#he should have just stayed in france
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"I'm Jean. How was your journey?"
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[13.2k] the chalet was your home away from home in the festive season. but this year it may become the place you fall in love with the last person you expected. ft my very limited knowledge on how skiing works. (very lazy smut included)
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Your family had always gone to The Chalet with the Montgomery’s for as long as you could remember.
One spontaneous ski trip decades ago led your parents to start a tradition that would last through the generations. Every year, both families would fly out to the mountains of France to enjoy the festive season in the homely ski resort called The Chalet. Owned and ran by an elderly couple, it was the kind of place you would see in hallmark movies, or maybe even in a snowglobe. It was a place beyond your greatest winter wonderland dreams and imagination. The Chalet didn’t feel like a real place, and that was why the getaway every Christmas made the holiday so magical.
It was your home away from home, a safe haven. It was the one place in the world where you could disappear from reality and embrace the isolation from society.
At least, that was what the three weeks in the ski resort usually felt like.
And after a year of moving away from home, starting a new job at the bottom of the food chain and dealing with more social circle drama than you ever intended to deal with, you craved nothing more than the simplicity and enjoyment The Chalet had to offer. You needed the break away from your life, a break away from the life you weren’t totally sure you had under control.
You just wanted your home away from home, and instead when the families arrived at the resort, you were met with crowds of strangers swarming the place like a colony of buzzing, irritating bees.
“What the hell?” You muttered once you had stepped out of the car, looking at the throng of people lingering outside the main entrance to the resort.
“Apparently the place is booked out,” your mother noted from somewhere behind you as they began to unpack the bags from the boot of the car. “Madame Blanchet reserved our usual rooms when she started getting more and more bookings.”
“Since when was this place overbooked?” You commented, a little blunter than intended. But it was hard to mask your surprise. A part of The Chalet’s charm was that it was a small, unknown ski resort hidden amongst the many that were established in the French Mountains. For as long as you could remember—hell, even before that—there hadn’t been more than ten or so families staying at the resort over the Christmas period.
“Maybe Madame Blanchet finally learnt how to make a website,” a voice remarked from beside you, sounding quite amused by the mass of people, which shouldn’t have really surprised you.
And just like you expected, you turned your head to find Harper Montgomery grinning widely at the crazy crowd like she was expecting it. She stood beside you with her hands on her hips, something about the bright ski suit looking so out of place, not that she acted as much. Every year, you swore The Chalet wasn’t ready for her and every year you were proven correct.
“Considering the woman still has a dial phone, I am going to doubt the sudden online advertisement,” you snorted, shaking your head.
“Maybe this will be the Christmas we make new friends,” Harper noted, her head tilted to the side and her dark eyes scanning the crowd. “I am pretty sick of Mrs Hartford beating me at scrabble.”
Your lips twitched upwards. “Maybe you should stop challenging her then.”
Harper’s eyes narrowed. “Never.”
“I still don’t get why so many people are waiting outside,” you grumbled as your eyes fell back to the crowd, noticing the way they were buzzing with some sort of excitement. “I don’t even think the lodge has enough rooms for this many people.”
Harper hummed. “Maybe—”
“OH MY GOD!”
Your eyes widened in alarm as you turned your head, seeing Evan standing a few feet away from you and Harper. The older Montgomery was gripping his phone, eyes full of adoration and awe as he grinned at his screen like a madman. He let out a high-pitched squeak, catching the attention of both families as they looked at him with varying looks of concern.
The blond finally lifted his head, oblivious to the worried looks as his grin seemingly widened. He thrusted a phone towards you and Harper, almost buzzing in his spot. “He’s here!”
Your brows furrowed together. “What?”
“He’s here!” Evan repeated, just as enthusiastic as the first time. “He is in our ski lodge! He’s here!”
You still looked equally confused. “Who?”
“His little man-crush,” Harper noted as she glanced down at his screen.
“Charles Leclerc!” Evan sighed, almost dreamily as he hugged his phone to his chest. “We are spending Christmas with Charles Leclerc!”
You rolled your eyes and shook your head, pushing past the boy to grab your suitcase so you could finally go check in. “For fuck’s sake, not your little driving guy.”
“Hey,” Evan frowned. “He’s more than that.”
“I have to listen to you talk about him for nine months of the year,” you remarked, though even that felt like an understatement. “Christmas is meant to be my free time from your little obsession. We made a deal.”
Evan blanched. “That was before I knew he was here!”
“And now he’s ruining Christmas,” you grumbled bitterly, letting out a wince when you felt a pinch to your side.
“Don’t be such a grinch,” Harper teased. “Let him be a fanboy and spend his days on the slopes hunting the guy down. Don’t let it ruin your holiday.”
You snorted. “That will be hard when he is talking our ears off about Charles’ pretty green eyes or the way his hair looks after a race.”
“It’s fluffy!” Evan defended. “It’s unreal after a two hour race in a helmet!”
“Whatever,” you muttered as you patted the boy on the chest as you moved past him. “You have him all to yourself, you won’t see me complaining about it.”
Evan puffed his chest out. “You just can’t appreciate greatness.”
“Blah, blah, blah,” you waved him off. “I’m here to ski and relax. As long as this Charles guy keeps you and his little fanbase far away from me, I don’t care what he does.” There was a pause and Harper gave you a questioning look when she saw the glint in your eyes. “Even if he is overrated.”
Evan’s jaw dropped. “You did not just—”
“Last one in is a rotten egg!” You called out behind you as you grabbed Harper’s hand, dragging her towards the main entrance with you and letting your laughs echo through the reception as the boy swore up and down behind you.
…
You could have said that your resentment towards the Ferrari driver was purely based on how much Evan spoke about him during the racing season, but that would be a lie.
