throwing a parting shot over his shoulder. “Just don’t forget to thank us when you’re both madly in love by New Year’s.”

You and Theo exchanged a horrified look, protests overlapping.

“That’s not—” “We don’t—”

The silence that followed was almost comical.

Finally, you shook your head, muttering under your breath. “They’re insufferable.”

Theo huffed, grabbing his book again. “Tell me about it.”

But as he flipped a page, he couldn’t help glancing at you, a thought nagging at the back of his mind. 

Maybe, just maybe, the prats had a point.

…

The snow outside the Malfoy lodge sparkled under a pale winter sun as three elaborate, gleaming black carriages pulled up in a line, two days after break began. Each was pulled by magical thestrals, their skeletal wings casting eerie shadows across the snow. The group began piling out, each member showcasing a different level of winter preparation.

“Careful!” Pansy snapped as Mattheo practically vaulted out of the first carriage, sending a dusting of snow into her boots.

“It’s just snow,” Mattheo said, brushing nonexistent flakes off his jacket with exaggerated care. “Don’t be so dramatic.”

Pansy shot him a murderous glare. “These are Prada, you twit.”

From the second carriage, Blaise emerged with practiced grace, holding a flask. “Anyone want a warming charm? Or something stronger?”

“Why not both?” you said, stepping out behind him and rubbing your gloved hands together.

Just as you spoke, a loud whoosh echoed, and everyone turned to see a plume of green fire bursting from the lodge’s ornate outdoor Floo Powder station. Draco stepped out of the flames, his hair immaculate, brushing soot off his shoulders like it was routine.

Behind him, Theo stumbled out, coughing into his sleeve. He was covered head to toe in soot, his normally pristine coat streaked with black.

“Floo Powder,” Theo muttered darkly, shaking his fluffy brown hair out. “Never again.”

Mattheo grinned, barely holding back his laughter. “You look like you just crawled out of a chimney, mate. Should I find you a broom to match?”

You smirked, unable to resist. “You’re really going for that chimney sweep aesthetic, huh?”

Blaise raised his flask in a mock toast. “To arriving in style…or in Theo’s case, spectacular disgrace.”

Theo grumbled under his breath, attempting to clean his coat with a wandless spell, but your laughter made him pause. You were grinning at him, cheeks red from the cold, and for a split second, he forgot his irritation.

“Alright, you lot,” Draco said, stepping into the center of the group. “This isn’t a circus. Let’s go inside before someone else makes a fool of themselves.”

Mattheo elbowed Theo as they started up the snowy path. “Don’t worry, mate. You’ve already won that competition.”

Theo shot him a withering look but couldn’t help the faint tug of a smile. The lodge loomed ahead, and with it, the promise of a very long, and eventful week.

…

They arrived in the grand foyer of Malfoy’s extravagant ski lodge, all gleaming marble floors, enchanted chandeliers, and walls lined with enormous portraits of Malfoy ancestors. The lodge was gloriously decorated with sparkling enchanted candles and floating ornaments. The group huddled inside, shedding coats and scarves as Draco began assigning rooms.

“Welcome,” Draco announced, spreading his arms as if he’d built the place himself. “To the Malfoy Lodge. Please try not to ruin it.”

“Try not to ruin it?” Mattheo repeated, smirking. “Sounds like a challenge.”

Draco shot him a withering look. “It’s not.”

You glanced around, taking in the sheer grandeur of the place. “This isn’t a lodge…it’s a castle pretending to be cozy.”

“Impressive, isn’t it?” Theo drawled, brushing a bit of snow off his coat. “Bet you’ve never seen anything like it.”

You rolled your eyes. “Right, because I live under a bridge.”

“Enough,” Draco interrupted, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Let’s get through room assignments so we can all move on with our lives.” He pulled out a parchment and began reading.

“Blaise, you’re in the east wing, Room 3A. Mattheo, 3B, next door. Pansy, you’ve got the west wing, Room 4C.”

“Alone?” Pansy asked, raising a perfectly arched eyebrow. “You don’t trust me with a room neighbor?”

“Let’s say I wouldn’t trust my worst enemies with you,” Draco replied smoothly, earning a round of muffled laughter.

Draco continued, ignoring the side chatter. “I’m in 2F. And Y/N...”

You perked up, expecting your name to be followed by your own luxurious solo room.

“You’re with Theo in 1D.”

“What?” you and Theo exclaimed simultaneously, voices overlapping in a mixture of outrage and disbelief.

Draco folded the parchment and tucked it into his pocket. “You heard me.”

“But there are literally a hundred rooms in this place,” you protested, gesturing wildly. “Why do I have to share one with him?”

“Yeah,” Theo agreed, his brows furrowing. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

Draco sighed, as if he’d been expecting this. “The decision is final. You’re both insufferable on your own, and frankly, I’m tired of your constant bickering. Maybe forced proximity again will teach you some manners.”

“Or one of us will murder the other,” Theo muttered under his breath.

You crossed your arms, glaring at Draco. “This is ridiculous. You’re punishing me for no reason.”

Draco smirked. “Oh, there’s a reason. The entirety of our 7 years at Hogwarts with you two was like listening to a pair of Howlers.”

“I mean, he’s got a point,” Blaise added lazily, earning a glare from both you and Theo.

Mattheo, ever the opportunist, grinned. “Don’t fight it, you two. Think of it as a bonding exercise.”

“Or a reality show,” Pansy quipped. “We can take bets on how long it takes before one of them snaps.”

You turned to Draco, desperate. “I’ll sleep on the floor! Or the couch! Or in a cupboard!”

Draco shook his head. “The wards on this lodge won’t allow it. Guests must sleep in their assigned rooms. Besides, there’s only one bed in 1D, and it’s big enough for two.”

Theo groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “You planned this, didn’t you?”

Draco didn’t bother to deny it. “Enjoy your stay.”

…

It’s the first morning of the trip, and the gang is gathered in the grand dining hall for breakfast, surrounded by floor-to-ceiling windows that reveal a picturesque snowy landscape. The chaos begins as they attempt to settle into their vacation routines.

You and Theo walk down shooting each other glares after a restless night in your shared room.

You claim his snoring kept you up, but really, it was the light weight of Theo’s hand that moved to grasp your own while he slept that kept your brain and heart spiraling all night.

