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bloodmoonlich · 1 month
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Up on the roof with a school girl crush, drinkin' beer outta plastic cups. Say you fancy me, not fancy stuff.
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cliffside-wisteria · 29 days
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hope-ur-ok · 8 months
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We go months without a single song from Rep and then we get two in as many days
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anamericansinger · 2 months
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which reputation songs are you claiming before reputation tv?
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thisismeracing · 4 months
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Die from a broken heart | MS47
― Pairing: Mick Schumacher x wolff!reader (she/her) ― Warning: mentions of food, jealousy, and a secret relationship; angst with a happy ending. (3k words) ― Summary: After a fight with Mick, your secret boyfriend, you find yourself crying in your father’s arms, and it won’t take much for Toto to connect the dots. The thing is: what is going to happen when he finally does? (based on this request)
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“He’s just a friend!” Yn finally snaps, voice getting louder and thicker in frustration.
Mick, who’s at the other side of the room, arms crossed, and face twisted in a frown, scoffs at her words just like he’s been doing the past few minutes they have been fighting.
“Yeah, but at this point, so am I to everyone who knows us,” his remark makes her heart clench.
She loved him, she was sure of that even though they had been together for less than a couple of months. They had known each other for over a year. They were friends before becoming lovers. So his harsh words and his lack of demonstrating hurt hit her differently.
Fighting with someone who won’t match your screams can be slightly worse than fighting with someone who will. Mick had his voice even the whole time, lips pursed, eyes hard. His cheeks flushed from the alcohol, and his stance wide, but other than that, he did not cave, did not scream, or point a finger at her.
“And what do you want me to do Mick? You wanted me to make out with you in front of everyone so they could record and we could wake up being the news headlines tomorrow morning? You more than anyone know how the media can be pushy, how they can break beautiful things.”
“Guess sometimes you don’t need them to break it, those beautiful things will break themselves,” he retorted, walking past her and to the door.
“Where are you going?” Yn asked, tears gathering in her eyes.
“I don’t know, it doesn’t matter to you.”
And just like that, he gave his back to her.
Her sweet, loving, patient boyfriend turned around and stormed off the room as if he was done. As if their relationship was done for.
She loved being Toto’s daughter. Loved being a Wolff, and all the things that came with it, except how her dad’s fame would play out in her life. She wouldn’t mind the constant travel, something she really liked as a kid. She wouldn’t mind the constant questions about her dad and F1, and driver X and Y. She wouldn’t mind the cameras whenever she went to the paddock. Now, she hated how her name affected her relationship. Fair enough, she doesn’t know how she would meet Mick if she weren’t a Wolff. You can never guess destiny, maybe in another life she would have worked in F1 and they would’ve met. But the fact was, she hated how she had to keep their relationship a secret at least for a bit before telling her dad. He had a rule about not dating drivers, but who was she to resist ocean-blue eyes and a dazzling smile?
When Yn started dating Mick they agreed to keep it under wraps until a month or so.
But now it’s been six months, and though Mick had suggested they talk to Toto and Susie, Yn was a bit taken aback. She was postponing the confrontation.
She hated how he stormed off. Hated the feeling of being left behind. It felt like he didn’t want to put effort into fighting with her, as if he was done with the relationship.
Ordering from the app, Yn took a cab to her Dad’s house, and though she tried to keep herself together, the second he opened the door wearing his flannel pajamas, she couldn’t help but sob and hug him.
Toto frowned in confusion but held his daughter, closing the door behind them.
Susie, sitting on the couch, got up, “Oh, baby, what happened?” Her soft tone made Yn cry harder. She clutched her dad and Toto shared a look of worry with his wife.
“Am I gonna be alright?” she whispered against the soft material of Toto’s pajamas.
“You will, baby, you will.” He compromised even though he had no idea of what was happening. Yn was still his baby in his head, he would move the world if it meant making her happy. So he kissed the side of her head, and asked: “Now, you wanna tell me what happened or want me to tuck you in bed?” Yn was similar to Torger in a lot of things, one of them being how she needed to sit on her feelings before talking about them. He knew it, but he always gave her the space to choose, either talk about it as soon as it happened if by any means she wanted a change, or simply wait for her to come around.
“Bed,” she mumbled.
She got a kiss on her forehead from Susie and shared a small teary smile with the oldest Wolff, before following her dad to her childhood bedroom. The decorations still intact, everything the way she left it.
She took off her shoes and coat, and lay in bed, letting Toto drap the comforter over her body and adjust the heather.
“Dad,” she calls with the smallest voice, yet he catches it. It’s like when you become a parent you get some superpowers, you get to hear better so whenever your kid cries from a different room, baby monitor or not, you’re able to pick it. Another thing is that you become good at telling whenever they’re lying or hiding something, that’s why when Yn apologizes and tells him it’s about her secret boyfriend, he’s not mad. A bit hurt that she waited to tell him, but not mad.
“Did he do something?”
Yn shakes her head, “It’s just regular couple stuff, I guess.”
“You came here crying, that shouldn’t be regular couple stuff, Hase.”
This time she nods her head, “It’s our first major fight…I didn’t know what to do, or where to go.”
“I’m glad you came home,” he stated simply, kissing her forehead. “Now get some rest, we’ll be here for breakfast in the morning, ja?”
She agrees, turning on her side and closing her eyes just as Toto turns off the lights and closes the door. Her childhood bedroom used to be the safest and comfiest place and whenever she got there it wouldn’t take more than ten minutes for her to fall asleep, yet it still took her a couple of hours, crying hours, before she finally drifted to sleep.
In the morning, Yn woke up to the fresh smell of breakfast and a weird car noise so close that she opened her eyes to discover Jack setting up a whole Grand Prix on her bedroom floor while waiting for her to wake up. The image of her youngest brother pushing cars around made her smile.
“So, is this der Großer Preis von Österreich?” she asked, and Jack gasped, faking a scare with her waking state, but was quick to jump into her bed, hugging his sister.
“It’s my version of the Austrian Grand Prix, in this one we win!”
“What makes you think that we won’t win in real life?” she arches her brow, knowing all too well how smart her baby brother is.
“We don’t have the best car in the grid, but we do have the best drivers, so…maybe we can root really hard and get it?”
“That’s how I like to see it!” They share a high five.
“We also have the best team principal, you know?”
“Yeah!!”
She chuckles.
“Now, let’s get some food in, shall we?”
Jack eagerly nods, running to the door, but stopping in his tracks just when he reaches the door handle, “Maybe you should…” he points to his face. “You look kinda funny…like a panda.”
“Oh-!” Yn smacks her face after looking at her white pillow case now dotted with dried mascara. “Thank you, Jackie. I’m on it.”
“I’ll wait for you,” he states, turning to his toys and sitting on her carpet again.
She smiles. Though there was a big age gap between them, they had always been close, and Yn missed her little brother every second they spent apart.
She washed her face, changed into more comfy clothes, and gave Jack a piggyback ride to the kitchen where Susie and Toto were just finishing setting up the table.
“Morning!!” Jack greeted loudly making Yn wince with how close he was to her ear. Toto chuckled, taking him in his arms and kissing his smooth cheeks.
“How’d you sleep, honey?” Susie asked Yn after she got a kiss from her dad and he left carrying Jack and a big jar of OJ.
“Ok, I guess…Do you happen to know how to take mascara stains from a pillowcase?” Yn asked, eyes cast down, voice laced with a bit of embarrassment that was quickly pushed aside by the older who hugged her close.
Deep down what she really wanted to ask was: can someone die from a broken heart? What does one do when they have no idea what’s going on? Can you go blind from crying so hard? Was she exaggerating? Did Mick have a shitty night as well? Were they going to be alright?
“I’ll get it sorted for you, how do we feel about some Apfelradln like the old times? They used to cure your pouty lips when you were a kid.”
“They would sure sweeten a bit of my mood,” Yn confesses with a small grin, and they walk with linked arms to the breakfast table.