It had started off that way when the boy finally made it into Formula One. Evan had been a motorsport fanatic from a young age, always eager to ramble away to you and Harper on various championships and seasons neither of you particularly cared about. As you got older, you learned to become more accepting and tolerant of the fact your Sundays would always be hijacked by whatever grand prix was occurring that weekend.
However, when a young hot shot joined the sport that Evan had been following through the lower leagues, you didn’t realise just how quickly that tolerance would disappear until he was yapping your ear off after every single race.
And truthfully? You didn’t get it. You didn’t get the sport in general, you didn’t understand what made a driver good or bad, and you didn’t understand the world’s obsession with Charles Leclerc as the years passed. To you, he just seemed like a pretty boy who enjoyed the spotlight of being the face of the sport. To you, he seemed like nothing more than a show pony.
And no amount of debates and rants from Evan would change that.
You wouldn’t have gone out of your way to say you hate Charles Leclerc, but you would say you were coming pretty damn close since you arrived at The Chalet.
The Chalet was bustling from the moment you opened your eyes to the moment you fell asleep. Wherever you went, it felt like you were pushing through a crowd to get from point A to point B. And the amount of times you had fans gripping your arm as you walked past, asking you if you had seen the Monegasque driver was starting to make you want to rip your own hair out.
Yet, despite the buzz around the driver being in the lodge and the amount of fans circling the place through various hours of the day, you had yet to see the boy himself and that was something you were perfectly content with.
You had managed two blissful days before you crossed paths with Charles Leclerc.
You had been taking too long to get ready so you assured Harper and Evan you would meet them at the slopes, insisting there was no need for them to wait for you. Both Montgomery’s—stubborn as ever—scoffed and told you they would be waiting for you in the lobby instead.
You had been in a rushed state when you made your way towards the equipment valet, eager to just quickly hand your locker number over and collect your equipment. However, your path seemed to be blocked by a man standing in front of you, nose buried in his phone as he muttered in a language you didn���t quite understand.
“Excuse me, do you mind if I just—”
“Fucking hell,” the man swore, causing you to pause and frown at his back.
You were taken aback, not expecting that response or the scoff that left his lips afterwards. And when he turned around, you were even more shocked when you realised you knew exactly who the rude man was—none other than Charles Leclerc.
“Look, I appreciate that you are a devoted fan and I am grateful for the support, but I really don’t have time for pictures right now,” Charles continued and, to his credit, did look a little empathetic. Though, that didn’t take away from the underlying hostility in his words. “I am just here to enjoy my break. Please let me do so in peace.”
You blinked, absolutely flabbergasted by his assumption. “Huh?”
The smile he gave you was almost condescending. “As a fan, I am sure you’d understand that I’d want a few days just free from the media and—”
And it seemed like only then did your brain catch up with the situation.
“Don’t flatter yourself, sweetheart, I am not a fan,” you stated as bluntly as you could, watching the boy’s face morph into something quite like confusion. As though he genuinely couldn’t compute the fact somebody wasn’t a fan of him.
“What?”
“I was just trying to get my skis and you were standing in my way like a douche,” you said simply, watching as his brows furrowed closer together. “Which I would have felt bad for calling you before I realised who you were.”
“Who I was,” Charles repeated, still baffled as you pushed past him to do just as you said.
“Hot shot who thinks everybody who breathes near him cares about who he is,” you supplied, a sickly sweet smile on your face as you now stood before him with your skis in hand. “Have a great day, Charles Leclerc.”
And the boy didn’t get a chance to say anything as you walked away, your mood positively ruined by the time you reached Evan and Harper in the lobby. They took one look at your sour mood and raised their brows in question, but you simply grumbled and waved them off, in no mood to repeat your interaction to Charles’ biggest sympathiser.
Fortunately for the Montgomery siblings, your mood eased up by lunchtime and you were (mostly) over the whole interaction.
…
Or at least, you were over the interaction until dinner came around.
Dinner at The Chalet was like one massive family meal. With a large hall dedicated as the dining area, the Blanchet’s had set it up quite like a buffet system. There were tables of food bordering the room with tables dotted through the middle. Everyone sat on the round tables, in their little families and looking like a picture perfect scene for the final meal of the day.
So of course your final meal of the day had to be ruined by an arrogant Monegasque who grinned at you like you two were old friends.
“Ah, you! I’ve been looking for you.”
Truthfully, you wouldn’t have even realised he was talking to you if it weren’t for the fact the boy had stopped right beside you, practically looming over your shoulder as you tried to help yourself to some macaroni cheese.
You raised your brows, giving the boy a once-over before returning your attention to your plate.
“Uh, hello,” Charles tried again, his brows furrowing together a little at the cold shoulder you gave him.
“Hi,” you stated simply, not wanting to spend any more moments with the Monegasque than you had to.
“I wanted to apologise for earlier,” Charles continued, seeing your response as an open invite to a conversation.
“Do you now?”
“Yeah,” Charles nodded, a smile making its way onto his face as your sarcastic tone went completely over his head. “Listen, I really didn’t mean to snap at you. It’s just—this is my holiday and I had no intention of my location being leaked. I just wanted a break from everything, you know? And I guess the frustrations of being bombarded for the last few days just got to me.”
And truthfully speaking, a part of you sympathised with the boy. Though his fame reached levels you would never understand, The Chalet was your haven away from everything. It was a place where reality never seemed to touch, a place to escape. You could understand better than anyone what it was like to crave that feeling in your life.
But just as you opened your mouth to say as much, Charles seemed to remind you exactly why you disliked him in the first place.
