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jsprnt · 4 months ago

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Americano PT. 15 | Jude Bellingham x Reader

What happens if two individuals who absolutely despise each other are forced to interact after unforeseen events occur?

A/N: hihi, just wanted to thank you all for the love for the 2 most recent chapters <33 I’m loving all messages and comments!! 💖 please enjoy this chapter and stay tuned for the last chapter tomorrow (around 20:30 CEST)🥹🤍

W/C: 3.385

part fourteen

"You know that you're allowed to be upset, right, Jude?" She asks, looking down at the tired-looking boy.

"I know, but it's disappointing.." Jude murmurs back, moving his head to look up at her. His head on her lap, as her hands delicately play with the soft, just-washed curls on his head.

It's a soothing and intimate touch, something they'd both discovered to create a calm and relaxing atmosphere.

"You can be disappointed. It's difficult feeling like you’re on top of the world one day, and the next you feel like shit."

y/n puffs out a breath, trying to reassure his thoughts and feelings with logical and rational reasoning.

Real Madrid had won the Super Cup final against their derby rivals Atletico Madrid only a week ago in Riyadh. Though, last night's loss against the exact same opponents for the Copa del Rey hadn't exactly gone the same way.

With the extra time and many yellow cards later, they eventually lost with two goals made by Atletico, throwing Real Madrid out of reach of the win in a very dramatic fashion.

It was a whirlwind of a week for Jude, and to him- all he needed was someone to help him sort his thoughts out.

"You can't change anything about the past, not even when you fret and ponder about it for years. You can only look forward and change what you think you can, think winning the league or even the Champions League, Jude…” She says, leaning back against the couch, warm fingertips hovering above his hairline.

"You sound like a motivational speaker.." He voices, chuckling while watching her recline on the couch.

"Well, what I'm saying is true. Like- when I thought you moving in would be the end of my life- it turned into- this.."

She points at him and back to herself, making a dramatic gesture.

"End of your life? That's harsh." He frowns, grasping her hand to prevent her from poking his eyes out.

"Well, then let's not remind you of the times I've wanted to punch you right across the face, wanting to wipe that smirk off your lips and-"

Her voice is cut off by his hand, it clamped over her mouth as only muffled noises escape from her lips.

"Should I feel threatened?" He questions, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows, only to groan as she pokes her tongue through her lips. He removes his hand, wiping his wet hand on his trousers as he sits up from his position.

"No, I'm sure you also had hateful thoughts about me. I definitely cannot blame you.." She trails off, trying to recall anything pertaining to the topic.

"You were pretty annoying." He states, clicking his tongue. Jude fixes his position, making sure he's sitting comfortably.

"Annoying?"

She had expected the description and would definitely understand why, but why did it hurt a little bit?

Noticing the change of expression on her face, Jude grabs onto her hand, pressing a soft, tender kiss on her knuckles.

"-but in a good way!" He adds quickly, eyes raised in panic.

Of course, the words she'd just uttered were way harsher in comparison to his, though it being said explicitly and clearly for the first time since they'd met, it stung like a bitch- to y/n, at least.

"You would always say or do something that riled me up so badly. I remember when you first started interviewing me- and you'd switch from snarky comments off camera to acting like the sweetest, most kind person to me. I thought; 'Oh? So, this is how two-faced she can be?'."

"But, you'd also have moments where you'd confuse me so much." Jude looks up, leaning in to press multiple, back-to-back kisses on her temple.

"When?" She asks, eyes fluttering as she soaks up the loving, sweet gesture.

"Remember that night in- Naples? When you panicked about someone breaking into your hotel room?" Jude recalls, absentmindedly pulling her closer into his side, on the couch.

"Mhm, I remember- I was so embarrassed about it.. I thought I'd have to book it out of your room immediately before you'd start making fun of me.."

"I was not going to make fun of you. That's what you thought of me?"

"I didn't know! We were bickering like- every damn second up until that point."

"No, I was genuinely surprised at first, but when you left, I couldn't even sleep properly, and I didn’t even know why..”

"Well, what's the annoying part?"

She asks, watching Jude's fingers get entangled with hers, making her grin a little.

"You were annoying in a way- which I couldn't shake my thoughts away from you if something had happened that specific day back then. I couldn't put it into words, tried to rack my brain so many times, over and over.."

"You had this long-lasting presence, and the way you spoke and acted practically got ingrained into my memory for me to repeat every night. This definitely got worse when I moved in here.."

Making eye contact again, she nods in understanding, grasping the hem of his shirt to play with.

"You thought of me, every night?" She grins, smug look replacing her once confused and sad expression.

"I knew this would enlarge your ego.." Jude chuckles, placing another kiss on her cheekbone, before he's interrupted by a text message popping up on his phone.

"Who is it?" y/n asks, glancing up when Jude shows her the screen.

"It's my mum.." He simply says, eyes skimming over the lengthy message. After a minute of silence, he looks back at his curious girlfriend.

"She's just trying to comfort me like you have been. Asks if she can come over for tea.." He informs, hand reaching to wipe away a single fallen lash stuck on her cheek.

"Oh, that's sweet. Of course she can-.." y/n trails off, eyes darting away from the iPhone and onto her lap. Fingers starting to fidget with the loose threads on her used sweatpants.

Getting a comforting, reassuring text message from your own mother..

Something the young girl could not even dream of. Let alone speak to her own mother ever again, at least in this lifetime.

The thought makes her smile uncomfortably, though there's absolutely no positive emotion behind it, skin around her eyes crinkling in fake happiness.

"y/n?" Jude whispers, noticing the change in her demeanor and the tensing of her shoulders.

"Hm?" She hums back, her eyes darting up and locking with his brown ones.

"You okay?"

Jude is in love, not stupid.

Seeing his girlfriend's entire mood change, just at the mention of his mother isn't something he wants to just skim over.

There was absolutely nothing going on between her and his mother. In fact, after his parents had been informed of their oldest son's affection for her, they welcomed her into the family within a heartbeat.

It wasn't either of the two who told them, instead- y/n's understandably protective father had told them. This came after he'd talked to Jude privately, grilling him with questions only a father would make up- and of course the intentions question was asked, like they weren't just young people trying to figure out their lives.

In reality, her father had long approved of the idea of the two young adults having a relationship. The times he was home and present with them, he'd slowly noticed the way they had warmed up to each other.

Not to forget, months ago, his daughter had burst into his office- asking for him to handle something for her. Puzzled at his own daughter needing legal help for 'online defamation, because they think I’m dating that douche', he'd dropped everything to listen to her- only to end up laughing at the end of her dramatic and insulting (towards Jude, of course) speech.

It wasn't difficult, as an experienced adult, to guess where the young adults' relationship would go from there.

"y/n.." Jude calls out again, placing a hand on her shoulder, shaking slightly to snap her out of her thoughts when she doesn't reply.

"I'm just thinking.." She finally says, wanting to lie- but realizing that he is, in fact, her boyfriend now- it might be better in the long run, to be honest.

"About what?" His eyes flicker up, a warm hand pulling her in closer. Realizing the comfort or warmth she might need to open up and speak.

"I just feel sad.." The confession is quiet, looking down, she grasps onto the hem of her sweater. Trying to keep her emotions at bay, because this conversation was about comforting him, and not about trauma dumping on the already upset boy, she thought.

Jude blinks, looking over his girlfriend's defeated figure. The gears in his head twist and turn, trying to decipher what she meant with her words.

"Do you want to tell me why?" He asks, trailing a hand up, pinching her chin with his pointer finger and thumb, raising her head to make eye contact.

Her eyes glimmer with emotion when they lock with his chocolate brown ones, the corners of her mouth twitching as she tries to contain the tremble of her lips.

Though, it's insanely difficult, especially when multiple emotions are swirling around her mind, and the suppressing of the tears causes a sharp pain to pass through her temples.

She grunts softly, not being able to hold back anymore, the pressure in her head worsening.

Tears pool against her waterline, and she closes her eyes. Allowing a soft whimper to escape her lips, tension dropping from her shoulders, as y/n stops suppressing her emotions.

Jude's eyes widen, his breath hitching in surprise as he watches his new love practically crumble in front of him.

"Oh, baby.." Jude coos breathily, the soft, foreign term of endearment falling from his plump lips.

He moves his hands immediately, wrapping his arms around her waist, and pulling her onto his lap.

y/n instantly presses her face against his shoulder, grasping onto the fabric of his shirt. Her tears darken the blue shirt, as Jude's hand rubs against her back in a tender manner.

"You're okay, honey.." He whispers, pressing multiple kisses along her temple and cheek, rubbing soft, soothing circles on her back.

"Why don't you tell me what's wrong, hm?" He soothes, his voice deeper than usual, offering sweet and reassuring words to the crying girl.

"I- don't even remember how her voice sounded or what her personality was like.." I whisper, raising my palms to harshly wipe my annoying tears away. They just kept pouring out of my eyes like the damn Niagara Falls..

"Look at me, love.." Jude whispers tenderly, grabbing my wrist to remove my hands from my face. I can't help but feel tingles down my spine at the word he refers to me with.

The Brum accent combined with his deep, raspy evening voice- melting my heart instantly. It distracts me from my breakdown for a single moment, and I shift my eyes back to his, just like he asks me to.

"Take a deep breath for me, yeah?" He says, pressing a kiss on the back of my hand.

I nod at his words, taking a single, deep breath, before releasing when he tells me to..

"Good- you're so good for me, baby.." He gives me a small, satisfied smile, kissing my cheek again. He moves his hands, pulling my head back onto his chest, running his hand down my back.

"This okay?" He asks, making me nod. I sigh again, nuzzling my face against his hard chest.

I had just spilled my entire heart out to the boy whom I had sworn to hate for the rest of my life, only a few weeks ago.

The topic wasn't something I had openly talked about since I was a teenager in my psychologist's office back in London. It hurt way too much to talk about with friends, and it felt like opening up a bigger wound when speaking to my own family about it.

I mean, it couldn't ever get easy- talking about losing your blood and flesh, let alone your own mother. In my case, the person who had gone through hours of labor and delivery- creating me from her own nutrients and energy.

There was absolutely no way I’d ever comfortably tell someone that my mother had passed away in a violent car crash.

An accident that had occurred only because little five-year-old me wanted my mom at my graduation to primary school.

I had gone through years and years of therapy, though, of course, to me nothing could actually take away the wound and grief it had caused a young me.

I couldn't sleep some nights, mind trying to remember anything about my mom. Since I had lost her so young, I could only recall her face from old photographs and home videos taken by my dad.

"Yeah.." I mutter, eyes closing as I try to ground myself. Taking in the beating of Jude's heart against my ear and his musky cologne.

"Need anything?"

"No, just you.."

I feel his chest vibrating as he chuckles, the sound reaching my ears and filling me with a warm and fuzzy feeling.

"I'm here, love. Take your time, and we'll wash up before my mum comes over.." I feel his hand against my back, caressing from my nape all the way to the small of my back.

I hum in understanding, eyes fluttering shut as I try to calm down, taking my surroundings in.

"Okay.."

'Meet me in the lobby'

'Security won't stop you'

'We have free time for a couple hours'

I stare at the incoming text messages, my eyes darting to the sender. Only to read Jude's contact name.

I sit up from my bed, slipping on the hotel slippers immediately, and walk over to the bathroom. Trying to fix my appearance before I realize I don't know what I'm getting ready for.

I snatch my phone from the bathroom sink, sending a quick message back to Jude. I wait for a couple seconds, busy with applying mascara, until I hear a notification sound.

'For some dessert, love'

'Dress casual, I'm in sweats and a jacket'

'I don't want to look like a fool next to you'

I chuckle at the reply, nodding as if he can see me before sending a quick message back.

I eventually make my way down to the lobby, looking around and trying to be as discreet as possible. Hoping other staff members and players didn't think of going down as well.

So far, the only people who had figured us out were Luis and Lina. I mean, I couldn't exactly keep it that much of a secret after they'd sneaked a glance at my home screen when I had left to print something.

They had been nosy after seeing someone text me, and when they read that it was Jude- I could've sworn they died and came back to life in a span of two minutes.

I look around quickly when I step out of the elevator, finally catching a familiar black puffer jacket. I grin to myself, making a beeline towards him, and whispering a small 'boo!' when I touch his shoulder from behind.

"Hey! Shhh.." His eyes enlarge comically, and I feel him grab onto my hands almost instantly.

"I'm quiet.." I whisper, giving him a toothy smile as he drags me out of the hotel lobby, out onto the streets of Valencia.

I allow Jude to walk in front of me, our hands intertwined, as he suddenly stops in a less busy area of the street.

I raise my brows as he turns around, watching a smile form on his handsome face.

"Hi?" I begin, pulling a confused face.

"Hi.." He replies, chuckling softly, before he pulls me into a warm embrace. His breath hitting my neck as he plants a kiss on my lips and cheek.

"I missed you." Jude says, pulling back to look at me, while his arms encircle my waist, keeping me warm.

"Well, you could have seen me a couple hours ago, after the match- but you stormed into the changing room after you got that red card.."

I sigh, recalling the absolute shitshow of a match against Valencia a couple hours ago. The referee couldn't do his fucking job, there were multiple VAR checks, and the blowing of the final whistle- resulted in the disallowance of the winning goal, scored by Jude. Eventually, he got red-carded for dissent.

Nothing surprising, actually..

I watch a guilty expression form on his face, forehead wrinkles showing as he frowns at me.

"Well, I'm sorry about that- did I scare you?"

"No? Why would it scare me? I wanted to punch that referee too.." I make multiple punching movements, hitting Jude on his chest once.

"Hey, hey- don't get violent, little Miss, you can't use physical violence here.."

I chuckle at his change of voice, dropping my hands to my sides, and grabbing his hand.

"Sorry, sir. Any reason you've called me down here?" I tease, watching him smile at me, before he squeezes my hand affectionately.

"Let's get some ice cream. I saw a decent looking place on Google Maps.."

"Oh, what flavors do they have?" I ask, mouth watering at the thought of having good-quality ice cream.

For me, it didn't matter the weather. Ice cream could be consumed any time of year, as long as I craved it.

Jude tugs at my hand, indicating he wants us to start walking to the ice parlor he'd seen. I follow him mindlessly, paying more attention to his words than to where we're going.

"Umh, they have 'chocolate' and 'fresa' and, of course, 'vainilla'.."

I laugh at his sudden use of Spanish, quirking my brow up as he starts naming the basic ice cream flavors one by one.

"Are you just trying to show off how much you've improved your Spanish skills?" A huge smile tugs at my lips, my eyes roaming over his proud, cocky expression.

"No, just slipped out of my mouth. I must be getting the hang of it.."

"Sure, Mister. Now give me the directions in Spanish.."

I tease, trying to challenge him, but chuckle when he shakes his head violently.

"It's just straight this way.."

I scoff, rolling my eyes at his bad excuse.

Watching a small smile form on his lips.

"Sure, let's just go straight ahead then.."

The couple’s very spontaneous ice cream date is ended by the both of them chugging a bottle of water. The once very craved cold and creamy dessert now regretted by how big and sweet their portions were.

"That's a cute bicycle.." y/n mutters, not paying attention to where she's walking. Instead, Jude is holding her hand and looking out while they walk back to their hotel.

"Do you know how to ride a bicycle?" She asks Jude, looking up at the focused boy, busy navigating their way back.

"Of course I can. My dad taught me before I showed interest in football.."

"Mhm, that must've been fun.." She mumbles, fixing her jacket.

While the couple is intrigued by the small, new facts they were learning about each other, they don't notice the very few people walking past them in the streets.

Most of the pedestrians walk in a hurry, minding their own business, on their phone, or listening to music- trying to get home before it gets too dark outside.

Though, sadly, what they also don't notice is, the flash of a camera- directed right at them. Not knowing the predicament that would follow if they were sold off and posted on the internet.

The couple is happy in their own bubble, their hands warm from holding hands, unlike their noses, which froze up in the cold wind.

Just like other pedestrians trying to get back to their hotel, wanting to go unnoticed and undisturbed.

#jude bellingham fanfic #jude bellingham imagine #jude x reader #jude bellingham x reader #jude #jude bellingham #football imagines #football fanfic #football #footballer x reader #football blurb #football imagine #bellingham x reader #bellingham #real madrid fc #real madrid

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bebebelll · 1 year ago

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does anyone know her dad? daniel ricciardo smau (part 2)

pairing: daniel ricciardo x toto's secret daugther!reader / daniel ricciardo x schumacher & wolff!reader warning: mention of slutshaming note: part one here, part three here, part four here

ynquads never drinking or letting 20+ men into my 2-bedroom place ever again. also yes danny slept on the floor but brought great wine.

liked by susie_wolff, danielricciardo, mercedesamgf1 and 1 834 273 others

maxverstappen1 who threw up in the hallway? because someone threw up on seven pairs of shoes

alex_albon lando. i saw him drunk dancing out there too landonorris OKAY

username ARE YOU NOT EVEN GOING TO ACKNOWLEDGE THE TOTO WOLFF THING

username they are absolutely fucking username the fuck are your sources bro?

georgerussell63 i would like to apologize for the vase that i broke

logansargeant i will add the sorry for chipping the countertop lewishamilton i took the dog toys for roscoe and i'm not sorry fernandoalo_official i didnt do anything but i would like the recipe for the soup

danielricciardo why would you post just that pic?? i found you sleeping on the kitchen floor in the morning you were not doing any better

ynquads lando stole the sofa, alex slept in the armchair, charles and max were passed out in the tub AND pierre, carlos and yuki were in the bed. i did not have other options at 5 am danielricciardo you shouldve come next to me. we could have cuddled ynquads baby i am literally in your arms right now danielricciardo and i want you with me all the time

username if austin has the whole grid + like four of the old guys get passed out drunk in one small apartment, i cannot wait to see what las vegas does to these men

danielricciardo love you and also am so scared of your dad. we won't need his permission to marry someday right?

tagged: ynquads

liked by ynquads, maxverstappen1 and 593 837 others

username i love the dichotomy of the pajama pics and the hot evening wear

ynquads get you a man who can do both

landonorris like how you're both ignoring sky news and twitter burning down with the rumours

ynquads so...you know how the world of motorsports is super small? you grow up with half the formula 1 grid and idolise the other half. sometimes you grow up being mortal enemies and you both get into f1. sometimes you win the title because your teammate dies. sometimes a 27-years-old toto wolff hooks up with michael schumacher's sister katarina. anyway! Lass uns diese Woche zum Essen gehen, Papa! Viel Glück für Onkel Lewis und George! (let's go out to dinner this week, dad! best of luck to uncle lewis and george!)

liked by danielricciardo, mercedesamgf1 and 1 837 364 others

susie_wolff your dad appreciates the first photo a lot! he didn't love the third though

mercedesamgf1 we'll always have a spot and cup of coffee just for you! no need to go to red bull, come home to us ❤️💪(also admin has known this since 2017 and could barely keep their mouth shut so thank you now i can comment)

ynquads mercedes admin really is gods strongest soldier danielricciardo please dont let mercedes just steal you. i need my good luck love charm and kisses ynquads dont worry dan we can romeo & juliet the shit out the red bull v mercedes feud susie_wolff your dad says NO and also do you want to eat salmon on tuesday?

username I FUCKING KNEW IT I CALLED IT I AM THE CONSPIRARY THEORY MASTER I AM GOD

redbullracing sweetheart you don't need to agree to anything. we have red bulls and cake in the hospitality 😅 please stay with us

ynquads what kind of daughter do you think i am? redbullracing we have daniel ynquads you know max and daniel have always been my favourites i could never leave red bull

username yn is 50% schumacher + 50% wolff and daniel 8 wins. imagine the kids they'll get

maxverstappen1 the kid's godfather is also going to have 3 championships danielricciardo 👍

@eternalharry

#formula 1 #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo #toto wolff #daniel ricciardo insta au #f1 social media au

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jamesmydeer · 1 year ago

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Hey! I have an idea for a Remus x fem!reader. They volunteer to babysit Neville and Harry(both James, Lily and Frank, Alice are ok) and kids try to set them up, get them to play games like Reader being a princess who they have to rescue and Remus - the knight, who has to kiss her (smth like Sleeping Beauty).

true love’s kiss

notes: if you can’t tell, i love writing dialogue.

wc: 2.8k

masterlist

Laughter filled the Potter household as James hoisted his son, Harry, and the Longbottom’s boy, Neville onto his shoulders. Harry threw his fists into the air, obviously used to his father’s antics. Neville gripped onto James’ arm and held on for his life.