Theo claims it was you muttering about homework in your sleep when really it was endless dreams about you that woke him up every few hours.

“Pass the coffee,” Pansy grumbled, rubbing her temples and squinting at the bright sunlight streaming through the windows. “Who thought waking up before noon on a holiday was a good idea?”

“Some of us like to experience daylight,” Blaise chimed in, helping himself to a stack of waffles.

Mattheo strolled in, already dressed for the slopes, and clapped his hands together. “Morning, peasants! Who’s ready for some wholesome outdoor bonding?”

“Define wholesome,” Blaise said, barely looking up from his paper as he sipped his espresso.

“The kind where Theo falls on his arse at least three times,” Mattheo replied with a smirk.

Theo, seated at the far end of the table, shot him a glare. “The only person falling today will be you, after I shove you off a ski lift.”

“Bold of you to assume you’ll be coordinated enough to manage that,” you quipped from beside him, not looking up from your plate.

Theo turned to you, his brow raised. “I’m sorry, did you even pack skis, or were you planning to sled down the mountain on sheer audacity?”

Before you could respond, Draco walked in, exuding his usual aristocratic confidence. “Can you all keep it down? You’re ruining the ambiance of my family lodge.”

“Your brooding ancestors ruin it, not us,” Blaise muttered under his breath, eyeing the various portraits of Malfoy’s old ancestors on the walls.

Draco ignored him, instead waving a hand toward a nearby (well paid and well treated) house elf, who instantly appeared with a tray of fresh pastries. “Right. Ground rules. No one burns anything down, no one embarrasses the Malfoy name in front of the other guests, and for Merlin’s sake, don’t let Mattheo near the fireplace.”

“That was one time,” Mattheo protested.

“It was last week,” Draco deadpanned.

You looked around, amused. “So, this is what the elite do on holiday? Bicker over breakfast?”

“Only when we’re stuck with you lot,” Theo muttered.

You gasped dramatically. “You’d be lost without me, Nott.”

“Lost?” Theo scoffed. “I’d be thriving.”

“Enough,” Draco snapped, clearly already regretting his decision to invite them. “Just be ready in twenty minutes. We’re hitting the slopes, and I expect some semblance of decorum.”

“Decorum?” Mattheo asked, feigning confusion. “Is that a new drink on the menu?”

Pansy snorted into her juice, while Draco pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why do I even bother?”

…

The group arrives at the base of the ski hill, where chaos quickly ensues.

Mattheo insists on leading the warm-ups, which somehow devolves into him challenging Blaise to a race. Blaise accepts with a smug grin, only to deliberately shove Mattheo into a snowbank halfway down.

Pansy, decked out in an overly glamorous ski outfit, refuses to actually ski and instead sets up a lounge chair to “supervise” from afar.

Draco attempts to maintain order but gets increasingly exasperated as your’s and Theo’s bickering escalates.

“You’re supposed to lean forward, not flail like a deranged Hippogriff!” Theo shouts as you wobble on your skis.

“Maybe I wouldn’t be flailing if my so-called instructor wasn’t a deranged Hippogriff,” you fire back.

“Merlin’s beard,” Draco mutters, watching you two with a mix of horror and resignation.

Meanwhile, Blaise sails effortlessly down the hill, turning gracefully to call out, “This is fun! You lot should try it without all the screaming!”

Mattheo, now dusting snow off his jacket, watches you and Theo with a knowing smirk. “You know,” he says to Pansy, “this trip might actually be worth it just for the entertainment value.”

“Agreed,” Pansy replies, snapping a moving photo of Theo glaring at you as you fall into a heap.

…

It was truly a picturesque ski slope surrounded by snow-covered trees and tall peaks. The crisp mountain air bit at your skin as a crowd of skiers zooms past, but you were struggling to keep your balance on the slope. Theo, perched at the top, watches with a smug smirk, clearly enjoying your distress.

You wobbled as you pushed yourself forward on the skis, trying to follow the basics Theo had explained, or, rather, mocked you for not knowing. Your knees bent awkwardly, and you nearly toppled over again, catching yourself just in time.

"Steady there," Theo called from the top, clearly amused. "Maybe next time try not to fall on your face. It’s not a good look."

You shot him a glare, balance once again betraying you as you slipped down a little too quickly. “Oh, please. You’re not even helping me!” you shot back, voice carrying over the soft wind.

Theo smirked, crossing his arms. "Helping you? I’m pretty sure I’ve helped enough already. You’re the one who insisted on trying to ski like a pro on your first day."

“I was just trying to keep up with you,” you muttered, half under your breath.

“Oh, so now you’re admitting you want to be like me?” Theo teased, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “I mean, who wouldn’t? Look at me.” He pulled off a smooth ski maneuver, ending with a pristine spray of snow, making sure you could see just how effortlessly he glided down the slope.

You grumbled under your breath, muttering something about him being insufferable. But just as you started to regain your footing, a tall, handsome wizard in sleek black ski gear suddenly appeared beside you, his charm radiating like he’d been born for the slopes.

“Need a hand?” he asked, giving you a warm smile that made you heat up a little, despite the cold.

Theo’s smirk faltered slightly, a spark of irritation flickering in his eyes as he watched the wizard approach.

“I’m fine,” you replied quickly, though you couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed, especially with Theo watching from above. You adjusted your ski poles, trying to keep your balance as the wizard gave you a once-over.

“Don’t worry, happens to the best of us.” The wizard grinned, offering you a hand. “I’m Callum, by the way. Been skiing since I could walk. You just need to loosen up a bit.”

Theo watched the interaction with narrowed eyes, irritation bubbling up in his chest, but he tried to keep his voice casual as he spoke.

“Callum, huh?” Theo called from above, his tone dripping with mild amusement. “I see you’re making new friends already, Y/N.”

You shot a glare in Theo’s direction, but your smile was warm as you turned back to Callum. “It’s fine, really. I’m just trying to figure this out on my own.”

Callum’s grin widened, clearly amused by your stubbornness. “Ah, the independent type. I like that.” He took a step back, giving you some space. “If you change your mind, I’ll be over there.”

You watched as Callum glided away. You shook it off quickly, focusing back on the task at hand.