“And I just wanted to clear things up with you before the media found out and—”
“So, you’re only apologising because you don’t want me running to journalists and ruining your image?” You interrupted, catching the boy off-guard as he gaped at you for a few seconds.
“Well, yes, it wouldn’t look good if I was harassing fans,” Charles said.
“But I’m not a fan,” you corrected him, gripping your plate in your hands. “And I certainly don’t care about shattering someone’s image for fifteen seconds of fame, no matter how much of a douche they are.”
Charles frowned. “I—”
“You can take your apology and shove it up your ass, Charles,” you said, that sickly sweet smile on your face once again as you turned around to find whichever table your family were sitting at. But a hand reached out to softly grip your elbow and you turned to find Charles looking at you with a helpless expression.
“I am sorry,” Charles said to you, something in his voice that you didn’t really understand. “But I also care about my image. Surely you can understand that.”
“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” you retorted as you tried to tug yourself free from his hold.
Charles opened his mouth to reply, but a louder voice caught the attention of both of you.
“STORMY! OVER HERE!”
You felt your face heat up as you glanced over your shoulder, finding Evan sat amongst your family and his own as he waved you down. He had a shit-eating grin on his face (most likely from the fact he used the one nickname that he knew pissed you off more than anything else in front of everyone) and looked like he was about to do more when his gaze shifted to the man beside you. His jaw dropped, a comical expression on his face as he looked between you and Charles Leclerc.
“Stormy?” Charles repeated, looking over at you.
You ignored his questioning gaze, instead narrowing your eyes at the hand still gripping your elbow. “Can you let me go now or is there more to your shitty apology?”
Charles opened his mouth once again, yet another person interrupted him before he got a chance.
“Charles? What’s taking you so long?”
Your eyes wandered to the girl who saddled up beside him, her expression light until she turned to look at you. Her gaze was calculated, her blue eyes seeming to size you up and something about the all white attire made you wonder if she was really playing into the Ice Queen vibes.
“Another fan?” She sighed, as though your presence was the biggest inconvenience to her. “Honey, he can take pictures with you after dinner—”
“That’s fine, we’re done here,” you quickly corrected, ignoring the patronising tone in her voice or the way that Charles still looked like he had more to say. “I won’t be bothering either of you anytime soon.”
You turned on your heels before either one of them had a chance to drag out the interaction any longer than it needed it to be. You weaved through the tables before making your way towards the table your family had chosen, settling yourself in the free seat beside Evan.
“That was Charles Leclerc!”
You hummed, grabbing your fork as you began to dig in. “Unfortunately so.”
“Dude, what the hell!” Evan hissed, pinching your side until you let out a small squeak and turned to him. “Why didn’t you tell me you knew him?”
You frowned. “I don’t.”
“You were talking to him for ages!” Evan countered.
“He was just being a dick,” you said with a shrug of your shoulders. “Plus, that was probably the last time I’ll ever talk to him.”
Harper snorted. “And you didn’t even get him an autograph.”
“Not that I would ask,” you prefaced before shaking your head. “But I doubt he would have given me one anyways. We…got off on the wrong foot.”
“It’s Charles Leclerc,” Evan scoffed. “There is no wrong foot.”
“Keep it in your pants, dickhead,” you teased, lightly pinching his side back in retaliation. “Even if I did get you an autograph, I would have shredded it after the Stormy stunt you just pulled.”
“But that’s your name,” Evan grinned.
“No, it’s what you called me for seven years because you couldn’t remember my name,” you retorted.
“No, he remembered,” Harper piped in, a grin on her face that scarily matched her brother’s. “But with a temper like yours, Stormy just fits so much better.”
You rolled your eyes. “Whatever. You both suck and so does Charles Leclerc.”
“At least wait until dessert before you start insulting Evan’s boyfriend in front of him.”
“He’s not my boyfriend!”
…
You had expected that was the last time your path would ever cross with Charles Leclerc and, for the most part, it was.
A few days passed and other than some awkward shared glances in the dining hall, you hadn’t found yourself caught in a conversation with the Ferrari driver after his attempted apology and you were intending to keep it that way until the end of your trip. You were happy to continue on with your holiday, even if you swore you could feel a pair of eyes watching you sometimes.
However, it seemed like the universe was on a mission to get your hopes up before crumbling them back down again—and this time, it was in the form of another involuntary meeting with the Monegasque.
You hadn’t even noticed the boy standing a few feet away from you with a group of his friends. You were stood next to Harper, listening to her ramble away as you waited in line for the ski lift to take you to the top of the mountain. It was fairly early, most of the resort residents still enjoying their breakfast inside which meant the queue wasn’t very long. You had been eager to get out on the snow early after being one of the last in the passing days.
However, whilst you failed to notice the driver, it seemed like Harper had.
She watched the boy continuously glance over at you, like he was eager to catch your eye. She watched as he slowly shuffled closer, like he was trying to gain the confidence to jump into the conversation. She watched Charles Leclerc act like a hopeless fool, and it was somewhat endearing to witness.
And maybe—just maybe—she was in the mood for some drama that the vacation in the ski resort very rarely gave her.
You were already settled in your spot when you felt someone shuffling in the seat next to you. You felt the comfort bar come down and you turned with a smile, ready to continue your conversation with your best friend when you realised your best friend was not the person sitting next to you.
No, it was Charles Leclerc.
Your head whirled around, finding Harper standing in the queue with a grin on her face. You shot her a look, one that spoke more than a thousand words on just how you felt about her betrayal. However, the girl just laughed and waved you off as the lift began moving and it was far too late to get off.
Your attention shifted to the boy beside you again, noticing the sheepish expression on his face and you let out a sigh.