“Potter and Longbottom have done it again! The quidditch cup goes to Gryffindor! The crowd goes wild,” he yells, bouncing up and down as if he were celebrating a big win from back in his quidditch days.

“Inside voice, James Potter,” Lily remarked, entering the room with her purse in hand and James’ coat thrown over her shoulder. He groaned and rolled his eyes playfully. “Fine.”

The boys giggled as James pretended to drop them and quietly mimicked the loud murmur of a crowd.

Lily plopped her stuff down on the table and turned to Alice, who was making sure Neville had everything he needed in his bag.

“Okay, I’ve got all my stuff, Frank is laying out the boys’ pajamas, James cast a protective spell on the house, I think we’re good to go!” She turned to look at the clock on the wall. “Remus should be here any minute now.”

“Uncle Moony!” Harry cheered, having overheard his mom’s conversation. “He’ll give us lots of chocolate. Just don’t tell my mom,” he informed Neville who nodded his head eagerly, pretending to zip his lips shut.

Alice turned to Lily with a confused look on her face as she queried, “You asked Remus to babysit?”

James walked towards the pair and grabbed his coat from Lily, kissing her cheek. “Well yeah Alice, leaving them with Sirius would be as good as leaving them alone.”

“It’s not that, I just thought I was supposed to find someone to watch them. Y/n is on her way.”

“Aunt Y/n!” both the young boys cheered. They couldn’t believe their luck at having two babysitters instead of one. Alice, on the other hand, was not as pleased with her mess up. She brought her hands up and covered her face as her cheeks flushed in embarrassment.

“Hey, it’s not a big deal. Two for the price of one,” James joked, slipping his coat on. He paused momentarily. “Except we’re not paying them, right?”

"We might have to pay Y/n if Remus loads them up with sugar," Frank chuckled, entering the room and throwing his arm around his wife’s shoulder.

“Maybe the boys can play matchmaker,” Lily raised her eyebrows and smirked. “Give them that little push they need.”

“The one they’ve needed since third year?” Alice adds. A knock at the door had everyone’s heads turning. James turned to walk toward the door, but the boys beat him to it.

“We’ll get it!” Neville exclaimed, racing Harry to the door. They opened it and you scooped them up immediately, playfully tickling them.

“How are my favorite boys in the whole world?” you asked, pinching their cheeks which earned a groan from both of them.

“You better not let Moony hear you say that. He might get jealous,” James teased. You rolled your eyes at James and set the boys down. You had just stepped foot in his house and he was already teasing you about your crush.

“Well it’s a good thing he’s not here, isn’t it?”

Lily and Frank looked at you apologetically, Frank sucking in through his teeth. James and Alice shared a similar expression of holding back laughter.

Your face dropped. “What did you do?”

James grabbed you and pulled you into the kitchen, Lily following suit. “So there may have been a wee bit of confusion on our part,” Lily starts to explain.

“No no no, this is a good thing!” James started, attempting to keep the situation strictly positive. He gripped your shoulders and looked into your eyes as if he was about to give you a pep talk. “You get to be alone with Remus for a whole afternoon. When was the last time you two were alone together?”

Lily was about to chime in that they would be watching his son, not alone, when there was a knock at the door.

“There’s your Moony,” James teased. He smoothed out your hair, jokingly making sure you looked good for Remus. He had known about your little crush since third year, but he still acted as if it were a big deal.

“You see him all the time Y/n. Just act like you always do around him,” Lily rubbed your shoulder comfortingly, then exited the kitchen to greet the second babysitter. You turned to follow her but stopped momentarily to punch James in the arm.

Lily opened the door for Remus who kissed her on the cheek. “Where’s the little tyke? Haven’t seen him all week,” he moved into the living room looking for Harry but was met with another familiar face.

He straightened up at the sight of you, his features softening slightly as a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “I didn’t know you were fifth wheeling with these guys tonight,” he joked, butterflies filling his stomach as you laughed at him.

“I’m not. They’ve started a babysitters' club and were the only two members.”

Remus looked between the two couples who just shrugged at him.

“Do you four not communicate?” Remus scolded playfully. Hearing his voice, Harry ran into the room and jumped into his arms. Remus threw him in the air and you couldn’t help but smile.

“You’re lucky I like Remus,” you quipped. “Had it been someone else, I would’ve gone straight back out that door.”

James snuck a quick look at Remus and wiggled his eyebrows. He walked towards him and took Harry, all the while leaning in to whisper in his ear teasingly “She said she likes youuuu.”

Had James not been holding his son, Remus would have shoved him.

“I’m sorry you guys, I’ve just been so scatterbrained lately,” Lily apologized, kissing both of your cheeks in passing as she headed to the table to grab her purse.

You both reassured Lily that it was okay and both couples were ushered out of the door by their excited children.

“We love you, Harry, behave!”

“Mind your manners, Neville!”

The boys shut the door behind their parents and turned to each other. Neville winked at Harry in a way that looked a lot more like an exaggerated scrunch of his face. Harry nodded and scurried back into the living room, Neville a few steps behind him.

“Aunt Y/n, will you read to us?” Harry begged. Neville assisted by giving you the cutest pleading eyes you had ever seen. And although they looked adorable, you couldn’t help but think they were up to something.

You shot Remus a confused smile at the boy's behavior. He just shrugged his shoulders and chuckled. “Of course, she will. You boys go pick out a book.”

You giggled as they scurried away towards Harry’s room. You turned to Remus, who was already looking your way, a soft smile on his face. A blush ran up his face as he averted eye contact and rubbed the back of his neck.

“I can go make them a snack while you read,” he pointed his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the kitchen. He wanted to stay and listen to your pretty voice, but he was discouraged at the idea of you catching him staring again.

“What? You don’t want to stay and hear me read the story they pick?” you pouted playfully.

Remus bit back a smile, pretending that he was having to think about it. On cue, the boys came running back in with their choice of book and settled on the couch beside you. They looked expectantly at Remus.

“Well, make room for me.” You met his eyes and smiled brightly at his statement. You grabbed the book from Harry’s little hands.

“Hmm, Sleeping Beauty. This is a very good pick.”

Harry and Neville snuggled into either side of you as you read. Remus observed the way you animatedly told the story. The way your lips moved with each word had him in a trance. It reminded him of how he used to sit in the library, hopelessly watching you study with a lovesick smile. He closed his eyes and imagined what it would be like if you read to him—just him.

Before he knew it, he was being shaken out of his trance by two eager little boys. The story was over and they needed something else to entertain them.

“Uncle Moony, will you please be the prince? Please please please?” Harry begged, holding his hands together in front of his face. Remus couldn’t help but scoff, seeing so much of his father in him. He looked at you for help as to what exactly they were asking him.

You giggle at the boys. “They want to play knights, Remus. They need a prince,” you playfully cleared up his confusion. He smiled at you and turned back to the boys.

“Oh, I see now,” he nodded his head in understanding. “And why do I have to be the prince?”

Harry and Neville shared a look as if the question was absurd. Remus could sense them growing impatient, so he stood up and allowed them to drag him away. He turned back to you and playfully mouthed ‘help’. You giggled and he couldn’t help the feeling of pride that came along with making you laugh.

Harry stopped and ran back towards you. He stood on his tiptoes and cupped his hand to the side of his mouth. You leaned down and craned your neck for him to whisper in your ear, a skill he hadn’t quite honed yet. “You’re the princess. Pretend to be in a deep sleep like Aurora.”

You pulled away and Remus held back a laugh as you wiped your ear. You mouthed an ‘OK’ and he ran back towards Remus to drag him away.

Once alone, you couldn’t help but ponder Remus’ question about having to be the prince. He was always like a prince to you. A blush creeps up your neck as you recall all the books you read about princes, and how you pictured them as Remus every time. The longer you thought about it, you realized that you pictured him as the love interest in every book you read.

You could hear them rustling around upstairs in Harry’s bedroom. You imagined how Remus looked playing along with them. How the sleeves of his sweater were pushed up. The way his eyes would crinkle as he laughed along with the boys. How soft his voice would get comforting them if they got hurt.

It got quiet for a moment, and you almost stood up to go check on them. Suddenly, there were three sets of footsteps running down the stairs. You quickly laid down and shut your eyes, trying to hold back a smile.

The ‘knights’ rushed in and kneeled at your side. Remus stayed back, standing in the doorway. His chest rose and fell in a soft sigh as he studied your ‘sleeping’ figure. He took advantage of the situation and allowed his eyes to linger. He noticed the corners of your mouth twitch and he felt his stomach do a flip.

Neville put his hand to your forehead to ‘check your pulse’, to which you could hear Remus softly blow air out of his nose. He moved from the doorway to kneel beside them whispering, “If only we had read a book that told us what to do to wake her up.”

“A kiss!” Neville exclaimed, earning a harsh shush from Harry. Neville giggled and whispered the same words again. Remus ruffled his hair and nodded down at the boy.

“That’s a good idea, Sir Neville. Try it and see if it works.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the soft voice Remus used with the boys. You always admired how the marauders played with Harry, but there was something extra special about the way Remus did it. He was so gentle and encouraging with them.

Neville began to lean in to kiss your cheek but was stopped by Harry’s small hand on his lips. He shot Neville a look that reminded Remus so much of the one Lily gave James when he says something stupid.

“True loves' kiss, Sir Neville! Remember?” he asked, the last word spoken through gritted teeth as if he was conveying something secret. Neville's face changed to one of understanding, before scooting over and making room. Harry turned to his beloved uncle Moony,

Remus’ eyes widened and his cheeks flushed immediately. His first thought was how much he wanted to, but his second was how much he couldn’t kiss you right now. Not while he’s playing pretend. This scenario had played out in his head over a thousand times and none of them involved children.

Remus shook his head and went to stand up, but Harry grabbed his hand. “But you’re the prince! You have to save the princess!”

You opened one eye and could visibly see how nervous poor Remus was. Since he had the boys’ attention, you took the opportunity to reach for his hand. He startled at the touch, then relaxed when your eyes met. You nodded at him softly as if to tell him it’s okay, just play along.

And you had meant that he could just pretend to kiss you. You figured he didn’t want to and was uncomfortable at the thought. That was not how Remus understood it. Remus took your actions as an okay to kiss you.

He blushed and squeezed between the two boys who were watching in anticipation. He leaned down so that his face was hovering over yours, and you felt his hair fall against your cheek.

Before you could start acting, you felt his lips graze the corner of your mouth. Your eyes snapped open as the younger boys both cheered. Remus pulled back suddenly and looked down at you horrified. Had you not wanted him to kiss you? You brought your hand up to touch the place his lips just had.

Before Remus could see your face break out into a smile, he abruptly stood. “Tell Y/n goodnight,” he stated, turning away from you and waiting. Both boys kissed your cheeks and followed Remus up to Harry’s room.

—————————————————————

Remus entered the kitchen to see you sitting on the counter drinking out of a mug. You offered him one, but she shook his head. He didn’t want it to throw him off the apology he had just rehearsed over and over.

“I’m so sorry Y/n,” he started, running a stressed hand through his hair. “I don’t know why I thought that was okay. I clearly misinterpreted what you meant and I hope you can forgive me.”

“Mus,” you called softly. He turned to you, making eye contact for the first time since the kiss. “Come here.”

He walked towards you slowly, as if he were a scared animal. The smile you gave him has the crease between his eyebrows relaxing. You motioned for him to come closer. He listened to you and slotted himself between your legs.

You slowly moved your hand to the back of his neck, lightly running your fingers through his hair—something you had wanted to do since you felt it against your cheek earlier. The other hand rested on his broad shoulder. He leaned down and placed his head in the crook of your neck to hide his blush.

“If I didn’t want you to kiss me, I would have stopped the game.”

You felt Remus nod against your neck, his eyelashes tickling your skin. He places his hands on your waist, rubbing his thumbs slowly against the fabric of your sweater. He retracted his head from your neck, choosing instead to lean against your forehead.

“Can I do it again?” he whispered shakily. You could feel his breath against your lips as he looked at you with pleading eyes. You bit your lip and nodded. His hands tightened on your waist as he eagerly crashed his lips against yours. You tugged on his soft strands and he groaned against your lips, pulling you flush against him.

He pulled away with a sigh, keeping his eyes closed and resting his forehead against yours. He started laughing and you were brought back to reality. Your face grew hot and you removed your hands from his hair.

“What?” you pulled back to get a better look at him. He opened his eyes and shook his head, unable to control his laughter.

“Remus, what?” you whined. He brought his hands up to cup your face and kissed you softly again. This kiss was much shorter, but you felt the same amount of butterflies in your stomach.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

"They kissed? Blimey, you exceeded my expectations kid," chuckled Sirius, handing Harry the new toy motorbike he had promised him for playing matchmaker.

“8 years. We tried to set them up for 8 years and my son does it in an afternoon.”

#harry potter #jamesmydeer #marauders #remus imagine #remus lupin imagine #remus x reader #remus lupin x reader

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oneofthetorturedpoets · 8 months ago

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One and Only

Melissa Schemmenti x Reader

Slight angst to fluff

based on the song One and Only by Adele

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

You're laughing with Barbara, your head thrown back, your hand on her arm. Barbara has a smile on her face, proud of what she just said to make you laugh.

Melissa is staring at you from across the room, her eyes peering over her wine glass. She looks you up and down, observing your every move. You're amazing with her friends, you laugh with Barb, you debate with Jacob, you worry with Janine, you garden with Gregory, you party with Ava. You're perfect with Melissa, treating her like she carries the world on her back. You look at her like she just gave you air to breathe. You have never betrayed her, never done wrong by her. Melissa knows how you feel about her. She knows if she were to run up and kiss you in the way she dreams about, you would pull her closer. She knows you would treat her the way her Nonna wanted so bad for her. You would give her the security for her to completely open up and never make her feel judged. The stars have aligned and given Melissa her dream girl. The person she has been searching for, since she was a little girl. The one thing out of place is Melissa. Her mind holds her back from the one thing she craves. Every time she goes to lean in to finally capture your lips with hers, her mind races and her insecurities win. She can't do it. The what if's cloud her thinking and they terrify her. Why is something so promising, so simple, this hard?

"Melissa?" you tap her out of her thoughts, she looks up at you from her seat.

"Hey, how's it goin'?" you laugh.

"I was about to ask you that, you've been in the corner this whole night. Are you okay? Do you want to ditch? I'll distract Ava?" She shakes her head.

"No, just thinking too much." You grab her hand, pulling her up as she sets down her glass. She adjusts her red dress, shuffling it down slightly.

"Dance with me? We can clear your thoughts on the dance floor, mi amor." The pet name causing her cheeks to turn bright red, luckily her makeup covers most of her blush. You lead the way, as a slow song comes on. You set your hands on her waist as hers wrap loosely around your neck. "What on your mind, Mel?" She sighs deeply, laying her forehead on your collarbone.

"Complicated things, Hon."

"Maybe it's not as complicated as you're making it to be." you reply, making her feel as if you've read her mind.

"It's really not, I'm just having a mental battle with myself. Been havin' the same one for years now." you rock her slowly back and forth.

"I'm sure there's a solution to it."

"There is, I'm just not sure if I should solve this one."

"If it will add to your happiness, you should always take that chance."

She pulls away from your chest, looking up at you with unsureness and worry. "I just- I can't." Melissa runs out, her dress flowing behind her. You chase her outside, the wind blowing your hair in your face.

"Melissa!" You call out, only to fall on deaf ears. She bolts to her car, quickly opening the door. You gently grab her arm before she can get in her car. "Melissa if I upset you-"

She shakes her head "It's not you, Y/n... I just can't lose you"

Your brows tie together in confusion "You'll never lose me, Mel. I don't know why you would think that."

Tears form in her eyes "Y/n..." She whispers as you bring your thumb up to catch one of her tears, wiping her cheek. "Why does this have to be so hard?"

You keep your hand on her cheek "Why does what have to be so hard, my love?"

More tears fall from her eyes. "I'm in love with you. I always have been. God, please don't hate me, Y/n"

You smile softly at her, cupping her face. "Love doesn't always have to be hard, Melissa. You know I fell for you years ago." You lean in, brushing your lips against hers before she presses into you, passionately kissing you with everything she can. Trying to convey her feelings into one kiss. A tear rolls down your cheek as you shut your eyes, taking in the moment. The love you have for the woman, filling your heart, making your body warm.

"I'm sorry it's taken me so long to let my doubts go, you're the only one that I want" You shake your head.

"Don't be sorry, Mel." She pulls you in for another short-lived kiss.

She takes a deep breath of relief, letting the weight fall off her shoulders "I don't know why I was scared, I've been here before, I've imagined it all."

Finally, your souls unite, solidifying a love that not even the strongest of force could break, Melissa will make sure of that.

#abbott elementary #fanfic #fem!reader #law #lisa ann walter #my fic #wlw fiction #melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti x reader #Melissa schemmenti x reader fic #im back #idk what else to tag #blurb #drabble

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bunny-1111 · 3 months ago

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Forever is ours - Theo Nott fic

Summary: Pressures of the war cause you to lash out, your boyfriend Theo is right there to remind you what you’re fighting for

Author note: wrote a longgggg time ago, found in drafts, not edited or read over lol

Slight Angst and Major fluff

...

The pressure of the war was only intensifying so much so that you pulled away from everyone, including your boyfriend.

It was so exhausting being a puppet of the dark lords, you whole friend group were and you and Theo had pledged you could get each other through.

But it was so much, too much, trying to balance and breathe.

When Professor Mcgonagall asked you if you had completed the assigned homework, that was it. You had not and finding the time was terrifying.