Theo, still watching from his spot above, couldn’t resist the chance to poke fun. “Nice guy. Wonder if he’s always so...helpful.”

You rolled your eyes, but the irritation you’d seen in Theo’s eyes didn’t go unnoticed. “Don’t be a jerk, Theo.”

Theo smirked, though it was tinged with something less playful. “I’m not a jerk. Just saying, he looked a little too eager to help out a beautiful stranger.”

You huffed, cheeks warming. “Well, maybe I don’t mind help from someone who knows what they’re doing.”

Theo’s jaw tightened slightly, and his smirk faltered for just a second. “Yeah, well, I know what I’m doing too. You could’ve just asked me, you know.” He motioned to the slope below him, as if to emphasize his very important role in the situation.

“Maybe I don’t need help from a guy who’s too busy making fun of me,” you shot back, trying to keep your tone light, but there was a hint of challenge in your words.

Theo’s brow furrowed slightly, and he looked at you with something unspoken in his gaze. For a moment, the teasing fell away, and his voice was more serious when he spoke. “I’m not making fun of you, Y/N.”

“You sure?” you asked, skeptical, arms crossed. “Because it sure felt like you were.”

Theo exhaled sharply, pushing off from the top of the slope. “Fine. Look, I’m just trying to make this less...embarrassing for you.” He looked down, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “I guess I’m...not the best at helping, but I didn’t mean to-"

“Alright, alright,” you interrupted, a small smile tugging at your lips as you adjusted your stance again. “I get it. You’re just...a little jealous.”

Theo blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “What? No. I’m not jealous.”

“You sure?” you teased, smile widening. “Seems like you were a little bothered by Callum being so nice.”

Theo narrowed his eyes, his teasing smirk returning full force, though his voice was a little more strained now. “I’m not bothered. I’m just saying, if I were him, I’d be careful not to seem so desperate”

You laughed, finally gaining your balance as you turned back to the slope. “Well, I think Callum’s probably a better skier than you,” you called over your shoulder.

Theo’s eyes flashed with something unrecognizable, and he glided down the slope faster than before, catching up to you in just a few seconds. He pulled up alongside you, deliberately leaning in close. “You really think Callum’s a better skier than me?”

You raised an eyebrow. “You’re about to prove me wrong, aren’t you?”

Theo smirked, eyes glinting. “Damn right I am.”

…

The ski slope is quieter now, with most people off to lunch or exploring the lodge. The snow is fresh and untouched, the air crisp, and the distant sound of skis swishing down the hill fills the silence. 

Theo, looking slightly more serious than usual, positioned himself in front of you on the slope. His arms crossed, but there was a noticeable softness in his expression as he adjusted his ski poles.

He sighed dramatically as he looked down at you, as you were trying your best to stand upright on your skis. “I’ll teach you…but no more complaints when I make you do the actual stuff.”

You gave him an exaggerated smile. “I promise to keep the complaining to a minimum.”

“Famous last words,” Theo muttered under his breath, but he gave you a small, almost reluctant smile before motioning to the slope. “Okay, first thing’s first: keep your weight forward. Don’t lean back like you’re about to doze off.”

“Thanks, that’s really helpful.” you shot him a sarcastic grin.

Theo raised an eyebrow. “You asked for this.”

The Slytherin crew stood at the top of the hill, watching the whole interaction with varying degrees of amusement.

“Do you think she’ll make it down without damage?” Draco called down, watching as you wobbled awkwardly on your skis.

“Hard to say,” Mattheo teased, smirking. “Theo’s over there looking like he’s actually trying to teach her, but we all know how that goes.”

Blaise chuckled from where he was leaning against a nearby snowbank. “At least she’s got some determination. I’m just here for the inevitable faceplant.”

Mattheo grinned. “You really want to see that? I thought you were a supporter, Blaise.”

“I’m supportive of entertainment,” Blaise replied with a shrug. “And believe me, this is gonna be good.”

You shot them all an exasperated glare. “I can hear you, you know!”

“You’ll be fine,” Theo reassured you, though he sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than you. He pointed down the slope. “Alright, now push off with your poles and glide forward. Keep your knees bent, like this.” He demonstrated, bending his knees and effortlessly gliding down a few feet.

You followed, though your glide was a little less graceful. “I’m trying! This is hard, you know?”

Theo grinned. “I know. But I’m here to help.” He looked over his shoulder at his friends. “No laughing, alright?”

“We’re not laughing,” Draco replied innocently. “We’re just concerned for her safety.”

Ignoring them, Theo focused on you, walking alongside you as you practiced. “You’re doing better already,” he said, sounding genuinely impressed. “You’re standing up this time.”

“Yeah, but I’m barely moving,” you admitted with a huff.

Theo smirked. “Progress is progress.” He leaned in closer, his tone teasing but a little softer than usual. “Ready to try a bit of a turn?”

You bit your lip, suddenly unsure. “A turn? What if I…fall again?”

“You won’t,” Theo said, his confidence unwavering. “Just follow my lead. You don’t need to be perfect. Just keep your balance.”

You nodded, trying to trust him. As you pushed off again, you followed his movements, attempting a turn, but the slope was slicker than expected. Your skis slipped out from under you, and before you could react, you found yourself heading straight for Theo, arms flailing in a desperate attempt to regain control.

“Uh, Theo?!!” your voice was an alarmed squeak as you careened toward him.

Theo’s eyes widened just in time for him to brace himself. But it was too late. You crashed directly into him, sending you both tumbling into a soft snowbank with an exaggerated thud.

The sound of laughter echoed from above as Draco, Mattheo, Pansy, and Blaise all burst into chuckles.

“You two look adorable together!” Mattheo called down with a mischievous grin, clearly enjoying the spectacle.

Blaise raised an eyebrow, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Maybe next time, Theo can teach her how to ski without turning every slope into a disaster zone.”

Theo lay sprawled out in the snow, you on top of him, both of them tangled up in skis and poles.

“Well, that went well,” Theo muttered, his voice muffled by the snow.

You groaned, half-laughing and half-sighing as you pushed off of him. “I think I might need a lesson in not crashing.”

Theo propped himself up on his elbows, giving you an exaggerated look of mock concern. “Nah, you’re doing fine. You only fell once.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “Once? You’re being generous.”

