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gubsbuubs · 3 months

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Trophy wife

Pt. 2 is out - It´s Mutual

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~ 4.5K

Warnings: Typical case descriptions, kissing and petting, enemies to lovers, a set up for a smut. Summary: When an unsub targets trophy wives, (Y/N) is asked to go undercover with her nemesis, Spencer Reid, posing as a couple to lure the killer. As they navigate a high-stakes operation, tensions escalate, blurring the lines between their professional and personal animosity.

Preview: "All this animosity, the bickering... we don't actually hate each other; we want each other.” He stared into my eyes before continuing, “And I don't think I can go another day without tasting you."

A/N: Hi everyone, this is my first-ever fanfiction. I initially wanted to write smut, but to add depth, I decided to craft this background story. English is not my first language. I hope you all enjoy it, and any and all comments are appreciated 🍒

“Are those poker chips?” Derek asked as the images from the most recent crime scene appeared on the screen behind Garcia.

"Bingo, my lucky charm! Those are poker chips, and you've hit the jackpot," Garcia continued. “This is the second woman to be found in a motel room stabbed and extremely beaten in the last two weeks.”

“The Vegas police have requested our help,” Hotch informed as he analyzed the pictures.

Ross quirked up his eyebrows as an amused smile played on his lips. "Well, either he really likes poker, or he's on a mission to prove that crime can be a high-stakes game…"

"Well, he's certainly raising the stakes in our investigation," I added, my remark eliciting another round of chuckles.

"Children, behave, please," JJ attempted to redirect the team's focus to the situation at hand.

As I scanned the pictures, my index finger reached above the image on the table. "The persistent appearance of poker chips as a signature strongly suggests a connection to the unsub’s personal experiences, perhaps indicating a deep involvement with poker, possibly even as a player. Maybe…”

“While symbolism is intriguing, we should prioritize empirical evidence. Jumping to conclusions based on perceived patterns might lead us astray." My brows furrowed in annoyance as I turned my head, hearing him cut off my train of thought. His tone carried a subtle bitterness, as if questioning the validity of my analysis.

And there he fucking was again, Dr. Spencer Reid, incessantly questioning my every move, as if my mere presence irked him to no end.

Our "relationship," if you could really call it that, was basically just a constant back-and-forth of arguing, interruptions, and tension you could practically cut with a knife. We tried to keep it professional for the team's sake, but it was obvious we weren't exactly best buds.

And what kept his skepticism going wasn't just about work competition; it was personal. He had this lingering grudge because I had stepped in after his buddy, Alex Blake, bailed on the BAU, leaving him behind.

To be honest, his animosity seemed mostly one-sided. At first, I admired Spencer's intellect and respected his dedication to the job. Plus, let's be real, I wasn't blind—I definitely noticed he was a good-looking guy. But his hostility kind of pushed me to throw up walls and respond with a guarded attitude. And then, well, naturally, I found some twisted enjoyment in getting under his skin and making him lose his cool.

"How can you have an IQ of 182 and yet be so clueless?" I scoffed, laughing. "Sure, you're intelligent, but common sense seems to elude you at times."

Reid stared for a moment, a mix of shock and rage flickering across his otherwise monotone, expressionless face. His eyes narrowed, and he responded curtly, "It's 187, and (Y/N), I would advise you to mind your manners when addressing me. My intelligence surpasses yours by far more than a number could explain." As he stood there, staring into my eyes, arms crossed by the presentation board, a surge of irritation pulsed through me. I was poised to respond, the words itching at the tip of my tongue, but before I could unleash them, Derek intervened. With a subtle shift in his posture, he leaned in towards the table, effectively redirecting our focus. A deliberate clearing of his throat signaled the shift in conversation. "The sheer brutality of these killings unmistakably points to an unsub fueled by intense rage. The way the victims were forcefully and repeatedly stabbed suggests a perpetrator with considerable physical strength and stamina.”

"The messy and disorganized scene adds another layer to the unsub's profile. Women just tend to be cleaner, so we are definitely dealing with a man,” JJ added.

“They are waiting for us, we can discuss the rest of the preliminary profile on the jet, wheels up in thirty,” Hotch said as he stood up, the team following right after.

--x--

As I focused on the files spread out in front of me, the sound of the door swinging open abruptly pulled my attention away. "We've got another body," Hotch announced, his voice cutting through the silence that lingered in the small meeting room lent to us by the Las Vegas police.

By now, we had successfully linked the unsub to the world of poker. Our victims, all married, had been last seen with their partners at casinos during poker nights, forming a clear pattern. Despite our breakthroughs, the mystery surrounding his identity and motive remained unsolved.

"Rebecca Miller, 29 years old, was last seen with her husband at Riverside Casino," Hotch added, his tone steady as he placed the picture of the victim on the board. "Witnesses report they were very affectionate. Her husband mentioned she went to get them drinks before she disappeared," he continued, his gaze scanning the room, inviting any additional insights or comments from the team.

"She definitely fits the victimology—young, beautiful, and married to an avid poker player," JJ remarked casually as she got up to take a closer look at the picture.

Rossi gazed into the distance, lost in thought. "They must be raking in serious cash playing poker. Why else would these stunners be tying the knot with someone clearly out of their league?" he mused aloud.

As I scanned the pictures of the victims, a realization began to form in my mind. Each photograph depicted a strikingly beautiful woman, always beside her husband, who often appeared much older or less attractive in comparison. "They're trophy wives," I exclaimed, the pieces of the puzzle falling into place.

I glanced to my left, where Reid stood, scoffing and shaking his head. "Trophy wives?" he immediately questioned, his focus remaining fixed on the board as he continued drawing lines for the geographical profile.

"Well, think about it," I elaborated, gesturing toward the pictures of the women. "These women, young and beautiful, carefully curated for a certain image, accompanying their husbands to the poker games, spending the entire night all over them. How had we not seen this glaring pattern before?"

"That's a rather simplistic and uninformed view, (Y/LN)," he countered. "These women had successful careers. Assuming they're merely trophy wives diminishes their individuality."

"Just because they have successful careers doesn't negate the potential of being used as accessories," I countered, locking eyes with Reid as he turned to face me. "It's not about undermining their achievements but acknowledging the potential for a specific dynamic in their relationships. We need to explore all possibilities, not just those that fit neatly into your rational worldview."

"Acknowledging possibilities is one thing, but chasing baseless theories is another," Reid retorted, his tone measured. "We can't afford to indulge in wild conjectures without solid evidence."

"Sometimes you're so buried in your 'facts' that you miss the human element of the cases," I remarked, chuckling dismissively as I shook my head to the side.

"It's called objectivity, (Y/LN)," he asserted, stepping closer until he stood before me, his hands slipping into his pockets in a gesture of dominance. "Something you might want to consider before letting personal biases cloud your judgment."

"I'm the one who lets personal biases cloud my judgment?!" I retorted, my voice rising as frustration bubbled up within me.

He remained silent for a moment, his expression unreadable.

"You've got to be kidding me," I continued, my tone escalating gradually. "You're the one who's been acting like a little bitch to me since I joined the team, so don't lecture me about taking things personally here."

Still, he said nothing, his hands now clenched into fists at his sides.

"You've had a problem with me from day one," I pressed on, "and it's about damn time you admit it instead of acting like such a child about it."

"This is about doing our job objectively," Reid retorted, a hint of defensiveness creeping into his voice. "Your presence doesn't change the standards we uphold in the BAU, but clearly you don’t meet them."

"That's enough!" Hotch's voice boomed, commanding attention as he intervened. His gaze shifted from Reid to me, a subtle warning in his eyes. "I think we should explore that possibility," he acknowledged, nodding towards my earlier suggestion. "It seems reasonable. Apart from that, are there any more leads we need to consider?"

Spencer turned on his feet, his movements purposeful as he approached the board. "Actually, I've been working on the geographical profile," he began "And it seems that, looking at the last victim’s place of abduction, he is moving in a straight line." With a marker in hand, he started drawing on the board, "Look at this: the first victim was last seen at the Lotus Casino Central, the second victim at the Charlaton, and now Rebecca at the Riverside. It's a straight line, which means..."

"He's heading for the Bellagio next," JJ chimed in, seamlessly connecting the dots of Spencer's thoughts. Spencer nodded in confirmation, acknowledging her insight.

Rossi rose from his seat and joined Spencer by the board. "Now that we know where he's likely to strike next, perhaps we can set up an operation to catch him; he’s been striking on poker nights."

Hotch leaned forward, his brow furrowed in concentration as he considered the strategy. After a moment of contemplation, he straightened up and cleared his throat, drawing the attention of the team. "Yes, an undercover op might be our next chance." His gaze fell on me, lingering for a moment as he addressed me directly. "Y/n," he began,"You have experience as an undercover agent, and you actually resemble the victims," he observed, "Would you mind going in?" The room fell silent as the weight of the proposition settled among us.

"Yeah… sure," I responded quietly, my voice barely above a whisper.

Derek immediately sensed my apprehension and offered reassurance with a comforting hand on my shoulder. "Hey, it's okay," he said softly. "You're not going in alone. It has to be a couple, so you'll have someone to have your back."

"Can you come with me?" I asked, my voice tinged with a mix of vulnerability and hope.

"Actually," Hotch interrupted, straightening in his chair, "I want Reid to go with you." My head fell into my hands as I sighed, dreading the complications that might arise. The weight of Hotch's decision settled heavily on my shoulders, and I couldn't help but feel a sense of unease at the thought of partnering with Reid for this undercover operation.

"Sir, with due respect," Spencer began, but Hotch raised his hand to stop him from continuing.

"(Y/N) needs a poker player husband; you’re the only one who could actually pass as an avid poker player," Hotch explained simply, as if it were that straightforward. "I trust you can both behave professionally and put your differences aside?" His tone sounded more like an order than a question.

"Let's get to work then," Rossi said, his tone decisive, as I let my head rest on the table. It dawned on me that this was the only option to ever catch this guy.

--x--

JJ pulled out all the strings, ensuring we had everything necessary to play our roles seamlessly. With meticulous attention to detail, she provided a stunning black dress that hugged my curves perfectly, matching pumps that elongated my legs, and exquisite jewelry that added a touch of elegance to the ensemble. Among the glittering gems, she placed an engagement ring and wedding band, enhancing the authenticity of our charade.

As I admired my reflection in the mirror, a wave of mixed emotions washed over me. The thought of spending the upcoming night with Spencer made my heart race, a strange feeling stirring within me.

My mind constantly drifted towards the way we were supposed to behave, thoughts swirling with anticipation. I imagined his touch, knowing that as a couple, he would have to be close, his hands possibly lingering on my body. How would it feel? Would I be able to maintain eye contact as he stared me down during our conversations?

I sighed heavily, the weight of the situation pressing down on me. Despite this being an undercover mission, it felt strangely intimate, as if I was gearing up for a date with him. The prospect of going out and spending time with Spencer was something I'd never experienced before, and it left me feeling nervous, even though I couldn't quite admit it to myself.

Maybe if things hadn't unfolded as they did, Spencer and I could've found common ground. Perhaps we could've forged a genuine connection, evolving into friends, or even something more meaningful. But fate had a different plan for us.

From the moment we crossed paths, our destinies seemed entwined in conflict rather than harmony, and I remember the day I met him all too well. We had just finished the tour, and Derek was now showing me to my desk.The ding of the elevator caught my attention, and there he stood. I've heard of Dr. Reid, everyone talked about him – his genius IQ of 187, his remarkable accomplishments at such a young age. But amidst all the praise for his intellect, no one ever mentioned how good-looking he actually was.

"Pretty boy," Derek exclaimed with a grin as he welcomed him. I couldn't help but agree silently. It was indeed a fitting nickname, Spencer was undeniably attractive. "Come meet our new member, Y/n Y/Ln."

With a smile I reached out my hand instinctively, ready to greet him, but to my surprise, he took a light step back. "Sorry, I don't shake hands," he said dismissively, his tone somewhat curt. "Did you know that the average person carries about 4,000 bacteria on their hands? It's a breeding ground for germs. It's actually safer to touch a toilet seat."

I stood there, utterly dumbfounded. Did he genuinely suggest that touching a toilet seat is cleaner than shaking my hand? "You really know how to make a girl feel special, Agent Reid," I retorted, rolling my eyes as Derek chuckled at the situation.

"It's Doctor, not Agent," he corrected, his tone matter-of-fact as he swiftly made his way to his desk. My mind raced, attempting to conjure a response, but he had already moved on, leaving me standing there, still processing what had just happend.

"Are you ready, or should I tell the unsub to wait because you need to keep fixing your lipstick?" a voice spoke from the darkness of my room.

“Jesus fucking Christ Reid, what the fuck is wrong with you?" I jumped from my place, surprised to see him standing there, leaning on the frame of my bathroom door. "No one ever taught you how to knock on a door?" I muttered under my breath.

"First of all, your door was unlocked, and second of all," he shook his head disapprovingly. "That's a very foul mouth you have, you should really watch your tongue," he chided. I felt his gaze lingering appreciatively on how the dress hugged my curves and accentuated my breasts.

From the corner of my eye, I lightly took in his appearance. The tailored suit fit him like a glove, different from what he wore every day. He looked more relaxed, better, hotter.

I was taken aback when I saw him move and enter the bathroom. My heart started racing as he stood by my side, exchanging a glance with me in the mirror.

"Honestly?I don't think he'd mind waiting for me” I straightened up, finally satisfied with my lipstick.

"Too bad he won't get to see it," he said, chuckling. His left hand met my hip, swiftly turning me around, and I gasped as the small of my back hit the bathroom counter. His own body caged me in, his intense gaze never leaving mine as I looked at him, confused yet strangely drawn to him. His right hand reached for a wipe, and he gently cleared any remnants of the red lipstick. I felt the cold, wet cloth on my lips, erasing any traces of the vivid stain. "If we're going to act like a couple, I don't want your lipstick all over me," Spencer remarked dryly, his expression unamused. "It's not my fault you don't know how to kiss a girl with lipstick, Doctor," I retorted, my annoyance evident in my tone.

"You look good enough," Spencer remarked with a smirk. "I'll be waiting for you in the car." With that, he turned and headed out, leaving me to gather my thoughts before joining him. "Well, this is going to be a long night," I sighed.

--x--

As Spencer drove us to the casino, we found ourselves going over the details of the plan. It was simple; our initial objective was to seamlessly integrate into the casino's scene, mirroring the couples we were emulating.

The plan dictated that Spencer and I had to project the image of a couple deeply in love, sharing glances, engaging in affectionate gestures, and creating an atmosphere that would draw the unsub's attention. Spencer would transition to the poker tables, just as the husbands of the previous victims had, all while showcasing his "trophy wife."

As the night progressed, I would strategically separate from Spencer to lure the unsub into action.

Inside the casino, Rossi and Morgan were playing their part as players, keeping an eye out. The rest of the team was in a van, ready to jump in if things went south.

The objective was clear – act like a couple. How hard could that be?

The tension in the car was palpable, and we exchanged glances, silently acknowledging the complexity of our roles. The success of the operation hinged on our ability to draw the unsub's attention, making him believe we were just another couple enjoying a night out.

The atmosphere in the casino buzzed with energy as Spencer and I entered. The dim lights, the soft murmur of conversations, and the distant chiming of slot machines created a captivating ambiance.

As we made our way to the bar, I reached for Spencer's hand and intertwined my fingers with his.

His eyebrows immediately shot up, a silent question evident in his expression as he glanced at me, perhaps surprised by the sudden display of affection.

"The more convincing we are, the more it'll attract the unsub's attention," I replied, my voice hushed but determined.

His gaze flickerd between our intertwined hands and my face. "Yeah," a small grin playing on his lips. "Just make sure you don't take it too far and end up falling for me."

"That's a good one, Dr. Reid," I chuckled softly, a hint of sarcasm lacing my words. "I'll try to contain myself."

We approached the bar, and Spencer took a seat on a stool. As I moved to stand by his side, he surprised me by pulling me closer, guiding me between his legs. His arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me snug against him. I was taken aback, but I didn't say a word. Acting like a couple—that was the plan. It was just all part of the plan.

"So what should I call you?" Spencer cut through our silence, his gaze focused on mine. "What should you call me?" I echoed, my voice filled with confusion as I furrowed my brows.

"I'm not going to address you by your real name," Spencer said matter-of-factly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "We need undercover names. So, what's it going to be?"

His eyes scanned my features, awaiting my response, while I took a moment to ponder. "How about pretty girl?" he proposed with a smirk, his gaze lingering on me. My expression must have betrayed my surprise, but before I could respond, he continued, "Or how about Angel?" The endearing term rolled off his tongue, and I felt a flutter in my chest at the sound.

"Angel seems to resonate with you," he teased, a chuckle escaping his lips, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he awaited my reaction. I felt the heat rising to my cheeks, rendering me momentarily speechless.

I closed my eyes, disbelief washing over me. Was this real? Was Spencer really saying these things to me? And during a mission, no less?

"You seem awfully quiet for someone who doesn't know how to shut the fuck up," he said, his lips brushing against the side of my neck. "If I'd known all I had to do was call you angel, I would've done it sooner."

"Sweet names will only get you so far," I said softly, my voice barely above a whisper. Despite the warmth spreading through me at his words, I couldn't shake off the sense of disbelief at the way he was acting. "Oh yeah?" Spencer asked, his tone amused, as I felt his breath tickling my neck before his lips brushed against my skin, leaving a small kiss on my pulse point. My breath caught in my throat, and my heart pounded in my chest as he slowly moved his hands along my waist and lower back. I couldn't focus on anything but the warmth of his body pressed against mine, sending shivers down my spine.

"Doctor Reid, this is highly inappropriate," I managed to utter.

“On the contrary, my sweet Angel," he spoke softly as his small kisses traveled up my neck. "See, this mission requires us to act like a couple, so I'm simply enjoying my time with my wife,” he lightly chuckled as he reached my jawline. “As you said, the more convincing we are, the more it'll attract the unsub's attention”

Suddenly, Hotch's voice disrupted the moment as he barked over the wire in my ear, "Guys, great job. We've got a male in his late 30s to early 40s staring at you; he's moved closer since you arrived. He could be our unsub."

I heard Hotch's words, but my brain struggled to process them as I was too focused on Spencer's eyes, his gaze fixed on mine while his hands lightly pressed me closer.

"Come on, Angel, let's give him a show," Spencer pleaded, his voice laced with a confidence that both shocked and intrigued me. It was unexpected to witness this side of him, but there was something undeniably exciting about it. Perhaps it was his confidence and assertiveness, or maybe it was the way he was taking control and leading the interaction. "Yeah.... let´s.... let´s do it" I lightly nodded my head, I swear he could feel the pounding of my heart against my chest from how close he stood to me.

His right hand reached my face, his touch gentle against my skin. "Angel," he spoke quietly against my lips, his voice barely a whisper. "I'll only keep going if you give me permission."

His eyes were dark, his lips plump, inviting, calling for my attention. I couldn't even form a "yes," but he knew what I wanted. I pulled him closer by his tie, and our lips collided in a hot, messy kiss. I was taken aback by his skill and technique, completely unable to resist him as the heat between us intensified.

Spencer pulled away and wrapped his arms around my body, embracing me in a hug. His warmth was comforting, and I felt a sense of security in his embrace. "He's standing right behind you, gray suit, red tie, black hair," he whispered in my ear, his voice low enough not to be noticed by anyone standing nearby. Suddenly, I was snapped back to reality. The mission. The unsub. He was standing right behind me

"Should we join them?" I asked softly, glancing over toward the tables of poker and motioning for Spencer to start playing, continuing with the plan. He was supposed to hit the games, and I needed to find a way to get myself alone.

"Absolutely, my love," Spencer said with a smile as he rose from his seat.

Still a little dazed from that kiss, my mind was on fire, and my panties were ruined. How was I supposed to continue my life after knowing the effect Spencer had on me? My racing thoughts were only interrupted by the sight of the suspect following us to the tables. Instinctively, my body reacted, and I found myself clinging to Spencer's arm, seeking comfort and reassurance in his presence.

As planned, Spencer sat down at the closest table and began playing, our actions subtly conveying intimacy to onlookers. I wrapped my arms around his neck, planting kisses occasionally, making it clear to everyone that I was his prize, and he was proudly showing me off as his trophy wife.

As he played, I showered him with praise and encouragement. "You're doing so well, baby," I whispered, my words laced with admiration. It was evident that he was enjoying the attention, his gameplay slightly faltering under the distraction of my praise. Despite being a skilled and experienced player, known for his prowess and banned from multiple casinos, he seemed momentarily thrown off his rhythm by my words of encouragement. It was a small victory, a slight advantage gained in my favour.

Feeling the need to draw the unsub away, I leaned in close to Spencer and murmured, "I'm going to step out for some fresh air on the balcony, honey. I'll be back soon."

Spencer nodded, his attention still on the cards. "Okay, sweetheart," he replied with a smile, not once lifting his gaze.

Before I turned to leave, I couldn't resist the urge to plant a quick kiss on his lips, just as part of the plan, playing my role as the devoted wife. After all, that's what a wife would do, right?

The fresh air hit my face, sending shivers down my arms. I didn't need to turn to know he had followed me outside; I could feel his presence on my right side. When I glanced over, he gestured to a drink in his hand, offering it to me. "You look like you could use a drink," he said.

My heart raced, and my breathing quickened as he got closer, but I kept a cool, confident attitude, determined not to let him see my nerves.