So you just looked at her, with dead eyes and shook your head and waltzed right out of class, theo joining your motion, trailing right behind you.

Tears fell as soon as you began walking the halls to get to your dorm, suddenly a pair of strong of arms pull you from behind, into a broom cupboard.

You know who it was before you even turned to check

“I don’t want to do this anymore” You loudly whispered

“Hey! look at me!” Theo pleaded, your back still turned

“I can’t do this anymore, I don’t care what the Dark Lord does” You say

“No. We can do this, but it has to be together.” Theeo says as he turns your body to face his.

Silence lingers and you drop your head

“I’m not doing this without you” Theo whispers

You take a deep breathe, as you close your eyes

“I don’t know teddy, this isn’t normal” you admit

“our whole world isn’t normal baby” Theo comforts pulling you into a hug.

“But we will get passed this” He adds

“Promise me” you beg

“I promise” He says cupping your face

“this isn’t forever... think about it we just get through this next year and then, then darling we have forever. forever is ours.”

“just ours, that sounds nice” you giggle

“there it is, missed that smile” he smiles tapping your lips

You buried yourself in Theo’s chest in hope that you could say hidden with him forever.

“and where will you go when we finally obtain our ‘forever’?” you question

“By the beach, and we’ll play in the water, and sink into the sane and you can pick flowers while I work on the house” Theo imagines

“that's lovely” you say

“It will be, but you gotta help us get there, because we will, you and I against this world, this school, this war. We will be lovely”

“I want it now” you sigh

“I want nothing more, and we’ll have our privacy and we’ll start our family, kept away in a place where none of this will follow” he says tilting your head up to force you to look at him

“I love you” You say gently placing a soft kiss on his lips

“I love you more”

So that was that, ammunition, with Theo by your side you remembered you could win any war, and spent the rest of your lives, trying to forget what it took you to get to forever.

#slytherin #hogwarts #theodore nott #theo nott #theodore nott imagine #theo nott fluff #theo nott x reader #theodore nott x reader #harry potter #slytherin boys #theo nott fanfiction #theodore nott headcanons #theo x reader #theo nott imagine

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totothewolff · 5 months ago

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Grand Prix Elite Academy (4/10)

+18 | professor!Toto x reader fem!student, sewis, carlos x reader, collegue au | romance, smut, comedy, gossip, betray

Summary: Your life turns 180 degrees after receiving your acceptance letter for the Grand Prix Elite Academy, the most exclusive and prestigious Formula One College, designed to shape the future drivers of the motorsport world. You will try to navigate your new life among the Monaco elites, survive the campus dynamics and rivalries between the faculties, and try to win this year's Elite Cup to beat an undefeated Mercedes, all while befriending your eclectic classmates, join the wild parties, have a couple of make-outs under the racing circuit benches, lose your v-card and get over that stupid crush you have on professor Toto. Will you make it alive to graduation? Race to Greatness! Author's note: This is a Formula One college AU fic set in an elite academy in Monaco, where the F1 Teams are Faculties, their Team Principals are professors, the FIA is the college board, and all the grid drivers are your classmates. You are accepted under a scholarship program called WomenOne and have lots to catch on to after years of putting your racing dreams on hold. Becoming the outcast new girl is always challenging, especially when all of you live on one campus.

< Previous chapter | Masterlist | Next chapter > Chapter 4: The Kids Are Not Alright

As the morning sunlight streams through the grand staircases of the main building, you sit with your group of friends, placed on different steps, almost forming a circle as you chat with excitement and laughs with some racing gear and helmets scattered around them.

Other students pass you by, entering the large double doors to the main hallway entrance.

The scent of freshly brewed coffee wafts from Lando's and Charles's Starbucks cups as they sip and joke around, discussing their latest racing strategies and sharing stories of their weekend adventures.

The sound of revving engines at the distant hum as you all wait for their morning classes or free practices to begin.

"That fucking bitch I'm going to cut her in half! And I will tear that wig off Britney's head," Leandra lets out.

A bald Nico is a funny visual.

"I'm not trying to play the devil's advocate here, but are we sure she was involved?" Max asks out loud.

Leandra rolls her eyes at him, as does Seb.

"Still, she can do no wrong under your eyes after all these years," Carlos points out.

"Just saying! Please don't kick me out of the group! I need friends." Max goes a little red with embarrassment.

"Calm down! No one is going to do that!" Charles quickly adds. There was a time when Max was the odd and unexpected link in the group; now, everyone is fond of him. "But, it's just facts, bro. She's the one who knew about Y/N being a sad virgin."

"THANK YOU CHARLES!" you add while he giggles.

"The knowing about Y/N being a sad virgin, I get it. Naya also knew the part about Y/N being broke and this year's "Charity Baby," but we all also knew that." Lewis joins in the fun.

"AW GUYS, YOU ARE SO SUPPORTIVE!" you interrupt them with murderous eyes.

Lewis holds his chuckles as he continues: "But the part of Y/N wanting Toto to deflower her, Naya wasn't there to witness her telling that to him." he points out.

"WHAT!?" you scream. At that part, you throw your arms in the air to everyone's amusement.

"Don't you remember?!" Mick says, amazed.

"Please, be joking." you start praying.

"He is not. We all heard your drunk ass asking Toto to fuck you."

"OH MY GOD!" At that moment, you want to get run over by the McLaren car roaring in the distance at the circuit track.

"If you want a life-changing first-time experience," Lando says. "I mean," he looks at his crotch and back at you, then winks. "I have cock to spare."

"Cock to spare," Leandra repeats, bursting out laughing. "How do you come up with this shit?!"

"How does that shit work with girls?! That's the real question," Carlos adds, laughing too.

"SERIOUSLY! THANK YOU GUYS!" you squeak, furiously red.

"Yes, but Nico was there. If Nico is there, Naya is there, and vice versa," Seb says, sounding extremely unhappy with Lewis.

He had remained quiet so far before he let it all out: "Didn't I tell you? Don't invite him! It doesn't matter how much Nico swears he has changed, he is always trouble!"

The couple starts to argue.

It's the first time you witness them acting other than being utterly in love with each other.

Lewis and Seb tend to get lost in each other's eyes for hours, feeling like the world is non-existent around them while sharing soft chats and sweet kisses around campus.

"Honey, I asked for your forgiveness times enough already. What else do you want me to do..." Lewis replies, getting exasperated with him.

"Well, now that you are friends with Nico again, why don't you go and ask him about it?! Ask Nico if he is the one behind the printed posters addressed to Y/N pinned all over the hallways! OH! And in that process, why don't you warn him to stay the fuck away from her!"

"Like that would work," Lewis says, sighing.

Seb then gets on his feet and suddenly climbs up the stairs in a rush, looking really mad. His short skirt sways in the wind, his boots' heels echo on the stairs, and his bag moves violently behind him as he opens the big double doors.

"Honey!" Lewis calls for him, gets fast on his feet, and goes after him.

You give them enough time before following their steps. You deeply care about Seb and want to make sure he is okay.

He is also your project partner in Christian's "Race Engineering" class, your first subject of today, and knowing how prickly of a professor Christian is, you want to make sure everything is fine.

You find the couple in the hub of the old library. Walking inside there feels like stepping into a time capsule.

A retro vibe wraps you as you step on the blue carpeting on the floor; a golden glow emanates from the large windows.

The shelves there are lined with worn, leather-bound books that seem to hold secrets and old stories, while vintage posters and track maps adorn the walls displaying the bygone eras of Motorracing.

This small library is always empty since the main one is way bigger, more stylish, and modern. People sometimes use this one to hook up, hiding among the tall bookshelves in the many corridors.

You catch them talking almost mouth-in-mouth. Seb is lean on a study desk, ass on it, legs hanging.

And Lewis is resting his hand on Sebastian's Aston green pleated mini skirt. Lewis's other hand caresses Seb's hair and cheek as he whispers soft things to his lips, like, "Nico doesn't mean shit to me. I love you. I will make it up for you. You are my rock. I need you by my side" you are able to hear him as you approach them.

Then the bell sounds, Lewis kisses Seb goodbye, grabs his helmet on the table next to Seb's legs, and gives you a warm smile on his way out while pulling up half of his racing suit on his way out.

"He is going to spend the entire day on track! My poor baby always ends up exhausted after that. I won't be able to join your study session tonight. I will be preparing his ice bath for when he returns." Seb tells you as he hops off the study table.

Seb is so dedicated to Lewis and is so adorable to witness. "All good with you two, then?" you ask shyly.

"Always, dear." Seb reassures you, sounding all happy now.

"I wanted to make sure you were doing okay. You looked distressed for a minute. You know I care about you, right?"

"I know. You are a good friend, thank you." Seb squeezes you in his arms for a brief second on your way down back in the main hallway, and then he explains to you. "It's this Nico thing. He always tends to get under my skin. I hate throwing tantrums at Lewis like that, but I can't help it sometimes!"

"I get it, now. Hey! By the way, with all of this, I haven't been able to tell you yet how hot you look!"

"Thank you!" Seb twirls for you, grabbing your hand in the process.

"Your legs look unbelievable!" you add. "Fishy, fishy"

You two keep walking hand in hand until you reach the classroom's door. "I know, thanks! Lewis agrees with you. You know? He is in this phase now that I drive him crazy when I wear mini skirts. The other day, he was barely able to hold himself. He almost takes me raw at my desk in the student affairs office. He felt so hard under those pants. Mmm, delicious." Seb lets out a long sigh.

"Hey! Don't eat bread in front of the poor!" you complain, slightly jealous but in good faith.

"Oh, shit, I forgot about your virgin-ess! Sorry! I hope you find the cure soon." Seb jokes with you.

"I just need to convince Toto to supply me the injection to solve it!" you fool around.

"Slut!" Seb playfully tells you as you two grab your seats inside the classroom.

"Ough," Seb moans in a low voice for the fourth time, trying to make you lose it sitting next to you at Toto's class while the professor turns to face the screens again, his firm ass and muscular back in display for you two to enjoy the view.

"As you can see, class," he says, gesturing to the complex graphs and charts, "these simulations show the effects of different wing configurations on downforce and drag. The blue line represents the current setup, while the red line shows the potential gains we could achieve by modifying the wing's angle and curvature." His voice is calm and authoritative, but his hands move quickly and precisely as he uses a laser pointer to highlight key points on the screens.

Some of your classmates lean forward, their eyes fixed attentively, as they write notes on the complex data and ask questions about its implications for their racing strategies.

Toto asked the class to come up with an example by reading the intricacies of the data displayed on the screens in front of him to form a decision on a fictional course of a race.

"Shut it! You idiot, you will get us in trouble. I'm already standing on thin ice with him," you silence Seb, trying to keep your composure.

After what Mick told you, you haven't been able to focus the entire class nor look directly at Toto, fearing crossing his gaze, with your mind going back to that night, trying to puzzle all the shit you did under the alcohol influence.

Every time Seb moans for you in a low voice as Toto turns his back for something or moves suggestively, you struggle to hold your chuckles.

"Miss Y/LN, Miss Vettel, do you have anything you want to share with the class?" his deep, powerful voice addresses you.

You feel Toto's eyes set on you. His glasses slightly sliding on his appealing nose.

You go all pale, darting "Don't you even dare!" eyes to Seb.

"No, sir." you quickly reply.

"Miss Y/LN, why don't you come sit right here?" he commands you more than asks you, pulling a single chair and placing it in the middle of the room, at the front, near where he stands, in a place where everyone will notice your slightest move. "Since you appear to be on the moon this entire class, this is the best spot to get you back on track, and Vettel."

"Yes, professor?" Seb answers.

"Last warning, another distraction, and you go out."

Nico looks more than pleased that you two are getting scolded.

You have been avoiding going to your dorm all day long. You even tried to get transferred to another room at the Student Affairs front desk, but they informed you it wasn't an option since you were under no harm and because you are located in a dorm that belongs to the scholarship students housing program.

Then, why is Naya in there with you? It makes no sense; her parents are wealthy.

You close the entrance door, returning from the long study session you organized in the main library for the "Trackside PU" extracurricular, and you enter your dorm without making considerable noise, going straight to the kitchenette to place your tumbler inside the small dishwasher.

Naya is studying and writing notes on her iPad at the round dining table. There's a lot of tension in the air as you both become aware of the other's presence.

She's wearing reading glasses. You have never seen her with those before. She looks even hotter.

After a few minutes, you hear a clear "It wasn't me" that she lets out loud enough for you to listen.

You send her a look.

"Nico was inside my bedroom when you came in here. He heard it all. I told him not to do it," Naya explains.

"Sure"

"It's the truth!" She holds your gaze. "Torger is also mad at him for doing that, but he doesn't know how to address the matter with you yet."

"Can't Toto speak for himself, or does he pay you to act as his messenger?" That sounded harsher than you expected, but she pushed you to react like that.

Naya gives you no comeback. "Now that I cleared things, I'm going to bed. I had a long day," Naya says while stretching. Good night," she tells you as you look at her short grey skirt and Mercedes' blazer uniform. She is looking on point but with her tie loosened. Then you remember, you still have no faculty.

"You tell me."

"Just ignore her! Naya hates that, not feeling relevant enough. Maybe just try to move on." Lea advises you while attempting to remain empathic but being honest.

As you all condition in the sleek, high-tech training center, pushing yourselves to the limit, your sweat-drenched bodies showing your intense workouts.

The sounds of pounding music and clinking weights fill the air as you all tackle your individual routines.

Lewis grunts with effort as he lifts the massive dumbbells, his piercing gaze focused on the weight above him.

Sebastian, meanwhile, is on the stationary bike, his powerful legs pumping away as he sprints through a virtual reality course.

Lea, ever the showgirl, is working on her agility and flexibility. She leaps and spins through gymnastics-inspired exercises, exchanging suggestive looks with the trainer she banged at Lewis' birthday party.

"What if Nico tries to blackmail me?!" you ask the trio as you go all cheeta on the treadmill. "He has the photos." you sound way too overstressed. "I fucked it big time! I'm so losing my scholarship due to all this! I shouldn't have gotten drunk! I'm going to disappoint my dad!" you struggle to speak, tears running down your face as you fully panic at the high-end training facility.

Not even a week has passed by since the incident, and you have been receiving lots of DMs on your GPEA app of guys offering to deflower you and a couple of nasty dick pics that you had to flag and report.

"It's not coming to that. We have your back!" Seb reassures you.

"It's best if you speak with Toto about it. It's making you feel miserable," Lewis says. "Niki is the only one who puts Nico in place. Toto could talk to Niki to make him stop the gaslighting. And also, Toto can deal with Naya's antics."

"Maybe she didn't do it herself, but I doubt she feels bad for it. She lets no one get near her precious Torger," Lea adds and imitates the way Naya says Toto's name with her accent and all.

"Just remain cautious around her, please," Seb asks you.

That night, you have the most bizarre dream.

"You're a virgin!" Massi screams at you, his voice dripping with condescension. "How can we expect you to be a top-notch driver when you don't even know the thrill of passion?"

The room erupts into laughs and snorts. All your classmates go into a chorus of mocking jeers. "Virgin! Leave!" they chant, waving their hands in ridicule.

Before you can protest or defend yourself, Massi slams his fist on the table, and you feel yourself get dragged out of the GPEA.

"TOTO!" You try to reach for him as everyone laughs and points at you in the hallways.

Then it morphs to visuals of Toto's strong hands pressuring your hips, pulling your skirt up, and roughly fucking you against his desk.

Your bodies moving in a fast and desperate rhythm, throwing papers, pencils, and stuff all over the lecture hall floor, your moans and his grunts echoing in the empty room, skin slapping against skin hard, he going deeper inside you, pulling your hair, forcing you to arch your back.

You wake up with a cold sweat and wet panties, feeling disoriented, scared, and horny at the same time.

You rub your eyes, trying to shake off the vivid memory of the crazy dream that had just left you.

You get off the bed.

You lace up your running shoes and step onto the misty veil that shrouds the campus racing track surrounded by the woods. It's early morning, and the skies are still dark. The air feels crisp and cold.

You went out for a jog because you could not sleep a minute more after having those crazy dreams about you getting expelled from the academy and that triple x with Toto.

You set off briskly, your footsteps echoing off the asphalt as you weave through the deserted track.

The sounds of nature gradually replaced the silence as the skies became washed blue, preparing to welcome the sun.

There's nothing that motivates you like hate. You feel now a rage to shut their mouths, to show them.

You don't notice how hard you are running till tiny gravel debris starts peeling off the track under your tracking shoes, and you feel your legs tensing in your black sporty booty shorts.

At the same time, your iPhone bounces violently on your arm holder, and your headphones are about to fly out of your ears.

You drop yourself out of breath on the grass next to the chicane, exhausted and unable to move further. The perfectly maintained green grass feels cold and wet against your ass.

You are struggling to catch your breath, and rage tears are coming out of your eyes. Your strong, fast strides left most of your fury leave of your body.

"You good?" you hear a deep voice from a distance.

OH FUCK! NOT NOW!

You feel another panic attack coming your way and start bracing for impact, shrinking.

"Yes, it's nothing," you quickly reply, struggling to talk. You sense an instant and desperate urge to keep running even if you feel about to puke just to avoid Toto right now.

"So, you casually hyperventilate on cold mornings?" Toto asks you, approaching you, arching an eyebrow.

He calmly keeps jogging till he closes the gap between you, now able to observe your face and features. You look like a distressed mess.

So Toto is an early bird?

You don't notice the tears falling from your eyes until they blur your vision, and your body starts shivering under the cold breeze, running out of warmth.

Toto unzips his sports jacket and offers it to you, grabbing your attention.

You instantly are about to reject it, but he knows it beforehand and tells you, "Take it," before you can even wave your hand.

It sounds more like an instruction.

"I think I know the reason behind those tears, and I'm deeply sorry for the situation. I heard the gossip. It's a small campus." Toto drops himself on the grass beside you, bending his knees. The muscles in his toned legs look so fine.

Before he explains, "Nico is a highly competitive and strong-willed student. He plans on graduating from here with a deal and a seat on an F1 team secured. He has this unhealthy way of dealing with those he considers threats."

Toto notices you shaking your head.

"How am I a threat? No one even wants me on their faculty, puff" you laugh it off.

"Nico knows you got here because there's something special in you. And I believe so, too," Toto replies, encouraging you.

You give Toto an "Are you kidding me?!" look.

He smiles brightly at your reaction, with his gorgeous teeth showing. "I'm rooting for you!" he adds.

"The one who called me a small-minded quitter or that I had no mindset, how was it? I don't recall exactly."

Toto rolls his eyes at the pettiness. "Anyway, Nico likes mind games, that's all. But that mixture makes him a ruthless fighter and a true champion. He has that fire! Nothing gets in his way. Not even Lewis' raw talent or Naya's strategic mega-mind."

"...And also make him an awful human being!" you add in a funny voice, full of dislike.

Toto tries to remain diplomatic, so he doesn't give you an answer to that.

"So that's what Nico wants? To play his games with me and watch me fail? Sorry, but I'm not giving him or you all the pleasure."

"Did I truly offended you that much? With just some words and facts, mostly facts." Toto asks you, a bit skeptical.