“Alright, five times, but who's counting?” he replied, clearly trying to hide the smirk tugging at his lips.

You glared at him playfully, then threw a handful of snow at his face, watching as he blinked, startled.

Theo wiped his face and laughed, brushing off the snow. “Okay, I deserved that.” He then held out his hand, offering to help you up. “Let’s get you back on your feet, shall we?”

You took his hand with a mischievous grin. “Next time, you teach me on a less bumpy terrain.”

Theo snorted. “Deal. I’ll find a nice, flat field for you. Maybe one without any snow…or hills...or gravity.”

…

The group was gathered around the roaring fire in the lodge's cozy living room after a day on the slopes. Snow lightly dusted the enormous windows, and everyone was bundled in oversized sweaters, sipping on mugs of hot cocoa or mulled wine. Pansy stretched luxuriously on the fur-lined couch, a wicked gleam in her eye.

“Alright, I’m bored,” Pansy announced. “Time for a game. Truth or dare, anyone?”

Mattheo smirked, leaning forward eagerly. “Count me in. I live for chaos.”

Draco sighed, swirling his drink. “Do we have to? These games always end up with someone storming out.”

“Exactly why we’re doing it,” Pansy replied with a grin. “Come on, Theo, Y/N, Blaise. You in?”

Theo leaned back in his armchair, raising an eyebrow. “Do I have a choice?”

“Nope,” you said, smirking as you adjusted the blanket around your legs. “You’re playing.”

“Fine,” Blaise drawled, lounging with effortless elegance. “But if this turns into one of those embarrassing dare marathons, I’m out.”

Pansy clapped her hands. “Great! I’ll start. Mattheo, truth or dare?”

“Dare, obviously,” Mattheo said without hesitation.

Pansy grinned, her eyes glittering with mischief. “I dare you to serenade Draco with a romantic ballad.”

Mattheo’s face split into a devilish grin. “Oh, I’ve been waiting for this.” He grabbed a decorative candle holder from the table and used it as a makeshift microphone.

“Draco, oh Draco, my icy-hearted friend,” Mattheo began dramatically, earning an eye roll from Draco. “Your scowl is so sharp, it could make a dementor bend.”

Draco glared, but the rest of the group burst into laughter as Mattheo collapsed back into his seat with an exaggerated bow.

“Brilliant,” Blaise said, raising his glass in mock applause. “Your voice truly brings tears to my eyes. Mostly from the pain.”

“Your turn,” Pansy said, pointing at Mattheo.

Mattheo rubbed his hands together like a villain. “Y/N. Truth or dare?”

You narrowed your eyes, sensing trouble. “Truth.”

“Coward,” Theo muttered under his breath with a small grin.

Mattheo smirked. “Alright, Y/N, if you had to date someone in this room, who would it be?”

The room fell silent, and all eyes turned to you. You felt the heat rise to your cheeks and tried to play it off.

“Easy,” you said breezily. “Pansy. Obviously.”

Pansy laughed, throwing an arm around your shoulders. “Excellent choice, darling. You have impeccable taste.”

Theo, however, narrowed his eyes. “Coward’s answer,” he said, smirking slightly. “But whatever helps you sleep at night.”

“Your turn, Y/N,” Mattheo prompted, still grinning.

You thought for a moment before turning to Blaise. “Truth or dare?”

Blaise sighed. “Truth.”

“If you had to swap lives with one of us, who would it be and why?” you asked.

Blaise considered this for a moment, then gave a sly smile. “Draco, obviously. Purely for the wardrobe.”

Draco looked vaguely offended. “Is that all I am to you? A walking closet?”

“Yes,” Blaise said without hesitation. “A very expensive one.”

The group dissolved into laughter again, and Draco muttered something about “uncultured fools.”

Theo leaned forward, clearly enjoying the game despite himself. “Alright, my turn. Draco. Truth or dare?”

Draco sighed, resigned. “Dare.”

Theo grinned, the kind that spelled trouble. “I dare you to let Mattheo style your hair for the rest of the night.”

“No,” Draco said immediately.

“Dares are binding, Malfoy,” Pansy said smugly, pulling out her wand to transfigure a nearby cushion into a small mirror. “Rules are rules.”

Within minutes, Mattheo had turned Draco’s usually impeccable hair into a chaotic mess of spikes, braids, and a small ponytail sticking straight up. The group was in hysterics as Draco sat there, his dignity in shreds.

“Enjoy this moment,” Draco said coolly. “You’ll all regret it.”

“Oh, we’ll treasure it,” Blaise said, snapping a photo with a magical camera.

“Alright, Blaise,” Theo said, turning to him. “Truth or dare?”

Blaise raised an eyebrow. “Dare.”

Theo smirked. “I dare you to compliment everyone in the room sincerely.”

Blaise groaned. “Merlin, kill me now.”

He sighed dramatically, then started. “Fine. Pansy, you have excellent taste in fashion and an alarming knack for manipulation. Mattheo, you’re surprisingly loyal for someone with no impulse control. Draco, you’re...rich. Y/N, you’re stubborn in a good way. And Theo…” Blaise paused, clearly thinking hard. “You’re less insufferable than usual tonight.”

“Touching,” Theo said dryly. “Really, Blaise, I’m overwhelmed.”

The group laughed again as the game continued into the night, the fire crackling and the snow falling gently outside. It was chaotic, silly, and exactly the kind of thing that made their group unforgettable.

…

The Malfoy Ski Lodge’s grand dining room was buzzing with energy. The fire crackled in the hearth, and the snow outside fell gently, blanketing the landscape in a peaceful white layer. You, walk into the kitchen to refill your drink.

But as you were heading back with a glass of butterbeer, you overheard snippets of their conversation, and your heart sank.

"Come on, Theo," Mattheo was saying with a laugh. "You’re not fooling anyone. We all see how you look at her. You like her."

Theo’s voice came through, more defensive than usual. "I don’t know what you’re talking about." His tone was sharp, but there was an undertone of uncertainty.

“Oh, please, Theo,” Blaise added, clearly amused. “You’ve been all over her since we got here. Can’t even ski without looking like a lost puppy when she’s around.”

“I’m not a lost puppy,” Theo muttered, but the nervousness in his voice was clear. “She’s just…a friend. At most.”