"(Y/N), don't drink that. It's laced," Morgan's urgent voice snapped through the wire, jolting me into alertness. "Just keep him talking so Garcia can check him."

My blood ran cold as I registered Morgan's warning. Without missing a beat, I forced a smile and nodded, "Thank you, handsome, but I've had enough tonight," I replied smoothly, declining the drink with a casual wave of my hand.

"That's a big rock on your finger," he pointed out, glancing at my, unknowingly, fake engagement ring. "Why are you here all alone? Where's your husband?" he continued, raising an eyebrow and asking the question directly, as if he didn't already know the answer.

"Well…" I laughed, injecting a flirtatious edge into my voice. "I could ask the same thing," I continued, "Where is Mrs…?"

"Mrs. Desmond? She stayed at home; she doesn't really like poker," he replied nonchalantly. "I'm Steve, by the way," he added, reaching out to shake my hand.

I shook his hand, my heart quickening as I heard Garcia speak from my wire: "Steve Desmond, a 39-year-old banker, is divorced; according to court files, his wife left him after he lost all of their money on poker.” The sound of clicking keyboards could be heard in the background. "The divorce dates coincide with the killings,” Garcia added.

“That sounds like a trigger,” Hotch's voice chimed in.

"Holy moly, he also assaulted a prostitute a couple of years ago, but the charges were dropped and he was never convicted," Garcia spoke nervously.

"That's our guy, (Y/N). Keep him talking; we're on our way,” Hotch said, his voice steady and authoritative.

"Is everything okay?" Steve spoke, his tone taking on a hint of aggression as he grabbed my attention. "Maybe you should take that drink."

“I'm not thirsty, thanks,” I replied firmly, stepping back in an attempt to keep my distance. However, he refused, reaching out and gripping my arm to keep me from moving.

"I'm telling you," he said angrily, his grip tightening. "You're clearly nervous. Just a tiny sip won't hurt." I tried to break free of his grasp, but he was stronger than me and refused to let go

"FBI!" Suddenly, I saw Spencer coming up behind him, his fist connecting with the guy's face with a solid punch, knocking him back into the wall. He was strong and quick; the unsub didn't stand a chance against him. Spencer swiftly pulled out his handcuffs, cuffing him without even breaking a sweat.

"Steve Desmond, you're under arrest for the killings of Amanda Crane, Juliet Sand, and Rebecca Miller,” Spencer announced, his voice firm and authoritative.

Morgan and Rossi soon appeared, Morgan helping the unsub up from the ground and carrying him out as he spoke, "Steve Desmond, you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to talk to an attorney for advice before we ask you any questions. You have the right to have an attorney present during questioning. If you cannot afford it…” His voice faded as they left, escorting the suspect away from the scene.

Once they were out of sight, Spencer came up to me and reached for my arm, his expression filled with concern. I winced as he touched the red marks left behind by the unsub's grip.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice full of concern and care, his eyes searching mine for any sign of distress.

"Um, yeah…" I replied softly, my voice shaky. "I just need a moment to process this." My heart was still racing from the encounter, and I needed a moment to collect myself. Why did he step in like that? I thought to myself, a mixture of gratitude and confusion washed over me. I could've handled the situation on my own—I was trained for this, after all. Yet, there he was, interfering in my work.

After the quiet ride back to the motel, Spencer led me to the door of my room. As we stood there, I realized I could no longer contain the annoyance for how he had handled the situation. The tension of the evening had been building inside me, and I needed to let it out. "Spencer," I began, my voice tinged with frustration. "I appreciate that you were trying to help, but I had it under control. I didn't need you to intervene so quickly," the frustration bubbled inside me, I couldn't help but wonder why Spencer felt the need to intervene. I felt like I had done a great job handling the situation, and his actions made me feel as though he had robbed me of an opportunity to take down the unsub myself.

Spencer's eyes widened in shock as he opened his mouth to speak. "Oh, really?" he said incredulously. "I didn't realize you had everything under control. I just figured that the guy having his hands all over you and aggressively grabbing your arm was cause for concern. But clearly, you didn't need any help."

"Oh, right, because clearly, I was in so much danger," I snapped sarcastically.

"I'm not going to sit around and watch some creepy-as-hell psychopath put his hands all over you," Spencer said firmly, shaking his head in disbelief. His brows furrowed in concern, his eyes reflecting a mix of frustration and genuine worry. "I won't let him put you at risk of being hurt … or worse." His tone was sharp "Get it through your head; I'm not going to let that happen."

"Oh, right, I wasn't aware this situation called for a 'white knight' to swoop in and save me from myself," I retorted, my tone laced with bitterness. Crossing my arms defensively, I met his gaze head-on. "Since when did my safety become your problem?"

"Since the moment we met, you stubborn brat," Spencer snapped back, his frustration evident in his tone.

"Since the moment we met? That's so much bullshit," I shot back, my voice rising with indignation. "Since when did you care about my safety so much?" I challenged him, my eyes narrowing in disbelief. "You've never shown me any compassion before, so why now? Hun?"

And then, suddenly, his lips crashed against mine, his body pressing mine firmly against the door with a resounding thud. I felt the heat of his body press on mine, the tension that had been building between us explode in an instant.

His kiss was messy and sloppy, but damn, it was hot. There was an urgency in the way our lips crashed together, fueled by a raw desire that couldn't be tamed. As the kiss deepened, the air grew thin, and I felt myself getting breathless. With a gasp, I had to pull away,

“What the fuck was that about?” I whispered, not being able to back away from his hold.

"When I kissed you at the casino, I finally understood," he muttered, his forehead resting against mine. "All this animosity, the bickering... we don't actually hate each other; we want each other.” He stared into my eyes before continuing, “I don't think I can go another day without tasting you."

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charlessainzz · 1 month

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A Maxie request where the wags take the guys on in paddle and actually win and they get all butt hurt ?

thank you for the request! hope it's similar to what you wanted :) also I've learned I really like writing for Max haha

Sore Losers

Max was a sore loser. He knew that and you knew that. So when he suggested you and Alex play against him and Charles at paddle, you had a feeling that it wouldn’t end well. When he suggested the “friendly” game of paddle, Max had no clue in his mind that he would lose. Both drivers thought this would be a fun game where they could show off their skills to their admiring girlfriends. Little did your boyfriend know, you were a childhood champion at tennis so this… it would be a cake walk.

“Prepare to face the master y/n!” Max shouted from across the court. He turns and gives Charles a high-five as he’s about to serve. You let out a breath, and knew it was time to get to work. As Charles served, you glided to the ball and hit it back over scoring a point. Both men froze in their tracks in disbelief. What had just happened!

Blowing Max a kiss you shout, “Okay let’s do that again!”. Alex began laughing as both guys shook their heads and got back into position. Alex hardly had to put in any work except help keep an eye on the boys’ next move. You were a beast at paddle, and it was leaving the other three quite shocked. Each hit was precise and sent out like a shot. Point after point after point, you and Alex were about to beat two high performance athletes. They would never be able to live this down.

You and Max were in a staring contest from across the court. Both with an intense gaze trying to intimidate the other. Sweat was trickling down your forehead, hands tightly gripping the handle, and your breath becoming erratic. There was one game point left to win.

Alex serves the ball, and there is a brief back and forth with the ball. Max hits it back in your direction as you dive and whack it back. Just when you think Max is about to reach the ball, he trips and falls to the ground with a thud. The girls win!

“Oh shit! We did it!”, you scream as you throw Alex into a hug. You’re both hugging and celebrating that you just beat these idiots. As you turn back laughing, Max throws his racket on the court leaving it bent. Charles is seated on the bench with his head in his hands. What sore losers!

“So what do the winners get?” Alex jokes with them. Both look up and roll their eyes as they walk back towards the locker rooms. You clean up your area, and say some awkward goodbyes. As you walk towards your car you try to grab your boyfriend's hand but he swats it away.

The ride home was very silent. No music, no talking, and no touching. Every attempt you made at contact was ignored. It started to annoy you that he would get so butt hurt over a game of paddle.

The rest of the night is silent. After an even quieter dinner, you thought maybe he’d watch that movie you had both been dying to see. However, Max retreats to his sim room to train. You decided you would not be the one to break. If he was going to be mad over something that was his idea, he was going to get himself out of it.

After an hour or two alone in the living room you figured it was time to put yourself to bed. You change into Max’s tshirt and cuddle up into the covers. With your back turned towards the door, you can’t help but wish he was here with his arms around you. But you needed to be strong! It was his fault that you’re in this icy mood.

Just when your eyes begin to shut, the door squeaks open. He shuffles around and slides into bed. You feel it dip and he moves towards you. Yet… he still doesn’t hold you like usual. You start to feel a lump in your throat, not sure how long you could go without his affection. When suddenly you feel his arms snake around your waist and he pulls you into his body. His hands slip under your shirt and you feel yourself relax.

“Wearing my shirt huh?” he tries to joke. With no response from you he continues, “I’m sorry y/n”, he says muffled into your neck. A big smile appears on your face.

“Ahhh the loser speaks”, you whispered. Max grunted pinching your side.

“Shut up… Charles and I already have plans to train for our rematch”, he boasted. You rolled your eyes and turned over to face him.

“If you want to hang out with Charles that badly you don’t have to make up an excuse”, you giggle as you run your hands through his hair. Max wraps his arms around you as he rolls on top of you smothering his face into your chest. Both of you begin laughing. Gosh how you had missed that sound.

Pulling his head up he asks, “Why didn’t you tell me how good you were at paddle?”. You begin tracing along his nose as you think.

“Hmmm I can’t tell you everything about me… that's what keeps the relationship so interesting”, you say with a smirk. He shows you a big toothy grin and gives you a kiss.

“What else don’t I know about you?” he says with narrowed eyes. He leans down and captures your lips in another kiss.

As the kiss ends you say, “Well… if you ever give me the silent treatment like that again, you’ll find out just how good I am at walking out that front door.”

Max’s eyes go wide and he takes a deep breath. “Noted”, he gulps.

Satisfied you turn back over and lay into his embrace. Both of you cuddled up simultaneously thinking of how much training you’ll have to put in to beat each other at another game of paddle. You really were the perfect couple.

#f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #writtenbycharlessainzz #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen #max verstappen x you #f1 fic #f1 x y/n #charles leclerc #max verstappen fluff

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disneyprincemuke · 6 months

Text

family day * fem!driver

her siblings are in attendance for her race, wreaking havoc wherever their sister steps foot in

pairings: sebastian vettel x fem!driver, oscar piastri x fem!driver, max verstappen x fem!driver, alex albon x fem!driver, logan sargeant x fem!driver

warnings: siblings is the warning

notes: i tried to make this as anonymous friendly as possible but it's deemed very difficult when there are too many nameless characters... LOLSIE

(series masterlist) | (📂 the rookie season)

"oh my god. that's fernando alonso!"

the squeaky voice amidst all the chaos in the paddocks makes her snap her head, only catching her younger brother starting his run for the older driver up ahead.

her hand darts into the air, grabbing him by the back of his shirt's collar. she yanks him back towards her, stumbling back steps but still managing his stability to stand tall. "where do you think you're going, dalton?"

"dude. that's fernando alonso. i've got to say hi!" he points excitedly towards the man towards the aston martin home. he tries to swat her grip on him off, the front hem of his shirt pressed up against his neck. "come on!"

"this is my first year here, you're not embarrassing me by acting like a crazed fan."

"i'm not acting like a crazed fan. he's my hero!"

"you weren't even interested in the sport until last year when i told you i'm moving up to f1."

"he doesn't have to know that."

"but he will."

"he will not."

oscar sighs, reaching forward to forcefully remove her hands from the deathly grip it had on the mclaren shirt that dalton had on. "come on, kid. i'll take you to him."

"no, you're not," she repeats, physically moving him away from the australian. she turns away from oscar and puts her hands on her hips. she points a stern finger towards her brother. "you're not to talk to any of the drivers without me."

his mouth moves, mocking her as she tells him off with a roll of his eyes. "fine, whatever."

"i have to go meet seb for a team meeting. please behave," she pleads, palms pressed together. she looks at oscar with an expectant stare and glances at dalton. "like, seriously. i have enough on my plate today."

oscar nods, scrunching up his nose to reassure her. he gives her a thumbs up while his arm slings over the younger boy's shoulders. "i got it. don't worry about us."

"i'm serious, oscar!" she widens her eyes and takes a step forward. the two boys flinch with a step backwards, throwing their hands up in the air to fend her off. she turns to her brother once more. "i can't babysit you guys today; i'll be working! it doesn't help i've got dumb, dumber and dumbest for siblings."

"hey, you're related to us! you're the leader of the dumbs," he scoffs, arms folding over his chest in frustration.

oscar puts a hand on her shoulder, shaking her body slightly to calm her down. he retracts his hand when her stare cuts to him. "i'll find them and i'll show them around."

her stare lingers without another word. finally, she slouches slightly and she drops her arms to the side. she unclenches her fists. "okay. my meeting shouldn't take too long. i'll text you when i'm done."

a small smile finally stretches her lips. she turns around to start walking towards her team home.

she only takes a small step forward before paranoia engulfs her again. "seriously, no talking to the other drivers without me!"

oscar gives her two thumbs up, waving her off as she gets further down the pathway.

oscar squeezes the boy in his arms and pats his chest. a mischievous smile on his face, turning the other way towards the stretch of racing homes. "how'd you like to meet fernando alonso, kid?"

"oh, don't stress," sebastian waves her off, tapping his phone against his palm. he's walking slowly with the driver next to him, head turning as he searches for the siblings she's losing her mind over. "i'm sure oscar is taking care of them."

"no, he's not! they went to meet fernando and max behind my back when i specifically told them not to!" she screams over the music, pushing through the crowd to find the group wreaking havoc on behalf of her name.

she's desperate to find them. she's tiptoeing and craning her neck in attempts to spot them in the crowd. but with her lack of height, it's deemed almost impossible to complete her mission.

"how do you even know that?" he chuckles, glancing at her frantic state. truth is, he spotted her group of siblings with the bright orange-dressed driver just a few seconds ago.

"because i saw dalton's instagram story! he's posted a selfie with fernando!"

"okay. well, i found them." sebastian grabs her arm, dragging her towards a quieter area.

there, in fact, stands all her siblings with a couple of drivers. and the main source of all her stress, oscar piastri.

"hey, (y/n)!" max beckons her over, beaming with a wide smile and faltering laughter. "you never told us your siblings were so funny! i can see where they get it from."

"that's because they're not funny," she frowns, taking a spot next to the red bull driver who's moved slightly to include her in their circle. "i'm the only one blessed with humour in my family."

alex throws his head back, giggling. with several siblings of his own, he definitely can feel for her. especially being the oldest. "well, they're a delight to be with. they should attend more races, you know!"

"i agree with alex," ciara points at him with a knowing nod. and a smirk that drives her crazy. "it's kinda fun being here."

she scrunches her nose, shaking her head mockingly. "you wish. you've still got school to attend and i have better people to give my race passes to and it's not you."

"so, (y/n), ciara was telling us about your first boyfriend," alex laughs, covering his mouth to cover the smile growing on his face. "was he ugly?"

"he was ugly," dalton confirms with a frown on his face, flashes of his oldest sister's ex-boyfriend flashing in his head. "a total douchebag."

"how would you know, you were like 9."

"you've had a boyfriend!" sebastian grins, staring at her with an open smile. "you never told me about that! i thought you've never had one."

"he is ugly," oscar adds on, shrugging at alex when he receives a shocked stare. he reaches for his phone in his back pocket, stepping to the middle of their circle. "let me show you guys!"

"we dated for 6 months, it doesn't count!" she scrambles forward, trying to swat the phone away from oscar's hands. "don't show them!"

max tilts his head. "why, how ugly was he?"

"considerably," ciara laughs, nodding as she purses her lips together.

"who was ugly?" logan pops up behind alex, furrowing his eyebrows at the female wrestling oscar for his phone.

the height difference always plays a part: oscar simply holds the phone up with extended arms as she tries to physically climb hin to get ahold of it.

"her ex-boyfriend," max grins, clearly enjoying the chaos that her siblings have brought him this race weekend.

"she won't kill you, here you go," oscar laughs, tossing his phone towards the dutch leaning on the wall.

"he was nice, okay!" she defends, finally detaching herself from oscar. she stares at max, hands stiffly extended down in embarrassment as the phone gets passed around the circle. "and i was 16! come on!"

"i'm not judging," max shrugs, though eyes still stuck to the screen in his hands. alex is leaned in towards the phone, glancing up at her then back to the phone again as he tries to form an opinion. "but i would have done better if i was a girl as pretty as you."

"aw, he thinks you're pretty! dude!" dalton teases, punching his sister's back very gently.

she throws her head back and groans when sebastian joins the huddle around the phone. "not the point!"

sebastian's face contorts to a look of disbelief. he looks up at her, nose scrunched up and mouth agape. "and what did you look like when you were 16 again?"

"here." ciara extends her hand with her phone, clearly prepared for somebody to ask that question.

sebastian takes it into his hands, ignoring the girl's pleads to not take the phone. he pushes it next to oscar's phone, the three drivers now forming their final verdicts.

max pouts his lips out. "definitely too pretty for him."

"that's what we told her." logan looks down at his feet and shakes his head in disappointment.

the conversation that they used to have over the phone briefly flashes through his mind as she defended her young relationship. oscar would then roll his eyes over the phone screen and simply tell her to fuck off.

"well, you're in the big leagues now! it won't take long for you to bag a famous boyfriend," oscar teases, pulling her in for a side hug. "he'll be cute this time, we'll make sure of it."

max nods, lips pressed together as he agrees with oscar. "you won't even be allowed to get hit on by ugly guys anymore now that we're here."

the girl shied away behind ciara, very silent this whole time, pokes her head out and chuckles. "sounds like they're trying to set you up with somebody already."

"blythe, please!"

"i hope you guys enjoyed media day," she shrugs, swinging her bag over her shoulder. she puts a hand on her hip and flicks her head towards the exit of the paddocks. "first and last race you'll be attending, by the way."

"hater," ciara scoffs, scrambling to get up from her position on the floor. she straightens her shirt and sighs. "but i guess it was kinda fun."

blythe sends ciara and stern glare. "it was fun. your colleagues are all very nice. i hope they're treating you well?"

"they're very protective," she shrugs with a shy smile.

"and oscar's a menace as always? i don't expect anything less from him, having grown up with three sisters as well." blythe glances at dalton trailing behind them.

the younger boy is now silent, dragging his feet against the floor and shoulders slumped as he follows them blindly.

"i swear he has a crush on you, dude," ciara giggles, bumping shoulders with her older sister. "you've gotta ask him or something."

she furrows her eyebrows. the thought of oscar being romantically interested in her is absolutely absurd. "oscar has a girlfriend, ciara. god forbid i be friends with a guy and keep it platonic."

ciara shrugs, "either he wants to hit or he thinks you're ugly - it's the rule of thumb. matt rife said it."

"just end the conversation before you get into a fight," blythe sighs tiredly, putting her hands up to separate the two. "it was a good day. thank you for giving us your passes this weekend."

"absolutely," she smiles. she hangs back a couple of steps and wraps her hand around dalton's arm. "i hope you enjoyed today. you met charles too, right?"

dalton nods, eyes half closed. "you were right - he is very pretty up close," he says softly, voice sore from all the excited screaming he's done all day. "my favourite is still sebastian."

she rubs his arm gently, giggling at his short responses. "okay, let's get you guys back to the hotel for some dinner and a good night's rest. that's only 1 day out of 3."

taglist: @wcnorris @treehouse-mouse @laura-naruto-fan1998 @mindless-rock @inejismywife

#sebastian vettel x reader #oscar piastri x reader #max verstappen x reader #alex albon x reader #logan sargeant x reader #sebastian vettel x you #oscar piastri x you #max verstappen x you #alex albon x you #logan sargeant x you #female driver #fem!driver #f1 fem!driver #formula 1 fem!driver #f1 grid x reader #disneyprincemuke #disneyprincemuke imagine #disneyprincemuke imagines #disneyprincemuke f1

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nrdmssgs · 9 months

Text

Reacting to the reader, accidentally falling asleep on them. (Soap, Alex, König)

Masterlist

Part 2 (Price, Ghost, Gaz)

This is pure fluff. Platonic and romantic. Please, try to sleep enough, guys.

Johnny Soap MacTavish

Platonic

Let's just hope, every inch of your skin is securely covered with cloth. You've just asked why? Oh, you aren't prepared, are you, poor thing?

Too bad. Because Johnny can be infinitely proud of the fact that only next to him, you relax so much that you allow yourself to fall asleep on his lap. But he'll never turn down an opportunity to prank you.

Soap doesn't mind that he only has one arm free - you use the other as an extra pillow. He opens the marker with his teeth.

Following Johnny's gaze, Ghost hides his hands behind his back.

"Lieutenant, please! I need my references!" "I'm not taking part in this nonsense, MacTavish." "But she loves your sleeve! Why not let her wear the same one for a few days?" "A few days? Don't tell me, you're using a permanent one! And since when I have a dead rat as a part of my sleeve?" "It's not a rat, this is a skull. Ever heard of an artistic interpretation?"

Romantic

His hand embraces you the very next second, he notices, you're asleep.

Doesn't give a damn, if anyone sees you two like that. In fact, he would very much appreciate, if everyone seen, how safe and happy he makes you feel.

He will quietly murmur you lullabies that he heard as a child. If you ardently wake up and ask him, what are they about, he would apologize and confess that they are in Gaelic, and he barely speaks it.