It’s loud and boisterous, full of smiles and giggles. It feels good to be home, even though there’s a nagging deep down in her heart, a longing. Breakfasts with Mick used to be a mix of things, sometimes full of laughs, other times just the crunching noises and smacks of kisses against any available piece of skin from the other.
Susie pulled her from her thoughts, dropping some of her favorite Austrian breakfast on her plate, and Yn smiled, digging into the sweet food.
When Toto and Susie left to get some things sorted for the Race that Weekend Yn stayed with Jack to get distracted. She knew she would most likely run into Mick had she decided to join her parents, and the hurt was still too raw to put a finger on it now. Maybe she would call him later, and see if he would answer. For now, she got busy with Disney movies playing in the background while she and her little brother put some Lego figures together which proved to be a terrific distraction.
“Did you get into the sim earlier than scheduled?” Toto asked when Mick entered the garage, big bags under his eyes and no sign of his trademark sweet smile.
The Schumacher shook his head, “Nah, just couldn’t get much sleep last night.”
“Did something happen?”
“Love happened,” he mumbles, walking to one of the rooms to drop his things there, not before grumbling on the way about how hard relationships were.
Susie who was beside Toto shared a knowing look. The arched brows and darting eyes silently get to the same conclusion.
“Do you really think…?” Toto finally voices and his wife shrugs, biting her lips.
“Maybe. They’re good friends…maybe they’ve been more and we failed to see it.”
Toto sighs, moving the headphones that are on the desk.
“Please, don’t smash it,” she jokes, and he pinches the bridge of his nose.
“She’s our baby.”
“She’s twenty-three, Liebe.”
“Ja, but still…”
“If you asked me to choose someone in the Paddock, it would be Mick. You’ve been working with him for a while now, we both know he’s a good guy.”
“That’s the problem!” He points and Susie arches her brows in confusion, “I’m supposed to hate my baby’s boyfriend, or give him a hard time, but I actually like that blond Ken doll, ugh.”
Susie burst into laughter, and Toto can’t help but let the smallest grin grace his features.
“She’s everything,”
“He’s not just Ken, and you know it, Torger.”
“Well, to me he’s just Ken. She’s my everything, and he’s just Ken.”
They share a look, before Mick walks back and sits on one of the computers across from them, fingers quickly typing on the keyboards.
“You sure you’re ok, kid?” Toto asks and Mick nods.
“What do you think of dinner at ours tonight, Mick?”
The German seems surprised with the invitation but is quick to recover. He scratches his neck and then nods, “I would like that, thank you.”
Susie kisses Toto’s cheek and gives Mick’s shoulder a small squeeze before leaving to do her thing.
Later that day, when the doorbell rang and Toto called for Yn and Jack, motioning for his daughter to open the door, she wasn’t expecting to face her boyfriend with two simple yet pretty bouquets in hand and a wine bottle in the other.
“I-...I thought you may be with your best friend,” his voice is like a whisper, almost as if he was talking to himself, but Yn caught it. She was used to his traits.
“Nope, I came straight to my parents.”
And just when he opened his mouth to say something, Jack came barreling into his legs, “Mick!!!”
“Heya, Jackie! How’s it going, buddy?”
“I’m good! I missed you. It’s been forever since we played games!”
“I know, I’ve been a bit busy, sorry,” the blonde made a face and messed Jackie’s hair, before looking up again only to find Susie at the door as well.
“You’re just in time, Mick.”
“Did you invite him?” Yn asked, confused.
“We sure did.”
“These are for you, and for you,” he gives the flowers to Susie and then to Yn who takes a step back when her body involuntarily leans towards him for a hug.
“Thank you, Schumi,” Susie kissed his cheek and opened the door wider for the German to get in.
He greeted Toto in the kitchen and helped finish setting the table. On the way home Toto and Susie discussed if the invitation was truly a good idea, if Yn would be mad, or if there would be any tension in the room, but as it happens, things were good. Mick was used to the Wolffs, he felt comfortable around them, and there wasn’t space for awkward silence, not with Jack around, or when Austrian dishes were involved because Toto would proudly explain the detail and story behind everything as if the name wouldn’t do it justice.
“I’m sorry I stormed off,” Mick hesitated for a second. They were doing the dishes while Susie and Toto got Jack ready to bed, and finished some of the chores around the house. And though Mick had a feeling about the whole arrangement, Yn was sure that her parents had set it up. She knew them all too well. “I know how much you hate when people walk off while you’re talking, and I know how you hate to sleep angry. I’m sorry if it seemed as if I was pressuring you into telling your parents about us, I think I’m just…I love you and I wanted to share this with everyone, but I forgot to consider your saying in this.”
She shook her head, trying to keep her tears at bay. It was the first time he said he loved her. Upon seeing the tears finally streaming down her cheeks, Mick dried his hands on the towel and stopped them just before they reached her lips. She smiled this time, and more tears gathered on his fingers. Mick dipped his head and kissed them away.
“I love you too. I’m sorry I didn’t consider your side as well,” she admitted, threading her fingers on the nape of his neck and enjoying the feeling of his soft strands against her skin.
He smiled, but it didn’t last long because their lips found one another in a kiss that tasted like salty happy tears and forgiveness. She missed his warmth and he missed her softness.
“We should tell my parents now, you know. Since we’re already here.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah, they invited you to dinner after I got home crying, they probably pierced everything together.”
Mick chuckled and pecked her lips again before turning back to the dishes. Once they were done and walked to the living room with dessert plates in their hands, Toto shared a knowing look with his daughter. Yn sat beside Mick on the smallest couch, and they both looked like two teenagers about to confess they passed the curfew and skipped class both in the same week.
Susie smiled.
“I…we have something to tell you guys,” Yn stated, shaking her legs up and down on the sofa, and she would probably go round and round before getting to the point, so her boyfriend ripped the bandage.
“We’re dating.”
“We were going to tell you guys, we just…were waiting for the right time and…”
“It’s ok, love,” Susie reassured.
“It is?” Yn asked.
“Yeah, but I won’t forget you got home crying last night,” Toto huffed, crossing his arms and looking at Mick whose eyes grew two sizes bigger.
“That whole thing was exactly about telling you guys,” Yn started, telling them how everything started and how she was afraid of their reactions. Her parents listened attentively, Toto would eye Mick every once in a while, to which Susie would grip his thigh even though she knew he was just messing with the German.
“Alright, it’s fine by me, but we still have to talk, young Schumi.”
“Of course, Toto.”
“It’s Sir from now on,” he stated and Mick opened his mouth looking for the right words, but settling only for a quick nod and a “Yes, Sir” which caused Susie and Yn to laugh, knowing the oldest Wolff long enough to catch when he was messing with someone.
“It’s a joke, kid. Welcome to the family,” he got up, and shared a quick hug with the youngest, but not before adding, “But I hope to God she doesn’t come home crying again, or else…”
“It won’t happen again.”
“What are you whispering to each other?” Yn intervened.
“Nothing,” Mick was quick to answer.
“I’m just telling him how happy I am to have him in the family now, right?”
They would eventually talk more, but for now, both were satisfied where things stood. Mick was happy to have the Wolffs' blessing somehow and to share with his own family about his relationship, and Toto was relieved his daughter wasn’t dating a driver from a different team.
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────── ⋆🪩 VOICEMAIL: Hi, honeybees! I hope you guys liked this piece. As usual, a huge shout out to C (my coffee emoji anon here on Tumblr) for proofreading yet another piece! <3 Please, if you do like this, make sure to REBLOG and leave me an ask/comment because Tumblr put me in some sort of shadow ban so my posts are taking forever to show up (sometimes not showing up at all to some people). Help your writer out and get a virtual hug *mwah* hihiih <3 thank youuuuuu!!!!