You paused in your tracks, heart pounding. A friend? At most? You had no idea why, but for some reason, hearing Theo brush off the teasing stung more than it should’ve. You didn't want to be just a joke, or some passing distraction. Your stomach twisted, and before you could stop yourself, you grabbed your drink and quickly walked out of the room.

The cold air hit you as you stepped onto the balcony, the breathtaking view of the snowy mountain under a blanket of stars offering little comfort. You leaned against the railing, taking a deep breath, trying to calm your racing thoughts. The quiet of the night contrasted sharply with the loud emotions swirling inside you. You weren't sure what you had expected to hear, but it wasn’t that.

A few moments later, you heard the door behind you open and close softly. You didn’t need to turn around to know it was Theo…you could feel his presence, like a pull you couldn’t quite resist. His footsteps were hesitant at first, then more assured as he reached your side.

"Y/N," he said softly, his voice laced with guilt. "I didn’t mean for you to hear that."

You turned to face him, eyes holding a quiet hurt. “What did you expect me to think, Theo? You’re over there acting like it’s all a joke, and here I am trying to figure out what’s going on between us.”

Theo ran a hand through his hair, his usual confident demeanor faltering. "It’s not like that," he said quickly, his voice defensive. "I didn’t mean to brush you off, okay? I just-"

“You just what?” you interrupted, tone tinged with frustration. "Do you even know what you want from me? Because I sure as hell don’t. It feels like one minute you’re messing with me, and the next you’re being…" you paused, searching for the right word, “...sweet.”

Theo winced, taking a step closer, his eyes searching yours. "I know I’ve been a prat. I’ve been messing things up, and I don’t know how to fix it."

Your breath caught in your throat, the vulnerability in his voice surprising you. But you couldn’t quite shake the feeling that you weren't hearing everything. "Then what is it, Theo? Why is everything so…complicated?"

He looked down, his jaw clenched in thought. “Because I don’t know what I’m doing.” His voice lowered, becoming more vulnerable. “I’m scared. I’m scared of ruining things, Y/N. I don’t know how to handle…whatever this is between us.”

The words hung in the cold air between them, and for a long moment, neither of you spoke. The weight of his admission made your heart flutter. A mix of confusion, relief, and something you couldn’t quite name.

"You’re scared?" you asked softly, voice barely above a whisper. "Scared of what, exactly?"

Before Theo could answer, the door behind them swung open again, this time with Mattheo’s voice ringing out. "Oi, Theo! Y/N! You coming back inside? Stop standing out there in the freezing cold like bloody idiots."

Theo’s head jerked around, frustration flashing in his eyes. "Mattheo, seriously, not now." He shot him a pointed glare before turning back to you, his voice tense. "Can we talk about this later?"

You nodded, your own emotions a mix of uncertainty and something warmer, more hopeful. “Yeah, later.”

Theo hesitated for a moment before taking a step closer, his hand brushing against yours, a tentative touch. He looked at you, his eyes filled with something unspoken, then pulled away quickly, muttering a half-hearted apology.

"Sorry, I…" He sighed, running his hand through his hair. “I don’t know how to do this, Y/N."

You offered him a small smile. "It’s okay, Theo. We’ll figure it out."

Theo glanced at you one last time before reluctantly turning back toward the door. 

As he walked away, you stayed on the balcony for a beat longer, glancing out at the snowy mountains, thoughts swirling. You didn’t have all the answers, and neither did Theo. But something told you you guys were closer to figuring it out than you’d been before.

And maybe that was enough for now.

…

Early evening in the lodge grounds the next day, the sun was setting behind the snow-capped mountains, casting a soft orange glow across the snow-covered landscape. The cold air was sharp, but there was a sense of warmth among the group as they prepared for some lighthearted chaos. Laughter echoed through the crisp winter air as the whole Slytherin crew gathered outside for an epic snowball fight.

You and Theo are standing a few feet apart, half-watching, half-dreading the upcoming battle. Your breaths form little clouds in the cold air as you two survey the rest of the group, who are already clearly strategizing.

Mattheo, grinning like a mischievous Cheshire cat, turns to Blaise with a glint in his eye. “Alright, you take left, I’ll take right. Theo and Y/N are gonna be an easy target, so let’s give them a warm welcome."

Theo glances over at you, an eyebrow raised. "This is ridiculous. They’re ganging up on us."

You chuckle, shaking your head. "Well good, you deserve a little payback for the skiing fiasco."

Theo scoffs. "That was a day ago. I’m a changed man."

"Yeah, right," you tease. "And I’m a professional skier now."

Just then, Blaise and Mattheo hurl snowballs toward you both with expert precision. Theo quickly sidesteps, pushing you out of the way as one of the snowballs flies dangerously close to your face.

“Oi! Protect yourself, Nott!” Mattheo calls out, laughing.

Theo doesn’t even hesitate. He turns and blocks the snowball with his arm, the impact making a satisfying “thud” as it hits him. He looks back at you, while you stare at him with wide eyes.

"Er, what was that?" you say, more than a little amused. "I thought we were supposed to be enemies here."

Theo shrugs, looking somewhat embarrassed. “You’re not getting hit while I’m around.”

"Protective much?" you tease with a small grin. "It’s just snow, Theo."

The game progresses, with most of the snowballs missing their targets.

Pansy wrinkles her nose. "I refuse to partake in this childish nonsense. I have better things to do than get wet."

“Like what?” Draco calls over, still laughing. "You’ve been standing there for the past ten minutes looking like you’re waiting for something more dignified to do."

Pansy shoots him a scowl, but her lips twitch into a reluctant smile. “I’m waiting for the glorious victory of watching you two idiots get buried under snowballs.”

Meanwhile, Blaise and Mattheo charge again, launching a combined attack. The snowballs are coming at you both fast and furious, and Theo, ever the knight in shining armor, grabs you by the wrist and pulls you into the “fort” you two have hastily built out of snow.

“Are you going to help or just stand there looking helpless?” Theo says, his eyes flicking over to you as you laugh.

“Who says I’m helpless?” you retort, picking up a snowball and throwing it with all your might toward Blaise. It hits him square in the chest, and you pump your fist in victory.