"You made it personal. You threw my mom's passing as a low punch, basically."

"Wasn't my intention you perceived it like that. I get what you went through more than you imagine."

He sounds sincere.

"Just so you know, I didn't give up my dream. I choose to help my father achieve his. You judged me way too soon. I do have a hunger to win and push for more, but I need a chance to do so."

"Is that so?! Was I wrong, then?"

"Yes."

"...And?"

"I think you should apologize."

"To you? What for?"

"Didn't you listen to a word of what I said?!" you let out. Shit! You went too far again. "...sir?"

"I find you so intriguing. You feel the need to add a sir to address me when, almost a week ago, you wanted me to fuck you right there, and now you are fighting me when I try to look after you. What's on that head of yours?"

"About what I said that night at Lewis' birthday party, I was..." You are now totally red.

"...You were completely drunk. I would never accept you that invite, not under that state."

"So all good?"

"All good."

"Puff, great." You look relieved.

Wait, under that state... So... Is a yes when sober?!

"You know, most people get burned falling into Nico's games," Toto warns you.

"I'm not most people." You hold his gaze.

Toto looks at you in a way you can't read as he sees the fire burning in your eyes, your rage on display, and your hunger to show something.

Your eyes wander to his lips. You can't help it. He notices this and slowly leans towards you, closing the gap between you as if a magnetic force pulled you closer.

As he is near your mouth, he whispers to your lips. You feel his breath brushing your skin. "Is that all you can jog?! You are not even halfway through the circuit. If you want to put people in shame, you better jack on," Toto teases you before getting on his feet.

"Eat my dust." You follow him and start jogging faster than him, passing him by.

You sense his eyes going all over your body as he enjoys the view of a sweaty you in those tiny booty shorts, ass, and hips swaying around meters in front of him.

"Y/N!"

You turn around to see Lance running your way, crossing the gardens.

"Hi, Sir Lancelot!" you offer him your hand after stopping your scooter.

"Ma'lady," he kisses it, greeting you. "All better now?"

"Slightly, yeah," you let out a sigh.

"Since you have been all stressed out lately, I thought inviting you to decompress at our Bonfire Night the following weekend would be nice. I hope you can join us."

"Sounds excellent, but what's a Bonfire Night, and who is "us"?"

"I always have to remember you are new around here! It's like talking with a baby! Always in need of explanation," Lance says.

He is such a sweetie but terrible with words.

"Every year, my dad hosts a bonfire party at the beach for friends and family, like many of our neighbors on that night. We spend the entire evening there, having the best time, eating, dancing, and drinking until sunrise. It's at our house in St. Tropez!"

"Oh, it sounds so cool!"

"The guys are coming, Charles, Yuki, Pippa, Lea, Sewis. So what do you say? We leave next Saturday at 4 p.m. on my dad's yacht at the harbor here."

"Count me in!"

"So, I told Lance I'm coming! I had no idea the rich did that bonfire thing-ritual every year."

"It's a tradition! We have many," Charles corrects you while trying to assemble a sandwich, smashing mayo on the bread with a knife. "I'm glad you are in the mood to join us! You do need it."

"Give me! What you are trying to do is just sad." You wash your hands before grabbing ingredients and starting to prepare a decent Saturday morning breakfast.

"Can I have one? Please!" Lea smells and sees you perform magic in the pristine kitchenette at their dorm, handling bacon, avocado, eggs, pepper, olive oil, and toast bread like a pro.

"Coming right your way!" you slide a grilled sandwich on each of the three plates.

"It's like the Upper East Siders' going to the Hamptons to act even richer near water, but in this case, it's in our mansions by the beach at St. Tropez," Charles says while biting the perfectly made sandwich and making pleasure gestures.

As Lea almost finishes hers, she tells you. "Feel like joining me today? I'm going to buy my outfits for the bonfire night. I would love a second opinion."

"I would love to, but I promised my dad I would visit him and Diesel."

"Who?" Charles asks.

You pull out your phone to show them pictures of your dog.

Massive squeals and aws come out of their lips.

"I need to meet him!" Lea says, "We could go to your dad's after shopping!"

After spending hours going from shop to shop and stopping for a well-needed boba, you arrive at your family's components store, and you two wait for your dad to join you.

"Could you please stop playing with the labeler?" you ask Lea, amused and almost laughing as she goes all over the shop, holding the labeler gun in her hands, nearly James Bond-style, tagging random stuff.

"But I love it! Beep, beep," Lea says as she presses the button and throws more product labels.

"Hey! Don't dare to label Diesel!" you warn her as she aims it in his direction.

"Never. Besides, he would be priceless, right? You little, sweet, furry baby!" she bends to pat Diesel and says with the most ridiculous voice.

Diesel quickly turns his head your way when he hears his name, bandana swinging in the air. He then runs like crazy to the doors as he smells your dad approaching. He goes all nuts as your dad enters the store, then runs to push his bowl with his nose, knowing it's lunchtime.

"Dad!" you give him the biggest hug as he pulls you off the ground in his arms.

"Our world champion is in the house! Hi, baby, how are you? We missed you."

"Splendid!" you lie, after almost having three panic attacks in just one week. "Dad, I have so much to tell you! That campus is to die for!"

Let's better not mention the parties, the nasty gossip, all the alcohol consumption, and the drugs.

"Hi, Mr. Y/LN. It's nice meeting you, sir. I'm Leandra de Vries," She approaches you, returning the labeler to the counter.

Your dad offers her a handshake.

"Nice to meet you, Leandra. You are in great luck today! I made my signature lasagna for lunch. It's Y/N's favorite!"

"YES!" you throw a fist in the air, already tasting the flavors in your mind, all excited.

"Oh great, I love Italian!" Lea says.

"Let's go upstairs, girls, lunch is waiting. Come on, Diesel, come here, let's go!"

Diesel goes first on the stairs. He used to be scared of stairs, so he takes his time climbing them before entering your small loft on top of the store.

"This is where I live, welcome." You receive Lea inside and give her the tour. It takes little time.

"I had a closet about this size. It's cute and cozy in here. I like it," Lea says, bouncing on the sofa before taking her time to look around at the pictures you have on a shelf. "She's your mom, right? You look like her. She is beautiful."

"Yes, thank you, that's her, the one and only. God, I wish she was here to see all of this."

"She is so proud of you, and she is watching it," your dad says, gesturing with a finger to the sky before returning to serve the dishes.

You three spend a great time chatting up and filling your stomachs with delicious food and some wine.

On the ride back to campus at night, Lea asked her driver to pick you up, she jokes with you in the backseat of the luxurious car.

"You forgot to mention your dad was hot and single!"

"Girl..." you look straight at her, smirking.

"I already love you like a daughter..." Lea teases you.

A hysterical laugh escapes your lips. "Please don't!"

"I'm joking, I'm joking," she bumps your arm softly with her fist. "I have limits. I would never! You know, it's just my dark humor," she tells you.

"I live for your dark humor."

The highlight of your week is that letter from Williams offering you a place on their faculty, which you immediately accept.

You can't believe you are going to use the same facilities Senna did during his time here.

You call your dad full of excitement!

"Congratulations, Miss Williams!" Charles tells you as he opens the door of their dorm, welcoming you with a hug.

"Congrats!" Lea also comes to hug you. "It's super difficult getting in that one. They are super duper hermetic! By any chance, do you have any link with the Williams family?" she looks surprised.

"Maybe it's due to Claire being in charge, you know, since I'm a girl and I'm here because of the WomenOne program, maybe she gave me a shot."

"Sounds unlikely," Charles agrees.

"To be accepted or invited there, you have to have stellar references or be close to their family, which you have to be insanely rich or Formula One royalty basically," Lea explains.

"They rejected Naya, even being a Lauda! Go figure," Charles tells you the gossip.

"Oh, but that was because Frank and Niki are opponents!" Lea addresses you.

"Then who knows, but I'm so excited, I can't believe it yet! I hope it's not Nico pulling me a joke." You roll your eyes.

"Please don't mention that name again; maybe he could Beetlejuice here! God forbids!" Charles jokes.

"Well, let's get ready. The chauffeur is picking us up at 3:00 p.m."

"Y/N, so that you know, it's the third most demanding faculty. You got this!" Lea encourages you.

"Understood, thanks. It's a really exciting day!" you let out, all happy.

"Oh, Charles is the most excited!" Lea throws him a dirty look.

"Okay..." you look back and forth between them. "What's the tea?!" You instantly ask, watching the interaction.

"He is Lance's aunt's lover."

"No shit!" your eyebrows go to the roof.

"I... I... WAS... we don't do that anymore." Charles quickly adds, starting to pack his things in his duffel bag.

"Come on! You always end up fucking no matter what! He always says that," She looks incredulous at him. "That's a cute duffel!" she points to your purple packed bag.

"Not this time!" Charles sounds so sure.

"Let's bet! One on, he gets no action tonight. Two on she will suck the collagen out of him."

"Show me your outfit for tonight! You asked me to help you with your makeup, right?"

"YES!"

"You can't seriously be wearing that! Whose swimsuit is it? Your grandma's?!" Lea looks you up as you exit her bathroom in your bathing suit with the dress you are to wear on top hanging in your left arm.

"Why?!" You thought you looked fine. "It's Victoria's Secret!"

"It's huge! And ew!"

"No way!" You look at your reflection in the large mirror. You are wearing a two-piece electric blue bikini with a twist-front top and matching boy short bikini bottoms that cover you up to your belly.

"Also, you need to moisturize that skin properly. It's looking a bit dry." She handles you some jars with creams.

"Really?! Oh thanks"

"You always give me no time!" She goes inside her closet. "I'm again pulling a miracle!"

"Fairy godmother, please help me!" you beg, now getting self-conscious while applying the cream to your legs and arms.

Be careful with what you wish for.

"Are you serious with this, Lea?! Why do you insist on having my ass on full display every time!"

"Because it makes you look so hot! That high-cut V-shape is so flattering on you! Besides, all cheeky thong bikinis are so sexy!"

"For sure, one of my titties is flying out of here at some point," you say as you fix your top to hold the girls in place better.

"Your skin looks so shiny and fresh now," she says, and you agree. "You look so fucking hot!"

The two-piece monochromatic green strap bikini Leandra gave you has a tie knot front and cutout design, revealing a bit of extra skin up there. It matches the high-cut leg and cheeky back bottom that accentuates the best out of your curves; the high-waisted Brazilian thong is very revealing.

"I trust you fully, okay? Thank you," you say, feeling confident with yourself now; the workout routine you have been under is showing.

"Carlos is going to get rocket hard when he sees you!" Lea lets out, all excited.

"Shut up! He is going, too?" you squeal, eager. "Lance didn't mention him."

"Carlos Sr. owns the house next door. Carlos and all his hot Spaniard cousins and friends will be there like every year. I'm almost 100 percent sure he will try to hook up with you tonight. I manifest it. It's in the air."

You look at yourself in the mirror one last time and from all angles.

You look and feel good, and you hope Lea is right. You want some action in your life.

You observe in awe the majestic, three-story-high yacht that's way bigger than your house, with its gleaming white hull and gleaming chrome railings sparkling in the afternoon light.

After passing the security check, you board with your friends and start searching for Lance inside among the guests who have already arrived.

A luxurious Mercedes car pulls over, and a hot, tall man descends on the dock and boards the yacht with an air of confidence and sophistication. He is wearing a light linen shirt, blue swim trunks, sunglasses, and espadrilles men's shoes.

All the wealthy elites are wearing their finest beach attire, diamonds and pearls glinting in the sunlight.

Lance is inside the ship, standing beside his stunning mother and billionaire dad in the main salon, which has comfortable seating areas where guests can mingle and socialize over champagne and canapés. The yacht's interior is opulent, with lavish furnishings and sparkling chandeliers.

After chatting for a minute, he lets you know he has to stay there to welcome all his guests but that Lewis and Seb are on the upper deck.

So you all choose to go hang out with them and take in the breathtaking views of the Mediterranean Sea.

The waiter offering the cocktails around blocks your view of Toto boarding the ship as you grab one of the glasses.

Then you turn your back in his direction, quickly catching Charles's step. You finish climbing the stairs just as Lawrence welcomes Toto with a "My good friend!"

The sun is setting rapidly now, and the yacht is beginning to move out of the harbor. Its engines are purring smoothly as it cuts through the waves, picking up speed.

Lewis's abs look great in that see-through "Sea Maiden" Burberry t-shirt paired with bright orange pants.

"Are those real?!" You feel his abs, greeting him, making Seb laugh as Lewis has him wrapped around his arm. Seb's chin resting on Lewis's shoulder.

"Lucky me!" Seb says, wearing a beautiful two-piece ensemble: a cute baby blue and white stripes bikini top paired with a Miu Miu white mini skirt. This time, he has natural short hair and sunglasses. His waist looks tiny.

The drinking and partying started from the get-go, with music and laughter creating a relaxed vibe.

Lance and you dance around for a while, holding your drinks in hand before you need to pee.

You go down the narrow, long hallway to the bathroom when you see a girl closing the door going in. "Dammit!" you let out before turning back around.

As you exit the hallway, Toto enters it on his way to the same bathroom door, only to find it's in use.

As you approach St. Tropez, you can see the many bonfires on the long beach coast twinkling on the horizon.

The yacht docks at the Stroll mansion, where a staff team had set up a massive bonfire and a beach party like no other.

There are food tables, a very famous DJ, gift bags with everything you need plus luxury items, beautiful white and natural wood-looking outdoor sitting areas with stunning flower decor, and Cantoya lights that give the place such a vibe.

You and your friends disembark last. You are already having a good time on deck. As you finally make your way down to the beach, you are welcomed by the smoking hostesses in bikinis, who offer you roasted marshmallows.

"Follow me! I asked our people to set us our own bonfire in a spot far away from my parents!" Lance informs you.

And he was right. It was less crowded and far from the main action but still on site.

As you walk there, feeling the still warm sand on your feet, you pass a breathtaking house with an oceanview front and an open concept.

Carlos waves his hand from the pool there, grabbing the group's attention.

"Where are you going?!" he screams.

"To Tortoise," Lance screams back. "See you there?" You assume it's a reference. Carlos nods his head.

Ten minutes later, he arrives with some of his cousins and Lando. They all get introduced, and the boys choose to start playing beach volleyball. It turns out Tortoise is the nickname of that court.

The sound of the waves crashing against the shore and the distant hum of the DJ's music create a pulsating atmosphere.

As you sip your cocktails, Lance's team goes back and forth from the bar to your location. You all enjoy the music and cheer for Lewis and Lando playing against Carlos and his cousin.

Nearby, Yuki and Pippa are going at each other, sharing passionate kisses, she is sitting on his lap, wearing a tiny bikini, and Yuki's hand is all over her ass.

After Lewis falls on the sand and misses the shot, Seb laughs really hard, making Lewis go after him.

Seb starts running to the sea in his cute two-piece bikini. Lewis catches him midway, pulling him up from the ground and into his arms before taking his top off.

Seb lets out a small scream, quickly placing his hands over his chest, covering his nipples, and looking your way, making you all laugh.

They start playing in the waves before Seb pulls Lewis down to the wet sand with him.

They start caressing each other, making out hungrily, their hands going everywhere before they go behind some palm trees.

Lewis stays on his feet, back leaning against them in complete pleasure.

The volleyball game's second round caught your and Lea's attention.

A group of guys, all lean and muscular dudes living nearby, are playing a fierce match against the double C, Charles, and Carlos.

Their sweat-drenched faces and glistening skins make them look like they've just stepped out of a fitness magazine.

You two can't help but watch as they leap and dive for the ball, their muscles flexing with every movement.

One of them, a tall, big, blonde-haired guy with piercing green eyes, caught Lea's eye. He couldn't help but be drawn to her, feeling a spark of attraction ignite within them.

"Boys, you look so heated! Why don't we go for a dive-in?" Lea says, getting on her feet once the game ends, pulling off her clothes, and locking her eyes with the hot dude.

You all watch Lea run naked into the waters as you all scream and whistle, mesmerized by her openness, cheekiness, and hot body.

The blonde dude wastes no time following her. They get further into the waters, now barely visible; she grabs herself tight to his neck, her face buried in his shoulder as they fuck.

Everyone in here is making you so horny, and you can't keep ignoring Carlos' sweaty and delicious body.

You need some fresh air! What are you saying?! You can't get fresher air!

Before you leave to get a drink, Lando approaches you. "What are you hiding beneath that?! You are the only one still with clothes on."

"A cute and hot swimsuit," you say, all confident and playful.

"LET US SEE!" Pippa turns her head still on Yuki's lap.

You slide down your dress slowly.

Carlos devorous you with his eyes.

"WOAH! WOAH!" Lance lets out.

Lando throws a kiss in the air as you walk to the bar to get a drink on your own.

You notice, when you turn back a few steps away, Carlos biting his fist, watching your ass sway as you go.

The music gets louder as you reach the house's massive pool. The modern Stroll mansion is a work of art.

The bonfire roars to life, sending flames shooting high into the air as the beach erupts into a frenzy of activity. People laugh and dance, others gather around the fire, and some jump into the pool.

Toto can't believe his eyes. That's you, and a lot of you is on display. He feels an instant sensation traveling through his body.

Toto's eyes wander all over you as you pass before him on the other side of the pool. He gets on his feet and jumps into the pool.

Heading toward the bar, swimming across to catch you in there. Just as the bartender gives you your drink and you sip it, you turn around to witness Toto stepping out of the pool, water running all over his muscular body. You can't help but follow the water down with your gaze.

"But if it's the Williams girl!"

"Hi, Mercedes boy!"

"Boy?!" he laughs a bit at that.

"I didn't see you at the yacht!"

"We were upstairs."

"And where are you now?"

You point in the distance to a miniature bonfire.

"Feeling better, then? I hope you are having a good time; you look like it." You sense his eyes going all over you without discretion.

"I am! You?" you suggestively bite and suck your straw. Is that how you are supposed to flirt?!

"Meh. Lawrence is a friend."

"You can join us if you want."

"Sure, I can pop by later. Don't drink too much," Toto says, stealing the drink from your hands, putting the straw in his mouth, and sipping it.

Toto wanders away from the party as he takes an important call. Being the boss requires 24/7 availability.

He is close to the Sainz Mansion, enough to overhear Carlos and Lando's conversation.

"Y/N looks so appetizing," Carlos says.

"The way he looked at you, man, she is just waiting for you to fuck her." Lando agrees and adds.

"Right?! I felt the same! I'm going to take Y/N to my bed as soon as I see her. I think I still have condoms upstairs. See you around."

Since everyone but you seem busy fucking and hooking up, and Carlos is nowhere near, apparently, you go for a walk to take in the beautiful surroundings.

It's your first time at St. Tropez, and it's as gorgeous as you heard. You venture to go exploring further past the Stroll's house.

Toto watches you from a distance, wandering all by yourself. He catches your step, and you more than gladly invite him to join you.

Soon, it's just the two of you alone in front of an empty mansion. It's a quiet, lonely beach, just for your voices and laughs as you talk about life, finding things in common, and starting to know each other.