It was fine. Totally fine. The ski lift took around ten minutes to get to the top of the mountain. That was hardly anything, practically a blink of an eye if you were being honest. It would be a quick ride up, you wouldn’t even have to talk to him and you could easily ignore him by the time you made your way back down the mountain. It was all going to be so, so fine.
“So, uh, how are you this morning?”
And suddenly, even a second felt like ten years passing.
You kept your head facing forward, hoping the boy would catch the hint that you weren’t interested in small talk and would also remain silent. Though, considering the fact he was fidgeting in his seat, you doubted the boy could keep quiet for longer than thirty seconds.
“The weather is great, right?”
Your brows furrowed together. The weather? Really?
“The pancakes were also really good at breakfast this morning. Did you have any?” He continued, only pausing for a moment when he realised you were making a point of not answering him. “Stormy?”
One simple word and that was enough for you to break your silence.
“Don’t call me that,” you snapped, a little harsher than you truly intended but the sentiment remained.
Charles blinked. “You don’t want me to call you your name?”
“It’s not my name,” you replied.
He blinked again. “But in the dining hall—”
“It’s a nickname—one that Evan likes to wind me up with because he thinks I’m moody,” you explained before realising the boy didn’t really deserve an explanation. Not when you were adamant to keep this conversation short. “Not that it’s any of your business.”
“Well, I can see where he gets it from,” Charles said with a small snort.
You frowned. “Excuse me?”
Seeming to realise what he said and just how it sounded out loud, it was almost comical to watch Charles’ lips part before he awkwardly gaped at his previous comment. “Not like that! I just meant—”
“Whatever,” you muttered as you turned to face forwards again, pleading for the lift to somehow reach the top of the mountain already.
“Look, I’m sorry. This wasn’t how I intended this to go,” Charles admitted, almost sounding a bit pained when he said it, as though he wasn’t used to admitting he was wrong. “I wanted to properly apologise. I shouldn’t have been so rude to you, and I definitely shouldn’t have brushed it off as anything except how you felt.”
You paused, brows furrowing together as you turned to face him with a curious expression.
Charles blinked. “What?”
“I was just waiting to see if there was a ‘but’ coming,” you confessed.
“No buts,” he assured, pausing for a moment before his cheeks burned pink. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry. That’s it.”
You let out a sigh, wishing that some part of you was suspicious about his apology but you weren’t. He sounded genuine, and as much as you wanted to—and still partially did—believe he was a bit of a pompous prick, you couldn’t fault that his apology seemed sincere.
“I accept your apology,” you said, your voice a little strained before you continued. “And I’m also sorry for being a bit of a bitch.”
Charles’ lips parted. “Oh no, you weren’t—”
“I was a little,” you said, your lips twitching upwards as the boy gave you a nervous smile. “I can assure you I won’t be telling any gossip pages about what an asshole Charles Leclerc is.”
He actually laughed in response, despite the fact that alone would probably make his PR team bury him six feet under before the next season started. “I appreciate that, Stormy.”
You glowered at the nickname, but it only seemed to make the Monegasque laugh harder.
…
Despite the exchange of apologies on the ski lift, you expected that to be your last proper interaction with Charles.
You were also quickly realising that every time—so far—you had assumed as much, you would find yourself face to face with the driver once again. And this time was no different, except it came much earlier than a few days. It happened later that very same day.
You had made your way into the dining hall, grabbing a plate and beginning to survey the large buffet when you felt the warmth of another person standing beside you. You felt a hand brush your arm and turned to find Charles smiling at you.
“Bonjour, mon ami.”
You blinked. “What?”
His smile widened. “It means—”
“No, I know what it means,” you quickly corrected, shaking your head a little. “I just…didn’t realise we were friends.”
Charles’ brows furrowed together. “Why wouldn’t we be? I thought we had made up on the ski lift.”
“Yes but, other than that, we are strangers,” you said to him like it was obvious—and to you, it was. Beyond a few misunderstandings and awkward apologies, the man in front of you was as much a friend to you as any of the other guests in the lodge.
“Well, we can change that now!” He said, and that smile returned to his face. “Turn over a new book or whatever the saying is.”
Much to your own surprise, you found yourself laughing a little at his response. “Charles, I—”
“STORMY, HURRY UP OR I AM DRINKING YOUR WINE!”
Both your and Charles’ head snapped over to Evan who was holding a wine glass in each hand, a large smile plastered on his face and a twinkle in his eyes that promised mischief. His hair was still wet from the shower he took before dinner, meaning it was slick back and giving him an almost wannabe Bond villain look.
You laughed, shaking your head as you turned back to look at the driver. Only you found Charles still looking in Evan’s direction, something contemplative and almost begrudging in his gaze.
“You okay?”
Charles turned to face you, and it took a mere second for the glare to disappear and be replaced with his bright smile once again. “Yeah, of course. It seems like you’re wanted elsewhere though.”
“He’s a menace,” you said, playfully rolling your eyes but the fondness was clear in your voice. “I love him even if he’s a pain in the ass.”
Charles only let out a contemplative hum as a goodbye as you headed towards the table where your family and the Montgomery’s were sitting. And maybe if you looked over at him as much as he did with you over the course of the dinner, you would have seen Charles looking a little too bitter every time your eyes were on Evan instead of him.
…
A week had passed in the resort and the Christmas spirit was starting to truly spread as the festive holiday quickly approached.
Your parents and the Montgomery parents had decided to pass on the slopes, instead choosing to visit infamous glacier caves that had been advertised and talked about by some locals in the lodge. You, Harper and Evan had declined the offer to join them, though the excitement of no parents being around—despite the fact all three of you were firmly in your twenties—seemed to spark a shift in energy in Evan that could only be described as childlike.