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up in the box with a schoolgirl crush
drinking beer out of plastic cups
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hairbleached · 1 year
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reputation/midnights this or that: …ready for it? or question…? look what you made me do or anti-hero? gorgeous or bejeweled? delicate or you’re on your own kid? dress or maroon? call it what you want or sweet nothing? new year’s day or dear reader? this is why we can’t have nice things or karma? king of my heart or paris? getaway car or midnight rain? so it goes… or lavender haze? dancing with our hands tied or the great war? i did something bad or vigilante shit? end game or mastermind? don’t blame me or would’ve could’ve should’ve? reputation or midnights?
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thelavendrhaze · 9 months
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fic: king of my heart
author: wildestdreams
rating: explicit
word count: 83.7k
Harry shrugged, his shoulders brushing against Louis’. “I think since I was young, I craved that feeling, though. I didn’t always hate being a prince, but over time, certain aspects of it just bothered me so much. I remember being four years old and realising that every person in the world knew my name, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted that. I told my mum as much and she tried telling me that being a prince is not a punishment. That it was a privilege that I should be happy about it, but no one asked me if I was. But looking up at the sky, I remember that all of this will one day mean nothing, and neither will I. All the pressure will then disappear and I could just be.”
Louis stayed quiet, allowing Harry the space to open up because he knew Harry wasn’t looking for advice, but just someone to confide in. What he wished he could tell him was that in the short amount of time that he’d known the prince, in Louis’ eyes, he couldn’t be insignificant if he tried. He was brighter than every star up there in the sky. He was all Louis could look at and think about. 
or
A Red, White, and Royal Blue AU where Hollywood elite, Louis Tomlinson, finds himself falling for the closeted Prince of England.
chapter one / chapter two / chapter three / chapter four / chapter five / chapter six / chapter seven / chapter eight / chapter nine / chapter ten / chapter eleven / chapter twelve / chapter thirteen / chapter fourteen
fic page / wattpad / twitter / playlist
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jahayla-parker · 7 months
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King of My Heart : Nikolai Lantsov x Reader Series
Description: Princess Y/n and Nikolai have known each other since they were little as their families would visit each other every summer. However, Y/n and Nikolai seemingly always hated each other. To make matters more complicated, their parents arranged for them to marry. Will they be able to get along enough to maintain a political marriage, will they truly fall for each other, or will their hatred continue to tear each other apart until there’s nothing but destruction?
Warnings: angst, hurt-comfort, friends to enemies, enemies to lovers, pining, crush(es), flirting, dancing, arguments, fighting, insults/bullying, attitude, typical Grishaverse topics and themes, kissing and other romantic behaviors and content, misunderstandings, bantering, etc.
Notes: This is an ONGOING series. When a new part is scheduled for release/to be posted, I’ll update this masterlist with those details. I’m hoping to keep updating it frequently and routinely, but please bear with me if that’s not always 100% the case!
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Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6
Part 7
Part 8
Part 9
Thoughts on if I should continue?
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chelseachilly · 1 year
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king of my heart - pt 1
i’m perfectly fine, i live on my own  i made up my mind, i’m better off being alone
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pairing: reader x ben chilwell summary: Of all the men in London, Ben Chilwell would’ve been extremely low on the list of who you would expect to meet at a random party your friend dragged you to. You know who he is, obviously - your younger brother is a massive Chelsea fan, as was your dad before he passed away unexpectedly a couple years ago - but you hardly run in the same circles as professional footballers. Until now. warnings: mentions of death of a parent, takes place in a fantasy world in which chelsea will plausibly beat arsenal this season word count: 2.5k
author’s note: hi! i’m very new to the tumblr football world but needed a distraction from chelsea’s current situation, so here we are! i’ve noticed there aren’t enough fics for ben and this is my first time writing for him, pls let me know what you think and feel free to hmu about all things chelsea :) title from king of my heart by taylor obv
*faceclaims for y/n and your best friend are camila morrone and suki waterhouse bc i am obsessed with daisy jones and the six lmao
Of all the men in London, Ben Chilwell would’ve been extremely low on the list of who you would expect to meet at a random party your friend dragged you to.
You know who he is, obviously - your younger brother is a massive Chelsea fan, as was your dad before he passed away unexpectedly a couple years ago - but you hardly run in the same circles as professional footballers.
Until now.
A few months ago, your flatmate and best friend Charlotte got an amazing new job in PR. Since then, she’s been invited to a million fancy events and met a lot of famous (and semi-famous) people. Just last week, she went to the opening of a new club and apparently met some incredible, funny, super attractive guy who invited her to a party at his house tonight.
Although you’ve been really trying to push yourself to go out more lately and enjoy being young in the city, your idea of a perfect Friday night is often just staying in and reading or watching Netflix, so you still take some convincing.
“Charlotte, do you even know anything about this Mason guy?” You ask as Charlotte begins to put her makeup on in the bathroom of your shared flat, a tiny but cute two-bed in North London. “Like, his last name, his job, anything?”
“Nope,” Charlotte shrugs. “But I know he’s fit, and probably posh because the address he gave me is in South Kensington.”
You raise an eyebrow. “Didn’t know you were a gold digger now?”
“I’m not, but posh means open bar,” Charlotte grins. “Now hurry up and get ready.”
You reluctantly drag yourself up off the floor and go to your closet to put on your favourite little black dress - a safe bet for any party, regardless of how casual or fancy it might be.
After doing your hair and makeup and taking a couple shots to ease any social anxiety brewing in your stomach, Charlotte calls an Uber and you’re on your way. You quickly post a photo of the two of you before you leave.
yourusername
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liked by charlottewright, yourmum, & 102 others
yourusername by the way, we’re going out tonight ✨
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charlottewright hell yeahhhh
yourmum Beautiful girls! xx
yourusername thanks mum x
When you reach the address this Mason guy gave Charlotte, there’s music blaring from the house. Several very expensive-looking sports cars are parked outside, and there are a few people sitting on the front steps, drinking and laughing.
“Don’t worry, Y/N,” Charlotte says as your car pulls up. She can obviously tell that you’re worried about socializing with all these strangers, especially ones way above your tax bracket. “We’ll get some drinks and have fun. Hey, maybe Mason has some cute friends he can introduce you to?”
You roll your eyes. Dating is far from a priority for you at the moment, having just begun the career in publishing that you’ve wanted since you were a little girl. Work is your focus, but you know Charlotte is right. It wouldn’t hurt to have a little fun.
“Okay, let’s do this.”
Before you can even fully get out of the car, still straightening out your dress and making sure you have your phone and purse, you hear Charlotte yell “Mason!” and run over to the group of people on the steps.
As you follow her and finally get a good look at the guy Charlotte won’t shut up about, you nearly trip over your own feet.
You recognize him instantly - Mason Mount, Chelsea midfielder. You may not follow the club the way you used to before your dad died two years ago, but you remember watching Mount score a hat trick during one of the last games you went to.
Charlotte doesn’t follow football at all, so you figure she also has no idea that standing next to Mason are his England national teammates Declan Rice and Jude Bellingham.
You, however, can’t help but be a little starstruck. Football was a big part of your life growing up, and it’s a bit surreal to see all these athletic superstars right in front of you.
Thankfully, they’re all occupied with Charlotte and don’t seem to notice you until you regain your bearings and walk over to Charlotte’s side.
“Y/N, this is Mason and Declan,” Charlotte grins. “And what was your name again, sorry?”
“Jude,” Bellingham answers, smiling at you and shaking your hand. “What’s your name, love?”
“Y/N,” you answer, trying not to blush at the attention as Mason and Declan greet you.
“Well, come on in, ladies,” Mason smiles, gesturing to the front door. “Bar’s in the back, and there’s loads of food in the kitchen.”
As Mason leads the way into the house, which is just as massive and stunning as its exterior, you hang back a bit and grip Charlotte’s arm tightly.
“What is it?” Charlotte asks, furrowing her eyebrow.