He gets near the sea, dipping his feet in the water as he slowly walks in. You follow his steps. The wet sand feels soft against your toes.

Soon, you are standing before him, half your body inside the water, with the moon reflecting on the surface.

You feel Toto slowly pulling the string off your top, unwrapping the tight nod in your back and causing it to fall down to the sea.

The cold air hardens your nipples as well as your excitement. Toto looks down at your breasts.

The waves move your bodies against each other.

"Beautiful," he lets out and kisses your neck. Before cupping one of your tits and rubbing your nipple with one of his thumb fingers, licking it with his tongue, moving it in circles, playing with your nipple, arousing you before claiming your lips.

You kiss him hungrily, dancing on your tip toes, stroking yourself against him.

He pulls you tight against his naked, firm chest in a fast move, and proceeds to place a trail of kisses from your temple to your shoulders, where he starts to move down to your chest. His lips biting and sucking your nipples.

He wraps your legs around his waist, pulling you by your thighs with a firm grip, and carries you deeper into the sea.

You feel your breasts rubbing on his skin, your naked skin brushing, making him get hard, or so you feel against your inner thigh.

Toto holds you in place by the ass as he starts pushing your body against his, up and down, slowly, as you two make out, your hands going all over his wet hair.

He then puts you down before making you turn around; you back against him, and you feel his now full erection on your ass cheeks as he rubs you against it while kissing your neck, squeezing and cupping your tits with both his big hands before moving to play with your nipples again.

The sensation sends you to heaven.

He starts sliding his big hand down your body, leaving a trail of warmth on your stomach. You feel his fingers sliding your bikini bottoms' light and small fabric to the side.

You sense the water brushing your pussy as Toto's index finger starts caressing your folds while he bites your ear lobe.

"I couldn't resist not being your first," Toto confesses. "You are an enigma that I want to unwrap slowly," he whispers to your ear.

You moan for him several times as he slowly and tenderly pushes his finger into you, exploring your insides.

"Warm and wet for me," he whispers, hot against your ear. You place your hand on his forearm with a tight grip.

"It feels so good," your voice is barely a whisper. Toto inserts a second finger inside you, giving you time to adjust to the feeling.

Then he starts fingering you, making you moan and say things that for sure will make you die of embarrasment tomorrow. He is torturing you with the pleasure of his different speed rhythms.

Just about when you start gasping for air, he leads your right hand inside his swim trunks to wrap it around his hard cock.

"Do it this way," Toto guides you as he reads the hesitation in your eyes. You start rubbing his dick as he keeps finger fucking you.

"Faster and in a twirling movement like this," he shows you how he likes it. It's great that you are a fast learner; you soon make him groan.

As you go on him, jerking him off, he bites your lip.

Minutes later, he pulls his dick out of his swim trunks and starts rubbing the tip of his cock between your ass cheeks as he groans loud and cums on you, grabbing your tits tight as you arch against him.

He softly pats, slaps, and squeezes your ass a couple of times as he claims your lips. You make him wrap his toned arms around you as you slide your hands all over them.

You keep kissing till you start to feel the chilly air. You get put together before Toto carries you back to the beach, where your bikini top is nowhere to be seen.

You can't return to the bonfire party topless like that.

He picks up his white linen shirt from the sand, places it on you, and buttons it up for you. Your naked breasts are still visible under the fabric.

You pull him closer, stealing him many more kisses. "Don't leave yet," you whisper against his lips.

You two lay on the sand. Well, Toto does. He places you on top of him as you keep exploring each other's bodies, tasting every corner and spot with your wet tongues, leaving traces everywhere.

You break the hot, wet kiss you are sharing to catch your breath.

"You should go back to your friends before they worry," he tells you, unconvinced.

"Oww," you whine.

"Okay, you win" he smiles against your mouth and continues kissing you, his hand squeezing your ass.

After a couple of minutes, he tells you. "I'll see you around, okay? We will make time for ourselves this week."

"Like, ahem, when?"

"Whenever you like."

You give him a couple of "final" goodbye kisses before he buries you beneath his body, shifting positions, placing himself on top of you and in between your legs, kissing you passionately, unable to pull away.

"Go," you push him away playfully. "I can't quit you". You steal him another quick kiss before he gets on his feet, dick looking hard again.

You return to your now completely drunk friends bonfire party with the biggest smile on earth, wearing a sizes bigger man's shirt with visibly no top beneath.

Seb and Leandra give you THE look.

And you go all red under their stares.

To be continued... < Previous chapter | Masterlist | Next chapter >

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galadrieljones · 1 month ago

Text

"Bet on Hope": More Thoughts on Isabelle

This is a response to @frangipanilove's post about Isabelle as a Beth Proxy. I agree 100% with everything frangi says and had to type up this quick follow-up, regarding Isabelle as a "proxy" for Beth.

I want to add that this may feel a little out of left field, but I believe that Beth and Isabelle are connected even in the hard wiring of some of the symbols we've seen over the years. What I want to talk about here is one of the last things it seems we will hear Isabelle say in the series, which is: "Bet on hope." She can be heard saying it in the trailer, and it also appears in the *leaked* script from episode 2.6.

The language "Bet on hope" is unique and uses gambling rhetoric and essentially conjures an underdog situation. To bet on hope is to call the enemy's bluff, and to hold out "hope" that you can win, even against all odds. The opposite of betting on hope would be to fold, to give into your fate, even if you still have a chance to win, or if your chances are, essentially, no worse off than your enemy's.

First, I have to wonder, what "hope" they are betting on here. I maintain there's a connection to the actual character Hope Bennett from The World Beyond, who, as a distiller and a scientist currently hiding out with T.B. Ellis, I think will be instrumental in curing Wildfire or finding a remedy for it. I think we should literally "Bet on Hope" (capital H).If you rewatch the WB coda to season 2, you'll notice that the French scientist (who has a folder full of T.B. Ellis papers on her laptop) uses the word "hope" multiple times, mainly in iterations of the phrase: "Hope beyond hope." She is "hoping beyond hope" that the Primrose Team will return to France and "end all of this."

We also see in episode 1.4 of The Ones Who Live, at the "Greenwood" laboratory where Rick and Michonne find themselves after exiting the helicopter, a poster that urges residents to "Keep Hope Alive!" None of this is coincidence!

Hope Bennett aside, when thinking of the phrase "Bet on hope," I am also reminded of episode 10.19 "One More," which TD pounced on long ago as containing a huge number of "Still" callbacks, including alcohol consumption, drinking games, golf, color parallelism, and cards. The episode revolves largely around Father Gabriel's slow loss of faith, a conflict which he will confront in season 11, and Aaron's struggle to believe in himself as a survivor. Their dynamic mirrors that of Daryl and Beth in "Still."

In "One More," FG and Aaron play a game of poker while drinking whiskey. At the end of the scene, FG bluffs his way to a win, because, instead of calling his bluff, Aaron folds. Episode 10.19 is all about foreshadowing and setting up characterization for the future, just like so many of the episodes in 10c. It is also the episode that comes directly after "Find Me."

What's so interesting about their poker game is not JUST that Aaron folds in the face of adversity, but the way that the hand goes down. Mind you that they're not playing for money. They're playing for bottle caps, so essentially, there's nothing at stake. Aaron, in a very Beth-esque "bullshit" moment, accuses FG of bluffing, so FG urges him to call his bluff.

Aaron, however, is afraid. He "doesn't have enough" to call. In a game with no cash pot, FG, however, realizes one has to be creative. He tells Aaron to bet his whiskey.

At this point, Aaron considers it. He even starts to push his cup toward the pot, but then at the last moment, he folds. You can see in his hand that he has a jack, just before he throws his cards down. It doesn't mean he has a better hand than FG, but it does mean he could have something, and that it's worth soldiering forth. He will not "bet on hope" here, so to speak. He gives up.

After FG wins, Aaron then demands that FG show him his hand, and what are the cards that FG holds? An 8 and a 2.

In the shot above, you can see in the background of FG's hand a mini-golf set. Apparently a game of mini-golf was among deleted scenes for this episode. The 8 and 2 here, which is a terrible hand, and which beat Aaron (who was too afraid to call FG's bluff), is yet another callback to Engine 82, the firetruck that mysteriously disappears without any explanation after "Coda." The firetruck that Abraham's group previously fights tooth and nail to defend from walkers. Where did it go?

Whatever happened to the firetruck may explain what happened to Beth. After "Coda," both Beth's body AND the firetruck disappear without a trace, and we never learn what happened or why.

"Bet on hope" could mean, essentially, hold out for the long odds. You could still find the one thing that's been missing all these years, which could solve all of your problems and deficiencies. Even if it is hidden behind a major, major "bluff." You must see through it and be brave enough to call it out. You may have to be creative, to bet everything. And to do this, you need all the hope you can muster. Unsurprisingly, Isabelle, a woman of faith, just like Father Gabriel, gets it.

It could also be important, especially as this is in response to a frangipanilove post and contains the reference to "Hope" Bennett, that in "One More," Aaron considers betting his alcohol to call FG's bluff. Alcohol, we are all pretty sure, has some connection to the "cure" for Wildfire, as the "Staff of Life" (quoted by Jim, the beer brewer from Fear season 4). I've also written a post comparing the French herbal liqueur Chartreuse to the potential cure for Wildfire. Essentially, I think "Bet on Hope" also means "Bet on a Cure." It also just means, "Don't give up. To get the happy ending you desire, you have to take the long odds."

Alcohol, Engine 82, and golf all in one shot. Both a nun and a priest encouraging a doubter to bet on hope. Idk if it means what I think it means but I'm going to "bet on hope" a little longer.

#team delusional #bethyl #beth greene

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svcredveins · 8 months ago

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An introduction to myself!

So first things first, I’m 23 and female (I will not mention my real name, you can call me Luna if you want or just my username lol). Was so unsure to post on here since I’ve created this account three years ago to share my heartbeat. I have also a huge passion of mine - to become a Porsche factory driver in the coming future.

So bear with clips here and there, I do feel weird though doing this to the public but hey, we’re all heart lovers right?

Anyway, reason is to actually just check up on myself every once in awhile and see how my little lady is doing and appreciate her. I’ve struggled with a lot of things in my life with responsibilities to my own health and with this motivation to check up on myself. I definitely need to workout. And since becoming a Porsche factory driver is my dream, as a sim racer, I need to workout anyway because once I get my pedals and foldable rig, I have to workout because my little arms and legs will not bode well after 20 minutes of driving haha. For now I’m just on a controller.

So with this account made, I must be more aware of myself and even not just physically, but mentally too. Even though this is to the world, seeing others share their heartbeats is a reminder to myself to appreciate how our bodies were made and on how fascinating the human body is and what it’s capabile of. Also with the idea of more self acceptance for myself that I am living and breathing human being with a heartbeat and that it’s okay to fail. This alone will help me go a long way with that mindset for my sim racing as well! Hehe. Sorry. I love my racing. But! There’s also something to add on to that.

The dream

I’ve always been the type of girl to love speed. Anything that gets my heart racing (pun intended) I enjoy. The sheer thrill of going over the edge and that is where I found my biggest passion - sports car racing. The adrenaline, the awareness of knowing your putting your body over the edge, the unknown of what will happen when battling against another driver...I love that feeling and racing gives me that feeling and it bugs me everyday knowing that I am currently unable to race due to money, however, that is my dream and I strive to achieve it!

You need to be so fit for and that includes being aware of your breathing and heart rate. But oh to go so fast around a track over 200kmh feeling like everything around you is going by slowly. Heart pounding, breathing heavily, heavy focus on one goal - to win...yes! Give me my Porsche GT3 Cup, GT3 R, and 963! Let’s go!

Two passions intertwined

So since I was a little girl, I’ve also had those rare occasions where I felt my heartbeat. It’s always interested me feeling the “lub dub” in my chest. These things just began to intertwine for me and it’s actually perfect because since I love the sense of speed and adrenaline with it, my dream job is to be a cardiothorasic surgeon and that makes a lot of money’s worth to get into sports car racing which is definitely expensive as ever! So that will indefinitely support my biggest passion. Two passions in one? Crazy right?! I’m very excited for my future, despite my personal mental issues, but I am a huge dreamer so that’s my goal. I’m trying to work through it!

I’m aiming to get a stemoscope and a pulse oximeter. I would love to record my little lady working hard during my sim racing sessions! I just need the proper equipment to do it with a chest monitor strap.

Thank you for reading this far if you have. As you can tell I am super passionate about both!

Editing

Fun fact about me, I also do editing! I do photo and video edits and have been doing it for about 8 years. Time has flown by quickly!

The photo above is the Porsche 963 behind the human heart, portraying my passion for Porsche and the strong desire to become their factory driver.

My heart

I’ll try to say some info about my little lady.

She is a strong one with fire in her arteries. After getting an annual medical checkup about a year ago, my doctor remarked that I have a strong heart which was actually comforting to hear from her not gonna lie, knowing that my little lady is a strong and healthy one!

Strong and healthy speaks loudly about my passion for Porsche and racing for them as a factor driver, and that’s actually really heartwarming thinking about it because of how much of a passionate type person I am so it’s remarkable how she beats so strong and confident! I cherish that.

Cardiophilia intentions

I’m more on the light hearted (no pun intended) side of the cardiophilia. I just enjoy the functionality of the heart, and being fascinated with it, but I don’t mind some dark cardiopheila. It does, however, have limits. A lot of limits.

I have done a fanfic back in 2018 where I guess you could call it more on the dark side, but I do not involve myself physically in any of that, nor do I condone it. I’ll definitely write dark cardiophilia in some sort of form in books which I have in the past, as I’ve mentioned earlier, so anything else, I keep my little lady all out of harms way and treat her nicely. No resus, pressure, or poking. I do breathholds at times though, but other than that, I have one little heart so I must treat her well as she should be treated.

#cardiophilia #intro post #blog intro #cardiophile thoughts #heartbeat #my heart #stethoscope #adrenaline #fast heartbeat #pounding heart #beating heart #cardiophile

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soffsketches · 7 months ago

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I'm taking a break on drawing for a second so here you go

GothCleat Headcanons

Post Season 2 Ending

Lincoln nervous on the first date ended up showing Scary how to play FIFA. Bonus he let's her win at the end and Scary insists on coming over to practice so she can beat him fair and square

Lincoln fell first and Scary fell the hardest

They watch the world cup together and Scary would narrate as if if Mr.Kicks was scoring

Lincoln would gift Scary patches he made for her outfits. Yes most soccer related

Scary would get a part time job at a cafe and would prepare Mochas for Link but she'll say that it's made from chocolate covered espresso beans, his favorite

Scary would realize she fell for Link when her poetry slowly start mentioning him, figuratively. No one understands where he appears but Scary doesn't want to explain it too much either

Telling the parents

Lincoln sit Grant and Marco down at the table saying he has an important announcement. (I feel like it's been like a year or two since the ending of season 2) Lincoln goes on to say that he's a man and that he has feelings towards someone and he wants them, the parents to know about it. Grant and Marco were a bit worried but trying to be supportive smile and say that they're here for Link. Link says that it's with Scary and Grant gives out a sigh of relief and Marco pats Grant in support. "We're really happy for you Link and thank you for telling us."

Scary would be sitting at the table with Veronica and Terry Jr. probably eating dinner or something. She would casually mention she started dating Link and both parents would sit there staring at each other wondering what to say. Terry now with a better understanding of Scary, he would say "That's cool. Happy for you" but IMMEDIATELY would breakdown and become a bit emotional happy for her daughter. Veronica would smile.

Grant and Terry would have a bit of awkward tension between them but would slowly get over it with time. Awkward silence and stares would be a regular thing every now and then.

Garry

Named after Gerard Way, no doubt about it. BUT I would like to add Links would put the idea of naming them Garry pronounced Jarry.

Reveal? Easy: A soccer ball with colored powder inside. Gender? Future Futball Champion

Lincoln would realize he'd want to be a coach after helping Garry kick their first goal at little leagues.

Finally, Scary saw that Garry was sad they didn't make the team so she encouraged Garry to be the mascot. Garry a bit hesitant about the idea looked at Link. Link being the coach said that Garry reminded him of his good friend Normal who was once the mascot. Link seeing the look in Garry's eyes reassured them that whatever they decide to do, Scary and Link would support them.

Ok I think that's all for now. Enjoy the Gothcleat content. I will provide more in the future.

Take care y'all!!!

#dungeons and daddies #dndads #dndads s2 #dndads spoilers #scary marlowe #lincoln li wilson #link li wilson #gothcleats #soffsketches

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terresdebrumestories · 1 year ago

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This idea ambushed me in the shower and wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote it, so there you have it. This is the result of an hour of frantic typing on my phone and shall be cleaned up before I cross post it to AO3.

"I wanna come out," Jamie says, and Roy freezes in place so fast Phoebe bumps into his back and swears under her breath.

Roy doesn't even pretend to try and tease her for it, too stunned for words.

"If we win tonight," Jamie adds on the other end of the line, "I wanna come out."

"Are you sure?" Roy manages at last, and it comes out so raw Ruth does a double take in the kitchen, raising her eyebrows in question.

Roy, gripping his phone like he'll die if he lets go, shakes his head and turns away, making his way to the corridor on shaky legs. From very far away, he thinks he hears Phoebe ask if he's alright, but Roy pushes her out of his mind as soon as Jamie says:

"I'm sure."

"Jamie," Roy hisses, "it could end your career."

"So what?" Jamie says, and Roy almost ask who the fuck is possessing his partner.

"Jamie."

"Roy. I'm thirty-four. I've won the Premier League, the Europe League and the fucking World Cup. I'm in the fucking Olympics. Once I've won that, who the fuck cares if I get a goodbye tour?"

"You do," Roy says. Then Jamie grunts and Roy adds: "I'm with you. You know I am, always." Jamie hums, but it sounds like he's relenting, not skeptical, so Roy makes himself continue despite the risk of Ruth or Phoebe overhearing: "I just don't—I don't want you to regret it."

To regret me, Roy is surprised to mean. After all, they've been together for almost ten years now. Any coming out Jamie makes is likely to result in their relationship becoming public, and Roy...Roy has apparently not quite managed to get over their age difference as thoroughly as he thought he had.

"I won't," Jamie promises, the sound of his voice suddenly echoing, like he just stepped in a bathroom. "I really won't. Just 'cause I'm buzzin' doesn't mean I don't know what I'm doing."

Roy can't help worrying anyway, but he still makes himself breathe in, and then out, and then say:

"Okay. Then I think you should do it."

"Oh, I was gonna," Jamie says, playful, and Roy smiles at his sister's bathroom door like an idiot. "But also. Em. I don't—if I'm gonna come out publicly, I don't wanna have to like. Pretend like I'm single or whatever. Or like. If I do get my fucking retirement tour and we meet in a game or whatever, I don't wanna have to pretend like I'm not dead gone on you, you know?"

Roy's heart expands in his chest, like it's trying to make a run for it through his ribs or something, and he knows he's full-on grinning at the bathroom door when he says:

"Me either. Please feel free to mention me by name."