“I have a proposition.”
Harper already let out a groan, tilting her head back as she did. You couldn’t see her eyes beneath her goggles, but you imagined she was rolling them. “God, no.”
Evan frowned. “You haven’t even heard it yet.”
“Your ideas are shit,” Harper said to her brother. “And usually dangerous.”
“No, they aren’t,” Evan scoffed.
You shrugged. “You don’t have a great track record, if we are being honest.”
“Whatever,” Evan grumbled before grinning at the two of you. “First two to reach the bottom wins. Sabotaging each other’s run is allowed. Loser has to do the forfeit.”
Your eyes narrowed. “What’s the forfeit?”
“Loser has to streak in the snow,” he grinned.
“I am not streaking in the snow,” Harper scoffed.
“Then, you better hope you win,” the older Montgomery countered with a grin.
And begrudgingly, you and Harper agreed to his childish idea.
It wasn’t the first time a silly competition between the three of you got out of hand, and you truly doubted it would be the last. With no rules set and no parents to even try to intervene, it didn’t take very long before the competition got dirty and the run down the slopes became more chaotic.
You had been running behind Harper, secure in second place and watching her movements closely to look for any weakness that you could exploit. However, you had failed to realise that Evan—who had been running behind after he almost skied into a group of people—was quickly catching up on you.
You didn't realise until it was too late.
You let out a noise of surprise when you found the boy right by your side, one that quickly became a series of curses when you realised what he was doing. You tried to move away when you noticed him turning into you, but you were too slow and it only put you in a worse position when his pole lodged itself between your skis.
He was long gone by the time you tumbled into the snow, cackling loudly as he went. You let out a groan of frustration as you turned until you were lying on your back. You winced a little as you tried to awkwardly scramble up onto your feet in hopes of catching up with the Montgomery siblings, but the second a bit of pressure was placed on your ankle, you were crying out in pain and your ass hit the snow once again.
“Shit,” you whispered to yourself as you sat in the snow, tears welling in your lash line at the shot of pain up your leg.
“Cherie!”
You lifted your head when you noticed someone skidding to a stop beside you. You blinked at them in a moment of confusion, but the second they removed their goggles and pulled down their mask, you found Charles—or at least, a very worried and concerned version of him—looking down at you.
He took you in, noticing the glossy sheen to your eyes before he turned back to look over his shoulder, letting out a string of curse words that you were certain were not in English before his attention returned to you.
“Are you okay? What hurts? Is something broken? Should I call for them to send a helicopter—”
“Charles,” you quickly interrupted the rambling boy. “I’m fine. I’ve probably just sprained my ankle.”
“Yeah, because of him,” Charles grumbled, mostly under his breath like he had no real intention for you to hear the snide remark.
“It was a joke,” you waved him off, but that only seemed to upset the boy further.
“A joke?” He repeated, his eyes widening in disbelief. “You’re hurt. It’s hardly a funny joke.”
“Charles, calm down.”
The boy just scoffed, shaking his head before he lodged his poles into the snow, keeping them off the main trail before he turned to you and offered his hand.
You looked at him expectantly.
“Let me help you get down to the lodge,” he said in as calm a voice as he could manage.
“Charles—” You began, but he wasn’t having it.
“No, cherie, I am not going to leave you here when you’re injured and alone,” he said, emphasising the last word in particular as he glanced around, almost like he had to remind you that Harper and Evan were most likely at the bottom of the slope by now.
“Fine,” you said with a sigh, taking his gloved hand in yours as you allowed him to pull you up, keeping your weight on him with ease. “This doesn’t mean we are friends though, Charles.”
He only grinned at you, the first time he seemed a little more like himself since he stopped to check on you.
“Whatever you want to say, Stormy.”
…
As expected, you had sprained your ankle and were advised to take it easy for the next few days.
And you were banned from hitting the slopes in fear of making the sprain worse.
You wanted to be annoyed about the situation—and a small part of you was—but honestly, a few days in the lodge with some peace and quiet seemed like a dream. As much as you loved your family and the Montgomery’s, you needed a break from how loud and giddy and excited they were.
And as the days quickly approached Christmas, it felt like a nice relief to have some time to yourself before the festivities truly took over.
You had waved them off after breakfast with a smile, teasing them not to miss you too much as they headed towards the slopes. Evan had offered to stay inside with you, even just for today, because of the guilt that he was the one to put you in the position. But you just rolled your eyes, assuring him you were more than happy to sit by the fireplace by the foyer and enjoy a day where you didn’t have to fall flat on your ass in the snow.
You had been a few chapters into your book, curled up on the couch with your ankle elevated on a pillow with a blanket thrown over you when Charles and his friends made their way downstairs, prepped and ready with the intentions of heading out to the slopes.
But the boy spotted you and found his feet moving in a different direction.
“Stormy!”
You lifted your head, unable to even find it in yourself to be annoyed by his constant use of the nickname when he had a pretty smile on his face whenever he said it. He was bundled up in layers, probably on his way to the equipment kiosk before he headed for the lift. He looked comical next to the fire.
“My knight in shining armour,” you greeted, a teasing tilt in your voice but the boy missed it as he took in your appearance. “You look warm.”
“You’re staying in today?”
You nodded. “Doc’s orders.”
“Alone?”
You nodded once again. “I told the others they could—”
“I’ll stay with you!”
He said it so quickly that it took you a few seconds before you realised just what he had said. You blinked, your brows furrowing in confusion. “You’re at a ski resort and you don’t want to go skiing?”
“I’ve been skiing every day since I got here,” he said with a casual shrug of his shoulders. “I can handle not skiing for a day.”
You flashed him a smile. “It’s fine, you don’t have to—”
“But I want to,” he countered, the words passing his lips with ease.