“Killer shot!” Theo laughs, clearly impressed. But before he can throw another, Blaise ducks behind a snowbank, sticking his tongue out.

“Not bad, Y/L/N!” Mattheo calls. “But this is a real battle now.���

And just like that, you and Theo find yourselves in the heat of battle, dodging and throwing snowballs, laughing like kids. Theo makes a move to dodge a snowball from Mattheo, only for you to toss one of your own right in Theo’s face with a suppressed giggle.

“Look at that teamwork!” Draco shouts, throwing his hands up in mock awe. “Who would’ve thought?”

You snicker as Theo wipes snow from his face. "We make a good team, don’t we?"

He smirks. "I wouldn’t go that far. You did just hit me in the face with a snowball."

“I didn’t mean to!” you teasingly protest with a laugh. “It was the heat of the moment!”

Mattheo suddenly jumps out from behind a snowbank, sending an enormous snowball flying toward them. Without thinking, Theo jumps in front of you, taking the full brunt of the impact.

“Bloody hell, Nott!” Mattheo laughs. “You’re a real knight in shining armor.”

Theo, completely covered in snow, shoots Mattheo a dirty look. "This is why I don’t like you."

You can’t help but laugh, heart swelling with affection. “Taking a bullet for me yet again?”

Theo, now half-covered in snow, gives you a playful shrug. “Right, because a snowball equivocates a bullet”

But despite his words, there’s a softness in his eyes, something that makes your heart flutter. As the rest of the group continues to launch their attack, the two of you find yourselves working in sync, your movements becoming more fluid, more comfortable together.

The snowball fight rages on for a little longer, each side claiming small victories, but soon enough, you’re all laughing too hard to care about who’s winning. You and Theo find yourselves leaning against each other, gasping for breath, the cold air mingling with the warmth of your laughter.

“Alright, alright, I think we’ve had enough,” Draco calls out, raising his hand. “I’m freezing my arse off.”

Mattheo and Blaise look at each other and then back at you and Theo. “Yeah, I think we broke them,” Blaise jokes, eyeing the pair with amusement.

Theo turns to you, his expression softening. “So…partners in crime?”

You smile up at him, feeling a warmth you haven't felt all day. “I guess so.”

And for the first time, their teamwork feels effortless. The snowball fight might be over, but something new between them is just beginning.

…

The fire crackles softly in the grand stone fireplace of the lodge’s cozy library, casting a warm, flickering light across the room. The scent of aged wood and the faint, comforting smell of pine linger in the air. Thick rugs cover the stone floor, and large windows offer a breathtaking view of the dark snow-covered mountains outside. It's a peaceful, intimate setting: the perfect escape from the chaos of the group that evening.

You had slipped away from the others earlier, needing to recharge your social battery after days with your beloved friends. You were sitting by the window now, legs tucked beneath you, watching the snow drift gently to the ground. You felt a strange mix of contentment and nervous energy…like something was finally shifting, something you weren't sure you were ready for.

Theo, having spotted you earlier, couldn’t shake the feeling that tonight might be the night everything changed. He had tried to avoid it, but his thoughts had been consumed by you since he first met you in Potions in 1st year.

And now you were all in 7th…time flies.

 The banter, the teasing, even the pranking…none of it had been the real reason he kept coming back to you. It was something more, something he hadn’t fully understood until now.

He stepped quietly into the room and saw you. You looked peaceful there, face lit by the glow of the fire, and for a moment, Theo simply watched you, taking in the way the soft light made your eyes sparkle like they had that first day.

He couldn’t ignore it any longer. The weird mix of nerves and anticipation settled in his chest as he walked closer, not knowing what would come of this, but knowing he couldn’t stay silent forever.

“Y/N?” His voice was quieter than usual, careful, unsure.

You turned, a smile instantly forming on your face when you saw him. “Hey, Theo. Didn’t think anyone else would be here.”

A small, self-deprecating smile appeared on his face as he leaned against the wall. “Yeah, well, it’s just you and me. The gang’s off causing chaos somewhere else, I suppose.”

Your smile softened, and you patted the spot next to you on the window seat. “Wanna join me?”

Theo hesitated for a moment, and for the briefest second, his mind screamed at him to just stay away, to keep things light and simple. But that part of him was already fading, pushed aside by something else. Something bigger than the teasing or the distance he tried to keep between you two.

He nodded slowly, moving to sit next to you. He felt the warmth of your presence beside him, a comforting tension building in the space between them. For a moment, you two just sat in silence, the only sound the crackling fire.

“So…” you began after a while, looking at him with curiosity in your eyes. “What’s going on with you today, Theo? You’ve been…quieter.”

Theo let out a small laugh, his hand running through his hair. “Yeah, I guess I have. Just been thinking a lot.”

“About what?”

He turned his gaze toward you, eyes softer now. “About this trip, mostly. And about you.” He paused, his throat tightening a little at the admission. “Look, I know I’ve been a prat. And I’ve…messed with you more than I probably should’ve.”

You tilted your head slightly, eyes searching his face. “What are you talking about, Theo? You’ve always been a prat, it’s kind of your thing. And we’ve been having fun with it.”

Theo shifted closer, now visibly uncomfortable. “It’s not just that. It’s-” He stopped himself, taking a deep breath. His thoughts were racing, and he wasn’t sure how to say what he needed to say. “I didn’t know how to handle it. How to handle...you. The way I’ve felt.”

Your heart skipped a beat, breath catching in your throat. You had a feeling where this was going, but hearing it out loud made your pulse quicken.

“I didn’t want to mess things up,” Theo continued, his voice quieter now, more vulnerable than you had ever heard it. “I was scared that if I…admitted how I felt, I’d ruin everything. Ruin what we have.”

You swallowed, voice soft but steady. “What do you mean, Theo? What is it that you feel?”

Theo turned toward you, his eyes searching yours, the weight of his emotions heavy in the air between you two. His heart was racing, but he couldn’t pull away. “I don’t know what it is, but you’re all I can think about. The way you laugh, the way you challenge me, the way you always know how to get under my skin...it’s all too much, and it makes me feel like I’m going crazy...in the best way.”

Your breath caught in your throat as his words hit you. You couldn’t help but smile at how raw and honest he was being. But at the same time, there was a knot of nervousness in your stomach. You had known there was something more, but hearing him admit it was like stepping into new territory.