"Grand," Jamie says over the sound of a shower turning on. "Great. Well. I gotta go soon but uh. Wish me luck?"

"Good luck," Roy obliges. And then, because he's had nearly ten years of practice to make this bit easy, he adds: "I love you."

"Love you too."

"What a game," Arlo White shouts on TV a few hours later, while Ruth and Phoebe do a victory dance around the couch, where Sam and Keeley are singing Jamie's stupid fucking chant along with the crowds in the stadium.

"What a game! What a play! What a goal! And what an ovation for Jamie Tartt, indubitably the man of the match!"

"I agree," Chris Powell adds, sounding almost excited for once, "I'd even say: what a career! Jamie Tartt won it all! Honestly Arlo, I wouldn't be surprised if he decided to retire soon, I mean at this point what else does he need?"

"Oh shut the fuck up," Roy yells at the TV, earning himself a playful shove from Phoebe and a prod in the ribs from Keeley. "Stupid fucking pundits," he mutters into his champagne.

"That would be so much more convincing if you weren't pink with pride, babe," Keeley teases, and Roy grunts without heat.

The truth is, now that White and Powell have announced a transition on the ground and the camera switched to Barbara Carnahan on the side of the pitch, Roy feels himself tense with anticipation. Everyone here knows about him and Jamie, of course, but they don't know what he's planning to do. That leaves Roy alone to deal with the nerves of Jamie's impending announcement, and holy fucking shit, they're a lot.

"First of all," Carnahan says when she catches Jamie and gets him to stand in front of her camera, "I want to congratulate you on an absolutely marvelous game!"

Roy watches Jamie's tongue dart out in celebration, like he's a goddamned emoji or something, and finds himself gripping Keeley's hand out of sheer need to share the moment with someone.

"Thanks," Jamie says, sobering up a little bit, "We did really good, yeah!"

"Oh, definitely! How does it feel? Did you expect this when you woke up this morning?"

"Well, you know," Jamie says, running a hand through his hair, "nothing's ever certain, but I knew our chances were good, yeah, so I was like. Fairly optimistic about it."

"And you were right!" Carnahan agrees with a little bounce. "I'll admit I was nervous when the first half ended at one-one, but that goal in injury time was magnificent!"

"Yeah, Satō gave me a great assist there, that kid's gonna get far," Jamie says, wiping at his brow.

To Roy's left, Sam coos a little, happy to see one of his Marseille teammates get some recognition. He hasn't looked that cheerful since he busted his knee right before the Olympics started and he knew he had to sit the competition out.

"What was going on in your head at that moment?" Carnahan asks Jamie. "As the whistle blew and you realized you'd won, where did you mind go? Is there anyone you thought of in particular?"

"Well there's me mum, of course," Jamie says. "She's in the stands, and I'm really glad she could be here for this. And then there's my partner."

Around Roy, the living room falls into the most intense silence he's ever heards, even as Jamie adds:

"Actually, is it okay if I talk to him for a sec?"

"Him?" Carnahan asks, at the same time as Keeley and Phoebe shriek:

"WHAT?"

"Yeah, him," Jamie says, prompting Sam to shout and grab Roy's left shoulder. "Can I talk to him?"

And this. This wasn't the script, right? Roy thought—usually—this isn't. No. No!

...no?

"Oh my god, uncle Roy!" Phoebe is saying, gripping Roy's right shoulder, "Oh my god!"

"Yes, sure," Barbara Carnahan says with the dazed look of a reporter who's just been hit with the exclusive of the decade, "go ahead."

Jamie grins, and thanks her, and then he takes a deep breath—Roys mirrors him, can't help it, feels like he's about to explode, or melt, or both—

"Roy," Jamie says on the screen, eyes turned straight at the camera so it looks like he's actually watching Roy in 16:9 format, "it's hard to remember what it was like to hate you enough to nearly fight you right on the pitch."

Someone says a very strangled 'what the fuck' and it takes Roy a second to realize it's Keeley, but also the reporter on the telly.

"Turns out you're actually one of the best men I've ever fucking met—" ('Oh my god!' Says Keeley, slapping Roy's arm.) "You support me and challenge me all the fucking time, you're funny, and the grumpiest arse in the morning." ('OH MY GOD!' shouts Phoebe from behind Roy.) "I've spent nine years of my life loving you to your face, and you've taken it like a champ so far...so what do you say we make it official and tie the knot?"

"OH MY GOD!" Screams the living room, pushing and pulling and slapping at Roy.

He can barely breathe, feels himself grow twice, thrice, ten times bigger than he normally is, floating like a bubble of champagne as Phoebe nearly breaks his nose trying to shove his phone against his ear—"YOU HAVE TO FUCKING CALL HIM, UNCLE ROY!"

And then there's a dial tone, and some spluttering on tv, and more shouting, and a phone comes into view, lands against Jamie's ear, and then—

"You motherfucker!" Roy yells into the phone, and Jamie-on-the-screen blinks and grins, and Jamie-on-the-phone gives this little hitch of breath he does when he thinks 'I love you', and Roy is saying: "You absolute wanker! No fucking warning—"

And Jamie-on-the-screen scrunches his nose and grins harder, and Roy's heart goes into fucking overdrive, his pulse loud in his ears and in his palms, and Jamie-on-the-phone asks:

"So like, that's a yes, right?"

"Yes! Of course it's a yes you gigantic prick!" Roy yells, and Jamie-on-the-screen fist pumps while Roy's world turns into one giant shriek of joy, and then there's champagne popping, and four different footballers bursting on the screen to hug and jump up and down and shout so loud Roy hears them even when Jamie has to take the phone away from his ear.

"Oh my god!" Keeley shouts, muffled, into Roy's neck when he hangs up, knowing full well there's no way Jamie's getting back to his phone until much later tonight. "Congratulations! I'm so happy for you!"

"Did you really not know?" Phoebe asks, shouting into his other ear.

"I knew he wanted to come out and go public about us," Roy says, falling back from the adrenaline-induced shouting to the best sort of daze. "I didn't know he was going to propose!"

And Roy sounds grumpy about it, he knows he does—will probably get shit from Jamie about it as soon as his fucking plane lands, really! And his sister, his niece, his friends are being way too loud about it, and now his phone's buzzing and will probably keep buzzing for the next four or five hours, and Roy sounds grumpy but he does not mean it for a fucking second.

#Ted Lasso #Jamie Tartt #Roy Kent #Jamie x Roy #fic: bouquet final #This is extremely self indulgent and also has seen ten minutes of research at most so #but I had FUN writing it and i hope y'all will have fun reading it #future fic technically #Matt Writes #Fanfiction #30n #90n #100n

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singsweetmelodies · 1 year ago

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Hello Katie 👋🏼👋🏼 :D

For the 50 romance prompts ask meme, I'll like to request for 44: soulmate AU: timers <3

but if possible... with a twist...? (you don't have to include a twist if it's too difficult to work it in!)

The twist being, for whatever reason, their countdown timers for each of them to the time they meet their soulmates doesn't match, so they think "we're not each other's soulmates. that's cool. (no it's not)" but it turns out that they're each other soulmates anyways. or they choose to be with each other in spite of not being each other's soulmates. idk. *nervous laughter*

hiiii charlotte 🥰 first off, i am SO sorry for the incredible delay with this answer!! i saw this prompt and i absolutely LOVED IT (and the twist!! 🙏 *chef's kiss*) but unfortunately i got struck with a horrible case of writer's block/work deadlines, and just couldn't get to it at all.

until yesterday: i decided to just open my inbox and see what came to me. no thinking, just following the vibe of a prompt and writing. and uh. this happened... not only did it get ridiculously long (oops?) but it also somehow became a mini "investigate montreal" fic?? so in that vein, i'm tagging @1016week and submitting a belated entry for Day 6 "Montreal"... ❤️

i love this one. hope you love it too!! 👀⌚

Charles' soulmate timer stops when he is seven years old, and he meets the boy with the bluest eyes he's ever seen.

He's been vibrating with excitement all weekend - not just because it's a karting cup, but because his soulmate timer has been ticking down to this day for months now. Well, not just months, not really. It's actually been his whole life, but Charles doesn't remember all of that. He only remembers the past few months, when the little numbers had been getting smaller and smaller, until there were only ten days left and Charles gasped when he realised that the day would fall on the same day as the Bridgestone Cup.

"Of course the girl I marry is going to like racing, too," he'd told Maman and Papa, confidingly. Not a lot about soulmates made much sense to him, but this did.

His Maman had tried to smile, and Charles had hugged her tight to let her know it was going to be okay. He would find his soulmate, and then everyone would be smiling, because that's what people do when you meet your soulmate.

(Later that night, when Charles had been too excited to sleep and he'd gone to the bathroom quickly, Charles had heard his parents having an argument in their room. The door was closed, so their voices were muffled, but Charles could still make out his Maman saying "I just don't think it's a good sign, to meet your soulmate so young!" But Papa had countered, "Many people do, and they have beautiful stories. You have to trust that our Charles will meet his perfect match tomorrow." And then there had been an icky noise, like kissing, and Charles had flushed the loo quickly and ran back to his room.)

Now, with the beautiful blue eyed boy standing in front of him, Charles thinks of Papa's words again. Our Charles will meet his perfect match tomorrow.

Charles thought it would be a girl who really liked karting, but this is even better. This is a boy who wins at karting, because he's holding a trophy in both hands and grinning like he couldn't be happier.

Of course Charles' perfect match would be someone who wins at karting. It's only right, because Charles also wins at karting.

Charles clears his throat. "Hi," he says shyly, and the blue-eyed boy jumps.

"Oh! Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't see you there," he says apologetically, and then he laughs. He has a nice laugh, Charles thinks - like he knows how to have fun. "You are a bit short," the blue-eyed boy adds, and hey.

"Hey," Charles protests. "I'm tall for my age. I'm seven."

"Well, I'm nine," the blue-eyed boy says, like that's the most impressive age in the world.

It is a bit impressive, but not very, because Lorenzo is much older than that. Still, it is a little scary - Charles is only seven. What if this blue-eyed boy doesn't like him because he's only seven? Older kids can be mean like that.

No, he is your perfect match, Charles reminds himself. This blue-eyed boy won't be mean to him, because that's not how perfect matches work.

Charles takes a deep breath, then he sticks out his hand. "I'm Charles," he says.

The blue-eyed boy takes his hand, and it feels... weird. A little bit like when you get shocked by static electricity.

Charles giggles, unable to stop himself, and the blue-eyed boy smiles, as though he likes that.

"Hello, Charles. I'm Pierre," he says, squeezing Charles' hand. His eyes widen a moment later. "Oh! You've met your soulmate?!"

Charles doesn't understand what he means. "Well, yeah," he says. "It's y-"

And then he notices it.

Pierre's soulmate timer, right there on his wrist, right above where Charles is gripping his hand - it's still ticking.

Now, Charles doesn't know a lot about soulmates yet, but he knows that that's not good. Not good at all.

"I, um," Charles stammers, and then he does the one thing Maman and Papa said you should never do to your soulmate. Charles lies.

"I met so many new people today. I don't remember who it was."

Pierre's face falls. "Oh," he says, and he sounds unbearably sad for Charles. "But..." He chews his lip, shaking his head with a deep frown.

Then, mid-shake, Pierre's expression changes to one of determination. "I will help you find them," he says, with the kind of confidence Charles can only dream of when he's not on the racetrack.

He tugs on Charles' hand - which he still hasn't let go of - and Charles is helpless to do anything but follow.

They don't find Charles' soulmate anywhere, of course, and then Charles has to go win his race - but Pierre makes him promise that they will find each other at the next French karting event, and Charles will tell him all about his soulmate.

Charles promises, even though the idea makes his stomach feel all funny. I shouldn't be lying to my soulmate, he thinks, guiltily.

But Pierre's soulmate timer didn't stop ticking, and... that's not how soulmates are supposed to work.

The moment he's in the car with his father after the race, heading back home, Charles asks him about it.

Papa is quiet for a long moment, then: "Are you sure there wasn't someone behind Pierre, Charles?" he asks, in his careful, kind way. "Someone who's timer stopped at the same time as yours?"

Charles thinks about it for a moment, but even the idea of that feels - wrong, somehow. Like going into a corner and knowing you braked too hard, and you're going to flip the kart.

He shakes his head decisively. "No," he says. "It's Pierre."

He hears rather than sees his father blow out a soft sigh. Charles catches his eye in the rearview mirror, feeling confused and a little shaky inside.

When Papa sighs like that, it's never good news - it's usually something about sponsorship, which is a word Charles is already coming to dread.

It doesn't make sense how this could be about sponsorship, though. It probably isn't.

Charles waits for his father to gather his thoughts, like he needs to do sometimes to make sure he says exactly what he means. (It's something Maman keeps telling him he should try doing as well, but he's not so good at that yet.)

"You know how even the greatest racing drivers make mistakes sometimes?" Papa asks.

Charles frowns, but he nods. "Yes?"

"Sometimes the universe is like that, too. Sometimes the universe makes a mistake, and stops the timers too soon," Papa explains.

Charles frowns. He hasn't heard about that before, but he guesses it makes sense. It's true what Papa said - not even Senna was a perfect driver who never made mistakes. It makes sense that the universe is the same.

"But this doesn't mean you don't have a soulmate, okay, Charles?" Papa says before Charles can spend too much time thinking about the whole thing. His voice is firmer than Charles was expecting, and he reaches up to tilt the rearview mirror to see Charles better.

"It doesn't mean you don't have a soulmate," he repeats, like he doesn't want Charles to ever doubt that. "It just means it's going to be a little harder to find them."

Charles frowns, and he can't help but be a little annoyed. Isn't the whole point of soulmate timers to make it easier to find your perfect match?

It's just his luck that his soulmate timer doesn't work properly.

"I understand," Charles says, though, because he can tell it's important to his father.

Papa nods, but he keeps watching Charles in the rearview mirror for the rest of the drive, like he sometimes does after a race where Charles crashed the kart badly and he needs to keep making sure that Charles is fine.

Of course Charles is fine. He doesn't think this is comparable to a bad race at all! It's a little annoying, yes, but it's not that bad. It's just a bit of extra work, isn't it?

Charles shrugs his shoulders, glancing quickly down at the stopped soulmate timer at his wrist.

Whatever. Racing is more important than soulmates, anyway.

Almost twenty years later, Charles still says that to himself almost every day, even if he doesn't believe it with nearly the same careless seven-year-old confidence anymore: racing is more important than soulmates.

It is, because it has to be.

The thing is this: his father's explanation to Charles' seven-year-old self had been true - if a little oversimplified, and painted with an overt layer of kindness.

The truth Charles knows now is that there are two reasons, two categories, for people whose timers stop when the other person's keeps running.

One is, like Papa had said all those years ago, a simple case of mistaken timing - cases where the universe or fate or whatever controls it all stopped one person's timer a little too soon, or the other's a little too late.

It's harder to find each other in those cases, but it's still quite possible.

And then there's the second category. The unrequiteds. People whose timers stopped at the right time - when they met the person who would be their perfect match - except that they are not that person's perfect match in return. It only goes one way.

It's rare, but it happens sometimes. No system is perfect, after all - not even a system of soulmates.

For years and years, Charles tried to convince himself that he fell into the first category. His soulmate timer simply stopped too early, by some cosmic accident - but it's okay, Charles insists to everyone who asks and to himself as well, because what it's done is given Charles more time to focus on his racing instead. He's not constantly glancing down at his wrist and wondering when his timer is going to stop ticking - he can just get on with the racing.

He'll find his soulmate eventually, but on his own terms. There's nothing bad about that, surely.

Charles believes that. Really he does.

Except.

Except, if it's true and Charles falls into the first category - the mistaken timing category - then it would mean Pierre isn't his soulmate.

Pierre, who kept the promise he'd made to a seven-year-old who wasn't even his soulmate (because, yes, he had found Charles at the very next French karting cup, and he'd asked to meet Charles' soulmate - and when Charles had to admit that he still hadn't found them, Pierre had hugged him and told him not to give up and that he would find his soulmate someday. Pierre had held Charles' hand and explained that his parents almost didn't find each other, but they did. So it might take Charles some time, but that was okay, because it had taken Pierre's parents some time too, but now they were happier than ever. He'd been so convincing, firm but kind and absolutely sure of himself, and he'd made Charles believe it. He also made Charles smile, genuinely and truly, when he promised he'd stick by Charles' side no matter what anyone else said or whispered about his stopped soulmate timer.)

Pierre, who kept that promise about sticking with Charles, too. Pierre who never stopped being kind, and loyal, and the best friend Charles could ask for, whether he was seven or thirteen or nineteen or twenty-six.

Honestly, how was Charles supposed to not fall hopelessly in love with him?

He tried to deny it. For years and years, Charles tried to deny it - I will find my soulmate someday and it will all make sense, he'd tried to convince himself - but the thing was, what made more sense than Pierre being his soulmate?

It was roundabout the time of Pierre's first win (when Charles was standing under the podium in Monza with an aching back but a heart soaring with joy for his best friend despite the disaster of his own race) that Charles resigned himself to the truth: Pierre is his soulmate.

He has to be. Isn't a soulmate meant to be your perfect match; the person who understands you better than anyone and makes you happier than any other person in the world?

There's nobody else who could make Charles as happy as Pierre does. Nobody, nobody. There's no point in even trying to deny it anymore.

Pierre is his soulmate. But he is not Pierre's.

And that's okay. It's okay.

It has to be.

It isn't okay, not really, but that's true of a lot of things in Charles' life, and he's learned how to deal with them. He can deal with this, too.

On the whole, Charles thinks he does a pretty good job of dealing with it. He gets to be Pierre's best friend, after all - isn't that just a different kind of soulmate? True, Charles might want more, but it isn't like he has nothing. He has Pierre, and he will have Pierre for the rest of their lives.

Not in the way he wants, but - at least he will have Pierre.

The one thing he tries never to think about is Pierre's actual soulmate. Because Pierre has one, he knows, and he will meet them at some point.

Charles doesn't know how the hell he's supposed to look at some soulmate of Pierre's, and smile at her, and not be hopelessly, heartbreakingly jealous.

(He will do it, though. He will learn to smile at Pierre's soulmate - for Pierre's sake. He'll do it for Pierre.)

But that's a bridge he will cross when they get there. He doesn't have to worry about it yet (or at least, that's what Charles keeps telling himself even as the months tick by, and he knows there aren't year figures left on Pierre's soulmate timer anymore. Just months now, and then... weeks.)

Charles isn't thinking about it. He's put it out of his mind completely - which is easy enough to do, thankfully, given everything that's been happening on-track this season.

That's probably why he accepts Pierre's invitation to dinner in Montreal without thinking twice about it. (Even if he had realised, though, Charles doesn't think he would have been able to say no, either. He would give Pierre everything, if he only asked.)

So they go to dinner in Montreal, and it's perfect, and wonderful, and laughter-filled, and all in all exactly what Charles needed to distract himself from the fact that he has yet another engine penalty, and the sinking feeling that the championship is beginning to slip out of his reach.