You hated the way your chest tightened a little at his words. “Oh.”
Charles smiled at your response.
“Charles, hurry up!”
You missed the way his brows furrowed together at the voice when you turned to look at the woman standing a few feet away, looking impatient and slightly annoyed. It was the same woman from the other week, the one that looked a little too much like the cold weather personified. You had learnt over the passing days her name was Melanie, but that was about as far as your knowledge on the woman went, other than her clear attitude.
Charles let out a sigh before he replied, a slightly more strained smile on his face. “Go on without me. I’m gonna stay in the lodge today.”
Melanie frowned. “Why?”
“Because I want to,” Charles stated simply, and the repeated words made your chest feel funny again.
Melanie glanced over at you and then Charles, and then back to you again. Her eyes were narrowed and her glare felt icy, but before she could even think of saying anything, a friend from the group was calling out to her and she had no choice but to join them.
Charles turned back to you, an easy smile on his lips once again. “So…what’s the plan?”
You snorted. “To sit here because I’m practically bedbound, unless I want to hobble somewhere.”
Charles pressed his lips together. “Well, sitting by the fire with no hot chocolate is sacrilege.”
Your nose scrunched up. “But I don’t have cookies. Hot chocolate by itself isn’t fun without homemade Christmas cookies.”
“Then we will make them,” Charles said.
You rolled your eyes. “And where are we making them? In our rooms with a kettle, tap water and no other ingredients?”
“Please,” Charles said with a scoff, a glint in his eyes as he looked down at you with a proud glint in his eyes. “I am Charles Leclerc. I have my ways.”
You weren’t sure what strings he pulled, who he bribed or just what he blackmailed the lodge owners with, but you were filled with a sort of unease when Charles returned twenty minutes later. He had changed out of his heavy ski gear into a pair of jeans and a sweater that looked insanely cosy. And he had told you that he needed you to close your eyes, to trust him enough to carry you to the destination with a promise that all the drama would be worth it.
He looked so damn proud when he brought you to the lodge’s kitchen with bowls and whisks and ingredients sprawled across the counter—it made that funny feeling in your chest return.
“How did you manage this?” You asked, an incredulous laugh leaving your lips when he sat you on the counter.
“I’m Charles Leclerc, I can get anything I want,” he said, and once upon a time, you would have rolled your eyes and thought he was a pompous dick. You still thought he was a little cocky, but it was an endearing trait now.
You raised your brows. “Do you, Charles Leclerc, know how to bake?”
“Nope,” he said honestly but he was still smiling. “But I am sure I can make something edible with you guiding me.”
“Smooth,” you snorted. “Don’t blame me if they taste like shit.”
As it would turn out, Charles had an overbearing need to be in control of everything. You guessed it came with the lifestyle, the fact his life is always in the palm of his own hands whenever he sat in a car that raced hundreds of miles an hour. However, it seemed like it also extended to the Monegasque ignoring your very clear and correct instructions to do something he insisted was the right way.
“In what fucking world do you need that much sugar?” You remarked, lips parted in shock as you watched the boy add more.
“They are sugar cookies, cherie, it’s in the name,” Charles retorted.
“That doesn’t mean the batter should be seventy-five percent sugar!” You huffed as you reached over to try and grab the bag of sugar from him. “You are going to make us both diabetic with one of those damn cookies. Don’t you have a diet you are meant to be following?”
Charles only grinned, a little mischievous. “Yeah but it’s Christmas.”
You shook your head. “You’re unbelievable.”
“And you’re bossy,” he countered.
“And I’m right,” you insisted as you frowned at the batter, wondering if it would be easier to just toss it out and start again. “It’s not my fault you don’t have the ego to handle it.”
“Or your ego can’t handle the challenge,” Charles said, something shining in his eyes like his words had a hidden meaning you couldn’t quite understand. “Tell me you don’t like it.”
You tilted your head a little. “You think you’re the only man to talk back to me, Leclerc?”
His tongue poked the inside of his cheek. “I would like to think I’m the best.”
You couldn’t ignore the way his eyes darkened, the way it seemed to surge some sort of competition inside him. You couldn’t help but want to play on his fragile male ego a little more.
“And if I said you weren’t?” You questioned, pressing your lips together in a poor attempt to hide your smirk.
Charles breathed out of his nose, his jaw clenching a little before he replied. “Then I would say Evan is a lucky man to have you.”
And just like that, your smirk dropped.
“What?”
Charles frowned a little. “I would say Evan is a lucky man,” he repeated, the words sounding a little forced as they left his lips. “You two seem like…a great match even if he does leave you abandoned on a ski slope after—”
“Oh my god, no!” You blanched, your shoulders hunching up to your ears as you shook your head. “Ew, no! Absolutely not!”
Charles blinked. “Huh?”
“Me and Evan—” You swallowed hard, unable to even get the words out. “It’s not like that between us. I have known him forever, he’s like a brother to me.”
“Oh,” Charles murmured, taking a few seconds before he grinned. “Oh!”
“Yeah, oh,” you grumbled.
Charles couldn’t wipe the smile off his face. “So, you aren’t—”
“Nope.”
“With Evan or anyone?”
“No one.”
“Good.”
You snorted, rolling your eyes at the giddiness written across his face. If someone told you it was Christmas morning, you would have believed them. “Subtle, Charles.”
“Subtle is my middle name.”
…
The next day, you met Charles by the foyer fireplace, but this time he was prepared with his own book.
The day after, he was there again but both your books were quickly abandoned as you chatted away.
The day after that, neither of you bothered to bring your books down.