“I think I know what you mean,” you said, voice quiet but firm. You turned to face him more fully, hand subconsciously inching closer to his. “I’ve felt it too, Theo. I’ve been falling for you, even though I’ve tried not to. Even though you’ve made me madder than anyone else at times, I can’t stop thinking about you either.”

Theo’s eyes widened slightly, a look of disbelief crossing his face. “You’re serious?”

You nodded, a small, soft smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “I’m serious.” Your voice faltered, and your eyes dropped to your hands only millimeters apart. 

Theo, unable to contain the overwhelming mix of emotions inside him, reached for your hand. His fingers brushed against yours lightly at first, testing, feeling the softness of your skin. He didn’t want to rush this.

He didn’t want to mess it up.

But the urge to close the gap between them was undeniable.

Your eyes flickered up to his, and without thinking, you leaned in slightly, faces just inches apart now.

The world outside seemed to fade away, and for a moment, it was just the two of them, caught in this perfect, fragile moment.

Theo’s breath hitched, his hand moving to gently cup your cheek. He could feel your warmth, the delicate flutter of your breath against his skin. “I’m not going to mess this up,” he murmured, more to himself than to you, but his voice was full of intent.

And then, without another word, he closed the gap, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was tentative at first, as if you were both afraid of breaking something precious. But soon, it deepened, the kiss growing more confident, more urgent. His hands wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer, as if he needed to make sure you were real.

You kissed him back, hands finding his shirt, tugging him closer. Everything that had been building up between you two, all the teasing, the quiet moments, the laughter, it all poured into that kiss. It felt like the world had shifted, and there was no place else either of you would rather be than right there, in that moment.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and wide-eyed, Theo pulled you into an embrace, holding you tightly as if he were afraid to let go. You rested your head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart, a sense of peace settling over you.

“I’m not going to let go,” Theo whispered into your hair, and you smiled softly against him.

“You don’t have to,” you whispered back. “I don’t want you to.”

And in that moment, everything seemed to fall into place.

…

Morning sunlight streams through the tall windows of the dining hall, casting a golden glow over the Slytherin group as they gather around the massive oak table, which is laden with a delicious spread of breakfast food: fluffy pancakes, buttery croissants, fresh fruit, and an assortment of wizarding teas and coffees.

You and Theo arrive a little later than the rest of the group, walking in together. There’s an unmistakable shift in your guys’ dynamic: your soft laughter at something Theo whispers to you, the way his hand lightly brushes your back as he pulls out a chair for you. 

The group notices immediately.

Mattheo, ever the observant instigator, leans back in his chair with a mischievous grin. “Well, well, look who decided to join us. And look who’s suddenly a gentleman. Theo, since when do you pull out chairs for people?”

Theo shoots him a half-hearted glare as he sits down beside you “Since now. Got a problem with it?”

“Not at all,” Mattheo smirks, raising his coffee mug in mock toast. “Just making sure we all take a moment to appreciate this rare transformation.”

Pansy narrows her eyes, a sly smile tugging at her lips. “You two are acting…different. Suspiciously different.”

Blaise, never one to miss an opportunity for a jab, points his fork at them. “Did you two chug a love potion last night, or was it just the stars aligning?”

You roll your eyes, though your cheeks faintly flush. “Oh, please. You lot are just shocked because Theo finally managed to act like a decent human being for once.”

Theo smirks, leaning back in his chair as he picks up his coffee. “You’re not wrong. It was a conscious decision to give you a break from my usual wit and charm.”

Draco, sitting at the head of the table, raises an eyebrow but remains silent, sipping his tea. His small smirk, however, gives him away.

Mattheo leans forward, eyes sparkling with amusement. “So what’s the story? Did Theo finally confess his undying love under the stars? Did you two make a pact to stop pretending you hate each other?”

You grin, playing along. “Actually, we wrote a peace treaty and shook hands. Very diplomatic.”

“Diplomatic, my arse,” Blaise snorted. “More like ‘I’ll teach you to ski if you teach me to snog.’ Am I right?”

Theo, unfazed by the teasing, casually drapes an arm over the back of your chair, earning a chorus of exaggerated gasps from the group.

“Merlin’s beard!” Pansy exclaims, clutching her heart dramatically. “Is that…affection I see? Theodore Nott, showing actual feelings? Someone write this down for the history books.”

You laugh, leaning into Theo’s side with a playful smile. “You lot are the worst.”

“And yet, you love us,” Mattheo quips. “Just not in the way you love Theo, apparently. Aw, look at you two, all cute and coupley now.”

Theo rolls his eyes but doesn’t bother denying it. Instead, he grabs a croissant and hands it to you, and you thank him with a soft smile.

The group erupts into laughter, their teasing filling the room. But there’s no malice in their words, just a sense of camaraderie and joy at seeing their friends happy.

As the conversation drifts to other topics, Theo leans close to you and whispers, “Think they’ll ever let us live this down?”

You smile, eyes sparkling. “Not a chance.”

Theo chuckles, brushing his hand against yours under the table, where no one else can see. “Worth it.”

You glance at him, heart swelling with warmth. “Definitely worth it.”

Your quiet exchange doesn’t go unnoticed by Pansy, who catches Mattheo’s eye. The two share a knowing smirk but decide, for now, to leave the new couple in peace. 

The teasing can wait. 

For the moment, the morning feels light and perfect, and everyone is exactly where they’re meant to be.

…

The morning is crisp and bright, with the snow sparkling under the golden sun. A few house-elves load trunks into the enchanted carriages lined up outside. The group stands together, bundled in coats and scarves, chatting and laughing one last time before departing.

You stood beside Theo, gloved hands tucked into the pockets of your coat. The week had flown by in a blur of snowy adventures, late-night games, and moments you hadn’t expected.

Especially with Theo.

You glanced at him, heart fluttering at the thought of everything that had changed between you two.

Mattheo broke the quiet moment by slinging an arm around Blaise. “Alright, admit it. This trip was genius. I deserve full credit for making this happen.”

“Genius?” Blaise scoffed, brushing snow off his jacket. “You spent half the trip plotting ways to embarrass Theo.”

“And look how well it worked out!” Mattheo gestured dramatically toward you and Theodore. “I mean, come on. Couple goals.”