Pierre seems to realise it, because he's in even finer form than usual - teasing Charles and tickling his ribs playfully and making him laugh at every possible opportunity.

Even on the drive back to the hotel: they stop at a red light, and Pierre steals Charles' cap, and Charles is giggling and filming it while Pierre is giggling back, and he's pretty sure neither of them are thinking about it at all, until-

Until Pierre's face changes from laughter to something almost ashen. "Charles," he says, and for all the years Charles has known him, he's never once heard Pierre's voice like that. "My soulmate timer just stopped."

For a few seconds, the words don't even register in Charles' mind.

Then they do, and Charles can feel his heart drop. "What?" he breathes.

His hands shake, and he doesn't even register the fact that the light has gone green as he glances all around them, craning his neck to see if there's anyone behind the white Ferrari, or around to the side.

Just a few minutes ago, their car had been surrounded by fans on all sides, all jostling to try and get pictures of them. But now, somehow, they're all alone in the Montreal night.

(The irony of it all is not lost on him - is this how Pierre felt all those years ago, when he was trying to look for Charles' soulmate at a karting cup, but not finding anybody it could be?)

"Are you sure it stopped just now? And not earlier?" Charles asks, willing his voice not to shake.

"Yeah," Pierre whispers. He sounds... devastated.

"But," Charles says, and then he has to take a deep breath. "But there's no-one else here, Pierrot."

"I know," Pierre says, somehow even softer.

Charles' fingers clench reflexively around the steering wheel, and he's moving in blank autopilot as he puts the car into gear and starts driving forward again.

He doesn't even realise he's shaking his head until Pierre says softly, "Charles." There's something wounded about it.

Charles stops shaking his head and slams on the brakes instead, jerking the car into something he hopes is a parking space at the side of the road.

"I don't understand," he says, far more calmly than he feels. "You can't - I can't be your soulmate."

Okay, maybe he's not so calm after all. But he doesn't think... he doesn't think anyone would be calm, in this situation.

Pierre makes a sound that could almost be a laugh, except that it sounds too strangled. "Do you know," he says, "that I have spent half my life wondering if the soulmate system got something wrong in my case? Because if you're not my soulmate, then who is? Who could possibly..."

Pierre does laugh this time, shaking his head. "You know, I asked to go out with you tonight for a reason. I knew - I knew it would happen tonight, so I needed to..." He swallows. "I needed to see you, one last time. Before I wouldn't be allowed to love you anymore."

It jolts through Charles then, what Pierre is trying to say. "Pierre," he breathes, and now it's his turn to say his best friend's name in a way he doesn't think he's ever said it before.

But Pierre's not finished yet. "I thought I could have one last night with you," he says. "One last night, before I had to say goodbye to my feelings, and try to love someone else."

My feelings. Try to love someone else.

Charles Leclerc is a lot of things, but an idiot is not one of them. He knows what Pierre is saying. He's...

Pierre loves him too. All along, Pierre has loved him too.

Only, he never had the option of thinking we're soulmates, Charles realised, and his heart twists in his chest.

Because Charles, for all that he accepted his soulbond toward Pierre was unrequited - at least he'd had the option of them being soulmates. Yes, it was in a twisted way, but at least he'd had that.

Pierre didn't. And he still fell in love with Charles.

The thought hits him like a shell-shock, and it's enough that Charles can only sit there for a moment, staring blankly, as Pierre continues talking beside him.

"I meant for tonight to just be a quick dinner together, something fun but normal for us," Pierre is saying, wringing his hands. "But I lost track of time. I always lose time when I'm talking to you, Charlito, I could talk to you forever - but the point is, I forgot to tell you I need to go back. I forgot that I was meant to meet my fucking soulmate tonight, because I was spending time with you, and - "

He takes a deep breath, and then he laughs again, leaning forward to drop his head into his hands. "I felt it happen, you know? I knew exactly when my soulmate timer stopped, because I could feel it, and it's - it was when I put that fucking cap on my head, Charles."

The cap that he's still wearing. Charles' 16 Ferrari cap.

Charles' hands shake as he reaches out to touch it, just the brim. "Your soulmate timer stopped when you put my cap on," he says, because a part of him still can't believe that this is real, that he's not living in some kind of heartbreakingly wonderful dream.

Pierre straightens up so fast that Charles is left with his fingers dangling awkwardly in mid-air. "Yes," he says, suddenly looking wild, "but this doesn't have to change anything, Charlito, I promise. I will still help you find your soulmate, and I will - I'll learn how to live with an unrequited bond, it's -"

"No!" Charles interrupts, half-throwing himself across the car to catch hold of Pierre's hands. "No, no, no, no. No more unrequited bonds, Pierrot."

Pierre starts to shake his head, but then he stops in the middle of the movement. "What do you mean," he asks, very carefully, "no more?"

And suddenly, Charles feels giddy, of all things. "I mean, your timer didn't stop when mine did. So for years, I have thought that we can't be soulmates, or at least that you couldn't be my soulmate. But now your timer stopped when you put on my cap, so -"

"Stop, stop, stop," Pierre says, squeezing Charles' hands tightly. "What do you mean, my timer didn't stop when yours did?"

"Oh," Charles says, and then he winces, the weight of the only real lie he's ever told his best friend (the only real lie he's ever told his soulmate) settling onto his shoulders with uncomfortable heaviness. "Um. Well. Do you remember when we met, and you thought I already met my soulmate?"

"No," Pierre breathes, but it's not the kind of no that says "no I don't remember." This no is more like "no way."

"Yeah," Charles says, and he can't help but look down at his own wrist, where the soulmate timer has been stopped for years and years. "My timer stopped the moment I met you, Pierrot."

"You..."

Pierre doesn't look like he knows how to finish that sentence, but Charles understands him anyway. "How was I supposed to tell you? I was seven, Pierre, and your timer didn't stop. I thought it was a mistake for years."

"But?" Pierre asks, like he can tell there was a but.

Charles beams at him. "But, I realised that there was nobody else who could be my perfect match. So I thought you were my soulmate after all, but it was unrequited."

"Never," Pierre says with a fierceness Charles doesn't expect. "Charles, never. If I knew... if I thought I had even half a chance, I would have been with you anyway."

Charles tries to laugh, but it comes out all breathless. "No you wouldn't."

"Yes, I would," Pierre argues, and his voice is heartbreakingly sincere. "I don't care. I would have chosen you."

Charles hears a punched-out noise, and it takes him a moment to realise it came from him. The next moment, he's unbuckling his seatbelt and climbing awkwardly over to sit on Pierre's lap.

It's not quite comfortable, because for all its luxury, the white Ferrari does not have a lot of leg space - but Charles doesn't think either of them give a single fuck, in this moment.

"I love you," he tells Pierre, reaching up to cup his cheek. "I've always loved you, but I never would have stood between you and your soulmate."

"Funny," Pierre says, his hands coming up to grip Charles' hips, "because that's exactly what stopped me from kissing you senseless."

"Well," Charles says, and if he grinds down just a little on Pierre's lap, he'll swear to everyone who asks that it was accidental. "It doesn't have to stop us anymore."

"Never again," Pierre agrees, tightening his grip on Charles' hips. "Never."

"So kiss me senseless, please," Charles whispers, and then he adds "soulmate," and that's what does it. Pierre surges up and kisses him, wild and desperate and more than a little clumsy, but without question the best kiss Charles has ever had. His own cap digs into his forehead a little, but Charles can't even bring himself to care about that - they owe too much to this cap now, honestly.

Maybe the universe does know what it's doing after all, Charles thinks. Maybe the universe just wanted to write a good story for them. A story that goes like this:

Charles' soulmate timer stopped when he was seven years old, and he met the boy with the bluest eyes he'd ever seen.

Almost twenty years later, Pierre's soulmate timer stopped in a white Ferrari in Montreal, and Charles finally got to kiss the boy with the bluest eyes he's ever seen, the man who is his best friend and his soulmate.

The odds of it working out this way have to be... a million to one, probably, or maybe even less.

But then again, what are the odds that two boys who met at a French karting cup and became friends with a shared dream would both make it to Formula 1?

Maybe the answer is just that Pierre and Charles have always liked beating the odds.

(50 Romance Prompts Ask Meme) <- not currently taking more prompts, sorry!

#50 romance prompts meme #piarles #piarles fic #myfic #soulmate timers au #*me writing this to try and banish my writers block* so it's just going to be a short little drabble!#you can tell i am a scuderia ferrari fan and delusional because LOOK what happened lmfao #i don't think you could call this ''short'' in any sense of the word #in fact it probably belongs on AO3 #OOPS #but i love it #i love it SO MUCH #we are so back babyyyyy #(like any good ferrari fan i fully expect to be saying ''it's so over!'' a week from now)#(but let's enjoy it while it lasts!!)#(SOULMATE PIARLES BABYYYYY)#(posted at exactly 16:26 my time too! this makes me smile <333)

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carefulfears · 1 year ago

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talk about je souhaite

well, yes! you know what i love about je souhaite? mulder. i love je souhaite mulder so much. this is the mulder that called the jersey devil "beautiful" and ran through the woods trying to save it. the mulder that looked the soul-eater monster in the eye and gave up the chance to save his own life, because he couldn't bear to add to the monster's pain. he's a bleeding heart behind 7 levels of delusional mania and vince writes the balance better than any other.

i love that the first thing he does is ask the genie what she would wish for, just because he wants to know. just because he's curious, and he's curious about her as a person, her own desires and input outside of the role she's cursed to play in the world. in her answer, you can see how much 500 years of being a slave to people's selfish whims has weighed on her, in the way that she tells him she would just want her days to be her own. to sit and have a cup of coffee.

at its best, this show and its lead characters endowed their central "monsters" (and victims) with so much intricate confliction, humanity within the metaphysical.

i love that mulder tries to win at the genie wish, to save the world. tries to construct the perfect wording and all-encompassing fool-proof plan. he literally throws around the phrase "the end of tyranny."

he thinks that he can crack it, that he can solve it, that he can come up with just the right wish that will make everyone safer and happier, and free. je souhaite is a quintessential season seven episode in that it's a lesson for mulder that scully already knows, scully gets to spend this episode being wise and joyful and absolutely giddy with nerdy delight.

her perspective on the genie wish (something that she doesn't believe in, but takes seriously, as she always takes him and what's important to him seriously) is perfect. "maybe it's the whole point of our lives here, mulder, to achieve that. maybe it's a process that one man shouldn't try and circumvent with a single wish."

in the end, as optimistic as his hope in what's possible is, it's a cheat. it's no more grand than the 500 years of people before him who wished for things like boats and beauty. mulder is learning lessons that scully already knows, and when the time comes, he closes his notes. you can't escape doing the work, that's the whole point of being alive.

after so much mystical pondering, the next scene is refreshingly down to earth: mulder and scully on the couch at his apartment, him complaining about her popcorn choices, her complaining about his movie choices. the way he throws the beer cap just to make her giggle.

there are few moments i love more than the exchange here, when mulder says, "i don't know if you noticed, but i never made the world a happier place." and scully casually answers, "well. i'm fairly happy. that's something."

what a lesson to be learned at the end of the day!! what a sentiment to express, to someone who spends his entire life trying to save the whole world to make up for not having been able to save one person. who spends his entire life trying to repent for having lived.

you don't have to save the world, you can call your best friend and sit on the couch and watch caddyshack. it's something, that someone loves you in a way that makes a life spent with you fairly happy. this is the point, part of what she was telling him earlier.

when she asks what his wish was, and he just smiles and turns to the movie, this cut to the final scene is one of my favorite shots of the series. the genie, finally her own person for the first time in 500 years, sitting with a cup of coffee.

#no words for how much i adore that ending scene #he asked her what she would wish for just because he genuinely cares and then he chose to use his wish to give it to her #just because he CAN do that #this show occasionally focused in on an abandonment of grandstanding missions in favor of personal connection with what's in front of you #and it's where it was strongest in my opinion #rather than exploit the genie in what would almost definitely be a futile attempt to free the world #he frees HER #he gives HER what she needs #he gives SCULLY what she needs #even when it's just time with him #this is without a doubt the biggest lesson that mulder has to learn throughout the series #that it's okay to just put it all down and sit with someone #and short of 'one breath' this is the best episode at exploring that #txf.txt #je souhaite

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dottielovegood · 2 years ago

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ASPHODEL

Elriel, Hogwarts AU Prompt: Shy glances and restricted touches (first day of @elriel-month) Summary: Elain helps Azriel in the greenhouse and teaches him about muggle mythology. Warnings: None Word count: 5774 Read here on AO3

Maybe it was a bit cliché that Elain, a Hufflepuff, spent most of her time in the greenhouse, but she really didn’t care. Ever since her first year at Hogwarts, herbology had been her favorite subject. She hadn’t known much about plants before getting that letter at age eleven, but it hadn’t taken long before she realized that she had a knack for growing things. Growing up, Elain had always been the sweet sister. Perhaps it was because she was the middle child, but she had lived to make her mother happy and that required dressing up in the most ridiculous dresses and learning everything about how to behave ladylike. She was expected to be pretty and never make a fuss since her parents had their hands full with her sisters, Feyre and Nesta. She loved her sisters dearly, but they were wild souls that no one could ever contain. Elain, on the other hand, just wanted to make life easier for everyone around her. People pleaser, Nesta had called her once, and yes, maybe she was. Or at least, she had been. But that all seemed to change when she came to Hogwarts. Suddenly, she was able to be whoever she wanted to be. She rarely spent time with her sisters since they were in different houses and Elain quickly realized that she had no idea who she was when nobody was there to control her every move.

Elain had asked herself sometimes if liking herbology was an act of defiance. Her mother had always told her that good girls didn’t play in the dirt and maybe that’s why it felt so good to get her hands dirty? There was certainly something therapeutic about seeing something beautiful grow out of the soil; seeing your hard labour turn into something new and wondrous. Of course, being a witch in itself was an act of defiance since both of her parents were muggles. She had come to learn that it was very rare that two muggles would give birth to three witches and her mother had never been able to let it go. She hated them for what they were and Elain was quite certain that her feelings stemmed from jealousy. They were able to lead a life she could never dream of and when Feyre, her younger sister, had received a Hogwarts letter, their mother’s hope for a normal child disappeared. Sometimes, Elain thought that it might have been a kindness sent from the gods that her mother died during Feyre’s first year. Her relationship with her mother had been strenuous and even though she still sometimes missed her mother, she didn’t like the control and the abuse she had endured. As a child, she hadn’t questioned it but as she grew up, she realized their her mother hadn’t been a kind woman.

Hogwarts had been her salvation. She could remember how scared and nervous she had been on her first day here, but she also could remember a feeling of finally coming home. Of finally having someplace she belonged. She immediately threw herself into her schoolwork, trying to learn everything she could about the magical world she now was a part of. Apart from herbology, she also realized that she was very good at divination, which her sisters sometimes made fun of her for. “It’s not a real subject, Elain,” Nesta, who was one year older, told her when Elain announced that she wanted to proceed to NEWT level in divination after receiving an outstanding on her OWLs. “Neither is Quidditch but that’s all you seem to care about,” Elain had retorted. Elain didn’t dare add that apart from Slytherin winning the Quidditch cup, Nesta seemed to only care about a certain Beater on the Gryffindor team. If anyone even suggested that Nesta didn’t hate Cassian, she would throw a fit. “He’s a dimwit. He’s taken one too many bludgers to the head,” she would tell Elain when she dared to mention his name in Nesta’s presence. And yet, Elain hadn’t been a bit surprised when she found Cassian in Nesta’s room during the summer holiday before returning to Hogwarts for her sixth year. Elain had seen it written in the stars, after all. And in the tea leaves during one of Professor Trelawny’s classes.

Elain was lost in thoughts of her family when she felt the air in the greenhouse shift. It was as if the shadows were watching her. A shiver ran down her spine. It was dark and she was all alone. The only light came from the small lantern she had placed on the table next to her so she could see while she worked on her plants. She had never been afraid of the dark, but right now she was feeling as if someone was watching her. Slowly, she reached for a pair of scissors and turned around.

At first, she saw nothing, but then - movement.

She gasped when someone stepped out from the shadows. With her heart beating furiously, she raised the scissors. The dark figure stepped closer, the light from the lantern not yet illuminating his face.

“I come in peace.” He held up his hands in front of him as if to show her that he was unarmed. She recognized that voice. She would recognize it anywhere, at any time. She had dreamt of it. Had yearned for it. Had listened when it answered the professors' questions during class and had wondered what it would sound like while whispering sweet nothings in her ear. She really shouldn’t think about such things - she had never even spoken to him. Yet there was something in her that felt drawn to him in a way she couldn’t explain. She knew in an instant that the person standing there in the shadows hadn’t come to harm her. She lowered the scissors and pressed a hand over her heart.

“Merlin’s beard. You gave me a fright,” she said.

“I tend to have that effect on people.” His voice was smooth, like shadows and velvet.

“You shouldn’t sneak up on people like that,” she said, her heart still beating a little too fast.

He took one more step toward her, finally stepping into the light. Azriel. His dark hair was messy, just like it always was. As if he was unable to tame it. Elain still remembered seeing him on her first day at Hogwarts. She had sat down on that stool in front of the entire school, waiting for the headmistress to put the sorting hat on her. She had looked out at the crowd to find Nesta at the Slytherin table, but instead, her eyes were drawn to a dark-haired Ravenclaw. His hair had been messy back then too, and for some reason, she hadn’t been able to look away. She didn’t know if her memory was playing tricks on her but she was quite certain that he held her gaze until the hat shouted “Hufflepuff!” and sealing her fate.

It had been over six years since that day but Elain still had a crush on Azriel. It was silly, really. She had never had the courage to talk to him. He seemed so cool, so out of her league. He was the captain of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team, he was a prefect and he was the top student in all his classes. He was also ridiculously good-looking and mysterious, which only added to his charm. Last year, someone even started a rumour saying that Azriel was a vampire. It was absurd, of course, but looking at him now when he stood in front of her in the darkness, she couldn’t help but think that it would be quite fitting if he was a vampire. He certainly looked like a creature of the night. A very beautiful creature, she thought to herself. Merlin, she was pathetic.

“In all honesty, I didn’t think anyone would be down here this close to curfew,” he said and dropped his hands to his sides. He pointed at the scissors in her hands, “Especially not someone with a weapon. Maybe I should be frightened of you?” he teased.

Elain quickly put the scissors down on the table behind her. “I’m–I’m sorry,” she said quickly, feeling all the nervousness she usually felt around him returning to her as her heartbeat returned to its normal rhythm.

He shook his head, “I’m just teasing. I really didn’t mean to sneak up on you. I can leave if you want.”

Elain felt foolish. This was the first time she had ever spoken a word to him and she had threatened him with a pair of scissors. Not the best first impression…

“No, you can stay,” she said quickly. Maybe too quickly. “I was just finishing up here anyway.”

She wanted to ask him why he was there. She had been given a key by Professor Longbottom so she could prepare for her exams and to her knowledge, no one else had a key. And no one else was nerdy enough to spend a Friday evening in the greenhouse.