"Oh, that's ok, don't be sorry. Could you, maybe, sing a bit more to me?" "Aye, bonnie. Now close your eyes."

Will bury his face in your hair and rub his cheek against the top of your head, while humming quietly, slowly losing himself in your heavenly scent.

Alex Keller

Platonic

Surprisingly calm about it. He will not wake you up or whisk you away from his shoulder. He won't even think about commenting on what happened when you wake up.

Alex knows perfectly well what it's like to carve out every free minute on deployment to have a little rest between missions.

He is grateful, that you were on the same team - he could not wish for a better partner than you. Therefore, he is ready to help you not only on the battlefield. If you are tired and want to take a nap, he will lend a shoulder.

If this happened in transport, Alex will cradle you so that you do not hit the back of your head against the wall at a sharp turn.

May once make you 'return the favor' passing out on your shoulder. He does not lean on you completely, plus he has the fluffiest, softest hair out there, so don't worry, it will feel nice.

Romantic

Have you ever seen a light bulb the size of a grown man turning on in a room? Because that's what Alex looks like when you don't answer his question because you accidentally fell asleep on his shoulder.

He dreamt to be your safe place, to make you feel protected, taken care of. And you've just convinced him, that he actually succeeded.

Can't help but smile, hugging you with all care and fondness, he is capable of.

If someone approaches him with a question, while you are still sleeping, he will put his finger to his lips, making it clear to this person, that now is not the best moment.

If you wake up and ask him, how long did you nap, Alex will always answer, 'oh, you've just closed your eyes a few minutes ago'. Even if you fell asleep more than an hour before.

Please, just let him stay like that with you for a little longer. These are the moments, he lives for: you in his hands, in peace, loved and loving.

König

Platonic

Oh no, this poor soul, he is completely lost. He doesn't feel, if his verbal interactions are graceful enough, and you've just accidentally initiated a prolonged touch.

His pulse is higher than Austrian mountains, as he tries to sit still and mimic the wall or couch under your head.

He hides his eyes when someone passes by you, tries to pretend that this is how it should be, thanks all the gods for not taking off his veil immediately after returning from the mission so no one sees the blush stretching from his cheeks to his neck.

"Horangi... Pssst, Horangi! W-what should I do?" "Ehm, enjoy a peaceful moment with fellow soldier? You guys look cute like that." "Wait, don't leave me here! This whole situation might be inappropriate... You must help me now! Do something!!" "You want me to wake her up?" "Yes! Wait, no! What if waking her up is actually inappropriate?"

König will sincerely want to apologize to you. He does not yet know what exactly, but he certainly did something wrong. He will suffer and spin in bed half the night, formulating a socially acceptable apology, and finally fall asleep, satisfied with the phrase he composed.

He'll come up to you in the morning, only to realize with horror that he forgot the exact wording of the apology. Therefore, he will honor you with a short nod, turn around and go in the opposite direction.

Romantic

König pretends he's asleep too. It is ok to not move, since he is asleep, yes? It is enough of an excuse to hold you in a tight embrace, since he's doing it unconsciously, is it?

It doesn't even matter, if everybody around knows what exactly is happening between you two - he still believes, he needs an excuse to touch you, even to be around you.

Due to his size, König can simply hide you in his arms. Can and will. You are after all his treasure.

He discreetly lifts his veil up just to take your hand and press a quick kiss against your knuckles. He enjoys the opportunity to touch you like that from time to time when others are not looking.

But if someone decides to interrupt this heaven - they better be prepared for the coldest, most menacing death glare. Because König won't let anyone disturb his Schatzis` moment of peace.

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nicohischierz · 2 months

Text

one in a million: luke hughes

tagging: @ivy-34, @francesfarhadi, @hzstry8, @cixrosie, @itsnotgray, @estapa94, @trevs-swiftie, @heartz4hischif you want to join the taglist let me know!!

he searched for you at every gathering, the saving grace and the only incentive he needed to attend anything.

the two of you would often hide away from the rest of the party. consumed in a world where it was just the two of you.

a world with no responsibilities and no comparisons.

luke understood you and you understood him.

“i’m gonna miss this when i’m gone,” luke whispered.

you smiled up at him, snuggling further into his chest. luke was your calm during the storm. the one person who always put you first.

both of you wished everyday could be like this.

“so you’re going to jersey? straight after frozen four, win or lose?” you asked.

he nodded.

when the game was over, luke only searched for one person. he found you almost immediately. to him, you stood out in the sea of faces, wearing his ntdp jersey.

luke tried changing as fast as he could to meet you but the devils representative stopped him. "I'm sorry but they want you on the plane immediately," the guy explained.

"i need to see her," luke fought.

the guy shook his head. "i'm sorry kid," he ushered luke away, giving the boy a solemn look.

walking into the locker room, you noticed the sour looks on everyone's faces. but at this point, you were only looking for one face and he didn't appear to be there.

erik portillo saw you first.

he initially came to tell you he was signing with the kings but when he saw your frantic nature, he knew he had to tell you about luke's departure.

the tall swede ushered you outside, making sure you were away from the media commotion before whispering "he left sötis,".

you almost let out a laugh before looking at erik. "that's not funny erik, where is he?" you asked.

erik's eyes were a giveaway that he truly wasn't lying. luke had left without so much as a goodbye.

your breathe was shaky as you looked around the hallway, tears filling up your eyes once again.

once you were back in your hotel room, you did what any sane person would do. you texted luke, telling him what a coward he was for leaving you like that.

lukie pookie: call me

that text alone sent you into a spiral.

obviously, you didn't call him. he was the one who left without saying a word so he should be the one to pay for the pain he caused you. a pain that rivalled what you felt with the pressures of the world.

it was obvious to everyone who knew you and luke that something was going on.

the once energetic duo, now barely had the energy to say hello.

after luke left the others started to leave one by one.

nolan joined a team in russia.

the seniors said their last goodbyes before going off.

mackie signed with the panthers.

and when erik left you felt as if things were changing too fast.

you followed the swedish boy to california and stayed with him until you wrapped your mind around what was going on.

alex turcotte was shocked to see you when he arrived to training one morning. well, he was shocked to see the shell of the girl he once knew. the chicago native immediately texted jack that you were in california and asked what happened.

“sötis, you can’t hide here forever.” erik prompted. he was currently trying to find flights for the two of you back to michigan so that you could spend summer with your family.

you ignored him and ate your soup dumplings. “i’ll pay the rent cost while i’m here erik. please don’t make me go back,” you begged.

but alas, erik had enlisted the help of alex who had brought trevor along with him. both older boys had their bags packed and tickets in hand as they reached the apartment.

“listen y/n/n, we’re not taking no for an answer. now either you pack your things and follow us or we pack for you and you get stuck with whatever we choose,” trevor gave the ultimatum.

rolling your eyes, you walked into your room as the three boys followed. they smiled as they watched you pack, happy that their slight threat worked.

erik drove the three of you to the airport and gave you one big hug before whispering “stay there for two weeks and if you don’t like it, i’ll buy you a ticket to sweden,”

you nodded. now you just had to get through two weeks and complain that it was a horrible experience.

“but you’re not allowed to make yourself hate the trip,” erik added. you hated how well he knew you.

that’s how you found yourself waiting for jack to pick you, trevor and alex from the airport.

jack ignored his two best friends as he ran over to you. engulfing you in a hug, spinning you around. “i missed you squish!” he exclaimed.

you smiled into jack’s shoulder. “i missed you too rowdy,” the middle hughes held onto you a little longer before greeting his friends.

the car ride to the lake house was silent in your part as you furiously texted erik about your dislike for his plans.

upon reaching the house, you were greeted by your fellow michigan classmates. they all yelled in delight at your presence and swarmed you into a hug.

“we thought we lost you to sweden!” dylan exclaimed, his arm around your shoulder.

you chuckled and looked to alex and trevor. the two boys wearing cheeky grins as they grabbed you bags. “well if it weren’t for these two i might’ve gone with erik,” you answered.

luke looked from a distance. pain and hurt in his eyes as he watched you interact with your friends and his family.

once everyone was done greeting you, you looked up at luke and smiled. the boy smiling back at you but no words exchanged.

you didn’t talk to luke until the boys first party.

just like every other party, you were hiding away on the roof. it didn't take long for luke to find you but once he did, he was glad.

the two of you sat in silence until you spoke up. "you didn't say goodbye," you murmured.

luke's heart broke as he heard your voice crack.

"they didn't let me bubbles. i wanted to come say bye to you but the guy said I needed to get on the plane. then my phone died and I didn't get any of your calls. when I tried to call you back it didn't go through," he ranted.

at this point, you were turned to luke. tears in both your eyes as you finally spoke about your feelings over the past two months.

"you're my best friend luke and we promised we'd be there for each other. you promised you'd never leave me and you didn't say goodbye," you raised your voice slightly.

more tears were streaming down your faces. your chest rose and sunk furiously as you tried to remain calm.

when luke didn't say anything more, you made your way back into the house. you glanced at him one more time before reaching his door.

"you weren't at my debut," he exclaimed.

you stilled and turned to him. "i was there luke. i bought the first available ticket to new jersey and the first ticket i could get my hands on for the game." you confessed.

luke's eyes softened. he ran over to you and brought you in for a hug. your face was nuzzled in his chest as both of you cried in each others arms.

"i don't want to lose you again bubbles," he whispered.

"you never lost me lukie,"

#luke hughes x reader #luke hughes imagine #nhl fic #nhl imagine #nicohischierz writes

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tomriddleslove · 2 months

Text

i still look for you.

✩Theodore Nott x Reader

Summary: Theodore cannot wait to start the next chapter of his life, moving in with you. Alternatively: Memory is a fickle thing.

Warnings: Brief allusion to alcoholism if you squint

Songs: Never find u - Sombr

I bet on losing dogs - Mitski

I wait for you - Alex G

The date reads the 2nd of May, 2002. Theodore looks down at the calendar and for some reason, a horrible feeling of dread pools in his stomach. He can’t exactly tell why.

He shakes it off, yawning lightly as he sits up in bed. He runs a hand through his messy hair, eyes adjusting to the dim morning light as he looks around his now bare room. His feet touch the bedroom floor, and he sits on the edge of his bed for a second, staring off before getting up.

There was no time for zoning out, he had things to be doing.

With a gentle sigh, he pushes himself off the bed, the warmth of the sheets still clinging to his skin. As he pads into the kitchen, his bare feet lightly brushing against the cool floor tiles, he catches sight of the empty firewhiskey bottle on the counter.

A furrow forms between his brows as he reaches for the bottle, his fingers brushing against the smooth glass surface. Memories of the previous night flicker in his mind, hazy and fragmented.

He must have indulged more than usual.

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he meanders back to the bedroom, where cardboard boxes lie in disarray. He reaches into one of the unsealed boxes blindly and tugs on the first thing he finds, a grey knitted sweater and a pair of black slacks. He wanders out of the bathroom, brushing his teeth as he tosses the few stray things that lay here and there, things he had forgotten to pack the day before.

Theodore, albeit a little hungover, was thrilled. Today was the day he was due to move into his new apartment with you. You would be meeting him in the evening because you had work, however Theodore had a day off, so he would do the bulk of the moving process in the meantime. He’s just slipping his shoes on when the doorbell buzzes. He walks over to the intercom, buzzing the person in.

Theodore presses the button on the intercom, expecting to hear the voice of the moving truck driver but Instead, there's silence.

Frowning slightly, he presses the button again, but still, there's no response.

Yet another thing to solidify his choice to move out of this shitty apartment, as if the prospect of living with you wouldn’t be enough.

“Get- This- Stupid- Fucking- Thing- To- Work-” Theodore grunts, banging his fist into the intercom. Finally, the buzzing sound rings, and he can see the driver entering the flat through the small camera.

With a resigned sigh, Theodore hurriedly shrugs on his jacket. He jogs over to the door as a knock echoes through the apartment, cursing as he almost trips over a box. Kicking it to the side frustratedly, he opens the door.

"Sorry about the intercom," Theodore apologizes as he reaches the driver. "It's been acting up lately."

The driver nods understandingly, offering a sympathetic smile. "No worries. Let's get these boxes loaded up, shall we?"

They spent the next half an hour carrying the ridiculously heavy boxes down 4 flights of stairs because the elevator had stopped working. Theodore wipes the sweat from his brow as he sets down the last box with a thud, the weight of it nearly causing his arms to tremble. He takes a moment to catch his breath, chest heaving with exertion. He reaches into his pocket and hands the driver what Blaise had informed him to be a form of muggle currency, a flimsy piece of paper with “£50” written on it.

“Thank you for your help,” Theodore says, breathing slightly laboured. The driver was merely doing the job Theodore had paid him to do, but he couldn’t help feeling slightly sympathetic for the clearly older man who had broken out in a sweat by the time they had bought the first two boxes down. The driver frowns as he looks down at the note, then back up at Theodore.

Was it not enough? Had Theodore given him the equivalent of a single sickle?

His misinformed panic quickly subsides when the balding man grins, extending a hand out to Theodore.

“No worries mate. Bit of a drive, isn’t it? How are you getting there?” The man says, and Theodore pales for a second.

What exactly did muggles use again?

“Car,” Theodore blurts after a second, and the man nods, pocketing the £50 note into his shorts.

“Well, I reckon you’ll arrive before me. Should be close to 8 hours, had to tell the missus I wouldn't be home for the day. Had her questioning whether I was working or down at the pub!” He chortles.

Theodore chuckles nervously, feeling slightly out of his element with the man's casual banter. He nods along, trying to appear as though he understands every word, despite the thick accent throwing him off.

"Yeah, the drive should be fine," Theodore replies, forcing a smile. "Thanks again for your help. Really appreciate it."

With a final nod of farewell, Theodore watches as the man heads back to the truck and drives away, leaving him standing alone in front of his old apartment.

Casting one glance around the barren area, he apparates away, appearing in the corridor of his new house in no less than 4 seconds. He truly does pity muggles and their transport, for he couldn't even entertain the idea of having to spend 8 hours trapped in a car.

He walks around the empty house, a small smile tugging at his lips as he imagines the countless things you’d do here. The idea of building a life with you, so grossly domestic, brought a grin to his face.

You had been a saviour to Theodore, a burst of sunlight on a cloudy day.

He can still recall the day he had first met you with frighteningly precise clarity, though to Theodore it was only natural that he did, for he was sure he only started living when he had met you. He was only ever bound to fall deeper in love with you from the very first time he had seen you looking up at him with that slightly lopsided grin that sent shivers down his spine and warmth flooding his chest. It was as if the world had suddenly become brighter, more vibrant, simply because you were in it.

Whether it was studying together in the library, sneaking out for midnight strolls around the castle, or simply sitting in comfortable silence, Theodore found himself falling deeper and deeper under your spell.

He snaps out of his daydreams, looking around as he checks his watch.

15:07

This would be the perfect time to go out and explore the town a bit, perhaps find a supermarket.

The driver was due to get here around the same time you would finish work, and Theodore was sure you’d be exhausted. He decided to make you some dinner, knowing how late shifts at the ministry drained you.

Navigating the winding streets, Theodore takes in the sights and sounds of the town, marvelling at the quaint shops and charming architecture. It's a far cry from the bustling streets of Glasgow, but Theodore finds himself drawn to the peaceful atmosphere of the small town.

After 2 hours of finding himself sidetracked by a variety of different shops, he finally finds a supermarket. He heads in and emerges later with his wallet considerably lighter and a handful of bags filled with an unnecessary selection of snacks, and produce.

It was only a further 3 hours later, after Theodore had procrastinated reading a book as he lay sprawled across the remarkably comfy bed that came in the refurbished apartment that he realised for the abundance of cabinets and chairs that the place came with, there would not be a single pot or pan in sight. How Theodore planned to cook tomato soup without a pan, or a chopping board, or a knife at the very least, was beyond him.

With a begrudging sigh, he accepted the financial loss of having to venture back into town to get the necessary culinary equipment. At least now by the time you’d be back from work, the soup would just about be ready, so you could enjoy it nice and fresh.

With the attention span of a 5-year-old, it was only natural for what should have been a 30-minute store run to turn into a 2-hour shopping spree, but Theodore couldn't help it when he saw a second-hand book store and a florist stand that sold green - yes green - tulips (which so happened to be your favourite flower). Entering the apartment once again having sworn to himself that he is not to spend for the next month, Theodore sets down the bags and rolls up his sleeves, washing his hands as he prepares to cook.

Theodore sets to work, chopping vegetables and simmering soup on the stove. The savoury aroma fills the air, mingling with the scent of fresh herbs and spices. It's a labour of love, preparing a meal for you after a long day, but Theodore wouldn't have it any other way.

Thanks to his admirable procrastination skills, Theodore had managed to pass an impressive 7 hours doing nothing and was only midway through dicing some garlic when a resounding knock echoed through the empty house.

Moving the sizzling pot off the stove, he makes his way over to the door, wiping his garlic-smelling hands on his trousers as he opens the door. The same man stands before him, a truck parked outside as he greets Theodore.

“Cor, smells lovely. Must have gotten here well before me if you're already cooking” The man chuckles, and Theodore nods, fumbling for an excuse.

“Relatively smooth journey.” He nods, haphazardly slipping his shoes on as he follows the man to the empty truck. No longer living on the top floor of a dingy apartment building, the process of moving the boxes was far easier, and no longer than 10 minutes later the driver is (to Theodore's relief), waving goodbye with the large wad of bills clutched in his hands. Theodore sighs as he shuts the door, setting the final box down on top of the coffee table. Boxes lay strewn around the living room, which was connected to the kitchen in an open-plan configuration. Quickly finishing off the last of the cooking so he could leave the soup to simmer, he makes his way over to one of the boxes, ripping at the tape.

He reaches for a picture frame tucked away in one of the smaller boxes. With a tender smile, he carefully removes the frame, revealing a picture of you and him taken during one of your adventures at Hogwarts.

You had just spent the day out in Hogsmeade, and after successfully smuggling 5 bottles of fire whiskey back into the castle, you both sat on the sofa in the common room, a blanket thrown over the two of you. You had a red scarf wrapped around your neck. You loved that scarf, wearing it absolutely everywhere despite Theodore’s protests that you were repping the rivalling house.

You were curled up into Theodore's side, a grin on your face. Mid-laugh, your cheeks and the tip of your nose red as you were looking beyond the camera. It was a simple candid shot taken by Pansy and one that you had found incredibly adorable and immediately framed.

Gently dusting off the frame, Theodore carries it over to one of the shelves in the living room, setting it carefully down.

He hears the sound of the door opening behind him. Turning around, Theodore's heart skips a beat as he sees you standing in the doorway, a tired smile on your face as you kick off your shoes and step inside.

"Hey," you greet him, your voice soft with exhaustion but filled with warmth.

Theodore's face lights up at the sight of you, and he can't help but feel a rush of excitement. Dropping the box he's holding, he rushes over to you, enveloping you in a tight embrace.

"Welcome home," Theodore whispers, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "I've missed you."

You return his embrace eagerly, burying your face in his chest as you breathe in the familiar scent of his cologne. It's a comforting embrace, and you can’t help but cling to him a little tighter.

You pull away, a small grin tugging at your lips as you look around your new home.

The space may be filled with boxes and scattered belongings, but it already feels like home with Theodore by your side.

"Wow," you murmur, your eyes wandering around the room. "It looks amazing, Theo. You've been busy."

Theodore beams with pride at your words, his heart swelling with happiness.

"I wanted everything to be perfect for when you got home," he says, his voice filled with affection. "And I thought we could celebrate our new place with some homemade tomato soup."

You can't help but smile at his thoughtfulness, feeling a wave of gratitude wash over you. Theodore always knows how to make you feel special, even after a long day at work.

"I love it," you say, crossing the room to wrap your arms around him once more. "And I love you."

You momentarily break away from the hug, reaching over for the ladle, You sneakily take a sip of soup, ignoring Theodore’s gasp of indignation as you groan.

“And I fucking love tomato soup,” You groan, and Theodore can’t help but laugh.

“Go and change. I’ll plate it for us.” Theodore says, moving over one of the boxes labelled ‘Crockery’.

You hum, wandering off to the bathroom. Your voice resounds off the bare walls as you speak.

“Start without me, love. I need to shower and I want to go to bed as soon as possible”

Theodore frowns, ignoring the slight disappointment but agreeing nonetheless. He indulges in a hearty bowl of soup, one set for you on the counter as he leans against the kitchen island.

About 20 or so minutes later, Theodore is washing his bowl, and his attention is drawn to the sound of the bathroom door opening. You emerge, still clad in your work clothes, a tired but content expression on your face. Theodore's eyebrows furrow slightly at the sight, a hint of confusion flickering in his eyes.

You had said you were going to shower, so why haven’t you changed? Perhaps you were simply so tired you had forgotten to bring some other clothes, or you didn’t realise. Theodore shrugs it off, far too enamoured by you to ponder on it for long.

You pad into the kitchen as a gentle acoustic melody fills the area, and you look over to see the record player propped up on a still-sealed box, alongside a stack of records. You can't resist teasing him about unpacking the vinyl player first.

"Really, Theo? Out of all the boxes, you had to unpack the record player first?" you tease, a playful glint in your eyes.

Theodore rolls his eyes playfully, but there's a smile tugging at his lips as he pulls you into his arms. "Hey, music sets the mood," he defends himself, swaying you gently in a makeshift dance.

You can't help but laugh at his response, feeling the warmth of his embrace enveloping you.

You shake your head in mock exasperation, but there's a fondness in your gaze as you look up at him.