“Charlotte, they’re not just posh, they’re footballers,” you explain, gesturing to the literal Champions League trophy casually sitting on a shelf. “Like, some of the best in the country.”
“Footballers?” Charlotte’s eyes widen for a moment. “Oh my god, so you know who they are?”
“Yeah, babes,” you chuckle. “Mason plays for Chelsea. I’ve watched him play for Chelsea.”
Charlotte’s face falls a bit, and she lowers her voice. “Oh, shit, do you want to leave? I know Chelsea was your thing with your dad-“
“No, no,” you wave her off with a small smile. “It’s alright, let’s have fun. He is super fit, and he probably finds it endearing that you clearly have no idea who he is.”
“Now that I think about it, he did mention having training in the morning last weekend. I think I asked what he was training for.” Charlotte laughs. “Shit, that’s a bit embarrassing.”
“Nah, he seems into you,” you comment, noting the way Mason’s eyes are glued to Charlotte as the two of you continue to speak privately. “Now go talk to him, I’m gonna go get a drink.”
Charlotte nods and returns to Mason’s side. God, it feels strange to see your best friend chatting up a guy you watched play in the World Cup on TV a few months ago.
You make your way to the back garden, weaving your way through lots of guys - some of whom you recognize as other footballers - and lots of very pretty girls. As promised, there is a full-service bar outside, and you order a vodka coke for yourself.
Thanking the bartender, you decide to stay out here for a few minutes. You’ll return to the party eventually, but you want to give Charlotte some alone time with Mason and despite your assurances that everything is fine, it’s a lot to digest being in the home of an actual Chelsea player.
Most of the partygoers are inside, with only a few people out back having a smoke or going to the bar. You find yourself a quiet spot in the back of the garden and sit on a patio chair, crossing your legs and leaning back as you enjoy your drink.
You pull out your phone and can’t resist pulling up and old photo of you and your dad at a Chelsea match when you were six years old, both of you smiling in blue. Although it’s difficult to look at, it makes you smile, too - you remember how Chelsea beat Liverpool 3-0 that day and how happy your dad was on the drive home. You’ll always treasure those memories.
“Hey, mind if I sit?”
A male voice prompts you to glance up from your phone. It really shouldn’t surprise you to see yet another familiar face at this point, but the man in front of you nearly takes your breath away.
You recognize him right away - the shiny dark hair, the piercing eyes - he’s unmistakable. He’s even more handsome in person than on TV, if that’s possible. Ben fucking Chilwell.
“Yeah, go for it,” you say, gesturing to the other chair and trying very hard not to stare at him too much.
Ben, who is holding a beer and wearing a hoodie and jeans with a pair of Air Force Ones, looks fascinatingly normal to you for someone who you know for a fact scored a Premier League goal just this afternoon - your sixteen year-old brother Max mentioned it when you spoke earlier, still as big of a Chelsea fan as your dad was. Luckily, losing your dad didn’t poison the game for him the way it did you.
“I’m Y/N,” you blurt out, feeling the need to explain yourself and your presence here for some reason. “I came with my flatmate Charlotte, she met Mason at some club last week.”
“I’m Ben,” he says with a small smile. “Mase and I…uh, work together.”
“Yeah, I know,” you chuckle. When he raises an eyebrow, you continue - there’s really no point in sitting here pretending you don’t know who he is. “My brother’s a massive Chelsea fan.”
“Ah,” Ben smiles, taking a swig of his beer. “Charlotte didn’t seem to have any idea who we were last weekend.” He seems to realize he may have come off a bit arrogant there, as he quickly shakes his head. “Not that she should. I was just-“
“All good,” you interject. “And for the record, I love her to death, but Charlotte thought Man City was a gay bar a couple weeks ago. She’s not much of a football fan.”
Ben laughs so hard he nearly spits out some of his beer, and you can’t help but laugh along with him - his smile is completely contagious. It also seems to be the first genuine one you’ve seen since he sat down.
“Fair enough,” he laughs, setting down his beer and turning his chair to face you properly. “So, Y/N, what brings you to this secluded corner of the garden? Not enjoying yourself?”
“I could ask you the same thing, Chilwell,” you smirk, taking a sip of your cocktail.
Frankly, you’re impressed with how cool you’re being given the situation. It’s not even the fact that he’s famous. Sure, you were starstruck at first, but now you just can’t stop looking at him. At those hands clutching the cold beer bottle, that fluffy hair that you’re dying to reach out and touch, those damn eyes…
“Well, I’m a bit knackered, to be honest,” he admits. “But I wanted to come out and celebrate the win. Honestly, I’m waiting til it’s late enough that I can leave without the lads calling me an old man at training on Monday.”
You laugh and nod sympathetically.
“I get what you mean. I kinda got dragged out tonight as well,” you say. “I wasn’t really in the mood to talk to a bunch of strangers after a long work day, but Charlotte wanted me here and she’s my best friend, so-“
“I’m happy to leave you alone if you’d prefer it,” Ben says quickly. “Well, not happy, but I can. If that’s what you want.”
You shake your head, maybe a bit too quickly.
“No, please,” you smile. “I was in budget meetings all day, but you scored a goal against Arsenal. I think that earns you a spot to sit.”
Ben raises an eyebrow and grins. “Sounds like you’re a fan as well, no?”
“I’m…not not a fan.” He looks confused, so you decide to elaborate a bit. “My dad was a massive supporter. We were season tickets holders at Stamford Bridge until he died a couple years ago. My brother, he’s sixteen, still follows the team, and he keeps me updated, but I haven’t really…well, it hasn’t been quite the same for me since then.”
Though you still miss your dad dearly, time has healed the pain enough for you to be able to talk about him like this. Although, you did have to stare at your shoes the whole time to get through it, and when you look up, Ben’s eyes are wide and full of concern.
You immediately worry that you just majorly overshared with this complete stranger.
“Sorry, you didn’t need to know all that,” you murmur, fiddling with the material of your dress. “I don’t even know you-“
“No, please don’t apologize,” Ben says in a much softer tone than he was using before. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Y/N.”
“Thanks,” you say with a sad smile. He holds your gaze, and you can’t help but feel comforted by his warm expression. Then, all of a sudden, a laugh escapes your lips, surprising Ben. “Sorry, I just…I was thinking about what my dad would say if he knew I was talking to the man he once described as ‘the best left-back in the country’ at a party.”
“Wow, that’s high praise,” Ben smiles. “Your dad sounds pretty great.”
“He was, but I love that your reason for thinking that is him praising you as a footballer,” you laugh softly. “To be fair, he was a big fan of Mount and Havertz as well.”
“Oh, well, never mind then,” Ben jokes, making you laugh even harder.
Probably harder than you’ve laughed in years.
The conversation continues as you each finish your drinks, and after Ben gets you a couple more rounds. You talk about everything - your job in publishing, his life growing up, both of your favourite films and music.
You don’t even realize how late it is until you see a much drunker Charlotte come outside with Mason keeping her upright. Despite her protests that she’s fine, you and Mason both agree you’d better get her home and to bed. After giving her some water, Mason calls an Uber for both of you, and in all the commotion, you barely get the chance to say goodbye to Ben.
It’s not until you get home and take care of Charlotte that you realize you didn’t even get his number. You could get Charlotte to ask Mason for it tomorrow, you suppose, but you don’t want to come across as desperate.
You aren’t even looking for a relationship. You just happened to meet a cute, funny, smart guy at a party who probably has girls lining up around the block just to sleep with him. It’s not like this is going to turn into anything.
Right?
-
You wake the next morning in Charlotte’s bed - you passed out next to her after making sure she had water and a bin next to her in case she got sick - to a loud buzzing sound.
“Too early,” Charlotte grumbles, feeling the beginnings of a bad hangover. “Turn it off.”