Despite your insistence that he should be out on the slopes enjoying his vacation and the downtime he had in between seasons, Charles was adamant that he was doing exactly what he deemed relaxing. And just like he said earlier, Charles Leclerc gets what he wants—and it seemed he wanted to spend his days huddled in the lodge with you.
Everyone noticed the budding relationship between you and Charles, but nobody said a word. Well, your family and the Montgomery parents didn’t say a word. Harper and Evan on the other hand? They wouldn’t leave you alone.
Harper was cackling at the irony. She was throwing your words back in your face, teasing the way seemed to switch your opinion on the Monegasque driver in the span of a week and looked down right smitten for the boy. She teased you over the fact it took you almost two months before you went on a date with your ex-boyfriend, and here you were having daily fireplace dates with the boy you called an asshole less than a week ago. She was embracing her full right as your best friend to annoy the fuck out of you.
Evan was a whole other story. The boy looked like a kicked puppy every time you came back from hanging out with Charles, only to tell him you didn’t get him an autograph nor did you bring into the conversation how cool he was or how amazing he was or how he and Charles would totally get on if you introduced them. You didn’t have the heart to tell the boy that up until seventy-two hours ago, Charles didn’t like him through a bizarre assumption.
It had been constant and annoying, but in a way that made your heart feel full because you knew no matter what, at least those two would support every decision you made. Even if they got unbearable during the meal times where Charles would find any excuse to come talk to you.
Tonight was no different as he approached you with a smile spread across his face and something dangerous and promising shining in his eyes. You were sitting at the table alone whilst everyone else headed towards the tables to fill their plates—yours in Harper’s hand—and you were grateful for the small moment of peace as he leaned down.
“Missing me already?” You teased.
He shrugged, though he didn’t disagree. “I have a very important message for you.”
You raised your brows in question. “Oh?”
Instead of saying anything, the boy just grinned wider and handed you a small piece of paper. You frowned a little at it, looking up at him in confusion but the boy was already taking a few steps away from your table.
“Charles—”
But the boy just winked before turning on his heel, heading back to the table the rest of his friends were sitting at, where they were probably watching the whole interaction even if they tried to make it seem like they weren’t.
You glanced down at the note in your hand, lips turned downwards as you opened the folded paper. It baffled you that he couldn’t just say what he had written down, but another part of you warmed a little at the idea that he had taken the time to write the note and go through with it—regardless of it being a bit silly.
You couldn’t bite back your smile when you read the note.
meet me @ midnight. my room number is 161. wear something cosy :)
You snorted, shaking your head as every cell in your body thrummed in excitement to meet the boy you once hated later that night.
…
“The note was cute, but I still don’t understand why you couldn’t just ask me to hang out.”
“Because that’s not fun.”
“You just handed me the note, that’s hardly any different.”
“It was like a real life text, cherie. It’s how they used to do it back in the day.”
You snorted in response.
You had listened to his advice, deciding that a hoodie and pyjama bottoms were the way to go as you snuck up to the floor he was staying at. Your knuckles had barely grazed the door before it was yanked open, a grinning boy on the other side. He was dressed in a baggy hoodie and grey sweatpants, his hair pushed back with a bandana and a pair of glasses sat on his nose.
He didn’t even give you a chance to say anything before he was dragging you inside.
It should have been obvious that Charles Leclerc of all people would have a suite but truthfully, you hadn’t even realised the lodge had master suites as big as this one. But it did. And it was huge. And you expected nothing less for the Monegasque.
There were multiple different rooms that veered off the large living room: one that was furnished with a massive tv, soft plush sofas and a large fireplace that looked like it was straight out the front of a Christmas card. Surprisingly, it was decorated for the festive season with even a tree settled in the corner between the armchairs. It felt homely. It felt perfect for this midnight meeting.
However, you didn’t get much of a chance to look around before he was dragging you out onto the balcony. There was a loveseat set up with pillows and blankets, and a small table set with hot chocolate and a plate of cookies (ones he assured you he had the chef make fresh).
“I never took you to be so traditional,” you teased, pulling the blanket tighter around your shoulders as a light breeze hit you. “But I guess you have to make do since you haven’t even asked for my number.”
Charles raised his brows. “Is that your subtle way of telling me to hurry up and ask for it?”
“Subtle is my middle name,” you retorted, his own repeated words thrown back in his face but they seemed to light a spark inside him.
Charles’ eyes dropped to your lips for a few passing beats before they returned to your eyes, and you saw everything written in them. This was different to the days you had spent down in the foyer. Everyone could see you both. You could see everyone. It was public and out in the open and exposed.
But here?
It was just you and him and the pretty night sky that shone and glittered with stars. You were away from the world, from reality. You were away from your family and friends. You were away from peering eyes and judgemental looks. You were in a bubble you never wanted to leave, huddled in thick wool blankets and desperately hoping he would close the minimal distance between you both.
His lips were a hairbreadth away from brushing against yours when another breeze caressed your skin, sending a shiver down your spine that momentarily jolted you away from him.
“You’re cold,” he noted, though it was pretty obvious when you two were both outside in minimal layers. “Let’s get inside. We can warm up by the fire.”
And a part of you wanted to scream off the balcony into the French Mountains when he stood up, when the moment broke and his lips weren’t against yours. But as angry as you wanted to be, you were grateful when he guided you to sit in front of the fire as he added more wood to the dying embers.
His thigh was brushing against yours when he settled into the spot beside you on the floor, his cheeks tinted pink from the cold as he grinned at you before holding his hands out to the fire. You laughed, following suit and the conversation from moments before the almost-kiss returned.
However, minutes passed and your body was still racked with small shivers that Charles quickly picked up on.