As the music plays softly in the background, Theodore and you begin to sway to the rhythm, your movements slow and synchronized. The dim light of the kitchen casts a warm glow over the scene, illuminating your faces as you gaze into each other's eyes.

Your hands find their place on Theodore's shoulders, while his hands rest gently on your waist, pulling you closer to him.

Theodore's gaze is soft as he looks down at you, a small smile playing on his lips. A small giggle resounds through the kitchen area as he pulls back, hands holding yours as he spins you around.

A small yelp escapes your lips as he dips you, his laughter mingling with yours as you dance with one another. You slow down slightly, resting your head against Theodore's chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat as you move together. The song slowly fades into the next track, and you pull back slightly, resting your chin on Theodore’s chest as you look up at him.

“It’s perfect. It’s everything we spoke about back when we were at Hogwarts” You murmur, and he smiles softly.

“It is” He whispers against your lips, as he leans down to kiss you.

This. This is what home felt like.

It was simple, but it was belonging, and it was belonging with you.

Theodore yawns, and a small grin tugs at your lips as you look at him.

“Go to bed. I’m gonna quickly eat and sort some things out then I’ll join you.” You reassure, pulling away.

He goes to protest but yawns, and realises that he truly was quite tired. With a sheepish smile, he nods, kissing your forehead as he disappears off to the bedroom.

Around half an hour later Theodore's eyes flicker open at the sound of you entering the room.

You settle under the covers, nestled close to each other, sharing the warmth.

"So, how was your day, love?" Theodore asks, his voice gentle as he strokes your hair.

"It was good," you reply with a soft smile. "Busy, as usual, but nothing I couldn't handle."

Theodore nods, his expression filled with understanding. "I'm glad to hear that. You always handle everything with such grace."

You chuckle softly, feeling a pang of bittersweet emotion tugging at your heart. "Well, you know me, always trying to keep it together."

There's a moment of silence between you, the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air. Theodore feels a sense of longing, as though he is yearning for something he can't quite grasp.

"You know," he begins, his voice barely above a whisper, "We should go out to town tomorrow. I found a nice cafe you’d love.” Theodore mumbles, sleep overtaking him as he fights to keep his eyes open.

You remain silent, running a hand through Theodore's hair as his head rests on your chest.

“We’ll see.” You whisper, reaching over to switch off the bedside lamp.

Theodore frowns, slightly confused. He speaks through his half-asleep state.

“Do you have work tomorrow? It’s a Sunday, you never work on Sundays,” He mutters.

You pause, your heart skipping a beat at his words. A pang of sadness washes over you, but you push it aside.

“We’ll see tomorrow.” You say softly, pressing a kiss to Theodore’s forehead.

Theodore hums, curling into you closer as he wraps an arm around your waist.

“You make it sound like you’re going to disappear.” He mumbles into your neck. A small smile tugs at your lips as you wrap your arm around him and let your eyes flicker closed.

“I love you, Theodore.” You whisper, before you both succumb to sleep.

Dawn breaks, the gentle glow of the morning sunlight casting a serene glow on the bedroom. As Theodore wakes up in the morning he reaches out, sleepily fumbling around for you. His hand reaches out but finds only empty space, the other side of the bed cold. Groggy and disoriented, he blinks away the remnants of sleep, trying to shake off the fog that clouds his mind.

With a heavy sigh, he sits up in bed, rubbing his eyes as he takes in the quietness of the room. It's too quiet, he realizes as if the very absence of sound weighs down on him.

Pushing himself out of bed, Theodore pads across the room, his footsteps echoing softly against the floor. He wanders through the empty house, the silence feeling oppressive now.

“[Name]?” He mumbles out, looking around.

No response.

He frowns. Today was a Sunday. You never worked on Sundays. Surely, if you were working, you would have told him.

His phone pings and he’s momentarily distracted, looking down at his home screen.

Blaise: We’re always here for you. It might not get easier but we’re all here to help. Sending you love.

Theodore frowns, utterly confused. It was such a morbid message from Blaise out of the blue.

He doesn’t have much time to unpack the meaning, however.

Entering the kitchen, Theodore's gaze falls upon the untouched bowl of soup on the counter. Confusion furrows his brow as he approaches it, a sense of unease settling in the pit of his stomach.

"[Name]?" he calls out, his voice echoing in the empty room. There's no response, just the silence that seems to press in on him from all sides.

Becoming more awake now, Theodore's movements become more frantic as he searches the house, calling out your name with increasing urgency. But there's no sign of you, no trace of your presence anywhere.

Panic begins to rise within him, checking each room as your name falls from his lips in desperation.

Stumbling back into the living room, he walks to the corridor but pauses when a glimpse of a white card catches his eye, poking out from the box laying atop the coffee table. He feels inexplicably drawn to it, a nagging feeling telling him to pause his searches for you.

Frowning, he tugs it out of the box, and his eyes roam over the small, A5 sheet of card.

In Loving Memory of [Name] [Last Name]

14/04/1981 - 3/05/1998

oh.

right.

Theodore's heart lurches in his chest as he reads the words on the card, a cold shiver running down his spine.

He reads the dates again, his mind struggling to grasp everything.

Theodore sinks onto the nearest chair, his hands trembling as he clutches the card tightly. Tears blur his vision as he struggles to come to terms with the truth, the weight of his grief crashing down on him with a crushing force.

It all makes sense now. The inexplicable moments of confusion, the nagging feeling that something wasn't quite right. He had been living in a dream, clinging to a reality that no longer existed.

Grief may have been cruel, but love was crueller. Grief made him acknowledge that you were gone, that you had been gone for four years, but love made him think you’d walk through the door any moment with a tired smile tugging at your lips. Love made him think he could cook for you and sit down with you at the end of the long day. Grief made him accept you would never be here again but love? Love made him look for you.

Tears blur his vision as he struggles to come to terms with the reality of your absence, a hollow ache settling in the pit of his stomach. How could he have been so blind, so foolish to believe that you were still here with him?

He feels suffocated by the emptiness of the house, the silence echoing like a constant reminder of what he has lost.

His movements uncoordinated and shaky, he stumbles as he walks over to the kitchen. He haphazardly throws open cabinets as he reaches for the bottle of whiskey, his fingers fumbling as he struggles to twist off the cap. Taking a massive swig straight from the bottle, he welcomes the burning sensation that courses down his throat, momentarily dulling the pain that constricts his airways.

Theodore stumbles back to the bedroom, the bottle of whiskey clutched tightly in his hand. As he navigates through the maze of boxes, he knocks one over, its contents spilling out onto the floor. He curses as he knocks it over, and in a cruel twist of fate, a red scarf is sent tumbling out of the box.

His breath catches in his throat as he picks up the scarf, his fingers brushing against the soft fabric. Somehow, it still carries the faint scent of your perfume, a haunting reminder of your presence that lingers in the air.

“Fuck!” Theodore shouts, smashing the bottle of whiskey against the kitchen counter as he holds onto the scarf.

Curses and shouts of anguish tear from his throat, echoing off the walls of the empty house like a sick symphony . He smashes the contents of the box with reckless abandon, the sound of breaking glass filling the air.

But as suddenly as his outburst began, it comes to an abrupt halt; Theodore's chest heaves with exertion. Panting heavily, he stares blankly at the wreckage around him, the full weight of his actions sinking in.

For a moment, there's only silence, broken only by the sound of his ragged breaths.

He wanted none of this. None of these stupid things, or this stupid house. Everywhere he looked, he was reminded of you. Perhaps it was because everything he did, was for you. Whether you were in this life or the next.

He kicks the scattered mess around him, walking off to the bedroom.

Tears well up in Theodore's eyes as he collapses onto the bed, clutching the scarf to his chest with a desperate grip. His body racks with sobs as he holds onto the memory of you tightly, and he can only pray that he’ll wake up and you’ll be there.

Grief may have been cruel, but love was crueller. And with the way Theodore loved loves you, he was only ever bound to such a miserable demise.

@mildlyuninformative @chgrch @gillyweeds @anti-hero03 @schaebickel @lillywildly @batmandabest @always-reading @multifandom-worlds

#slytherin #slytherin boys #tom riddle #harry potter #draco malfoy #lorenzo berkshire #slytherin boys fic #theodore nott #blaise zabini #pansy parkinson #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott x you #theodore nott angst #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott fic #theodore nott fluff

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charlie-lec-stories · 1 month

Text

Out the comfort zone // CL16 & MV1

Pairing: Charles Leclerc / Original Female Character / Max Verstappen

Summary: Sensitive matters should always be addressed with kindness, tactfulness and pinch of fun.

Warnings: Sexual comments and conversations, but from a mature and funny perspective.

Author’s Note: This story is about communication. Since our favourite trio relays a lot on it, this time you'll have the chance to witness them discuss a really sensitive matter on their relationship. Rate: +18 (Sexual topics)

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"No, no, no, no, no, no. This is not working, Max".

"Maybe if you move your leg to the left, Schat".

"What do you think I am, a gymnast?".

"Well, you are pretty flexible, Amour. Just open your legs wider. I can go behind you".

"This is getting kind of personal, guys, I don't think I want to be a part of this anymore".

"Oscar, don't be a baby".

"He is a baby, Amour".

"I'm 23!".

Lando, George and Alex couldn't believe what they were hearing. It wasn't enough for them to do the dirty together, they also had to mix Oscar into it. As the three of them walked further into the apartment, they found Oscar's hoodie on the floor, and the sound of Max grunting wasn't helping with the picture they were already making in their minds.

"I swear to God, I'm not that flexible. I mean, when it’s just us three, it's easier, but I think that four is just too much. Sorry Oscar, it’s not your fault".

"Way to make a man feel rejected...".

"I really am sorry. But if we keep going like this, I'm going to fall and my ass is going to hurt for days'.

Okay, maybe they should make their presence known. Looking at each other, George understood that he should be the one taking the lead.

"Hey guys, are you home?". He asked, but Lando just couldn't keep quiet.

"Please, tell me you haven't corrupted my teammate yet. He's just a baby!".

Walking into the living room, the three drivers were surprised by what they found. Tangled in a Twister mat, the other four were barely keeping their bodies up. Actually, Y/N was the first one to give up, falling butt first to the floor and taking Oscar down with her, who kicked Charles' right arm, making the monegasque lose balance and take down Max with him.

"Why is it that I can never guess it right when it comes to you three?". Lando asked, rhetorically. Every time he guessed they were doing nothing, he walked on them taking their clothes off, and every time he thought that they were having a private moment, they were just doing something completely innocent.

"Maybe you just think it too much". Max replied, smirking at the disgusted face Lando made. Oscar, Charles and Max got up, Y/N staying laying on the floor, legs and arms extended and exhausted look on her face. Everyone looked at her, expecting her to get up.

"Don't worry, I'll get up when I start feeling my legs again... Man, I hate Twister". She sighed. Oscar took his chance to get back at her.

"And I'm the baby...".

They all had dinner together, and after the guys went away, Max and Charles cleaned the kitchen while Y/N fixed the living room. She carefully folded the mat while listening to the boys chatting in the kitchen. They were discussing something about Carlos. Apparently, the spaniard had a fight with his girlfriend about anal sex. She found it weird that Charles and Max were open enough to talk about it knowing that she was around. It wasn't like she didn't know what they both did when they were alone, but they were never straight forward about either. She kept listening to the conversation. It seemed like Carlos' girlfriend was scared of trying it, and he took it as if she didn't trust him enough to do that with him. But she wasn't interested in what Carlos and his girlfriend did, she cared about what Charles and Max thought about the situation.

The thing is, they had their own ways of approaching sex and those ways were kind of limited. Mostly because of her. She was scared, as Carlos' girlfriend, of getting hurt while doing new things, and even if she had boyfriends before them, she was a little vanilla with them. It was a big jump going from one person to thinking about two at the same time. So the boys were patient, they "took turns" so she wouldn't be too overwhelmed with the situation. More than once she thought about how boring it must be for the one waiting, watching the other two have fun while he had to wait, and whenever those thoughts crossed her mind she felt the need to broaden her comfort zone a little bit.

She concentrated on the conversation again. Max explained that he could empathize with Carlos' point of view, it would hurt him a little to know that Charles or Y/N wouldn't try with him something they wanted to do thinking they could get hurt. He was clear with that: when you love someone, you don't let them get hurt, and you never, ever, hurt them yourself. Charles was little more on the girlfriend's side, he remembered the first time he let Max do that, and he was scared shitless, he also reminded Max that he begged Charles to go easy on him when it was his turn, and with that reminder, Max gave some more credit to the girlfriend's argument. It seemed like they both understood, not only for having been in that position before, but also from an empathetic side, how vulnerable it could be to let someone do that to you. She felt relieved.

"Hey, can I ask you guys about something?". She asked later that night, looking at her lap. They were getting ready for bed, Max was brushing his teeth and Charles was changing his jeans for a more comfortable pair of shorts. They both looked at her, curious about what she could be thinking about. She had been pretty quiet since the guys left.

"Sure, Amour. What is it?". Charles walked to the bed and sat down, placing his hand on her leg and running it up and down, easing her anxiety a bit. Max rushed up his routine so he could focus completely on her, going to the bed as fast as he could.

"I've been thinking about something. About us". Max didn't like the sound of that, he loved what they had too much, he didn't want to break up. "I know that we don't do a lot here". She patted the bed and they frowned at the same time.

"What do you mean, Schat?". He smirked at the thought of everything they had done on that bed. "We do a lot here".

"I mean, yes, we do, but it's how we do it". They weren't following her and it was frustrating. "I want us to do things together, the three of us, but it scares me. Every time I think about it, this fear of getting hurt paralyzes me".

"You mean that you want us to do things to you... together?". Charles was trying to be as polite as he could about the subject, Max was a little more direct.

"This is the type of conversation I like to have in bed. Who cares about the last episode of The Last of Us?". Y/N laughed under her breath, the pink on her cheeks softening a few tones.

"We can try whatever you want, Amour, as long as you feel comfortable. You're the one that will get the roughest part, we know that, that's why we never asked for more and waited for you to bring it up". That made her feel safer.

"We will always take care of you. We promise". She knew that Max was sincere.

"So, how do we do this?". The boys looked at each other, their eyes wide open.

"You want to try this now?". Charles asked and she nodded.

"Yes! I waited for this moment my whole life". Max exclaimed happily as he took off his shirt.

"Mate, calm down or you'll be the one getting it". Charles did what he could, but there was no cure for Max. If there was something that he had been waiting for was for the moment they all three did something together.

"I didn't know his love for butts extended this far". They watched Max go to the bathroom, looking for lubes and oils that would make the process a lot easier.

Charles just sat with her, holding her hand and smiling at her. Y/N and Charles had a different sexual history together than each of them had with Max. They started dating first and that meant that they started sleeping together before they added Max to the equation. Charles knew what, how and when she liked things. He knew her like the back of his hand, and had a different approach to intimacy than Max had. They were pretty equal in bed, but she usually let him take the lead of the situation and it was a wise decision, since he never guessed wrong what she wanted to do. Max was different, he worshiped her, he would do whatever she'd ask for if it meant pleasing her. That meant that she was the one taking the lead and he followed her like a warrior on a crusade. She didn't know what they were like when they were alone, for what she heard from them once in a while, they switched a lot, it all depending on their moods at the moment. When the three of them were together, Charles would usually go first, helping her relax and carry the situation, Max watching and doing little to no interventions. Then the Dutchman would follow with Charles still in the picture, but more coming from a caring side, taking care of them. He had a protective side that never rested and always shone with them.

Max gave Charles the space to ease Y/N's nervousness, while he decided to go to the living room for some scented candles and his speaker, already thinking on which playlist they should use to make the situation more relaxing for her. Charles took his time setting the mood, kissing and caressing every place of skin exposed before starting with her clothes. She was grateful that they didn't jump on her the minute she agreed to try this, instead they took the time to help her feel comfortable and, more importantly, loved. Once every piece of clothing was off, Charles looked at Max, a silent conversation about how Max could enter the picture as smoothly as possible. They decided for him to do something that Charles usually does: massages. So while Charles kept her busy, Max took one of the oils and gently started massaging the knots on her shoulders, easing the tension. They both knew the process, they knew what they had to do for her to be ready, so they just made sure to be open and verbal about what they were going to do before doing anything.

"It's going to hurt, you'll feel some pressure, Schat. It's normal, you just have to relax". Max told her after her and Charles had already been going at it for a while, as he carefully moved her legs to position her comfortably on top of Charles. "If you feel like you can't keep going, you tell me and I stop immediately, okay?". She nodded, still a little tense, even if she was worked up. Charles, under her pulled her flush against him, letting her rest her weight on him and running his hands up and down her sides.

"We need words, Amour, you know it". It was a rule that they had, nothing without explicit consent, specially new things.

"Yes, I understand. I want to do it". She sighed and prepared herself, focusing on Max's hand caressing her lower back.

It hurt, it took her some time to get used to it, she even let a few tears run down her cheeks. The boys stopped moving a few times to give her time, they whispered some comforting words to her and kissed her discomfort away. But she ended up liking it, once the pain was not there anymore, once she felt how connected she was to both of them in that moment, she realized that she was right on stepping out of her comfort zone. She had never seen them as happy as she saw them in that moment, Charles locking eyes with her from underneath her, Max's smile against the back of her shoulder as his hand grabbed Charles', both squeezing each other's hand tightly. It was special and it was great, two things she before feared the moment wouldn't be. She was glad that they all did that together.

"How do you feel, Amour?". Charles asked her as soon as he recovered from his post sex dizziness. She felt Max moving away from her, lifting his weight so she could move if she needed to, but she needed him close, so she grabbed his arm and pulled him back on top of her. Charles let out a huff when Max's weight fell on them again, being the one holding everyone on top of him was hard, but he wouldn't rather be anywhere else. Max chuckled at his huff and Charles slapped the back of his head, but ended up joining his boyfriend in the laughing fit. They stayed like that for a while, just close while their hearts went back to a normal rhythm.

"What about a bath, Schat? I think it'd be good for you". She let out a quiet 'yes', Max then getting up and walking to the bathroom. Charles took his time with the massages, working on all the new muscles she had used and were in need of care. When the water was ready, he helped her up and she went to the bathroom. While she relaxed, Max and Charles cleaned up. They changed the bed sheets, took all the candles, oils and lubes to their places and prepared some tank top and cotton panties for her to dress up with. She stayed there until the water got cold, and with still some discomfort, she got out and wrapped herself in a towel, emptying the tub before walking out. She dried and dressed herself quickly, and joined the boys on the bed, taking her spot in the middle. The tiredness on their faces was notorious, but they put on the effort to stay awake to make sure she was alright.

"You might feel a little sore in the morning". Charles said and then kissed her shoulder, his hand on her hip, on top of Max's.

"But the bright side is that you get breakfast in bed because of that". She giggled at Max's comment.

"I might do this with you every night if it gets me breakfast in bed in the mornings". She joked, but Max was grinning like he won the lottery. "I'm joking".

"Don't play like that with my heart". His smile dropped and she felt Charles shaking with laughter behind her.

"You seriously love butts".

"They are one of the best features of you guys, after your arms and Y/N's boobs". The other two looked at him holding their laughter. "What?"

"Bueno, para gustos, colores". Y/N said and snuggled up by bringing Max closer. They were used to her chanting some Argentinian sayings at them and they learned what most of them meant. This one meant that it was pointless to discuss personal preferences. "Thank you for being so good to me". She said after a while. "You have no idea how important it is for me that this moment went on this great".

"We love so much, Schat. You don't have to thank us for these things. We'd bring down the moon and stars for you".

"Je vous aime, mes chéris". (I love you, loves)

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Hey, I'm back with lestappen x reader. Hope you guys like it. I'm thinking about working a bit with smut, but from a more subtle and delicate perspective. What do you guys think about that? Would you like more content like that?

#charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc imagines #lestappen imagine #lestappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc x reader #max verstappen x reader #max vestappen one shot

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to---the---ark · 24 days

Text

I'm touch starved, and now I'm thinking about Tim.

He spent all his childhood being terrified by a faceless creature and then locked in his hospital room by doctors. He was a kid who needed to be listened and believe to, but only got drugged up and locked in a damn room.

Then in college he met Brian.

Brian isn't seen much on screen, but all his actions in the serie, and the comic book special "Issue 3.5 - ToTheArk" speak volume: he loves his friends and he loves deeply.

Do you think Tim melted the first time Brian hugged him?

Do you think he realized how touch starved he really was? How burning his skin seemed to be, and how much relief Brian's hug was giving him?

Do you think Tim felt ashamed of that? Do you think he thought of himself as too clingy, or too needy? Do you think about all the times he probably cried alone in his bed, because he was loved for the first time ever but didn't dare to go ask Brian for even an half hug? Just an half hug, a quick one, he could've been happy with some pats on the shoulder, even when he really needed the grounding weight of someone lying on top of him.

Do you think he ever got embarrassed about those thoughts? About those needs?

Do you think Brian managed to make Tim spill the beans? And if so- do you think Brian started to just lay on his best friend whenever Tim got too fidgety, or too anxious?

Do you think Brian learned how to ground Tim with physical touch to help him after an episode, or after a seizure?

When Brian disappeared, do you think Tim got to force himself to ignore his touch starvation like he used to before Brian? Do you think he cried and shook, his skin on fire, his breath irregular, his mind racing?

When he finally understood the truth about The Operator being something real, Tim surely got scared of infecting everyone else.

Do you think he forced himself to keep quiet?