You reach over to the bedside table to silence your phone, but you quickly glance at the Instagram notification before you turn it off.
benchilwell
Hey, I found your insta through Charlotte’s, sorry if that’s stalkery lol
benchilwell
I had a lot of fun last night. Any chance you want to hang out again sometime?
“Oh my god,” you mumble groggily. “Ben Chilwell just slid into my DMs.”
Charlotte, still half-asleep, rubs her eyes and turns to face you. “Who the fuck is Ben Chilwell?”
next chapter 💙
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in-class-daydreams · 10 months
Text
King of My Heart (Sebastian Sallow x Reader)
Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x Fem!Reader Chapter 1: ...Ready for It? Synopsis: Hogwarts Legacy if Sebastian's Relationship Quest was the main quest. A telling of the in-between, the late nights sneaking around the castle after curfew, sitting on the second floor of the library listening to Sebastian ramble about a book he read, stealing cubes of melon off his plate during breakfast. How we got from "not bad for a beginner" to "there was nobody else, I came alone" to "no matter what happens, I'm glad we met." Alternatively: How your love could pull Sebastian Sallow back from the brink. Told in the style of Percy Jackson, in first-person and with sarcasm. A/N: Starting a new project without finishing the old ones, are we, Aya? Yes. Yes, we are. TW: A lil swearing
Listen, I never wanted to be a witch.
I apologize to all of you romantics who think that the whole thing - Hogwarts, ancient magic, regular magic, being British, fantastic beasts - is all about feeding puffskeins and brewing amortentia. Might I add that the love potion is a bastard to brew, because if it was that easy, it wouldn’t be the most powerful love potion in existence, would it? That, and it’s somewhat unsettling. I, for one, do not always smell like jasmine and citrus. And during my fifth year at Hogwarts especially, I was constantly running through spider-infested caves and fighting dugbogs, and if my soulmate or whoever caught a whiff of that smell, they just might retch.
Speaking of my fifth year, I started off that year like any other new student entering a boarding school where everyone else already knew each other: terrified beyond measure. Of course, I made sure to never let Professor Fig see that. Not that I didn’t trust him, but I was determined to never let him see me slip. Not when he was the only person who ever believed in me.
After everything that happened on the way to Hogwarts from dragons to goblins (I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors about that, right? ) I expected a bit… more? For lack of a better term. I arrived at the Sorting Ceremony late, nearly had an aneurysm on that stool with all those eyes on me, nervously chattered with the magic hat, and sat there, willing myself not to fidget too much.
I sat there feeling like I was somehow sitting incorrectly when the Hat hummed to himself (itself?) and made general thoughtful sounds. He spoke of how I arrived with expectations and preconceptions, and perhaps he was right, though I cared less about the house I’d be put in and more about not standing out too much.
“Ah, a difficult decision, indeed. It is quite different, sorting a fifth-year. You know more about the world and less about yourself than a first-year. And yet, you have a certain sense of – hmm – what is it?”
“Is it ambition?” I offered quietly. “I may seem single-minded, but it is important to go after what you want from life.”
The Sorting Hat made another indecipherable grunting sound.
“Is that how you see yourself, child? Not my first impression, to be frank, but other factors considered, I’ve made my choice. Between the two of us… You would have done well in Gryffindor.”
Would have?
I might have dwelled on the passing statement further had the Sorting Hat not interrupted my thoughts.
“SLYTHERIN!”
Slytherin in all caps! Honestly, I understand that he shouts for the benefit of the enormous room, but the ringing in my ears lingered long after I got it off my head.
I expected a sleepless night after that. I lay in an unfamiliar bed and my mind kept replaying the day’s events like a moving picture show. Behind my eyelids, I kept seeing the carriage crack in half, the swift appearance of the thestrals soon after. My first thought was that they allowed themselves to be seen until I realized they appeared to people who had seen death. I may not have seen the blood and limbs disappear down the dragon’s throat, but I had seen death that day. Looked it in the eye. Watched it wink at me and stick its tongue out as if to say, “If I wanted you, I’d have you.”
I don’t know when I slipped into a dreamless sleep, but before I knew it, it was morning. I blinked my dry eyes and sat up to take in the large, circular room around me. It was neat, thankfully. I didn’t know much about wizard boarding schools, but they sure took color-coding very seriously. From green tapestries to green four-poster beds, at least I would never stumble into the wrong dorm.
I quickly noticed I was alone and, not wanting to be the odd one out even more than I already was, I put on my school uniform. Not to sound uncultured, but I had never had such fine clothing before. Not new, anyway. It took me a while to figure out how to layer everything to sit just right. Placing a hand on my trunk, I took a last look at the ugly yellow coat I wore exactly once. I would never touch it again. Not because it was ugly, but because it was Professor Fig’s present to me. The school had provided school supplies and the like, but Fig took it upon himself to give me something just for me. Color be damned, it was the most beautiful thing I owned.
I stood up from the bed and smooth out my new robes, not a patch or stain to be seen. Taking a deep breath, I made myself a set of goals for the day. Step 1, have your uniform on correctly. From what I could tell, my vest wasn’t on backwards and my skirt wasn’t tucked into my waistband, so I could reasonably consider my first task a success. Step 2, introduce myself to someone. No, Slytherins were ambitious, I would introduce myself to three people minimum. I grimaced at the prospect. But no matter, I had already thought the new number into existence, so three it would be.
Even the hallway was fancy. It had elaborate metal railings on the way to the common room. Crossing the threshold, I reminded myself not to pull a face at the much more crowded than anticipated common room.
Back straight, chin up, shoulders relaxed. Play mysterious, but approachable, I told myself. Starting at that moment, I would begin building my reputation however I pleased. I was a blank slate and I’d be damned if I let such an opportunity go to waste.
“Is that the new fifth year?” someone essentially stage whispered.
“The one that came in late with Professor Fig?” another said.
I resisted the urge to turn and run back into my room. Gossip was apparently popular anywhere. I didn’t know how I could ever have thought otherwise.
“Wow, she’s–” A boy to my right cut himself off when his friend nudged him with his elbow. A moment later, a girl chastised everyone and suggested they give me space. Of course, all this happened as if I couldn’t hear them, but I appreciated the bossy girl immensely.
It was time for me to get on with my self-imposed to-do list and introduce myself to some people. I gave myself some leeway by excluding the rumor-mongers from my list of candidates. There was a boy with a book by the fire, whom I made a beeline for.
Damn, I thought to myself, he’s reading. Why would you walk up to one of the only actively occupied people in the room? To my further dismay, as I got closer I heard the boy muttering to his book, annoyed. Actively occupied and agitated. Excellent choice, I thought. While I racked my brains for an excuse to abruptly change course this close, the boy looked up and snapped his book shut, placing it on the couch beside him. The fireplace to my left did nothing to keep my hands from getting clammy.
“Can I help you?” the boy asks testily.
Here we go.
On the bright side, he didn’t have to put down his book just to talk to me, so that was a good sign. Maybe he was just one of those people that sounded annoyed all the time. Yeah. That.
“Ah!” he said, the furrow in his brow and frosty tone dissipating immediately. “You’re the new fifth-year! I’m Sebastian Sallow. Welcome to Slytherin.”
Interesting shift in demeanor, I remember thinking.
“Thank you,” I said as cooly as I could muster before introducing myself.
I won’t lie, I blacked out for a lot of that conversation. I could still hear my housemates muttering behind my back and this Sebastian fellow was being very friendly - complimenting my bravery, saying he’s glad I’m alright. He also asked how Professor Fig and I escaped the dragon, to which I replied that it was all a blur, which was a half-truth, and therefore acceptable. I didn’t know how much time I’d be spending with Sebastian Sallow then, and I’d like to say I was enraptured by him since Day 1, but truthfully, as I walked away, I forgot all about him.