“Thank you,” he smiled at her and she was quite certain that she might die on the spot. She suddenly had no idea what to do with her hands. What did normal people do with their hands?

“What are you working on?” he asked and turned his head to see the potted plant behind her.

“Sneezewort,” she answered and felt herself blush. She suddenly wished she had been working on a more interesting plant. “I’m learning how to cultivate them.” She shouldn’t have added that. It was quite obvious what she was doing, but she couldn’t stop herself. She always babbled when nervous. “We need quite a few since they’re a vital part of many potions and with the NEWTs coming up for the seventh years…” she trailed off, realizing that she was, indeed, babbling. “It’s not that interesting.”

His eyes were still focused on her, the corner of his mouth quirked up in a gentle smile. The attention made her even more nervous. She hoped he didn’t notice her blush. Maybe the greenhouse was dark enough to hide her red cheeks?

“And Professor Longbottom has his students growing them for him? I hope he’s paying you, especially if you have to work on them this late on a Friday night.”

Before Elain could stop herself, she said, “Oh, I had nothing better to do. And I wanted to learn more, so I asked if I could help.”

Shit, he was going to think that she was utterly pathetic now. Nothing better to do? She might as well have the words “lonely, loser, nerd,” stamped on her forehead.

She was surprised when he chuckled. “I know the feeling. I usually spend most of my nights in the library.”

Somehow, Elain had trouble believing that. She had seen the way girls looked at him. She was certain that he wouldn’t have to spend a single night alone if he didn’t want to. But then again, what did she know? She didn’t know him and therefore had no idea about his preferences on how to spend a Friday night.

“So, what brought you down here? We have no books, I’m afraid,” Elain said, feeling a bit bolder now that she knew that he too spent his evenings studying. Perhaps that shouldn’t come as a surprise? He was a Ravenclaw, after all…

Azriel scratches his neck and looked around the humid greenhouse. “I needed some powdered root of asphodel but there was none in potions classroom. I thought that maybe I could find some here.”

Elain narrowed her eyes at him, knowing fully well what kind of potions one could make with that ingredient. “And why do you need powdered root of asphodel in the middle of the night?”

He raised an eyebrow as if surprised by her question. “Why do you ask?”

She shrugged, trying to come off as more confident than she felt. “Just making sure you’re not doing something illegal.”

“Would you report me if I was?” there was that teasing tone of his again. She had never heard him speak like that before and she had no idea why she felt so warm when he did.

“Maybe,” was all she managed to say. In all honesty, she probably wouldn’t. She was many things, but she wasn’t a snitch. And she couldn’t imagine Azriel actually wanting to hurt someone.

“Well, I’ll have you know that I just need it for my studies. I’m trying to brew every single potion on the curriculum a few times before the NEWTs and I only have one more potion left. The draught of living death.”

“And you couldn’t wait to get this one ingredient in the morning?”

“Where would be the fun in that? Also, I do my best work after dark.”

Maybe he was a vampire after all? If he was, would she let him bite her?

Elain wanted to slap herself for even thinking such things. And she wanted to slap herself even more when she realized that yes, she would definitely let him bite her.

Elain let out a shaky breath. “Well, we have some roots that have been left out to dry, but they haven’t been made into a powder yet.”

“Shit,” he swore. “Maybe I could find a book in the library on how to properly prepare them…” he seemed to be speaking to himself.

“I thought you needed the ingredient urgently?”

“I do.”

“And yet you have time to read a book, but you don’t have the time to wait until morning to ask Professor Longbottom for the roots?”

He shrugged. “I’m a fast reader.”

Elain nodded, carefully contemplating her next move. She really didn’t want him to go now that they were finally talking. She had no idea if he was as interesting as she thought he was, but this seemed like the perfect time to find out. And maybe her only time. He might turn out to be a complete buffoon, but at least she’d know, and then she could get over her crush. And if he turned out to be even half as charming as she imagined… well, there was only one way to find out.

“I could teach you how to do it. I mean, only if you want me to. I could also give you a book if you’d rather…”

“You know how to do it?”

“Yes. I’ve helped prepare the ingredients for potions since my third year.”

He looked surprised. “Well, that would be really helpful actually. Thank you.”

She felt as surprised as he looked at those words. She hadn’t really thought that he would take her up on that offer, and now she had to prove herself. Her palms started to sweat.

“Well, I just have to get a few things.” She picked up the potted plant she had been working on. When she turned back to him, he was reaching for the plant. “Let me,” he offered and took the pot from her hands. “Over there?” he asked and nodded to where a few other pots with Sneezewort stood lined up on a table.

She nodded, too stunned to speak. The fact that he was helpful only made her crush even harder on the handsome Ravenclaw.

Get yourself together, she admonished herself as she made her way over to the back of the greenhouse where they kept a drying rack for roots, leaves and various flowers. She put a few roots in a big mortar and carried it to the workbench. Azriel walked up beside her and moved the lantern so they both could see better.

He was so close she could smell him. His scent was like night-chilled mist and cedar and she had no idea how someone could smell so good. She knew that if she wasn’t careful, she could probably get drunk on his scent.

He stood so close, his arm brushing hers. She had never been this close to a boy before and she had no idea what to do with herself and all of the emotions currently running through her body.

“So, how do we do this?” he asked, his voice effectively bringing her mind back to the task at hand.

She pushed the mortar toward him and handed him the pestle. His fingers brushed hers when he took it and it felt as if electricity passed between them. He quickly drew his hand back.

“You– well, first you need to break the roots into smaller pieces.”

Azriel followed her instructions, pushing the pestle down on the roots until they started to break.

“And now, you have to move your hand in a clockwise motion. You need to be firm, but not too rough. You don’t want the powder to be too fine.”

“Like this?” Azriel grabbed the side of the mortar with one hand while moving his other just like she told him.

“A bit softer…” Without thinking, she reached over and put one hand over his. He tensed and she could almost feel the way his eyes focused on her pale hand covering his scarred one. She didn’t know what had happened to him, but she had noticed his hands before. Noticed the beauty that lay beyond the scars. His scars reminded her of ivy, for some reason. She had always found ivy beautiful. Even if it was an intrusive plant, she couldn’t help but marvel every time she saw a house or a tree covered in the green leaves. No matter how boring and mundane something was, ivy seemed to make it more magical. Beautiful, even. Just like Azriel’s hands. They told a story, and even if that story was filled with pain, they were proof that he had lived. That he had endured.

They were truly beautiful.

When she realized that she had let her hand linger on his, she removed it quickly and let it drop to her side. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“Don’t be.” His voice was lower, too. She wished she could know what he was thinking. Something told her that he really didn’t need help to ground up some roots. He was a Ravenclaw, and she knew that he had received perfect marks in all his courses. Surely, he knew how to do this.

She dared to look up at him and found that he was already watching her. She felt herself blush again and had to look away.

“Just– just keep going, but be more gentle,” she said and motioned for him to continue.

He did as he was told. “I’m always gentle.” She could hear the smile in his voice but she didn’t dare look at him again. Instead, she just kept her eyes focused on his hands and the mortar.

“I’ve seen you play Quidditch,” she told him. “I know that’s a lie.” He was certainly not gentle on the field. He had made Nesta eat dirt more than once, which is why Nesta thought of him as her nemesis. He was the only seeker that was better than her, which annoyed her to no end.

“You’ve seen me play?”

Of course, she had seen him play. She didn’t care much for sports, but the way he played… It was as if he had been born to fly. Like the broom was part of him. He moved so effortlessly. He almost made it seem like an art form. “Of course,” she began but stopped herself. She couldn’t very well tell him that she only watched the games because of him. “Nesta, my sister. She’s in…”

“Slytherin, I know. She’s the reason why I haven’t seen Cassian in weeks. She’s a great player though, I’ll give her that.”

Not as good as you, Elain thought.

Silence fell between them once more and Elain was surprised to find that it didn’t feel awkward. Usually when conversation stalled, she felt the need to somehow keep the conversation going. But with Azriel, silence felt almost natural. Comfortable.

“What now?” he asked when the roots had turned into a powder. “Is this enough?”

“Almost,” Elain walked over to the rows of asphodel they had planted at the beginning of the year. She picked a few petals from one of the flowers and walked back to Azriel. She dropped three petals into the mortar.

“There is no mention of it in any book, but I have found that if you put a small part of the flower with the roots, the powder will be more potent.”

She felt him watching her and dared to glance up at him again. There was a gentle smile on his lips and his eyes were so kind. She wanted to drown in them. “I didn’t know that,” he said, his voice curious. “Then again, I stopped taking herbology last year. Maybe I shouldn’t have.”

Elain returned his smile but said nothing. She had no idea how to respond to that. She didn’t understand how anyone could find herbology boring or unnecessary.

“How lucky that I found an expert on the topic,” Azriel continued.

“I wouldn’t call myself an expert,” she said under her breath.

“I think you’re selling yourself short, then.”

She felt herself grow warm from the compliment. She knew that she was good at herbology, but hearing it from him was different than hearing it from classmates or her professor. She was definitely not getting over her crush anytime soon if he continued being so kind to her.

She cleared her throat. “Now you need to ground the flowers into the powder,” she pointed at the white petals. They were such a stark contrast to the dark powder of the roots. “Gently,” she added.

“Gently,” he repeated and followed her instructions. She watched the white petals turn darker with each press of the pestle and it reminded her of a story she had read in a book back home.

“Did you know that even in muggle mythology, asphodel has been associated with death since it was believed to grow in the underworld?”

“I did not know that, no.” The curious tone in his voice made her want to continue.

“Well, there is this story in Greek mythology, about Hades and Persephone–”

“Hades,” Azriel interrupted. “He was the god of the underworld, right?”

“Yes, exactly. According to the myths, he kidnapped Persephone and forced her to be his bride. However, some say that Persephone later fell in love with Hades and chose to stay with him - which obviously makes the story more romantic.”

Azriel hummed. “The god of the underworld and his bride of spring. Death and rebirth,” he said. “It’s quite poetic.”

She smiled at him. “It really is.” She had always loved the story of Persephone and Hades. As a child, she used to sneak out of bed in the middle of the night and read that story over and over again. “So, in Greek mythology, there were three layers of the underworld. If you were a bad person, you would go to Tartarus after death. If you ended up there, you were doomed to suffer for an eternity. Heroes went to Elysium. But since most people weren’t bad enough to go to Tartarus, nor good enough to end up in Elysium, most mortals went to the Asphodel Fields when they died. They would forget their previous lives and live in eternal mindlessness.”

“Eternal mindlessness? I’m not sure that’s better than torture,” Azriel muttered.

Elain laughed. “Spoken like a true Ravenclaw.”

“I’m guessing you would prefer the Asphodel meadows?”

Elain laughed. “Yes, I would rather spend eternity in a field of Asphodel than in hell being tortured.”

“Fair enough.”

“The Asphodel later became a symbol for Persephone. It is a flower that grows in spring and many muggle artists over the years depicted her wearing a garland of asphodel – a sign of life even in death,” she continued. “I loved reading about this as a child and the more I learned about magic, the more I thought that muggle mythology might be rooted in magic. I mean, for centuries, we have known what kind of powers asphodel holds and what it can be used for. Maybe some of the old Greeks were actually wizards, and the myths were just a way to explain the inexplicable to muggles?”

Azriel hummed again, his motions coming to a halt. The powder in the mortar had turned gray. Elain felt self-conscious all of a sudden. Maybe she shouldn’t have told him all of that. He didn’t come here to get a lecture on Greek mythology.

“They should have taught us more about mythology in muggle studies. This is definitely more interesting than learning about phones and the internet,” Azriel said, and even though it made her feel a bit better, she still felt foolish for rambling on and on about death and the afterlife like that. Most people weren’t as interested in myths as plants as she was.

“I’m sorry. I tend to ramble when I’m nervous,” she said under her breath.

There was a beat of silence again and she could have sworn she felt the shadows move around them.

“Do I make you nervous?”

“Yes,” she answered without thinking and winced as soon as the word left her mouth. She did not intend to admit that.

“I’m sorry,” Azriel said. There was a sincere gentleness to his voice now which made her feel even more foolish.

“Oh, no,” she added quickly. “I mean, many things make me nervous. My mother always said that I have a nervous soul.” She added that last part in an effort to lighten the mood but she was quite certain she was unsuccessful.

But then Azriel spoke. “Well, I happen to love it when people talk about things they're passionate about, so please, continue.”

She didn’t know if he only said it to make her feel better, but the words settled somewhere inside of her, making her feel at ease again. She was grateful for his kindness.

“I think I told you everything I know about asphodel in Greek mythology.”

She looked at him again and this time, she didn’t feel the need to look away when he met her gaze. “Will there be a quiz?” he asked and gave her a playful smirk.

“Maybe.”

“When?”

She had to bite her lip to keep herself from smiling. “When you least expect it.”

“I look forward to it.”

How very Ravenclaw of him…

Elain reached into her apron and produced an empty vial. “You can put the powder in here.”

He took the vial from her and this time he let his fingers linger on hers for just a second too long to be an accident.

“So we’re done?”

“It’s perfect,” Elain told him. “But be careful with it. Remember that it’s stronger, so you might need to use a bit less than the recipe calls for.”

He nodded and pulled out a knife from beneath his cloak. With the edge of his knife, he scraped up the powder and carefully put it in the small vial.

Elain stared at the dark blade. “And here you were telling me that you should be scared of my scissors when you’re the one carrying a knife.”

A small laugh escaped him. “Seeing that every single person in this school has a wand, I would say that we’re all carrying weapons of some sort. Any object can be a weapon, as long as you know how to wield it. Even a pair of scissors. Or a fork.”

“A fork?” Elain laughed.

“Yes,” Azriel watched her with a serious expression on his face. “I once saw a man stab another man right through his hand with a fork. One moment, it was just a utensil, and the next – a weapon.”

“Maybe I should start carrying a fork with me? You know, for protection,” she teased.

“One can never be too careful.” Azriel held up the vial and inspected its content. “Thank you for this. It will be invaluable.”

“I’m just glad I could help” And I’m also very glad I got to spend time with you.

Azriel put the vial in his pocket. “I’m very glad you were here. It’s known to be quite difficult to get into the greenhouse after dark.” He looked at her in challenge – as if asking how she had been able to get in.

She pulled out the key she kept in a chain around her neck and raised her chin. “Not if you have a key.”

Azriel’s eyebrows shot up. “Where did you get that?”

“Professor Longbottom gave it to me.”

A feline grin spread across his face. “Teacher’s pet.”

Elain laughed. Damn him - why did he have to be kind and polite and funny. It’s not like her crush wasn’t bad enough before. “At least I’m not the headmistress’ pet.”

He rolled his eyes. “She only likes me because I’m good at Quidditch. We all know that McGonagall is a huge Quidditch nerd.”

“Did you just call the headmistress a nerd?”

“Of course not,” he said and shook his head. “What would ever give you such ideas?”

Still smiling, Elain whispered, “Your secret is safe with me.”

He laughed again and Elain wished she could bottle that sound. She had only ever seen him look serious – she had almost imagined that he was incapable of laughter. But here he was - joking and laughing with her. She didn’t know what to think of it.

Azriel looked up. Moonlight was streaming through the windows now. It was late.

Too late.

Shit, they had stayed out after curfew. Elain felt a slight jolt of panic at the thought. She had never broken a rule before. They had to get back before they were caught out here. Professor Longbottom had made it very clear that no one was to know that he had given her a key to the greenhouse.

As if he could read her mind, Azriel said, “It’s late. I guess we should get back,” but he made no move to leave. They just stood there, watching each other. She had no idea what to say, she just knew that she wanted to stay here with him just a little bit longer.

“Thank you for teaching me everything there is to know about asphodel, and then some. If I don’t get an outstanding in potions, I’m blaming you.”

“Hey, I only gave you the ingredient. If you don’t know how to use it, it’s not my fault.”

“Oh, I know how to use it.” She was used to seeing his cocky confidence on the Quidditch field, but up close, it was even more attractive.

“Again, I’m sorry for the lecture about muggle mythology,” she said and picked up her cloak from where she had left it on the floor. She threw it over her shoulders just to have something to do with her hands. He was still looking at her and the attention felt too much all of a sudden.

“Don’t be sorry. As a Ravenclaw, I’m usually the one giving lectures and helping people with homework. It felt a bit odd being the one needing help.”

“You could help me write my essay for Care of Magical Creatures if that will make you feel better,” she joked.

She was surprised when he didn’t turn her down right away. She had meant it as a joke, but he sounded sincere when he asked, “What’s it about?”

She felt a giant smile form on her lips at the question. As a Ravenclaw, he was going to hate the essay topic she had chosen. “Crumple-Horned Snorkacks - are they real?”

He snorted, “Everyone knows that Xenophilius Lovegood made them up. Not even his own daughter could find them and she looked for years.”

Elain was quite certain that crumple-horned snorkacks didn’t exist, but he didn’t have to know that. “Just because they cannot be seen, doesn’t mean that they don’t exist.”

He hummed as if he was actually considering that as a valid argument. “You know what, meet me in the library tomorrow after class and we’ll see who’s right.”

“Are we going to hunt for crumple-horned snorkacks in the library?” she laughed.

“Try saying crumple-horned snorkack five times fast,” Azriel said, which made her laugh even harder.

“I’d rather not. Maybe that’s how you make them appear? I couldn’t risk summoning one in the greenhouse. Professor Longbottom would surely take back the key if I did.”

He laughed. “Let’s try it tomorrow then. But if it works, you’ll have to explain yourself to the poor librarian.”

“Deal.” Elain had to pinch her arm underneath her cloak just to make sure this wasn’t a dream. Did Azriel just ask her to spend time with him tomorrow? This was like all of her dreams coming true.

Azriel reached for the lantern. “Come on, I’ll walk you back to the castle.”

When Elain had locked the door to the greenhouse, she turned around and found Azriel holding his arm out for her. “It can be a bit difficult to walk over the grounds in the dark,” he explained. She had never once found it difficult, but she was not about to pass up an opportunity to touch him. She rested her hand in the crook of his elbow and let him lead her up to the castle. When they were safely inside, she took a deep breath before letting go. Once again, his scent filled her and made her feel all warm inside. She wondered what she smelled like to him – probably dirt and sweat after spending a few hours in the greenhouse. She winced at the thought. She was definitely having a shower before meeting him in the library tomorrow.

Azriel blew out the candle and handed the lantern back to Elain. “Don’t get caught,” he whispered and took a step towards the stairs. He patted the pocket where he kept the vial of powdered root of asphodel. “Thanks again. I’ll see you tomorrow, Elain.”

“See you tomorrow, Azriel.”

Elain walked on clouds all the way to the Hufflepuff common room. If she hadn’t known better, she would have thought that she was under the influence of Felix Felicis this evening. Not only did she finally get to talk to Azriel, but she also managed to get back to her dormitory without being seen.

As she climbed into bed, she thought back to his last words to her. “See you tomorrow, Elain.”

It was odd, Elain thought. She had never told him her name.

Elain fell asleep with a smile on her lips and dreamt of nigh-chilled mist and asphodel meadows.

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