Do you think Hoodie ever tried to hug Masky, to calm him through a gentle touch, only to be smacked away? Do you think the negative emotions and the anger Masky felt were somehow sad too?

When Tim got closer to Jay, do you think he ever got the temptation to hug him?

And Jay, our young man who just wanted to help, got turned into an angry individual, maybe a little lost, and surely scared, but also so courageous or simply too far gone to stop. Do you think he ever wanted the comfort of a friendly hug?

Do you think Tim wished he could hold Jay close and relaxed, before losing him? Do you think Tim felt something familiar while looking for his own things in the pockets of a still Hoodie? When Alex showed him Brian's corpse, do you think Tim wanted to just crawl over there and take his best friend between his arms, squeezing him in a comforting way?

Do you think Tim hallucinated those college night, with those familiar arms wrapped around him?

Edit: I wrote something about it, click here!

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pippin-katz · 21 days

Text

The Awardist - Nicholas Galitzine & Taylor Zakhar Perez

I have to write down the best bits and record my thoughts while listening to this because I am completely losing my mind over what is our first real interview with the boys that was recorded in real time.

27:55 - right off the bat we got a great inside joke/reference from the host that had me cackle

28:19 - taylor being happy to see their faces and nicholas immediately shutting him down like "well i'm not happy to see taylor's face"

28:40 - taylor joking about putting a post-in note over nick's face lmfao

29:30 - the way they don't want to talk over each other, it's giving alex's bedroom flashbacks

29:40 - nick being like "oh! oh, it's good!" when dipping into the online response when the movie released lmfao 😆

30:33 - the silence following the social media question where they were apparently nodding followed by taylor saying they were texting each other like "mate" "mate" back and forth

31:20 - THEY TALKED ABOUT THE SIGNING WARS

31:44 - nicholas calling taylor "this little fucker" had me dying cause me and @meraki-yao were literally referring to him as that in our conversation on ig yesterday

32:00 - nicholas genuinely asking taylor "what possessed you to do this?"; it's giving storage closet in the children's hospital vibes when henry's like "why do you dislike me?"

33:04 - "take it nick" immediately upon being asked the dense question regarding fans reacting to their portrayals of henry and alex, and the way that nicholas laughs and stutters makes me think that taylor totally did that on purpose to mess with him lmfao

34:00 - taylor stopping to talk to fans regardless of where he is or where he's going and specfically mentioning how meaningful it was that people have said *TW* they were contemplating suicide when they read the book/watched the movie and that it helped them 🥺

35:40 - the host referred to the film as "a coming out story", which i don't really agree with as a label because the coming out portion is an added piece of their relationship as two public figures, but their love is the actual story

36:40 - nicholas referring to the film as "wholesome and funny" made me smile so much because it truly is wholesome

37:18 - not the host making the "top to bottom" joke 😭

37:58 - nicholas and taylor have talked about their friendship with each other and how they instantly clicked; nick knew within a few minutes of rehearsal that taylor was "his buddy" 🥺

38:41 - catch me squaring up with everyone who has made nicholas self conscious and self deprecating about doing so much intimacy work on the screen that he refers to it as "basically his thing" like that's all he's recognized for; i am so ready to punch some motherfuckers 😡

39:10 - "it's so fun now, seeing my mate at all these awards and stuff"; catch me fucking crying

39:24 - not taylor misremembering the "nicholas or joey" question as "who was the better kisser"; he totally combined the "is nicholas a good kisser" question with the "who has your heart tonight" question

40:05 - taylor talking about matthew's background in theatre and how they got to actually rehearse with each other; i will never stop being insanely grateful that matthew is a theatre guy

40:55 - the way i said "oh my god" out loud because i was so excited by the question

41:14 - improvised the "physicality" of the store room; i.e. they just fell on top of each other and clamored around 😂

41:32 - the way i literally gasped so hard that i started coughing when nicholas called taylor "tay", i am not even fucking joking, that was so fucking cute 😭

43:42 - fucking wheezed upon realizing where the question going

44:02 - the knowing way taylor was like "i will take this one" lmfao

45:10 - not me going so red from second hand embarrassment 🫣

45:44 - taylor bringing the jockstrap that nicholas wears in bottoms, and nicholas immediately adding "i won't even go into mary & george" 😂

47:51 - taylor finishing nicholas' sentence about matthew's direction for the cake scene; sharing a braincell lol

48:36 - taylor's dog passed away the night of the first day of filming like wow, that fucking sucks 🥺😭

49:05 - "everyone's looking at me with these sad eyes" made me so sad but then taylor said "do you want some tea?" in a terrible british accent lmfao

49:50 - nicholas complimenting and boosting taylor's performance while having such a hard time emotionally 🥺

50:49 - taylor bringing up running through the museum; i can hear the smile in his voice while talking about it 😭

51:28 - they filmed the kensington palace fight and the red room the week after nicholas got covid

52:40 - oh my god, the way you can hear nick grinning as he throws taylor under the bus for the sequel question 😂

53:30 - taylor wants a second book to base the sequel off of

54:03 - taylor used they/them pronouns for casey!! see? he knows, it was totally nerves

55:20 - it felt like it was over too soon, i desperately need more of them PLEASE 😭

This is the greatest thing that's happened in like, a month for me lmfao I am literally begging for more people to interview the boys about RWRB, I am so fucking desperate for more content of the two of them together. They are everything to me 🥺

#the awardist #red white & royal blue #rwrb #rwrb movie #matthew lopez #rwrb book #casey mcquiston #rwrb interview #alex claremont-diaz #taylor zakhar perez #henry hanover-stuart fox #henry fox mountchristen-windsor #nicholas galitzine #firstprince #history huh? bet we could make some #Spotify

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selfinsertmadness · 1 month

Note

i have a really cool prompt

hope you like my idea,

could you perhaps write a story about the current logan situation with loganxy/n ??

i love your blog soooo muchhhh

Logie and the Australian car incident

pairing: AstonMartin!y/n x Logan Sargeant (can be read platonically or romantically)

author's note: I haven't written any fanfic stuff in literal years (middle school me is quacking) but I tried my best with that one. Looking forward to any suggestions or critiques you may have :) (insert obligatory English is not my native language here) (please send promts!!!!)

The day starts off as any other day on a busy race weekend would and you are busy running around the Aston Martin garage making sure everything is in order before you return to your place at the back of the garage. You let your gaze sweep over the garage one last time before getting out your work phone and texting your boss, Lawrence, that everything is in order. The cars seem good, the mechanics had no complaints and Lance and Fernando were reasonably happy with everything. A satisfied smile washes over your face, your job was busy but reasonably easy, as the team caretaker your sole mission was to make sure the team was happy, the drivers taken care of, and the PR supervisors were not losing their minds running after their drivers while also texting Lawrence even the most minute details about his son and the other driver.

It seems quite redundant to you, but Lawrence Stroll pays well and who are you to turn down a job as a glorified team nanny.

You take a seat at the back and watch the first practice session absentmindedly, letting your gaze wander down to your phone occasionally, and scrolling through Twitter, scoffing at all the hate towards the current grid. It never ceases to amaze you how people can be so hateful, but then again, some people are just unhappy about their own lives. Looking up at the screen you watch a Williams car hit the wall on the right before sliding across the track and grinding its way to a stop on the left barrier. You gasp as you jump up, the rest of the garage wincing in sympathy as the car finally stops. You quickly turn to a mechanic nearby. “Who was that?”, you ask a little panicked as you watch the red flag fly and a driver in a Williams race suit climb out of the cockpit. “Albon, I think”, the mechanic replies helpfully as you try and suppress a relieved sigh. You still feel sorry for Alex but simultaneously thanking your lucky stars that Logan was not the one in an accident this time.

When Logan first got signed by Williams you both were ecstatic, you had met years ago when your parents had taken you on a vacation to Florida where you met Logan and you’ve kept in touch ever since. You had already been working for Aston Martin when Logan started in F1 and the fact that you could spend a lot more time together now served as further motivation to both of you to give it your best. You quickly shoot him a text, knowing he won’t be responding until later, before sending your boss a quick update and making sure the crash had not affected your team.

You honestly had forgotten you texted Logan in the first place as you watch the cars head out for the second practice session, Alex staying back in the pits, watching his teammate drive. You smile as you send Logan some memes you had found on twitter, knowing he would have a laugh once he got back to his room after the strenuous practice sessions of the day. Aston Martin, for once, had no major issues you had attend to and you could lean back and relax, as much as one in a Formula 1 garage can relax, in your seat while harassing the Aston Martin Instagram Admin with Memes you think they should be posting asap.

As the second practice session ends you help the team pack up and prepare for the next day as the drivers attend to their media duties and you stretch in relief as the first day of the Australian Grand Prix comes to an end. After having everything sorted you get out your work phone and sign off for the day before taking out your personal phone and responding to some texts before checking your chat with Logan, seeing that he had read your messages but not responded. ‘You ok?’, you send him before shrugging off any worry you might have. Surely, he was just busy, after all, he was the only Williams driver that would be starting on Sunday. You really wouldn’t want to be in his shoes, the weight of the entire team and all the fans’ expectations resting on your shoulders. You might have a lot of responsibility but at least you were free of the expectations fans place on the drivers, mechanics and team principals.

You quickly slip into the shower of your private hotel room, a perk you were eternally grateful for, and put on some pajamas before order room service. You had earned it after all and looking after your figure was thankfully not a concern you had. ‘Ignoring your bestie? That’s not how I know you Loggie!’ you text Logan as you open the door for the food you had ordered and sit down before digging into the pepperoni pizza you had been craving for a week.

You startle as you hear a knock from your hotel room door. You shoot a quick glance at your phone, 11pm. You quietly approach the door and look through the peephole cautiously. Who would disturb you that late on a race weekend? Looking through the hole you see Logan at the door, his face unusually pale and his expression unnervingly neutral. Quickly you reach for the doorhandle, pulling the door open. “Logie? What got you a-knocking that late?”, you ask jokingly but the lighthearted smile on your face quickly fades as he stands on the swell of your door like a man lost, his eyes suspiciously watery. “Oh dear”, you mumble as you quickly pull him into your room and heard him towards your bed, letting him sit down before standing before him and looking at him with a stern expression. “What’s wrong?”, you ask, concern written all over your face.

He sighs, falling back onto the bed. “They’re taking my car.”, his voice sounds wobbly as he explains. “Who is taking your car?”, you ask, your voice confused.

“James. He said Alex has a higher chance of scoring and I get it, but I tried so hard, you know? They said they trusted me, and I was ready to proof how much I have improved and now I can’t drive at all. I didn’t crash the car! It’s not my fault! I didn’t do anything…”, he rambles, his voice flowing between sadness, anger and betrayal before ending in defeat. You look at him, he still has his upper body lying on your bed, his feet dangling off the side as he continues explaining what had happened. Quietly you sit down next to him on the bed and gently stroke through his hair as you let him talk out his frustrations. “y/n? What do I do now?”, Logan asks as he looks up at you, his eyes still wet but trying his hardest to not shed a tear.

“I will put the fear of God into that good-for-nothing son of a bitch.”, you explain very matter of factly. “I’m gonna walk down to the Williams hospitality and I’m gonna scream at your team principal!”, you declare with a huff as you get off of your bed and towards where you kicked off your shoes when you came back from the paddock earlier that night.

“Y/N, do NOT do that.”, Logan warns as he gets up and grabs your hand. “That is just going to make it worse.” “Okay but it’s also gonna make me feel a lot better ‘cause who does he think he is? Taking your car and giving it away. I’m gonna make him regret this entire week” you say angrily as you look up at him with determination and the wrath of someone who’s best friend was just wronged in your eyes.

“Please don’t”, Logan asks with sad eyes, gripping your hand even tighter. “Please just stay with me tonight, I feel sick. I just want to cry.”, he admits to you as you feel your resolve break. “But- “, you trail off as you watch him stand before you, his hand still tightly gripping yours. You sigh in defeat before squeezing his hand. “Right but only ‘cause you asked me to, if it was up to me…”, you stop, leaving the threat hang in the air of your hotel room as you head towards the small desk. “Pizza”, you declare as you shove the leftovers of your pizza into Logans hands. “My TV has Netflix, what do you want to watch?”, you ask as you throw yourself into the hotel room bed and turn on the flatscreen TV hanging opposite it.

Logan lets out a surprised laugh and sits down next to you, the pizza carton still tightly in his hands as he gets out a slice and lets you choose whatever show you find on the homepage. The evening continues in relative silence as Logan finishes the pizza and you sit in the bed, leaning onto each other. “I’m still sending him negative vibes, like spiritually”, you grumble as he giggles before slipping off to sleep for the night.

#logan sargeant #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #x reader #logan sargeant x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #f1 x oc #first fic in a long time #ls2 x reader #ls2

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hotmentransformed · 2 months

Text

No One Acts Like Gaston

When Alex first received the call from Disney offering him a position as a character actor at one of their parks, he was over the moon with excitement. After graduating with a BFA in Acting several years earlier, he had hardly been offered any work, so he was over the moon to work at the happiest place on earth. Eager to embark on this new adventure, he accepted without hesitation, not even bothering to ask which character he would be portraying.

Entering the park, Alex was greeted by a symphony of sights and sounds that filled him with wonder and amazement. Children laughed and squealed with delight, the air was alive with the promise of magic, and families posed for photos with beloved characters, an honor he would soon hold.

The anticipation bubbled within Alex as he approached the grand spires of Cinderella's Castle, shooting upwards like a beacon of dreams. His heart raced with excitement, each step bringing him closer to the realization of his lifelong ambition.

As he marveled at the sights around him, Alex couldn't help but feel a sense of awe wash over him. This was it – the beginning of a new chapter in his life, a chapter filled with adventure, excitement, and the boundless possibilities of Disney magic. But before he could dwell on the moment for too long, a friendly voice interrupted his reverie: "Hey there, new guy! You ready to make some magic?"

Turning to see the source of the voice, Alex found himself face to face with a Disney cast member, their eyes twinkling with mischief and merriment. With a nod and a grin, Alex followed the cast member through the bustling crowds, and towards the double doors that read Cast Members Only.

As Alex stepped into the backstage area, the air crackled with excitement and anticipation. He could hardly contain his enthusiasm as he followed the seasoned Disney cast member through the bustling corridors. The cast member regaled Alex with stories of the magic that awaited him within the park's hallowed walls. Alex listened intently, his heart soaring with every word as he imagined the countless adventures that lay ahead.

As they approached a nondescript door labeled Character Costumes, the cast member turned to Alex with a knowing smile and pushed open the door to reveal a sight that took Alex's breath away: Row upon row of costumes stretched out before him, each one a vibrant tapestry of color and imagination. From the sparkling gowns of princesses to the swashbuckling attire of pirates, the room was a treasure trove of Disney magic, unlike anything Alex had ever seen. But as his eyes scanned the array of costumes, they came to rest on one in particular: a regal ensemble that seemed to pulse with an energy all its own. It was Gaston's attire from "Beauty and the Beast.” Confusion washed over Alex as he stared at the costume, his mind racing to catch up with the sudden realization of what was happening. "But… Gaston?" he stammered, turning to the cast member in disbelief. He was a small guy, maybe 5’ 8” on a good day and 120 soaking wet.

The cast member nodded with a reassuring smile. "Trust me, kid, you're gonna knock 'em dead," he said, clapping Alex on the back before ushering him into the locker room to get into costume and closing the door behind him.

Left alone with the costume amongst the lockers, Alex decided to give it a shot. He slipped into the too-large ensemble. Was he ready for this? Could he truly embody the larger-than-life persona of Gaston, the arrogant and boisterous villain of a beloved fairy tale?

As Alex stepped into the Gaston costume, the fabric seemed to cling to him with an almost magnetic force, molding itself to his form in a way that felt simultaneously exhilarating and unsettling. At first, there was a faint prickling sensation, like pins and needles dancing across his skin. Then, a surge of energy pulsed through his veins, surprising him and causing him to lose his footing and stumble back onto the bench.

His limbs trembled as muscles he didn't know he possessed began to swell and ripple beneath the fabric. What was once a slender frame now burgeoned with newfound strength, his arms thickening with sinew and his chest expanding with each breath. The costume strained at the seams as if struggling to contain the sheer power that coursed through him. Stretching taller and taller, Alex felt his massive muscles elongate and shift, leaving him a gigantic 6'4". But it wasn't just his physique that changed. As Alex glanced down in disbelief at his massive legs and feet which now seemed miles away, he watched in awe as coarse tufts of hair sprouted from his skin, spreading like wildfire across his legs, and etching its way up his torso and onto his arms. The sensation was strange and unfamiliar, yet somehow right, as if this was the form he was always meant to inhabit. As he scratched the forest of hair on his massive chest, he felt... manly.

His face began shifting, his features sharpening and his jawline becoming more pronounced. A shadow of stubble emerged along his jaw, framing lips that curled into an arrogant smirk. Even his eyes seemed to change, gleaming with a newfound intensity that mirrored the character he now embodied. With each passing moment, Alex felt himself slipping further and further into the role of Gaston. His movements became more fluid, more confident, as if guided by some unseen force. His Adams apple, swelled, leaving his moans deeper and more resonant, booming and echoing with authority, his voice dripping with the same bravado that defined the character he now portrayed.

A surge of energy pulsed through him, and a strange sensation washed over his entire being. The world around him spun in a dizzying whirl, and Alex lost his footing and reached for support, only to stumble toward the doors to the main park and fall through. The sights and sounds of Disney World blended into a chaotic blur. Faces rushed past him, their voices a cacophony of excitement and laughter, but to Alex, they were nothing more than fleeting shadows in a swirling storm.

His head swam with confusion as he struggled to make sense of his surroundings. "Where… where am I?" he muttered, his deep voice lost amidst the din of the crowd. He reached out, grasping for something – anything – to anchor him to reality, but found only the empty expanse of the park stretching out before him. In his disoriented state, Alex stumbled forward, his movements clumsy and uncertain. But then, as if guided by some unseen force, he felt a surge of power coursing through him, filling him with a newfound sense of purpose.

With a deep breath, Alex straightened his posture and squared his shoulders, channeling the boundless confidence of the character he now embodied. His steps grew more assured, his gestures more deliberate, until finally, Gaston arrived at his designated spot in the park.

Gaston stood before the eager parkgoers, flexing his muscles and flashing a cocky grin. Embracing his new role with all the bravado and charm of the legendary hero, he was ready to leave his mark on the magical kingdom of Disney in a way he never could have imagined.

#male tf #transformation #tf #transform #male transformation #muscle tf #muscle transformation #disney tf #costume tf

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actual-changeling · 8 months

Text

if god did not want me to over-analyse a two second video clip she would not have given me video editing software, so welcome back to alex's unhinged meta corner with me, alex, as your host.

we're going off the deep end with this one.

let's have a look at a. well, you cannot really call it a scene at this point. more of a collection of frames - aziraphale's face right after crowley leaves but before the bell above the door rings. this has been on my list of metas to write anyway, but someone kindly pointed it out which gave me incentive to make this post.

now, my leading theory is that much like his mouth movement before saying "i forgive you", which looked and sounded a lot like the beginning of "i love you", aziraphale is mouthing a silent "don't". presumably, the complete sentence would have been "don't leave".

first things first, why do i think he would say it? well, if you look back at their breakup in the park in season one, aziraphale calls him back when he says he will leave.

"you can't leave, crowley, there isn't anywhere to go".

then, after the fucking mess that is "nothing lasts forever", aziraphale also calls out. "come back". it is also perfectly in line with his previous behaviour to try and keep crowley from leaving again. especially because he almost tells the metatron he will stay just a few minutes later.

some other important things to keep in mind: aziraphale is shaking and about to cry, and also probably still in shock. so his face is doing a number of things and any words he may or may not mouth are slightly skewed due to that.

the first few frames are him taking a breath, so far so good.

this is the part where it looks like he is about to say something and silently begins to mouth don't. if you pay very close attention to his lips, you can see that they get pushed forward just a little bit as one does when saying "do".

you can try it yourself to confirm, i certainly did several times while rewatching the same two seconds like an absolutely sane person.

the last few frames are him closing his mouth again and breaking off whatever he was going to say, but in my opinion, you can still see the ending of that "don't".

alex, you might ask, how do you know that's what he was trying to say? i don't, although i hope once the strike ends someone will ask michael sheen some much needed questions. however, i wouldn't be a scientist if i didn't have evidence to present nevertheless.

i compared two of the frames from above, one from the "do" part and one from the "nt" part with another instance of michael/aziraphale saying "don't" - "i don't think you understand what i'm offering you".

the mouth shape and the movement of his facial muscles looks very similar even taking the whole sobbing and crying business into account.

interestingly enough, once the bell does ring, signaling that crowley has left the store, he not only closes his mouth but also physically steps back even more. he almost says "don't leave", restrains himself by physically pulling back, and then inches even farther from the door.

that is also when his face shifts from completely openly heartbroken to angry/spiteful and heartbroken.

the camera angle changes a little bit but not enough to explain the discrepancy, so yes, he steps backward before turning away and touching his lips. that pillar is honestly a very helpful point of reference. also completely unrelated but the face he makes at the end cracks me up it is LITERALLY >:(

to summarize: someone get michael sheen on the fucking phone before i lose my mind. also you can pry this meta from my dead, cold hands, he almost said "don't leave" and i will die on this hill.

lastly, said two second clip at half speed if you want to have a look for yourself.