Despite having a raging pureblood fanatic and probable woman-hater (he just seems that way, you know?) as a house founder, the Slytherins put me at immediate ease. My next introduction was to a bossy, outspoken girl named Imelda Reyes, a girl with a thick Scottish accent who insisted that she knew more about flying than our professor. From anyone else, it might’ve seemed like lame adolescent bravado, but based on her confidence, I was inclined to believe her. Unlike with Sebastian, I made a conscious effort to memorize Imelda’s name and face. At my ripe age of fifteen going on sixteen, I’d come to find that people that are a pain in the ass make the greatest friends.
After Imelda, I was drawn to the back wall of the common room by a floor-to-ceiling window that gave us a glorious view underwater. A few of my housemates that looked younger than me were pressed up against the glass, excitedly chattering among themselves about mermaids and such.
“Doubt mermaids find us that interesting.” To my left, a posh British accent broke me out of my infatuation with the view. I turned and was immediately struck by how pretty this boy was. He had a soft air about him. Something gentle. Maybe it was the bluish light from the window casting down on him, illuminating his beauty marks and long lashes, but I’d never found anyone of any gender so beautiful before. He had high cheekbones and perhaps most striking were his cloudy gray-blue eyes that did not move like anyone else’s. Framed by lush, light lashes, his demeanor made it seem like his clear blindness made him more perceptive than the rest of us, not less.
His eyebrows raised. “Ah, based on all the chatter when you entered the common room, you’re the new fifth-year. I’m Ominis. Ominis Gaunt.”
I thought that his parents must’ve been quite vindictive to name their child something like that. As my friendship with Ominis progressed, I’d come to regret how right I was.
“Well, you certainly had a memorable arrival,” Ominis said in a conspiratorial tone. I smiled despite my original nervousness. Then he asked me the generic questions about my trip to Hogwarts. Maybe it was because he was blind, but Ominis had a way of making you feel like you had 100% of his focus. Like nothing else mattered to him while he was talking to you. Something about that, along with the soothing cadence of his voice, set me at ease. I never forgot what it was like talking to Ominis Gaunt for the first time. Eager as I was to finish my third introduction to cross it off my list, I found myself asking him questions about himself. Not because I didn’t want our introduction to be awkwardly brief, like I did with the other two, but because I wanted to know more about him. I didn’t have much to go off of, so I asked the first coherent question I could think of.
“Were you expecting to be sorted into Slytherin?” I asked. Hopefully originality wasn’t a graded subject at wizard school.
“Most certainly,” Ominis replied, sounding amused. “My family on my father’s side are direct descendants of Salazar Slytherin - one of the four founders of Hogwarts.” That last bit was common knowledge for most. Not for me, of course, but it didn’t feel condescending coming from Ominis. When he told you things, it was like the information levitated in the air for you to take for yourself, should you want it, rather than him forcing the information on you because he thought you were ignorant.
I figured he was rich. He looked rich, from his aristocratic face and expensive pomade in his hair. And, of course, the posh accent. My past experiences with people from families like his - that is, powerful old money families - were either neutral or bad, usually leaning towards the latter. Never anything traumatizing enough for me to hate the accent, but enough to make me notice how nice it sounded coming from him. I had to remind myself to focus on what the boy was saying, rather than how well words fit in his mouth.
“Not something I’m proud of, mind you. He was obsessed with blood status. A pure-blood maniac.” His tone turned self-deprecating, as if the bigotry of his ancestor was his cross to bear.
I allowed myself to linger on ‘blood stay-tus’ for a single, indulgent moment, before pursing my lips to keep from smiling too hard. I only allowed that one moment, considering how inappropriate it would be to smile at something so personal to Ominis. Not that he could see it, but I decided then that I would never hide behind his blindness for anything.
“Unfortunately, most of his descendants do not fall that far from that tree,” he said softly.
This time, I let the small smile I was holding escape.
“It must’ve been hard growing up like that, but,” the words had burst out of me before I could stop them, but now that I’d said them, it was time to follow through, as I always have. “I’m glad to hear you’re different.”
His eyes widened. “You are?”
I shrugged, not because I felt casual or because I forgot he couldn’t see it, but to keep myself from getting too intense about the family matters of a boy I’d just met.
“I grew up in--” I pursed my lips, but was determined to pay back the personal snippet he’d given me “--less than comfortable circumstances, so I’ve never cared about bloodlines and all that. I think the choices we make are what make us, wouldn’t you say?”
Ominis smiled boyishly. Soft, tentative. “I completely agree.”
I flushed, suddenly shy under his grateful expression. “Yeah, I’m big into the whole ‘free will’ thing. I think we always have a choice.” I did my best to sound more casual as to not let on just how strongly I believed in the power of autonomy, but felt like I failed.
Ominis looked like he wanted to say something else, but I’d already been too intense for one day, and was worried I’d put my foot in my mouth eventually, so I changed the subject.
“Did that student say he thought he heard a mermaid?”
To his credit, Ominis took the subject change in stride. He laughed, sounding just the slightest bit embarrassed and I quashed the stream of funny things my brain dug up just to hear that laugh again.
“Yes. But I’ve never heard of a mermaid showing up outside our common room window,” he replies. I look out the window. “It is fun to play along, though. Been known to keep some of the first-years on the lookout for hours.”
So the rich boy had a mischievous streak. I smiled. He had a gentle, serene aura, and yet was already one of the most vibrant people I had ever met.
I then realized how fast I was being dragged into his orbit. To keep from rendering myself useless for the rest of the day, I thanked Ominis and said, “Very nice to meet you.”
I’ve heard worse understatements. The ocean has a lot of water in it. People breathe air sometimes. My first day at Hogwarts was somewhat eventful. See? Worse.
~~~
While I was grateful to Professor Weasley for introducing the Floo to me, it made me super dizzy for the first several months. Travel magic was not for the tin tummied, to be sure. Not to mention Ignatia Wildsmith hollering a foot away from me every time I used it. She was a happy, friendly woman who made my life easier, so I was grateful to her, but every day I prayed that she would be just a bit quieter.
The Field Guide was useful and prevented me from wandering around the castle with my nose buried in a map like a lost tourist, but even with the guide, Hogwarts was a labyrinth. By the time I reached the Defense Against the Dark Arts Tower, I was breathing deeply through my nose so no one could hear how hard those stairs made me fight for my life.
When I entered the classroom, everyone seemed to already be present. The first thing that caught my eye was an enormous winged skeleton suspended from the ceiling. A bit of a safety hazard if you asked me, but I figured wizard school must’ve had some pretty good safeguards for these kinds of things.
“Stupefy!”
The second thing I noticed was a lanky redheaded boy wearing the Gryffindor colors having a duel of sorts with someone from my house. Someone broader, looking much more relaxed than his opponent. The brunette closer to me deflected the spell easily.
“Is that all you’ve got?” he taunted before whipping his arm around and shooting a bombarda spell at the Gryffindor, who got his shield up in time, but, in my opinion, really should have been able to counter such an obvious move much sooner.
Don’t start, I told myself. Being judgemental was not a good way to make friends. Until you find equally judgemental friends, which is infinitely better, but I didn’t want to show my cards too soon.
The spell was deflected upwards, knocking the large skull loose onto the redheaded boy. Part of me was worried for him, but the other part of me said, “See? Safety hazard.”
Instead of, you know, using magic or moving two steps in literally any direction, the Gryffindor opted to squat down on the floor at the sight of the oncoming skull. For some reason.
“Levioso!”
At the top of the stairs stood an old woman with short white hair, holding her wand out, having caught the skull like it was nothing.
“Professor Hecat!” a girl cried from somewhere in the throng of students.
“Perhaps you’d be good enough to blast each other to pieces on your own time,” she said matter-of-factly. “I get new students every year, but I only have one Hebridium Black skull. It was a token from the Great Poacher Raid of 1878. No doubt you’ve heard of it. Now, you may be asking yourself how an old woman like me single-handedly took out the largest poacher ring in Eastern Wales and lived to boast about it.”
Absolutely, I thought. I want to be like you when I grow up. 