Theo sighed but didn’t bother arguing. Instead, he smirked, looking down at you. “You see what I’ve had to deal with my whole life?”

You laughed, nudging him. “You poor boy.”

Pansy rolled her eyes. “Alright, lovebirds, save it for the ride home. Some of us are still processing the fact that Theodore Nott is no longer an emotionally stunted iceberg.”

“Touching, Pansy,” Theo replied dryly, earning a chorus of laughter.

Draco, ever the practical one, stepped forward. “Alright, everyone, let’s wrap this up. The carriages are ready, and I’d rather not spend another minute in this cold.”

You turned to the group, heart swelling with gratitude. “Thanks, guys. This week was…unexpectedly amazing.”

“Unexpectedly?” Blaise teased. “We’re delightful company, Y/N. Admit it.”

You grinned. “Fine. You’re all delightful. Even you, Theodore,” you tease with a small smirk.

Theo raised an eyebrow. “Even me?”

“Especially you,” you said softly, cheeks warming despite the cold.

Mattheo groaned dramatically. “Merlin, they’re already insufferable.”

The group shared a final laugh before starting their goodbyes. Hugs, handshakes, and promises to meet up soon were exchanged. Finally, it was just you and Theo standing by your guys’ carriage.

You glanced back at the lodge, the memories of the week rushing through your mind. “I’m going to miss this place.”

Theo stepped closer, his voice quiet. “I’m going to miss this too. But…I’m glad we figured things out. You and me.”

You looked up at him, smile soft. “Me too.”

He hesitated for a moment, then reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “You know, I wasn’t sure how this week would turn out. But now? I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “Me neither.”

He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, before helping you into the carriage. As you settled in, the rest of the group waved from their own carriages, already shouting jokes and goodbyes as the thestrals began to pull them away.

Theo took your hand in his, fingers intertwining as the lodge disappeared behind you. The future might be uncertain, but for now, everything felt exactly right.

And as the carriage carried them down the snowy mountain road, you couldn’t help but smile, knowing this was just the beginning of your story.

…

Bonus Scene: Winter in Italy

For the last two days of winter break, you were invited to Theo’s family villa in Northern Italy, which lay nestled among snow-dusted hills. The villa’s ivy-covered walls framed a panoramic view of the sparkling lake and surrounding countryside, the winter air crisp and invigorating.

You stepped onto the villa’s terrace, gaze sweeping across the breathtaking view. The rolling hills were dusted with snow, glimmering under the fading light of the day. You shivered slightly, pulling your coat tighter around you as you took it all in.

“Cold?” Theo’s voice called gently from behind you. You turned to find him leaning casually against the doorframe, his dark sweater clinging to his broad shoulders. He held out a thick, woolen scarf.

“Maybe a little,” you admitted, smiling as you let him wrap the scarf snugly around your neck. His fingers lingered for a moment against your skin, and you felt your cheeks heat despite the chill in the air.

“You’re easy to read,” Theo teased, his lips quirking into a smirk.

“And you’re tragically overconfident,” you shot back, though your tone lacked any real bite.

He stepped closer, his presence intoxicatingly warm against the crisp air. “Come on,” he said, his voice lower. “I have something to show you.”

Theo led you down a winding path through the villa’s garden until you reached a secluded grove of olive trees. Fairy lights twinkled overhead, casting a soft golden glow on the snow-covered ground. In the center was a plush blanket draped over the ground, surrounded by candles that flickered against the darkening sky.

Your breath caught. “Theo…this is…”

“Don’t make it weird,” he interrupted, but his usual sarcasm was softened by the way he watched your reaction with soft, expectant eyes. “I just thought you’d like it.”

You turned to him, a smile tugging at your lips. “I love it.”

You both settled on the blanket, the thick material insulating you from the cold ground. Theo pulled another blanket over your laps, and you nestled closer to him, head resting against his shoulder.

For a moment, the quiet was filled with the soft rustling of leaves and the distant hum of the villa. Then Theo shifted, his arm curling around your waist, pulling you closer.

“You’re warm,” you murmured, voice teasing.

He smirked. “And you’re terrible at compliments.”

You rolled your eyes, tilting your head up to look at him. “Fine. You’re warm and annoyingly good at planning perfect moments.”

“Annoyingly good?” he repeated, leaning closer.

Your breath hitched as his face hovered just inches from yours. “Don’t let it go to your head, Nott.”

“Too late,” he murmured, his voice a low rasp as his hand slid up to cradle your jaw.

Theo kissed you, the touch of his lips firm and deliberate, igniting a heat that chased away the winter chill. His other hand found your waist, pulling you flush against him as the kiss deepened. Your hands moved instinctively, tangling in his dark hair as you leaned into him.

When you finally pulled apart, both were breathing heavily, foreheads resting against each other.

“I thought you said not to make it weird,” you teased, voice barely above a whisper.

Theo chuckled, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “You make me do a lot of things I never thought I would.”

Your gaze softened, and you placed a hand on his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat. “Like admit you actually like me?”

“Something like that,” he said, his voice low and warm. “And maybe a little more.”

Before you could respond, he kissed you again, lips more insistent this time as he laid you back against the soft blanket. His hands skimmed your sides, stopping just short of improper as he hovered above you, his breath mingling with yours in the chilly air.

When you broke apart, your cheeks were flushed, fingers still tangled in his hair.

“Theo,” you began, voice shaky but sure.

“Yeah?” he replied, his tone teasing but his eyes betraying his seriousness.

“I think I might…” you hesitated, then smiled. “I think I might like you a little more than I should.”

Theo grinned, leaning down to press a kiss to your temple. “Good. Because I’m far past simply liking you, Y/N.”

As you lay together under the twinkling lights, wrapped in warmth despite the snow around you, you knew you wouldn’t forget this night.

Or the boy who had made it unforgettable.

Taglist: @lovrsm, @minhlajenni, @rafeluvrr, @mgchaser, @r6yven, @ahead-fullofdreams, @alwayslatetothefandoms, @whosyourgnomie, @froyofreya, @smut-anarchy, @babene-e, @nottinmyheart, @marikajhaha

(I'm so sorry if I missed anyone's request to be in this series taglist but ty to everyone! mwah :))