#alex talks good omens #good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #good omens season 2 #go2 #aziracrow #crowley x aziraphale #good omens meta #every time i write a post like this i imagine myself as the red string meme dude #i have CONNECTED THE DOTS too

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festivalsofmargot · 11 months

Text

Blood Sport {Garreth Weasley x Fem!Reader}

Got this pic of Garreth from Rimaeternax on twitter!!!

AGED UP CHARACTERS, 18+ SCENARIOS (Characters are in their 7th year and are 18+)

Introduction: Garreth had begged you not to put your name in The Goblet of Fire. The TriWizard Tournament was known for being so dangerous, it was practically a death sentence to every school Champion chosen. You promised him you wouldn’t, but when you found out your best friend Natty had entered her name, you decided to go against his wishes and enter behind his back. Being as capable as you were and the only person in ages able to wield ancient magic, of course your name was chosen. Along with an overwhelming sense of dread that you could die, Garreth felt betrayal, and has kept his distance from you ever since.

Word Count: ~ 9,900 (I’m gonna be honest, I dunno how it happened)

Warnings: Heavy Drinking, Swearing, Angst, Smut (Sex, Edging, Oral)

Author’s Note: I made this so it could be a standalone, but in case you’d like extra background, this is a continuation of Garreth’s portion in The 3 Boys & The Hogwarts Champion. I couldn’t get his part out of my head and I had to write out the rest of his story. Freckled Serotonin could be a prequel too haha, a fic that takes place during a time where the relationship is only happiness and fluff. Maaaan, I have been obsessing and losing sleep over this fic all week and I’m so happy I finally finished! It’s my longest one yet, so get cozy and grab a snack 🥰 Hope you guys have a great night ❤

Songs (if interested):

Blood Sport - Sleep Token (Original Version & Room Below Version)

for forever - EKKSTACY

You Can’t Stop Me - Alex G

you not the same - TileKid

The Love You Want - Sleep Token

Lights Are On - Tom Rosenthal

It had been weeks now since you and Garreth last spoke. You knew he needed time and space to forgive you, but your second challenge was coming up soon, and now more than ever you wanted him by your side again.

The Durmstrang Champion, Maxim Mainka, had caught a few hints at what it could be, and things weren’t looking good if his suspicions were correct. He had been so concerned he wanted to prepare with you and the Beauxbatons Champion, Amelie DuPont. Was there anything more unsettling than something that could put a Durmstrang student on edge?

Possibly facing a challenge you couldn’t overcome within the next week had weighed on you more and more as it approached. So when Professor Weasley announced that the fourth years and up were to meet for dance practice for the upcoming Yule Ball, you were over the moon. You’d take anything that could help take your mind off it all.

You grinned a bit seeing all the younger years get uneasy at Professor Weasley explaining the proper dance that was required of everyone if they wanted to attend. The seventh years were the only ones who seemed to be at ease with the whole thing, probably because it wouldn’t be the first time touching someone so intimately for most of you. Whereas the younger years had never even held hands with someone and it was written all over their faces.

“Garreth, come up and help me demonstrate please.”

Your smile faltered a bit watching Garreth walk up. He received some whistles and hollers as he strode up to his aunt proudly, chest puffed like he was about to own this demonstration dance. You couldn’t help the grin that tugged at your lips, of course you still found him as hilarious as ever, despite your current situation.

He blew an exaggerated kiss to the audience and you cackled along with the other students. He then joined his aunt for the dance, keeping the smug look on his face as she talked through the steps for everyone. At one point, he surprised her with a dip, causing everyone to howl with laughter and she smacked him lightly. He said a quick apology and brought her back up.

“That’ll do. Thank you, Garreth.” He stepped back from his aunt and gave a dramatic bow, bringing another round of chuckles from everyone as you all clapped for him.

“Alright, now everyone find a partner and we’ll go through the steps together.”

Most of the students went quiet and still, not wanting to make the first move. The only ones who got up to move were the ones in relationships, heading to join their significant others for practice. You looked down to the ground, suddenly feeling like an unconfident fourth year yourself.

Garreth caught sight of you amongst the crowd. He had been wanting to go up and speak to you these last few days, but he couldn't get himself to do it. There never seemed to be a good time, he started to doubt there ever would be.

He straightened his tie, more out of bustling nerves than anything, and strode up to you. He held out his hand for you to take and you slowly looked up at him, clearly taken aback.

He looked down at you with a smirk, hoping you didn’t see through his feigned confidence. “What do you say, oh mighty Champion of Hogwarts?”

You swallowed thickly, your body wasn’t handling Garreth speaking to you again as well as you had hoped, but you’d take this moment regardless. You tentatively took his hand and he tugged you up with ease. He kept your hand in his as he led you to the floor, then effortlessly pulled you into the dance, his hold on you firm and warm.

“You have horrible taste in dance partners, Weasley.” You tried to jest to hide how anxious you were. Unable to meet his gaze, you looked down at your feet to make sure you didn’t step on his. It was a bit much, not speaking for as long as you had and now you were in his arms like this.

“Just follow the expert, you’ll be fine.” He pulled you even closer to him, getting you to finally look up at his face. His eyes bored into yours, and it wiped your mind clean of any coherent thought you had. You wanted to look back down to your feet but he had pulled you too close to be able to do so, so you settled for looking at your hand on his shoulder.

“I uh - I thought I’d take this chance to speak with you.” It was Garreth’s turn to feel uneasy.

Well… that doesn’t sound good. “Alright.”

He looked away from you, his jaw tensing, bracing himself for what he was going to say next. Your stomach dropped seeing his face turn so dismayed when he was being goofy and having fun only a moment ago.

“I don’t know how best to put this, so I’m just going to say it. I think we should just be friends.” He could feel you stiffen and he pulled you in closer, your stance turning more into an embrace. He placed his cheek against yours, your swaying becoming only small steps from side to side. “I’m sorry.” He whispered. “I really do hope we can be friends, I’ll do anything to make that happen. Anything. But, I can’t be yours anymore. I just… I can’t. It hurts too much.”

Your eyes stung with tears, and you hated that one had managed to fall. But you were able to remain standing tall. Unable to speak with your throat feeling so constricted, you settled for a brief nod of your head, letting him know you heard him.

“Whatever you need, it's yours. I’ll help you through the rest of the tournament any way I can, just say the word.”

Quickly wiping away your stray tear before he could see it, you cleared your throat. You shifted in your stance so he could back off of you a bit. “Let’s stick with dance lessons, yeah?”

You looked over his shoulder, focusing on nothing in particular while he eyed you a moment longer. He then nodded his head, looking over your shoulder at nothing in particular himself. “Yeah… Yeah, alright then.”

That night you had decided to go to The Hog’s Head. You would go to Three Broomsticks, but you didn’t want to chance bumping into Garreth. You wanted to avoid him like the plague.

Walking in, you saw Maxim Mainka. He was sitting at the bar, drinking and cheerily speaking with those around him. He noticed you walk in and lit up like you were just the person he wanted to see.

“Fellow Champion! Come! Come join me!”

You smiled and joined his side at the bar.

“One for my friend, on me!” He called to the bartender.

You gladly took the pint placed in front of you and began on a steady stream of gulps.

“That’s the way!” He cheered, patting you on the back and clearly feeling a good buzz in his cheeks. He held up his drink to you and you clinked it with yours. “Let’s enjoy our last few days alive, my friend!”

You stilled and thought on his words for a moment. You knew Maxim had been feeling edgy about the upcoming challenge, but you didn’t think he’d be this convinced none of the champions would make it out alive.

You started to go a bit numb. The love of your life had asked you to ‘just be friends’ and you might very well die in a few days…

What better time to drink myself silly?

You raised your pint, “Here’s to that.” Then you brought it back to your lips for more.

Garreth sat at the bar of The Three Broomsticks, barely able to touch his drink; he was so sick to his stomach. He rubbed at his eyes with his thumb and forefinger, unable to follow the chatter of his friends next to him.

He knew ending things with you would be one of the stupidest things he had ever done, but he had to. What choice did he have? He couldn’t keep you wondering and waiting on him to forgive you when you had more important things to focus on.

His feelings were all over the place. He still loved you deeply, but he was also still upset. He didn’t think you’d ever truly know how full of dread you made him when you threw yourself into danger as constantly as you did.

He thought if he gave you a clear stance on where the two of you were in the meantime, it’d be better for you, give you the chance to prepare for your challenges with a clear head. But asking to just be friends had gone horribly, bringing the exact opposite effect he wanted, making things even worse on you.

“I think I’m gonna turn in, mate. Not feeling it tonight.” Garreth got up from his seat and patted Leander on the back as he passed. He moseyed out of The Three Broomsticks with his hands in his pockets, kicking the dirt at his feet as he made his way out of Hogsmeade.

The sound of cheering coming from The Hog’s Head caught his attention. He peeked over curiously and had to do a double take. That bar was never bustling, yet there was a huge crowd around it tonight, boisterous about something going on inside.

He was caught off guard when you and Maxim clambered out of the crowd and fell to the ground, laughing hysterically and definitely drunk. The crowd cheered in intoxicated delight at your collapse.

Garreth made his way over as Maxim helped you up. When he saw him throw you over his shoulder, his blood boiled and he picked up his pace.

“This one’s pissed! She’s done for the night!” Maxim called back to the crowd as he carried you away from The Hog’s Head with ease. The crowd whined in unison at your departure.

Garreth strode up to him. “Put her down. I can take her from here.”

As Garreth approached, Maxim side stepped him and kept walking.

“Oi, Knobhead! I said put her down!”

Maxim gave your side a quick pat. “You know this one?”

You peeked up. “Ah! It’s alright, I know him. He can take me.” You giggled, and Garreth wanted you down from Maxim’s shoulder yesterday.

With a grunt, he set you down. “If you trust him. I could go for a few more rounds anyway.” He took your hand and kissed it. “Goodnight. Meet with me again tomorrow?” He went in to kiss your hand again while he waited for your answer.

“Appreciate it, mate. Goodnight.” Garreth came up behind you, gripping your shoulders and moving you along before his lips could make it to your hand again.

You waved over your shoulder lazily. “Goodnight to you too, Maxim.”

When Garreth felt you two were far enough away, he released your shoulders and walked by your side.

You let out a content sigh and looked up at the stars above as you walked.

“Seems you enjoyed yourself tonight.” Garreth grumbled.

“I sure did.”

Garreth’s jaw tensed at the thought of you having been with Maxim all night. “Couldn’t even give it a full day, huh?”

You let out an exhale, your drunkenness making it sound a little more exaggerated. You glanced over at him. He was facing ahead stiffly, hands in his pockets. “And what do you mean by that?”

He shrugged, putting on a face like he couldn’t be bothered what you did anymore. “Nothing.”

“I can’t enjoy myself if we’re not together? Is that it?”

“I didn’t say that. Enjoy yourself all you want.”

“I planned on it.”

“Good. Glad you had such a great night.” He wasn’t glad.

“I did have a great night.” You decided to get cheeky. “And I’m so happy my good friend, Garreth Weasley, was here to walk me back to the dorms. What a guy.”

He sighed your name, starting to regret he didn’t keep his mouth shut.

You hiccuped and rubbed at your eyes. You were starting to feel a little sick and groaned. “I think I had a few too many. I just didn’t want to stop. Oh, have you heard? Apparently, it’s going to be suicide walking into the arena this week. No one at Hog’s Head would shut up about it.” You mumbled. “What a way to go, huh?”

Garreth stopped in his tracks and looked at you in horror. “What… What did you just say?” He didn’t recognize who he was talking to right then. You sounded like you were accepting death. You knew this tournament was dangerous, but you’d at least always been determined to fight.

You ignored him and kept walking, humming the Hogwarts anthem and keeping your air of drunken bliss.

Garreth called your name sternly for you to stop walking and look at him.

He rarely spoke with such a tone, and it seemed to bring you back to reality a bit. Your face hardened when you glanced back at him. “Don’t even start.” You said bitterly as you kept walking.

He raised his brows, incredulous at your behavior tonight, and moved to join your side. “Sorry? Say that again. Start what exactly?”

You stopped and faced each other. “Why should I listen to anything you have to say when you abandoned me? You left me when I -” You shoved him, “- When I needed you the most.”

“I left you, did I? I could have sworn you were the one that chose a worthless fucking tournament over me but what do I know? I’m just an idiot who wanks over potions.”

An amused huff escaped you and you rubbed at your face, drunk and desperately trying not to crack up. “Dammit, Garreth.” You groaned. “Don’t make me laugh, I'm mad at you.”

He shook his head and bit back a smirk of his own. He really did need to work on his timing. The two of you were definitely having the worst fight you’ve had since knowing each other, he needed to take it seriously.

He took a deep breath and rubbed a hand down his face. “How about we not be mad at each other tonight?” He said, waving his white flag. With alcohol in both of your systems - more so yours than his but still - putting this conversation to the side for now seemed like the smartest idea. “Let’s save it for tomorrow.”

“That’s -” You lost your balance slightly and he steadied you. “That’s a good idea.”

As Garreth stepped into the dining hall the next morning, his eyes roamed the room for you. When he spotted you, it didn’t take long for your eyes to drift up and lock with his. He gestured with his chin for you to step outside and speak with him. You nodded your head, getting up and walking over.

Out of habit when he got this close to you, he gingerly grabbed a hold of your arm. “I wanted to make sure you were alright.”

“I’m fine. Head’s killing me, but I’m fine.” You tried to give him a reassuring smile.

He gave you a weak smile in return, not quite buying it. “To be honest, you scared me. You sounded like you’d given up last night.”

You shook your head. “I wasn’t in my right mind, and I hate that you had to be there for any of it. You shouldn’t have had to hear anything I said in that state.”

He gave your arm a gentle squeeze to help put you at ease like he usually would. But it made him remember that you weren’t together anymore, and he shouldn’t be doing things like that.

When he released you, you glanced down briefly, not even aware he had had a hold on you. Now, it seemed you two had to get used to not touching each other, that was what felt less natural.

“I meant it when I said I still want to be there for you. Whatever you need, it’s yours.” Garreth looked into your eyes, trying to convey how much he meant it.

You nodded your head, deciding to let him help. If this next challenge was as dangerous as Maxim said it was going to be, you needed all the help you could get. “I need potions. All that you can make me.”

Garreth was crumbling as he paced back and forth in front of the hospital wing. “Let me in, I need to see her. Please, you don’t understand.” His breathing was uneven, his voice cracking. The latest challenge was the most horrific thing he had ever seen.

The Beauxbatons Champion had been killed, torn to pieces by the horde of inferi you were tasked to fight. You and Maxim had barely made it through. The both of you had to be carried out of the arena, and Garreth needed to see with his own eyes that you were actually alive.

Nurse Blainey tried to steady him. “I do understand. But she’s resting, you need to leave her be for now.”

Leander had tried easing him away. “Come on, Garreth. She’s in good hands now, we can come back later.”

Garreth shoved him back. “Goddammit, get off me!” He turned back to Nurse Blainey with a fire in his eyes. “I’m not waiting for your permission any more.” He shoved past her into the hospital wing.

He scanned the room for you, walking past Maxim who was rocking back and forth while nurses tended to his wounds. He mumbled something in his native tongue to himself over and over.

Garreth froze and his stomach dropped sickeningly when he spotted your bloodied and bruised form. As the nurses tended to your wounds, his mind raced, trying to reassure himself repeatedly that he could see you breathing, you were only sleeping, you were still alive.

Leander placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Let’s go, mate.”

Garreth nodded his head rigidly and turned away from you. He apologized to Nurse Blainey and Leander guided him out.

When they returned to the Gryffindor common room, Garreth made a beeline to his dorm. Shutting the door behind him, he went and slumped down on the edge of his bed. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. Then, all at once, the tears came. He shot a hand up to cover his eyes and his shoulders began to shake with quiet sobs.

Garreth returned with Leander later that night. Leander went into the hospital wing first to check if it was okay for him to see you. He didn’t think he’d be able to walk past you and just leave if he was told ‘no’.

Leander came back out with a small smile. “You can see her. But Nurse Blainey said she’s on quite a lot of painkillers. Go easy on her tonight.”

“Thanks. I’m sorry again for earlier.”

Leander waved him off and turned to leave. “See you later.”

Garreth made his way in towards your bed. He noticed Maxim was out like a rock, and was relieved for the poor man.

“Uh oh, I don’t think I did my herbology homework. I’ll need to get on that soon.” Garreth heard you say and could immediately tell how well the painkillers were working on you.

“No need to worry about it right now, dear.” Nurse Blainey chuckled as she looked over her checklist. She glanced up at Garreth as he approached. “If she wants to sleep, let her. Don’t keep her up.”

Garreth gave her a firm nod, then looked at you and noticed how out of it you really were. You were sitting up in bed and looking up at the ceiling whimsically. He was thankful you didn’t seem to be feeling all the stitched up gashes and harsh bruising on you.

Your eyes eventually landed on him and your face lit up. “There’s my boy.”

Garreth’s chest went fluttery. It had felt like ages since you had called him your anything. Merlin, I’ve missed that.

“Where have you been? I wanted to tell you I beat Leander at Summoner’s Court today. Or… wait… was that yesterday?”

Garreth let out an amused breath through his nose and went to sit in the chair at your bedside. “No, you were right. That was today.” He took your hand in his. No harm in being back with you like this for only a night, right? Especially if you were this out of it, it didn't seem like you’d remember any of it anyway. “And I believe it. Leander’s bloody terrible at Summoner’s Court. Has been since first year, the moron.”

You giggled and brought both of your hands over his, bringing it up to your lips. Garreth’s insides turned to putty. Still weak as ever for you, I see.

“How are your hands always so warm?” You looked down at his hand in wonder.

“How are yours always so cold?” The corner of his lips quirked up. He’d gladly forget everything with you tonight, go back to a better time.

You released his hand and brought yours up to examine them. “What? You think my hands are always cold? Why didn’t you tell me sooner? I would have… I would… Merlin, what happened to my hands?” Noticing the discoloration and stitches, you brought them closer to your face to get a better look. Garreth grabbed a hold of your hands, covering them with his. He brought them down and began stroking his thumbs over your skin.

“Next time I go to Honeydukes, what do you want me to get you?” It was the first thing he could think of to distract you and it seemed to work wonders. You shifted a bit in the bed to face him more, excited to give him your answer.

“Oh, chocolate frogs. Is that even a question?”

“You’re right.” He smiled at you. “It’s always chocolate frogs. I didn’t even need to ask.”

Your eyes widened slightly and you gave a quiet gasp. “Oh no, Gar. That reminds me. Did I ever get you your billywig stings?”

He chuckled. When and where is your brain right now? “Yes, you got them for me. Don’t worry.”

“Good.” You relaxed again. “Sorry. My head’s been all over the place today.”

As he nodded in agreement and bit back a laugh, a student came rushing into the hospital wing, getting both of your attention. You looked at the panicked student curiously, and Garreth was mindful to keep your hands covered with his.

“Nurse Blainey, Isaac Cooper fell off his broom! W - We didn’t want to move him -”

Nurse Blainey didn’t hesitate to go up to him. “Take me to him immediately.” She looked back to the both of you. “I’ll be back shortly.”

You watched her leave the wing, then you looked back to Garreth. You raised a brow at him and he raised one back at you. He eyed you as you shifted in bed again, freeing your hands from his and moving away from him, creating space. “Join me while she’s gone.”

Garreth’s throat went dry. He gave a little cough to regain his composure. “I don’t think that’s a good idea…”

“You don’t want to?” You asked innocently as you laid on your side and looked up at him.

Still beyond weak for you. He exhaled and glanced back at the hospital wing entrance, then moved to lie in bed with you.

You grabbed his tie, fiddling with it as you lied there, face to face. He couldn’t help but feel completely at ease, as if he had gone back in time like you had. He brought his hand up and rested it on your cheek.

Your brows furrowed a bit, and you looked troubled.

“What’s going through your mind right now?” He asked, beginning to stroke your cheek with his thumb, careful to be gentle over your bruising.

“I feel like something bad’s going to happen this year, Gar. I can’t shake it.”

He shook his head. “Nothing bad’s going to happen.” He whispered.

You let go of his tie and met his gaze. “Then why do I feel so uneasy right now?”

He pulled you to him, tucking your head under his chin and you nuzzled into his chest. He stroked your hair as he held you. “N.E.W.T.s probably.”

You gave a soft hum. “Yeah… that’s got to be it. I hate tests.” He noticed your voice was starting to sound sleepy.

“I know you do.”

He propped his head up on his hand and looked down at you as he continued stroking your hair. He watched and waited until your breathing got heavier and you did those cute little snores of yours. Once he knew you were asleep, he kissed your temple, then slipped out of the bed as noiselessly as he could.

Just as he was about to leave, Nurse Blainey had made her way back with Isaac Cooper. He took one last glance at your sleeping form across the room, then left.

You didn’t know how long you had been out, but the grogginess and soreness you felt when you finally awoke was unreal. The sun was shining through the windows and you realized you were in the hospital wing. The last thing you remember was being in the arena and... You squeezed your eyes shut and opened them back up, trying to erase the image of Amelie DuPont’s mangled corpse from your head.

You looked up at the ceiling, breathing through the immense discomfort in your body. Then, something bright and blue caught your attention at the corner of your eye. You turned your head slightly to see a chocolate frog box on the bedside table.

Who would leave a perfectly good chocolate frog lying around?

It was probably the first time in TriWizard Tournament history where none of the school Champions attended The Yule Ball. Was that historically accurate? Garreth wasn’t sure. But with how dramatic Headmaster Black was acting, he’d believe it was.