“Knowledge,” Professor Hecat supplied.
Was that like a potion or a mutation or the answer to her question? Are all spells in Latin?
Professor Hecat informed us that age mattered very little in the face of knowledge. I was inclined to agree, and my professor seemed to imply that while being old didn’t equate to being feeble, being young also didn’t equate to being ignorant. She lectured about an important spell that she used during her time against dark wizards, and I took a step forward so I could cling to her every word.
“Levioso?” the redhead whined. “A levitation charm?”
You mean the one you weren’t able to use? The one that the Professor just used to save your bony self from getting crushed by actual bones?
“Levioso!” The boy levitated several feet in the air. “A surprised opponent is a weak one. Care to defend yourself, Master Prewett?”
Ha, eat a dick, Prewett. Then I told myself to be nice, even if the guy seemed like the type to run home to mommy if he could.
From the movement in the corner of my eye, I could’ve sworn that the brunette that had been dueling looked back at me, but I assumed it was a trick of the light.
Professor Hecat let us break off to practice levioso. Professor Fig had taught me the basic spells, and obviously I’d already had my fair share of practice with them. My first spell at Hogwarts was bound to be harder, right?
I mimed the wand movement once. Twice. It was oddly simple. I gestured one more time and said in a clear voice, “Levioso.”
And the feather obeyed without protest. I stared at the floating feather, baffled. There was no way. Basic cast, protego, those were simple, natural spells. They felt like breathing. Other spells had to be more complicated, right? At least, hard enough where it took me more than one try to get it right. Maybe the ancient magic was helping me?
I lowered my wand. Professor Hecat approached on my left and had a whisper of an approving smile on her face.
“Now, let’s try something a little larger.” She summoned a practice dummy over and cleared all the desks. Then she gestured for me to face the dummy. Not one to argue, I stood in line with it and saw a shimmering yellow haze around it. Professor Hecat bid me to strike it with a basic cast.
Okay, but. There’s a forcefield around it. I– You know what, never mind.
I did as she asked and, sure enough, my spell bounced right off.
“See how the dummy deflected your cast?” Professor Hecat asked and I nodded. “This time, cast levioso first, then the basic cast.”
Easy enough. I imagined the end result and let my wand and body guide me through. It moved through me like water, the levioso followed through straight into my basic cast. With the spare energy I had, I whipped my hand back and forth for two more strikes. The dummy flipped in the air before flopping back down with a thud.
“Well done!” Professor Hecat said. “Very good. But!” Because there’s always a ‘but.’  “The best way to practice is by dueling. Well start with you two.”
I looked over to where she was pointing and I finally put two and two together. The tall, broad Slytherin boy that was dueling earlier. Sebastian, I recalled. In my defense, I couldn’t be expected to recognize him from behind after only meeting him once. I fought the savage grin that threatened to rear its head. My blood thrummed in my veins at the prospect of a fight. Something awoke inside me at Gringotts. The surge of power in my veins, the feeling of that final finishing blow, how each movement flowed into each other one after the next. The experience was addicting. For a time, I was worried that I wouldn’t get to feel that surge again.
Sebastian smirked at me. I took note of the freckles scattered across his face. His brown hair was mussed, probably from his duel, but the slightly unkempt look suited him.
“Time for a proper Hogwarts welcome,” he said and took his place across from me.
Oh, it was on.
“Now,” the floor raised below me as Professor Hecat spoke, “I want a fair duel using levioso, basic cast, and protego.”
Damn. I was hoping for a free for all. I wanted to see how my defenses held up against that bombarda spell he used. No matter. With a level playing field, I had the ‘fought for my life less than 24 hours ago’ advantage.
That was the dilemma. I had a reputation to build. Would I absolutely own this boy, bruise his ego, probably make an enemy of him because of it? I would gain the respect of the rest of the class and the professor if I did. Or I could let him win so as to not make waves? I’d have to be careful, as I suspected our wise professor would see through poor acting if I threw the match too hard.
“You may begin.”
I spread my feet in a defensive stance. Sebastian, on the other hand, looked completely relaxed. Waiting for me to make the first strike. Was he being a gentleman or underestimating me? Either way, I’d make sure he never did it again.
I got him up off the ground. He didn’t even have time to try to block it. I hit him with a chain of basic casts before he dropped back down to his feet. Sebastian launched his counter attack. Quick, precise, forceful. Prewett deserved more credit for lasting as long as he did. Sebastian’s arm reared back and time slowed. I interrupted him with a cast of my own, then levitated him off the ground only to blast him off the back of the strip with a dull thud, papers flying around everywhere. The class went up in cheers and I hopped down to weave through the crowd.
Whoops.
Sebastian was still flat on his ass. Any number of reactions were possible. A scowl, a glare. Maybe even tears of embarrassment. Instead, I was met with a wide grin and eyes sparkling with interest. Before I could approach him, he dusted himself off and approached.
“Not bad for a beginner,” he teased. He was trying to seem aloof, but the smile twitching at the corners of his mouth said otherwise. “You give as good as you get.” Then he hummed and walked past me.
Professor Hecat called me over to praise me for a job well done. I stood in front of her, pleased to have her approval.
“I demand excellence from my students. They are capable of achieving it, and they must achieve it,” she said with passion. I had the feeling that Defense Against the Dark Arts would be one of my favorite classes. With the thrill of the fight and an invested instructor, it was everything I could have asked for in an education. She gave me more words of praise and I thanked her before she informed me that she would reach out soon with additional assignments. I couldn’t wait to absorb the vast pool of knowledge she had to offer.
As I made my way to the door, I found Sebastian standing there alone. I suspected that he had matters to discuss with the professor and nearly walked past him.
“Nice work,” he said.
I stopped and turned, surprised.
“I enjoyed that,” I told him.
“That duel was quite something!” he said. “Everyone will be talking about it.”
Why did he look so happy about it? So far, I’d been reading Sebastian Sallow wrong at every turn.
He put up a good fight. It wasn’t his fault he hadn’t had a trial by fire practice. Opting to remain humble, I replied, “It was certainly good practice.”
Sebastian leaned in. “Practice?” he exclaimed. “Felt more like I was dueling an expert!”
My face warmed at the enthusiasm behind his praise.
“Didn’t expect a new student to be so deft with a wand.” He gave me an appraising look, his tone turning conspiratory. “Then again, perhaps this wasn’t your first duel.”
“I’ve dueled enough. Consider yourself lucky I held back.” Something about Sebastian made me want to push his buttons. My track record for getting him all wrong continued, however.
“Fair enough,” he matched my tone. “You owe me an honest duel when you’re not.”
My blood pulsed once more at the idea of another fight.
“You know. You might be a perfect fit for a certain exclusive, unsanctioned dueling organization,” Sebastian said.
Getting into trouble was the last thing I wanted to do, lest everything snowball and I find myself expelled from Hogwarts and back to where I was. Anything was better than that, but I suspected, though, that Sebastian knew exactly what button of mine to push. He had me pegged before I did him, and I found myself almost frustrated at the prospect.
“Exclusive and unsanctioned?” I said. “Count me in.”
Sebastian looked pleased with himself. “Excellent. Knew I was right about you.”
That made me frown. He was indeed. Yet, I’d been wrong about him since the moment I approached him in the common room. 
“If you want to get the most out of your time at Hogwarts, you’re going to need to break the rules now and then,” he continued. “Whether it’s joining a secret dueling club or sneaking into the Restricted Section of the library.”
Damn that look he gave me at that last bit. He wasn’t saying it to brag. He’d already figured out what made me tick.
“You just have to be clever enough not to get caught.”
“Thank you, Sebastian.” I said coolly, having had enough of his watchful eye for the moment. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
He gave me that knowing smile again. “Good. Pleasure chatting with you. I’m sure I’ll see you soon. Perhaps somewhere unsanctioned?” The emphasis on the last word told me he was sure I was on board. “We’ll see if your performance today was sheer luck or actual skill. Look for Lucan Brattleby by the clock tower entrance. If you’re interested.”