It was common knowledge Maxim Mainka wanted to keep to himself ever since the last challenge. Showing up to a ball was the last thing anyone expected him to do. As for you, Garreth had no idea where you were or why you hadn’t shown up yet.

He didn’t even know what your plans were for the ball to begin with, didn’t want to ask, truth be told. Why on earth would he open up the opportunity to hear about how the woman he fumbled would be going with someone else?

He saw how many people asked you. You had turned them all down from what he’d seen. At first, he thought maybe you’d want him to take you, but every time he brought up the ball, you’d change the topic. He could take a hint.

Garreth decided to leave and look for you. He hadn’t brought a date anyway. Why did he decide to go alone to watch the love of his life walk in and dance with someone else? He didn’t know for sure, but it was probably because he felt he deserved it, treating you the way he had this year. And it was all because he couldn’t handle being with someone so inconceivable.

He couldn’t believe he had been as upset with you as he was. It’s not like you had treated him horribly or were unfaithful. You had gone behind his back to save your best friend Natty for Merlin’s sake. You hadn’t betrayed him. You were only doing what you felt was right.

He had been so afraid of losing you forever, he convinced himself you were doing him wrong whenever you threw yourself into danger. And so, he pushed you away like an idiot. He had no idea where to begin when it came to fixing what you two had, had no idea if he even could.

Garreth asked around before he left but no one seemed to know where you were. Not even Natty knew and that had genuinely shocked him. Wherever you were in this castle, you didn’t care to be found.

Hopping from floo to floo for what felt like hours, Garreth had finally found you in Professor Sharp’s classroom of all places.

Putting his hands in his pockets, he leaned against the doorway and watched you at one of the potion stations. It had been a few months since the last challenge, you weren’t fully recovered but all your scrapes and bumps had healed for the most part, only a few bandages here and there remained.

He kept quiet and let himself just look at you. You were beautiful, all done up for the ball and brewing what looked like an edurus potion from what he could see. You looked like a dream, like you were made just for him.

“Don't you have a big, fancy Room of Requirement you could do this in?” He quipped.

Carefully dropping some more mongrel fur into the pot, you glanced over your shoulder at him. “Evening, Garreth.” You smiled politely, then turned back to your pot. “What are you doing here?”

Garreth’s face dropped a bit. You had greeted him like you were decent friends and nothing more. Isn’t this wonderful? After all, it was his bright idea. Garreth from a few months ago would have been thrilled to know you two could get to this point. And present day Garreth wanted to go back and kick Garreth from a few months ago’s ass. Turns out, he didn’t like being friends with you. Not one bit.

“I could ask you the same thing.” He pushed up off the door frame and took slow steps towards you.

“I ran out of mongrel fur.” You said, fixated on the brew before you. “Thankfully Professor Sharp let me take over the edurus potion he was already making.”

“I don't see Professor Sharp anywhere, just go on and admit you’re stealing it. I won’t tell.” He stepped closer.

You shot him a brief smirk over your shoulder. You were glad to have Garreth back in your life and on such good terms too, but there were times when it just hurt. Tonight seemed especially bad. You had heard through the grapevine he asked Nellie Oggspire to the ball. Putting on a good face was taking a lot more effort than normal.

You cleared your throat, thinking of a way to keep the mood light. “How’s your night been?”

Ah, small talk. Merlin, he hated this.

He rubbed a hand down his face and came up beside you, peeking into your pot. “My night’s been fine. Looks like you need a few more ashwinder eggs.” He turned and went to go grab some for you.

“I was thinking the same thing.” You furrowed your brows and bit your lip as you stirred and looked into your pot, examining it closely to see if there was anything else it needed.

He returned and handed the eggs to you, wishing he hadn’t caught your focus face. He was always a sucker for it.

“Thank you.” You said appreciatively, grabbing the eggs without looking at him and plopping them in.

“Looks like that should do it.” He mused. His eyes gradually went up from the pot to your face, then down to your dress, more specifically your body in your dress. He swallowed thickly and made himself look back at the pot. “And you? How has your night been?”

“Pretty busy, I haven’t been able to get to the ball yet. One of our kneazles is having her litter tonight. Deek was going to make sure everything went smoothly while I was away, all he asked for was an edurus potion in case she got too cranky with him. Hence -” You gestured absently to yourself and the pot.

“You would spend Christmas Eve like this.” He smirked. “I thought it was a Yule Ball tradition for the champions to attend.” He crossed his arms and leaned back against the table.

You only shrugged your shoulders in response. You made yourself keep your eyes on your brew, because if you looked his way, you’d get weak at how wonderfully he cleaned up for the ball.

Garreth… really hated this. He hated that you barely looked at him and that this was how your conversations went now. Your silences were never awkward, if there was a silence between you while you were together it was comfortable.

“Don’t worry, I’m almost done. I’ll be out of here and then you can take over this station.”

He furrowed his brows. “Hmm? I don’t need to do anything. I came to see if you were in here.”

You looked at him then and he met your gaze. Don’t give me hope like that, Weasley. You averted your gaze back to your pot. “Oh, well…” You cleared your throat. “Did you… need me for something?”

He shook his head. “No, I didn’t need you for anything. You weren’t at the ball and I missed you, that’s the gist of it.”

You glanced his way again. You weren’t going to let yourself have any hope until he told you he forgave you. You needed to hear those exact words, you wouldn’t let yourself jump at anything less.

“Don’t you have a date to get to tonight?” Garreth tried to sound as casual as he could. He hadn’t heard anything about who you’d be going with. But whoever they were, they weren’t with you now. Maybe he could ease himself into the pain instead of getting a full on shock when he finally sees you dance with someone else.

“Would you believe no one asked me?”

“Not for a second." He scoffed. "Even if I hadn’t seen people asking you with my own eyes.”

You chuckled. “Well, no date for me. I uh - I needed to go at my own pace tonight. Didn’t want to ruin anyone else’s Yule Ball just because -” You pinched the bridge of your nose and let out a humorless huff, “- just because my head’s such a goddamn mess right now.”

Garreth eyed you with concern. Then he processed even more of what you said. “You were never going with anyone?”

You shook your head.

“I didn’t go with anyone either.”

You looked at him, surprise evident on your face. “You didn’t?”

Garreth held your gaze and shook his head.

“But… I thought you were going with Nellie.”

Garreth raised a brow at you, genuinely confused. “Why would you think that?”

“Well I - I heard from a few different people you had asked her.” You quickly looked away from him, a little embarrassed your jealousy and hurt were coming through.

Garreth shook his head, wanting to reassure you more than anything it wasn’t true. “I never asked her. I never asked anyone, I promise you.”

“I mean… it’s alright if you did, Garreth. You don’t owe me anything.”

He took a moment to take in your words, and they didn’t sit right with him. “I owe you everything.”

You stilled, your heart rate picked up, and you weren’t really sure if you imagined what he had just said.

“It’s you who owes me nothing.” He stepped as close to you as he could without touching you. “But I’d like it if you called me Gar again.”

You slowly looked up at him and searched his eyes. “You’ve forgiven me?” You asked in a whisper, your throat constricting as your vision began to blur with tears.

He shook his head. “There was never anything to forgive.” He reached up and cupped your face in his hands. A few tears overflowed out of your eyes and he wiped them away with his thumbs. “Walking away from you was the stupidest thing I’ve ever done. And that’s saying something. I’ve done some pretty stupid things.” He tried to jest, and he was elated it got you to smile. “I can be yours. Easily. If you’ll have me.”

You couldn’t speak, and Garreth held his breath while he waited for your answer. After your brain caught up with everything that was happening, you nodded your head.

Garreth released the breath he was holding and nearly collapsed with relief. He didn’t waste a second more and not so delicately placed his lips atop yours. Your hands moved up to his chest as you kissed him back, fisting the fabric of his coat. This was nowhere near your first kiss together, yet you felt brand new to each other. And you wanted to familiarize yourselves all over again.

The pot began to sizzle. With his mouth still on yours, Garreth peeked one eye open to check on it. He groaned and tore himself from you, going to stir it. Chuckling, you got the flask ready for him.

“What a team we are.” Garreth smirked as he scooped the edurus potion into the flask.

You capped it and looked up at him. “Acting like I didn’t do most of the work, are you?”

He smirked. “Tough talk for -” He looked back at you and your amused features sent his insides into a tizzy. “Tough talk for someone who…” His words drifted off and he smiled at you like a dullard.

You started to laugh and raised your eyebrows at him. “Are you having a stroke?”

“Shut up.” He bashfully looked away from you and hummed, trying to unscramble his brain. “I um - I’m trying to go along and keep the joke going, but you look -” He let out a breathy whew sound. “You look amazing right now and it’s making me nervous.”

Your eyes widened slightly and you went fluttery at his words. It was your turn to feel bashful. You shook your head and playfully shoved him. Then you went up and pecked him on the cheek. “Come on, let’s get this to Deek.” You grabbed his hand and pulled him along.

The Room of Requirement’s door formed before you and Garreth. And he couldn’t help but feel a bit of pride. It usually only let you in, but this made it twice now that the room felt he should be in there with you.

You two made your way in and he looked around, confused. “Where would the kneazles be?”

You laced your fingers through his. “This way.” You guided him through the bottom floor vivarium and he was almost getting annoyed at how insane this room was.

“Sweet Merlin, I thought this was a greenhouse or something.” He looked all over, breathing in the fresh air and smiling at all the magical beasts that ran up to sniff and examine him. “Is that a baby puffskein?”

You chuckled. “It is. Could you play with him while I get this to Deek? He’s been extra needy lately.”

“On it.” Garreth released you and knelt down, picking up the tiny creature that could easily fit in one hand. He gave the puffskein some scratches on the head. “How am I supposed to be okay with my girl being around a handsome little devil like you? You could steal her away at any given moment.” The puffskein looked up at him and tilted its head. Garreth let out a little gasp. “And you know it too, you shameless bastard.”

“Despite calling my magical beasts shameless bastards, you seem to be pretty good with them.” You said as you returned, hitching up your dress a bit, and kneeling down next to him.

“What can I say? I’ve learned a thing or two since I started paying attention in beasts class. Had to step up my game when this new girl arrived, you see. Cute thing, adored beasts.”

You smiled at him. “Funny, sounds like how I got so good at potions.”

He glanced at you and that bashfulness returned. You gave him too many butterflies for him to be able to keep his calm. To hide his jittery nerves, he kept up the head scratches on the puffskein.

A nearby baby mooncalf started to get jealous at the attention the puffskein was getting and ran up to you. You chuckled and picked her up, giving her some scratches behind her ear. You looked over at Garreth, noticing he got quiet. You nudged him with your shoulder. “What are you thinking about?”

He could only glance at you briefly, if he looked at you any longer he’d be a bumbling mess. He cleared his throat. Merlin’s beard, toss out a joke or something, Weasley. “I’m thinking you better not get any ideas from us holding baby beasts.”

You scoffed, but then decided to tease him. “Uh oh. It might be too late for that.”

He slowly set down the puffskein and looked at you with raised brows. “Now now, no need to panic. Just put down the mooncalf, yeah?”

You let out a shaky breath, playing along. “A - Alright.” You set her down gently, and she ran off to go play with her moon ball.

Garreth pulled the both of you up to your feet. “Better?”

You fanned your face with your hand as if you needed to cool yourself down. “I think it’s too late. The baby fever’s consuming me. Take me, Gar. I’m ready.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that.” He took cautious steps backwards to get some distance between you two. “As arousing as that was.”

“Give in, Weasley. It’s our last year at Hogwarts, I think we both know what’s coming next.” You warned. Garreth stepped back even further from you, thinking of an escape plan. Before he could get any further, you bolted after him.

“Get away from me!” He laughed as he ran from you, dodging and weaving through the vivarium to try and shake you.

“I’m gonna getcha!”

“No!” You two were laughing hysterically as you ran up and down the vivarium field. “What in Merlin’s name?! How are you so fast in that dress?!”

“Oh, you’re not escaping the Hogwarts Champion, darling!” You had grabbed a hold of his coat but he slipped out of it, narrowly escaping you.

“Dammit!” You laughed, dropping his coat to the ground.

He left the vivarium and you ran after him. You caught sight of him heading up the stairs. He glanced back at you briefly and realized he hadn’t lost you as much as he thought.

“Oh shit!” He laughed and picked up the pace. Without thinking he went into the beach vivarium. The sand slowed him down instantly and he kicked off his dress shoes to keep running.

As soon as you entered the beach vivarium, you kicked off your shoes as well, picking your dress up off the ground and going back after him.

He saw you coming and panicked. He looked back and forth between you and the water. He quickly decided to take off his socks and go to the shore. He saw you slow down and eye him defeatedly.

“Ha! What’s the matter? Don’t want to get your dress wet? Such a shame.” He looked at you cheekily as he bent down and rolled up his pant legs. He gave you a smug smile and walked further into the water, deep enough to submerge his calves, kicking and splashing tauntingly.

“I can’t believe you’d let me suffer like this.” You meandered up to the water, tentatively dipping your big toe in and nothing more.

He shoved his hands in his pockets and kept the triumphant smile on his face. “Oh don’t pout, this is for the best. We don’t really want little Garreths running around, do we?” His smile faded and his eyes widened when a thought entered his head. “Oh Merlin, little Garreths running around wielding ancient magic… What masochist would want that?”

You shook your head and tried to bite back your amused smile, lifting your dress a little higher and dipping your toe in again. Garreth went a little mad at the sight. Oh no, maybe I’m the masochist who wants that.

Sighing dramatically, your head fell back and you closed your eyes, letting the vivarium's sun warm your face.

Fuck… I really want that. In that moment, there was no doubt in his mind, he was going to get on one knee the second you two graduated from Hogwarts.

“Truce?” You asked.

Garreth could only keep staring.

When he didn’t answer, you opened one eye and peeked over at him. “No truce?”

A small smile tugged at his lips, but it wasn’t a humorous one. It was a simple one, full of love. “Just come here, why don’t you?” He walked through the water towards you and held out his hand. You took it, meeting him halfway and getting the hem of your dress wet.

Garreth couldn’t seem to hold it together anymore. He cupped your face and pulled you in for another kiss, his tongue grazing your bottom lip. He was always amazed at how soft you were, and he wanted you beyond reason right now.

Keeping his mouth on yours, he scooped you up into his arms.

Your surprised yelp was muffled against his mouth. You pulled away and looked at him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. You were going to make a joke, but the way his eyes were on you kept your mouth shut.

He walked the two of you out of the vivarium and his eyes roamed the room. “Direct me to a couch or something. Anywhere for Christ’s sake.”

You pointed across the balcony and giggled. “Over there, you brute.”

He made his way over with you, leaving a trail of sand in his wake. He set you down and gently guided you to sit on the couch, kissing you all over as he did so. He then placed himself on the ground between your legs and began pushing up your dress. Locking his eyes with yours as he reached under and pulled down your underclothes.

His member throbbed against the fabric of his pants when he caught a glimpse of your core, but you shut your legs together. He looked up at you in concern. You were biting your lip and looking away from him.

“What’s wrong?” He went up onto the couch a bit and brought a hand to your cheek to get you to look at him, he pecked the corner of your mouth.

You shook your head and scoffed at yourself, shooting your hands up to cover your face. He smirked when you started snickering and he tried pulling your hands away.

You groaned like you were embarrassed. “I’m really nervous for some reason.”

Garreth chuckled with you and leaned forward to kiss at your neck. “Why are you nervous?” He asked against your skin and you could feel him smiling. “Not to brag, but I’ve seen you naked quite a few times already.”

“I know.” You sighed. “Maybe because it’s been a while or… or…” Your words drifted off as he began to suck on that spot below your ear, he hadn’t forgotten how you liked to be touched. Hopefully he could help put you at ease a little bit more.

He felt your body start to relax and he kissed down your neck. He pulled away to glance at you and you gave him a small nod. He went back to the ground on his knees before you, hitching up your dress again to reveal your heat. His breathing grew heavy and he placed your legs over his shoulders.

He brought his lips to your folds like an opened mouthed kiss, his tongue tracing along. You jolted a bit at the sensation, feeling a little extra ticklish with it having been a while since he’d last done this, but he kept you steady with a strong hold on your thighs.

He was starting to lose himself tasting you again after all this time. The wetness of your fluids and his spit mixing together had his member aching. Your breaths came out shallow as you watched him. His eyes were closed as his tongue rediscovered you, his fingernails dug into your thighs, hurting in the best way. He licked up to the top of your slit, and began sucking gently.

“A - Ah! Garreth!” You whined as your muscles suddenly tensed and twitched at the sensation. He loved hearing you cry his name like that, and he was eager to get more out of you. But a thought occurred to him, and his body stiffened.

He took his mouth off of you and quickly glanced around. “That Deek fellow’s not here right?”

“He’ll be in the vivarium all night.” You said breathily. “Now keep going.” You grabbed his head and pulled him back to you.

“Right, sorry.” He put his mouth back on you and picked up where he left off.

Your head fell back and you kept one hand on his head, fingers getting a solid grip on his locks. You had started to make the smallest of grinding motions as he kept at you, this was how he always knew you were close. He kept up his tongue patterns and could feel your hips pickup more and more. You let out another whine and gripped his hair with both of your hands then. He held onto your thighs tight when you began to convulse, riding out your pleasure on his face.

You slumped back on the couch, going a little limp, legs sliding off his shoulders. You caught your breath and he wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand. “Still got it.”

“Shut up.” You chuckled as you stood to your feet and he stood with you. Your giggles were muffled when he fused his lips with yours.

You began undoing his buttons, taking off his vest then going for his shirt. You two broke from your kiss and he looked down to help you, both of your fingers shaky and hurried.

He shrugged off his shirt and went back for your lips as it fell to the ground. His hands gripped your hips, turning you so your back would be to him, keeping his mouth on yours until the last second. He then started undoing the back of your dress, planting open mouthed kisses on your shoulder and nipping your skin here and there as he did so. You could only bite your lip in anticipation as you waited for him to finish.

Once you felt the dress was loose enough, you shimmied out of it and turned to face him, throwing your arms around his shoulders and claiming his lips again. He held you flush against him, making you feel how much he needed you through his pants.

You tore your lips from his and started unbuckling his belt. He didn’t help you this time, and just watched in a carnal haze as you went for the last of his clothes. Once you had undone his belt and pants you pulled them down, going to your knees as you did so. He hissed a breath through his teeth when you took him in your mouth and his hand shot up to get a gentle hold on your head.

As your mouth moved up and down his length, his breathing picked up and his insides felt like a furnace. But he didn’t want to finish yet, he wanted to be inside you again. He let his head fall back, enjoying it just a moment longer. Getting close enough to the edge, he looked back down at you and pulled himself away from your mouth. There was a line of spit from your tongue to his tip briefly. When it broke, you wiped it from your chin and looked up at him, your features flushed. He nearly burst at the sight.

You stood to your feet and took his hands in yours, guiding him back to the couch. He followed, completely hypnotized by you. You laid back and pulled him down on top of you. He brought his mouth down on yours heartily as he positioned himself between your legs. Breaking the kiss, he looked down at the two of you about to join. He took his member in his hand and rubbed it along your folds, coating himself in your wetness.

He placed his tip at your entrance and slowly pushed in. You gasped lightly, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and he buried his face into the crook of your neck. It took everything in him to keep his hip thrusts slow and not completely lose himself in you just yet.

“I missed you.” He sighed against your neck. “I missed you so much.”

You mewled softly at his words and the feel of him filling you. Wrapping your arms around him tighter, you wanted to melt into him more than you ever had before. “I love you.”

"Mmh." With a low groan, he hitched your legs up a bit higher around him, picking up the pace and grinding into you at an even better angle. "Say that again…"

"I love you." You whimpered as his hips picked up the pace, making you unable to speak as clearly as before.

"I love you." He said back. His breathing heavy in your ear as he tried to bury himself even deeper inside you with each thrust.

The noises you were making had his control start to fray at the seams. Grunts began to escape him as his hips pounded into you. He was nearing his climax again.

“Not yet not yet.” You said breathily, trying to push him back a bit. He nodded his head, a little delirious, but his mind still functioned enough to know you wanted to swap positions. The two of you adjusted so that he was the one on his back and you were on top. He caught his breath as he edged away from finishing again.

You straddled him, careful not to put him back in you yet. You leaned down and kissed him. He placed one hand on your hip while the other had a grip in your hair, holding you to him like this until he felt he was ready to go again.

“Alright.” He whispered against your lips after a moment, and you shifted back. He let out a slow exhale as you sunk yourself onto him, gripping your hips.

He was in you fully again, and your heat surrounding him as he lied back was bliss. You began to move up and down on him, resting your hands on his chest as you did so. As much as he wanted you to enjoy yourself up there for as long as your heart desired, he knew he wasn’t going to last much longer. Not with this view of you bouncing on him as you were.

A throaty groan escaped him. "I’m almost there... Keep going.” He panted, furrowing his brows and looking down at your slit going up and down his length. “Fuck I’m about to -”

You withdrew from him and moved to take him in your mouth, he shot his hands to your head and held you on him as he released in your throat, grunting and spasming until there was nothing left.

You swallowed him as you sat up, then wiped at your mouth. “Still got it.”

Garreth scoffed and threw an arm over his eyes while he recovered, using his free hand to rub your thigh. “Don’t mock me, I’m too vulnerable right now.”

You adjusted so that you were laying on top of him, he held you in his arms and ran his fingers lightly along your back. He looked up at the ceiling, completely at ease as you traced little shapes on his chest. He was exactly where he was supposed to be.

“Is the ball still going?” You asked.

“I think so.” He answered, his voice a little raspy.

“Want to go back before it ends?”

“Not particularly. Do you?”

You shook your head. “No.”

“Good, I want to stay like this a bit longer.”

You nodded your head and sighed. “Me too. After everything… after that last challenge…” Garreth held you tighter, not wanting you to think about such a horrific memory. “Tonight was everything. Thank you.”

Garreth placed his lips on top of your head. Then decided he wanted to be like this with you for more than just a bit longer. “Let me grab my wand.” You nodded your head and shifted so he could get up and search his clothes. “Ah, it’s in my coat.” He picked up his pants and put them back on. “I’ll be right back.”

You sat up to move towards your dress.

“No. Stay right where you are, exactly as you are.” He picked up his shirt, slipping it back on and only doing a few of his buttons.

You smiled and laid back down on the couch as he walked off.

It didn’t take long for Garreth to find his coat. He saw the baby puffskein and baby mooncalf napping on it, and decided to just grab his wand and leave it.

Once he did, he glanced around for the moonstone he thought he saw earlier while running for his life from you. A smile tugged at his lips thinking back on it.

Turning the moonstone he found into a large, furry blanket, he made his way back to you.

“Don’t worry this blanket came from moonstone.” He said as he splayed it out over you. “No magical beasts were harmed conjuring this.”

“Thank you.” You sighed gratefully, wrapping the blanket tighter around yourself.

He shot you a smile as he undid his shirt, taking it off again. As he started undoing his belt and pants, he looked at the couch and furrowed his brows. “The couch wasn’t that big before, was it?”

You stiffened and used the blanket to hide your grin.

“Did you enlarge it?”

“No.” Your voice was muffled under the blanket.

“You had your wand this whole time?”

You turned away from him on the couch.

His eyes went wide at you as he pulled down his pants. “You minx! You just let me go out in the cold like that?” He came up and slid under the blanket behind you, pulling you back against him and closing his eyes. He sighed, exhausted. “To think I could have stayed naked this whole time...”

“I tried to get it but you told me to stay where I was.” You argued, the sleepiness clear as day in your voice.

He hummed in amusement. “I did, didn’t I? I’m such an idiot.” He cackled, sleepiness also coming through in his voice.

“No, you’re sweet.”

It didn’t take long at all for you two to fall asleep in each other’s arms. Dealing with Deek stumbling upon you two and possibly telling his Aunt Matilda seemed like a morning problem.

#garreth weasley x reader #garreth weasley x you #garreth weasley smut #garreth weasley x mc #garreth weasley x fem reader #garreth weasley angst

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contentloadinggg · 2 months

Note

Hiii! I had an idea for a Hozier fic :) I am an absolute sucker for friends to lovers and I wanna read a friends to lovers of Andrew. (No angst, I'm too sensitive for that, and then smut if you want) I just love the idea of him panicking to his friends about how much he likes you and how worried he is that you can tell. I also think it'd be funny if they were totally over it, telling him to grow up and what not. Just having him act like he isn't a fully grown man with how nervous you make him :) sorry for this being so long!!

Have a lovely day/night 🧡🧡

You’re so real for being too sensitive for angst, me to babe. That’s why I write smut instead. I might add more to this one. But here’s what I’ve got for now, I hope you like it and a lovely day/night to you too.

Little fic under the cut🩷

Andrew stared off at the spot you disappeared, as if he was waiting for the moment you would appear back out of the hall. Counting each second you were gone. His mind is just as much somewhere else.

“Andy! Hey, knobhead!”

The man in question jolted as he felt a beer bottle tapped on his knee. The call of his name rips him nearly painfully out of his daydreams.

“What?”

It meant to come out more harshly than that. But Andrew found himself breathless and weak. If Alex could’ve rolled his eyes any harder, he would’ve.

“Jesus Christ, Andy. We lose you every time they’re around and every time they’re not here. When are you gonna tell them?”

Alex said, sounding just about as fed up as all of Andrew’s friends, family, anyone he told or could see his very blatant affections were. Everyone except you. Andrew felt a blush come to his cheeks, warming them a pink color. Whether it was Alex’s words or the thought of you, he wasn’t sure.

“I— I don’t know, I’m not sure if they like me like that.”

He answered, the same excuse he’s used a thousand times over. Alex scoffs, rubbing his hands over his face. As much as he loves Andrew, his intense pinning can get a bit annoying at times.

“It’s obvious! You are a grown man, Andrew! Just go for it. Or are you that fearful of rejection?”

Andrew huffs, perhaps a bit embarrassed at his very school boy like attitude. Looking back once more into the hallway you disappeared into and shrugs.

“I don’t want to lose them. If I confess and they don’t feel the same, how can we be friends after that?”

He asks, gaze falling onto his feet. Luckily, Alex seems to take some pity on him.

“I’m telling you, they do. I promise. You know I’d never lie about that.”

“Never lie about what?”

Andrew’s head snaps up at the sound of your voice. His already present flush deepening at the vulnerable conversation being interrupted.

“Erm-“

He stutters for a moment, his tongue stuck to the roof of his dried out mouth and looks back at Alex. Who merely gestures at him to leave. Get it over with already.

Andrew nods and stands. He can hear his own heart beating in his ears, a tremble in his knees. But he manages to get his voice to work. It sounds distant, like he’s not saying it at all.

“Actually, can I talk to you?”

Your agreement and smile stave off his nervousness. He can’t help, but smile back.

-Thad💚

#andrew hozier byrne #fanfiction #hozier x reader #andrew hozier byrne x reader #hozier smut

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alwaysonf1 · 5 months

Text

beauty and brains?

Pairing: Charles LeClerc x Hamilton!OC

Genre: Slice of Life; Fluff

Word Count: 3.6k

Warning: Mild Language.

Rating: PG-13

Author's Note: N/A

Though the game the night before had them arriving at their hotels late production had them up at what felt like the ass crack of dawn.

Charles fought for his life to wake up and was happy he’d thought through pre-ordering room service because it arrived not long after his shower. He ate his food in silence, sleep still clinging to him and the coffee they sent not doing much to help bring him back to life. A late night didn’t usually do this to him, but he thought maybe despite his early arrival to Louisiana the jet lag may still have gotten to him.

He tosses the covering for his breakfast back onto the plate and sits back on the couch. His phone vibrates and though he’s half asleep and wanting to stay that way he picks it up, barely noticing it’s a call before he puts the phone to his ear.

“Hello?” he asks, voice cracking.

“Hello?” Daniel mimics. “Open your door.”

If Charles had it in him, he’d roll his eyes, but he hangs up and pulls himself off the couch with a groan. He undoes the locks and the door swings open, nearly knocking him over as the three men walk into his room like it’s their own space.

Daniel takes his spot on the couch while Carlos and Alex take the other two. Charles gives them all a look, but besides Alex, who looks sheepish, they look as if they’ve done nothing wrong at all. It’s a losing battle, so he sighs and plops down into the love seat perpendicular to the couch.

“What are you doing here?” he asks.

Carlos shrugs. “We were up and restless, thought we’d come here and wake you up if you weren’t.”

“Well, I’m awake.”

“And we’re bored,” Alex says.

A second eye roll in what has been less than two minutes. He enjoys spending time with these guys, more so with how much closer they’ve become due to filming. But they were also annoying in the way friends could be.

“You cannot entertain yourselves?”

“We can, but we were talking, and we know you’re still as mind blown by this as the rest of us. Who knew Lewis had a secret sibling,” Daniel says.

Carlos nods. “And that she’s American.”

All of them nod in agreement, because even if that isn’t at the forefront of Charles’ mind it is something that they couldn’t have seen coming. They got to speak to her a little after the game before she was whisked off elsewhere and her accent threw him off. It wasn’t the one you default to for Americans, but it was clear that it belonged to some section of this country. Her mother’s was the same, which is why it was a little silly that they weren’t prepared to hear it come out of her.

To be fair to them there was a lot to keep up with this.

“Yeah, that shouldn’t have been a shock. But hey, there was a lot going on. That dancing though, it’s like things I’ve seen before, but not. Ya know? I asked Lewis and he said they’re called majorettes. I looked it up last night and it’s almost always this good. Especially since little Hamilton became captain, people sing her praises. There’s one that has millions of views on twitter alone. I’ll send it later.”

The others speak amongst themselves, and Charles feels his mind wander off. He thinks about how confusing and brilliant last night was. Every part of it. He’d never watched American football on a college level, and it was as entertaining as at a professional level. Then the band was in peak form. It got his brain working on music again in a way it hadn’t in a while. And of course, the dancing. If that was what the majorettes had to offer, then he was eager to see what else they had going on.

“I’m a little surprised that’s how they decided to let us meet her. Lewis seems to be the protective type and that could have gone either way,” Carlos says.

“He trusts us not to be weirdos, even if he didn’t, we wouldn’t have been stupid enough to say anything on camera for everyone to see. You know F1 will put out anything, even if they have to apologize for it later,” Charles says.

Daniel snatches a bottle of water from the table and nods. “Plus, I’ve seen that man win multiple championships and I have never seen him prouder and happier than that. He clearly supports her and would want to showcase her talent.”

“True, but I wonder what that means for today. I’m guessing it’ll be something school related. If they have me do school work under pressure,” Alex says.

“Like Carlos when he forgot that he should be able to drive an F2 car.”

“Hey!”

They all descend into laughter, while Carlos glares at them, arms crossed, and eyes clearly showing he’s not here. Probably imagining how he panicked himself so much it was like someone asked him to drive Nascar.

A knock on the door puts a stop to the laughter and without a word they all gather their stuff and head toward it. Their main producer, Anne, is there and she looks worried. Then she notices the number of people and Charles watches her relax.

“Time to load into the van, everyone.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Daniel says.

They head out of the room, and with the weird speed of the elevator, are in the lobby in less than a minute. Lewis and Lance are huddled together laughing and some of the production crew linger around talking in groups. When everyone sees them, they head out to the vans awaiting them.

When they get in Daniel and Lewis take the first row of seats while Alex takes the front and the other three in the back. The moment the seat belts click the cars are moving and Charles watches Daniel lean over to Lewis with a mischievous grin on his face.

“Any clues?”

Lewis looks contemplative and then he laughs.

“Hm… prepare to feel dumb.”

Daniel laughs. “So regular day at work?”

“You have no idea.”

From there it’s silence, but the kind where you can tell everyone is still a little tired. All their starter energy exerted, so now they need a moment.

It’s being tired and wanting to prepare himself for Charles. He went in yesterday with so little and he knows it showed, but he wants it to be a little different this time. There can be shock, but he doesn’t want to seem like anything they do and what she’s there to show them is something he didn’t expect of her. He’d hate to seem like he has any preconceived ideas of who she is. People who don’t like him would latch onto that and misinterpret, and there’s a possibility Lewis might too, but mostly he doesn’t want to offend.

After twenty minutes of mindless scrolling, they pull up to a building. From their surroundings it’s clear that this isn’t where they should park, but it’s clearly been made so that if one needs to it can.

Everyone piles out of the vehicle. And despite being the one who should get up first of the three, his friends are children who push him down and get out before him. Charles is on his third eye roll of the morning and the last to get out. And just as he does Iman emerges from the building and stands at the top of the steps with a smile. Today she’s in utility pants and a shirt that has a familiar emblem on it.

“You're late,” she shouts.

“You told me eight, it's seven forty-five,” Lewis yells back.

“True, but I’ve had a man in here squealing about meeting a seven time champion and multiple F1 drivers. Have mercy on a girl who was forced to take an eight a.m. in her last semester will you?”

Everyone laughs at that, and they walk up the stairs toward her. She waits and then turns toward the building, but she pauses and turns around to face them.

“Where are my manners?” she asks, then points at Lewis, “And yours.”

“What did I do?”

She rolls her eyes and turns toward the other five drivers with a smile that makes Charles give her one of his.

“I know all of you know my name and I yours, plus we kind of met last night, but let me properly introduce myself. I’m Iman Hamilton, little sister of this dweeb, captain of the SU Dancing Dolls, and a college student on her last semester close to losing her mind.”

She steps toward Carlos, hand out, and she shakes his. He gives a small greeting, and she goes down the line to each of them doing that. As Charles takes her hand, he notes her hands are soft, but the shake is firm.

“I’m Charles, it’s wonderful to meet you.”

“You as well.”

She also greets all the staff individually and then retakes her position in front of the door.

“Are y’all prepared for the horrors and wonders of an eight a.m. hands on class?” Her voice is fake cheery, and it makes Charles and Daniel laugh.

“Speaking of what would this class be?”

Iman throws her head back and laughs, then glances toward Lewis. “He is smooth.”

“Don’t let him get you.”

“Ooh, they talked about me,” Daniel jokes.

That sends laughter through everyone, and it lifts a weight that Charles didn’t realize was there. He was a little nervous, but he couldn’t understand why. But at least he could feel with the shift in everyone that it was a mutual feeling.

Without another word Iman turns and pulls the door open. Charles ensures he’s in after Lewis and catches a glimpse of someone rocketing back into a classroom. It must be the man that Iman was talking about. The excitement is flattering.

As they walk down everyone, especially the cameras, take in the space. There are pictures and many didn’t contraptions lining the walls. Probably as a representation of what goes on in this building. There was a sign on top of it, but it was too high to see where they parked. So, Charles looks up at the wall at the end of the hall and there he sees: School of Mechanical Engineering.

His eyes go wide unintentionally, but he reins it in and nudges Carlos. It takes a moment before the Spaniard sees what he does, and his reaction is very much the same. The others have already seen the sign and they look from the sign to the woman leading them and back.

The smile that forms on Charles’ face reflects the pride he feels. Of course, he knows what it’s like to be happy and proud of his siblings' success in their fields, but in that moment, he understands why Lewis feels it. He understood last night, but when his mechanics and friends spoke about how engineering as a degree takes a lot out of you, he was sure. They spoke of sometimes struggling with it and normal life, so he couldn’t imagine an extracurricular that was probably as consuming.

The feeling dumb was definitely already starting.

When they reach the door to her class it’s wide open and in the center of the only space without tables stands a man old enough to be a teacher and students in similar clothing to Iman. Most seem giddy, some seem mildly interested, and there are one or two that look like they don’t care at all. Good for the ego.

Iman leads them to the center, standing directly across from her class and the drivers so she’s facing neither. Her hands go wide, gesturing to either group.

“Everyone, I’d like you to meet drivers currently a part of the F1 grid. F1 drivers, welcome to Advanced Internal Combustion Engines. We’ll be here for three hours, so I’ll leave the more personal introductions to you.”

She pauses and there’s a chorus of greetings that come from both sides. Charles watches as her lips part to presumably say something else, but then the man who is obviously the instructor takes center stage with a giddy smile. It’s a little amusing, but mostly nice to see him so excited about this. Worry about how roping siblings in this would disrupt their lives, even for a short time, has been a thing since the beginning. Especially when they may not have people to work for or with that would love this kind of thing.

“It’s nice to meet all of you. My name is Dr. Malcolm Johsnon. I’m a big enjoyer of F1 and racing in general, just as many of the students in this class are. My industry background is predominantly in IndyCar, which is why this class focuses a lot on the types of engines used in those kinds of race vehicles. Today as much as you’ll be getting a peak at Iman’s life, you’ll see what the students learn here and a glimpse at the parts that make your cars go. I’m open to any questions you might have at any time.

Alex raises his hand. “Oh, if you worked or work for IndyCar, how did you end up teaching? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“I don’t mind at all.” He hitches a thumb in Iman’s direction, “Her mother can be very persuasive. She’d also taken a stint teaching as a break from working with IndyCar teams, so she had much to rave about. Plus, she wanted me here to make sure they taught her child right.”

That earns a few laughs, but Charles sees the odd look from a few students who are displeased but already knew this knowledge. Though it doesn’t feel like they’re displeased with their instructor, just Iman. An expected response to someone who uses the connections she has or in this case the connection just stepped in for her.

Which makes Charles pause. Wait, did he say Sherri?

“Your mother works in IndyCar?” he asks, his eyes on Iman.

“Has since before I was born. Racing is a family affair. Though more of us are on the engineering side than in the driver seat.”

When she says it, a fist extends out toward her from the corner of Charles’ eye and she bumps her fist against Lewis, smiling wide and winking at her older brother.

“But enough of that, though we’ve all agreed to this we still have a project to work on. And surprisingly multiple three hour classes aren’t enough time.”

There are several mutters in agreement and with that students disperse to the tables scattered throughout the massive room. Iman goes to one in the back with three other people. They get to work without a word and production and Dr. Johnson step closer to the drivers, forming a circle.

“Our focus is Iman and her life and what she does, but we don’t want all of you to just crowd her. As much as we want shots of what she’s doing and your interaction, we want this to be a learning experience just like the other times were. Engage with the other students without crossing any boundaries and maybe even see if any of that knowledge you get from your own mechanics is familiar here, okay? We’ll move you guys if we feel you linger here or there too long, but just go where you feel pulled. Also, there are some students who have little flags attached to their tables to signal they are most comfortable with questions, so look out for those but don’t shy away too much from the others. Got it?” Anne asks.

Everyone nods. She then gestures for Dr. Johnson to take the floor.

“And things get a little hectic, so over there is some PPE for y’all to use. I want this to be safe for them and for you. Cool?”

“Yes, sir,” Lewis says, and identical sentiments follow.

“Then let’s get started!”

Lewis is the first to break off and head toward the table. He grabs the goggles, a dingy rag, some sort of apron, and a pair of gloves and then makes a beeline for Iman’s table. Lance follows suit and that makes the first decision for everyone else. Charles sticks with Carlos as they grab their PPE and then head toward the closest table. There is a flag over it, but neither of the men say anything. They watch as one of the students takes apart their engine. It looks around the size of the ones inside of their cars, but something is different about it. Something off.

“Wait, did you grab the wrong piece?” A man, whose shirt has the name Stephen on it, asks.

Everyone pauses and looks to him and then to the engine.

“Uh, I don’t think s… Oh for fuck’s sake,” says the woman, Jennifer.

The curse is said so softly that almost all of them have to stop themselves from laughing, Charles has to cover his mouth and Carlos turns away, but you can see his body vibrating with silent laughter. Jennifer catches all of them and glares before walking off toward what looks like a storage space at the back of the room.

When shes out of sight they all laugh out loud. It takes a minute to pull it together, but they manage it.

Stephen turns to Charles. “You noticed it too? I saw you looking at it weird.”

This isn’t really his wheelhouse, so Charles feels himself get a little unsure of how to answer, but he reminds himself that these are students, and they expect some sort of failure when learning so even if he sounded silly it wasn’t like they’d look at him too harshly. At least he hopes.

“Um, yes. It looks like the one we use, I’ve seen it a few times and though it may not be the same, something about it didn’t seem right. Though I’m not fully sure what.”

Stephen nods.

“It’s definitely something that would stand out if you’ve seen them enough. It’s why she’s mad, she’ll usually catch it when we do it. But if ya want we can walk y’all through it. This is just us kind of playing around with ideas at this point, so we have the time.”

Charles finds himself excited again and he takes a few steps closer to the table.

“We’d love that. It’ll impress and confuse our mechanics if we come back knowing more than we did before,” Carlos says.

All the others introduce themselves and when Jennifer returns, they dive deep into what they’re trying to do. Though they only planned to half take it apart they disassemble it completely and get Carlos and Charles in on putting it back together. How they explain it is half dumbed down and half with the understanding that the pilots would have some knowledge of what they’re doing. Though everyone else has rotated, an hour passes before a producer pulls them away from the table. It’s with a little grumbling from both of them, but they get why.

The rest of their adventure is much the same, though for shorter bursts. Even the tables without the flags are more than open to answering questions they may have and as time goes by Charles realizes that with each table, he’s able to understand what the hell they’re talking about. And it makes him think back to all the times he’s been confused listening to his mechanics about a million things. It’s all clicking for him.

“Hey Sharl!”

The voice startles him, and he turns toward it to see Lewis back at his sister’s table. The man is waving him over so Charles excuses himself and walks over. Daniel is making the table he’s at laugh at something and it’s probably some off the wall joke that sometimes has Charles looking at him like he’s lost it.

“Hi,” he says once he reaches the table.

“Hey. Saw you haven’t been here yet,” Lewis says.

“It was the next stop.”

“Mhm.” When Lewis says that there’s a look in his eyes that Charles can’t quite decipher so he doesn’t try to. He’s used to him keeping things a little close to the chest.

“Are you harassing that poor man, Lew?” Iman asks, without looking up.

“I’m not doing anything?”

“Mhm, sure you’re not.”

“I’m not! Tell her I’m not harassing you, Sharl.”

Charles finds himself laughing at the two. It’s like something he and his brother’s would do. High pitched voice while defending themselves and all.

“He’s not harassing me. I promise,” he says.

Iman finally looks up, a mischievous grin playing on her lips.

“You sure you’re not just taking up for him, Charles? He’s not that big and bad, I promise.”

“I’m sure.”

“Let me know if he does, I’ll deal with him.”

She winks at Charles and then gets back to her work, explaining why she felt the need to lubricate a piece more than is usually called for. Her partners look unsure, but they go with it. As she does it, she explains out loud what it should do to the two pilots and Charles is having a hard time splitting between Lewis’ pouting - which is losing steam by the second - what she’s explaining and watching her. She’s so focused and even when the piece gives her problems she keeps going, barely getting frustrated.

And when she works, her smile is genuine and bright.

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