I tried not to scowl too hard. Of course he’d act like he was letting me think about it, knowing damn well what I was going to do. What a cheeky bastard.
~~
A/N: "Hey, this very much looks like a Sebastian fic!" Yes, reader, it does! And this first part is very much yours and Sebastian's love story. But! (Because there's always a but) I make no promises for the endgame. Maybe the fact that Sebastian needs you doesn't mean he deserves you. We'll have to see.
A good chunk of this will follow canon, but I change some scenarios and conversations entirely, and after a point, it'll diverge from canon completely.
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cliffside-wisteria · 12 days
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REPUTATION STADIUM TOUR (2018) » King of My Heart
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imnevergonnariskit · 5 months
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the day a rep cardigan drops is the day i die 😭🖤
@taylorswift @taylornation
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cinnamon-notes · 3 months
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taylor did that: the taste of your lips is my idea of luxury → dear reader, the greatest of luxuries is your secrets → your love is a secret i'm hoping, dreaming, dying to keep → i don't wanna keep secrets just to keep you
and i did this: 😭😭😭😭😭
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thisismeracing · 5 months
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King of my heart | MS47 | Part. 21
― Pairing: Mick Schumacher x Hamilton!reader (she/her) ― Warnings: curse words, Twitter environment, mention of food, not proofread, etc, etc. Minors DNI! ― Summary: After the Qata GP Yn and some friends decide to go on a mini vacation before the next racing weekend, but different from other times she keeps her phone close and makes sure she’s sharing how things are happening through her lenses. ―  A/n: none of the pictures used are mine, they are all from Pinterest and other apps. Everything else is made up by me, and I do not allow it to be published on a different platform. I would appreciate it if those things could be taken into consideration 💛
⁕ part 20 | series masterlist | part. 22 ⁕ my masterlist | my taglist here ⁕ Support my writing by reblogging, and leaving me a message 🤍
theofficialyn
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liked by pierregasly, gina_schumacher, and others
theofficialyn qatar dumpppp 💙
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russellsaint yes, babe, but you're really gonna ignore the make-out pics?
⤷ schumini47 omg leave her alone!!!! 🙄🙄
lewishamilton I look good 😙
⤷ landonorris yeah and I look awful, what in the hec, yn??!
⤷ theofficialyn I am still learning, lan!!!!! 😔
swiftleclerc it's so weird seeing her and lando, like out of all the drivers she included lando on her dump?!
⤷ princessyn they're friends, she posted about him while in Miami too, there's nothing new. plus, he was on the podium
⤷ keepupwhamiltons lando is close with lewis too, I think they're friends way before we know 🤷🏼
tracklimitss IS THAT CORINNA ON THE LAST PIC??
mickyn in my head the second pic is mick, let me live in delusion, bye
sainzfrance those shoes are fireee 🔥
masoncity no signs of mase on the likes 👁️👁️
⤷ chelseablues this is so weird, get a life (I'm curious too, lmk if he shows up)
mickshoemaker I am so relieved to see she's posting, for a second I thought she would deactivate after those pap pics
franciscac.gomes linda! 💗
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mickschumacher
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liked by lewishamilton, jackdoohan, and others
mickschumacher been ridin' harleys in Hawaii lately
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gina_schumacher I look cute 🥰
⤷ theofficialyn you’re always cute 🩷
⤷ pierregasly franciscac.gomes where are you to comment I look cute too?
⤷ charles_leclerc pierre looks cute too!! ☝🏻
⤷ grandmonza they're so funny omg complete chaos LOL
pophamilton SOFT LAUNCHING YN FINALLY!!!!
mickandyn I prayed for moments like this
mercmick I love how it's really a dump, there's no color aesthetic behind, just the pictures ❤️
lewishamilton out of all the pictures?
⤷ theofficialyn shut up, I was the one who chose it 🥺
⤷ moonsainz OMG SHE CHOSE IT WDHSKJHKLSDFHJKJHF
ferrarihoax where are the girlies who were saying Yn was dating mason?? LOL
franciscac.gomes wait for meeee, I'll get there tomorrow 🫠
⤷ theofficialyn I'll include you on my dump, kika 💗
⤷ tsunodaalpine I love how she's interacting with every comment as if it was her own post
mercedesamgf1 see you guys on Thursday! 🫡
malibucyrus I understand the fuss with yn and mick, but can we also appreciate how yn and gina are close? mickyn is literally my fav ship because you can see how there's so much love their families can't help but fall too ❤️
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mickschumacher
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liked yb charles_leclerc, normani, and others
mickschumacher through my eyes 🤍
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estebanocon ❤️ really happy for you, mate!
mercedesamgf1 finally!!!! 😍
⤷ alpinepierre LMAO
theofficialyn thank you for loving me the way you do 🤍
⤷ mickschumacher thank YOU for letting me love you ❤️
minimacher47 the way she’s looking at him in the second pic, that’s what we’ve been talking about. It must have been so hard for them to hide it 😭
monzaart mick, share more pics with the class, I beg you
albonno he’s such a simp
mercciado it’s over for us bitches
marvelmercedes the hold he has on her jaw, I- oop 🫦
georgerussell63 I’m gonna pretend I’m surprised ❤️
⤷ rodeoricciardo he‘s such a little shit, I love him lol
danielricciardo mick.jpg when?
theofficialyn
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liked by lilyhme, landonorris, and others
theofficialyn through my eyes 🤍
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lewishamilton luv u, guys ❤️
⤷ hammertimme if they have Lewis’ blessing who are we to be against?
franciscac.gomes I’m so happy for you!!! You deserve all the love 💕
mickschumacher ❤️ you and me, always
⤷ theofficialyn always ❤️
⤷ 1dferrari crying, shaking, giggling, throwing up, grinning like a devil
landonorris 🧡
mclatas him with angie, him holding flowers, him napping omg thank you for your service, Yn!!!!
norrissza he’s really boyfriend material, I have the proof, I have it printed! *toto’s voice*
gina_schumacher 😍😍😍 officially family yayy!!
⤷ zendaya44 wdym officially? Are they’re about to marry?
⤷ charleslepole idc, whatever gina says its the law. If she’s saying Yn’s oficially family she is!! 💋
lewissunshine I can’t wait for this Sunday!!!!!!
lilyhme so precious 🩷
charles_leclerc I was so scared I would spill it by accident, finally!!!
⤷ pierregasly SAME!
charles_leclerc I love you two btw
roscoelovescoco I’s approvess 🥰
⤷ braziliangp I wonder if this was Lewis or Yn who typed it LOL
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taglist: @sachaa-ff @ferrariloverr @mickslover @fdl305 @mishaandthebrits @iloveyou3000morgan @crimeshowjunkie @saintslewis @carojasmin2204 @chaoticevilbakugo @wondergirl101ks @shhhchriss @smiithys @f1kota @lunnnix @leclercsluv @baby-is-crying @karmabyfernando @crashingwavesofeuphoria @v1naco @elliegrey2803 @he6rtshaker @therealcap @mehrmonga @thatgibbsygirl @the-depressed-fellow @cixrosie @darleneslane @buckybarnessweetheart @minkyungseokie @nichmeddar
⁕ my masterlist and my taglist
©thisismeracing do not copy, steal, or translate my work. do not repost on a different media platform.
Don’t forget to reblog and leave me a comment 🩷
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taylortruther · 23 days
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reading your fortnight prediction and I think you’ve nailed the direction. Post Malone will be coming in with his love-gone-wrong lament.
we will see! i really think it'll be like, how can so much change in two weeks? two weeks ago you were my soulmate, now you're just someone i used to date. and there's something really fun about using old love lyrics out of context to show how much can change (like komh, "all at once you are the one i have been waiting for" - love can change in an instant, not always for good.)
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