“C’mere,” he murmured as he lifted his arm, giving you little time to dispute (not that you were going to) as he wrapped his arm around you and tugged you into his side.
You didn’t think about it too much as you buried yourself into his embrace, as you pressed your cheek into his hoodie and enjoyed the way his hand seemed to leave a trail of heat wherever he touched.
“If I get hypothermia and die, I’m coming back to haunt you and your sugar cookies,” you grumbled, though it was lighthearted as you pressed your nose further into the fabric of his hoodie.
His chest shook underneath you as he laughed and tightened his hold on you. “I would never let anything happen to you, Stormy.”
“You and that stupid nickname,” you said as you let out a long sigh. “You know my actual name now. You have no excuse to use it.”
“Yeah, but it suits you,” Charles retorted, letting out a small noise of surprise when your cold fingers pinched his side. “Plus, you get this…uh, what’s the word…cute look on your face when you’re angry.”
Your head snapped up to glare at him. “I don’t look cute when I’m angry.”
His face brightened. “Yes! That face! C’est mignon!"
Your eyes narrowed further. “Don’t pull the cute French card, it’s not gonna help you.”
“You think my French is cute?” Charles replied, his laugh echoing through the suite as you rolled your eyes.
“You drivers and your egos,” you grumbled.
“Have a lot of experience with drivers?” Charles questioned, a hint of something unreadable in his voice.
You snorted, both of you knowing the answer to that question but you played along. “Maybe I do.”
His eyes darkened slightly. “What about kissing them?”
And just like that, Charles Leclerc had left you speechless for what felt like the millionth time since you met him.
His gaze was locked on your lips, the crackling of the fire felt like it was booming through the silent room and you were truly wondering if your heart was going to burst through your chest and splat on the floor in front of you both.
“I can’t say I have much experience in that department,” you admitted once you managed to choke your words out.
His lips twitched upwards. “Would you like some experience, Stormy?”
You didn’t know if you nodded or if he just took the signs of your flustered, stuttering mess and took mercy on you. You didn’t know if his hand reached to cup your face first or if it was your hand on the nape of his neck instead. You didn’t know if it was you moaning lowly into the kiss when his tongue darted out or if it was him.
Kissing Charles Leclerc was overwhelming and world-altering and, truthfully, you didn’t think you could even utter your own name if someone asked you at that moment.
“Merde,” he groaned before he kissed you harder, faster, more passionately. His other hand reached for your waist, those muscles hidden under his baggy hoodie put to good use as he hauled you onto his lap.
Your knees sat on either side of his hips, your ass firmly planted on his lap as the new position allowed you to fully wrap your arms around his neck. The boy’s hands dropped to your waist, squeezing and guiding as your hips shifted in his lap as his kisses left you seeking anything he would give you.
“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” he admitted when he had to pull away, when his lungs were burning for air. But you still wanted more, you sought out to keep hearing those pretty noises he made as your lips trailed down his neck. “So fucking long.”
“You took your time,” you muttered between open-mouthed kisses when his hold tightened as your lips passed a particularly sensitive spot just below his ear.
“You hated me for a majority of the time we’ve known each other,” he managed to utter out, his head falling back as your teeth lightly grazed his skin.
“Does it look like I hate you now?” You retorted, something about the back and forth feeling as thrilling and exciting as his fingers fiddling with the hem of your hoodie.
Charles’ eyes caught yours as you lifted your head from his neck, lips red and swollen and fuck, he wanted to kiss you again. “I think I need a little more convincing.”
“Yeah?” You watched as he nodded, a little too eager but it made your stomach twist in the best way possible. “Well, you did promise to keep me warm.”
“I did,” he murmured, his voice a little rough and husky.
“Warm me up, Leclerc,” you whispered as you leaned down to kiss him again, his hands squeezing your waist before your lips even touched. “And then I’ll decide if I hate you still.”
A choked noise of surprise left your lips when Charles suddenly moved. You were no longer sitting on his lap, but instead had been laid back on the floor with the boy now hovering over you. He flashed you a smile, one twisted with promises that made your chest feel tight.
You waited for him to lean down and kiss you again. You waited to feel his heated touch on your body. You waited for him to finally slide his hands under the fabric of your hoodie, to feel his fingers along your bare skin.
But instead, he just looked at you with so much fondness in his eyes.
“What?” You questioned, and suddenly the idea of being naked underneath him was no longer the most exposed you felt.
“Nothing,” he said simply as he shook his head. “Just…wanted to make sure.”
Your brows furrowed together. “Of what?”
“That you’re okay with this,” Charles said as he finally lifted his hand, as he let his fingers brush across the apple of your cheek. You could feel your skin heating up underneath his touch. “I want you to know that I’m happy to just talk. I don’t want you to think I just invited you here to—”
“Charles,” you interrupted, and the boy fell quiet as his cheeks flushed pink. “I want to.”
He tried to bite back his smile. “Yeah?”
You laughed, nodding. “Yeah.”
And despite the reassurance and despite the heat in your body that just wanted to throw your legs over the boy and ride him until the sun came up, Charles Leclerc was nothing, if not a gentleman. And something about that made it so much hotter.
His touch was always so confident but gentle. The way his lips pressed against yours, the way his tongue caressed yours as his fingers slowly peeled away the layers of clothes between the two of you. The way he paused to set down pillows and a blanket to make it comfier for you before his fingers hooked on the waistband of your panties, dragging them down your legs and discarding them someplace else.
The way you reached down to cup his bulge in his boxers, prepared to slip your hand beneath the elastic of his boxers and stroke the length of him—only to have your hands batted away. You barely got a chance to question him before his kisses silenced you, before they began moving south and you felt his lips on every inch of your exposed skin that he could reach.
You felt breathless by the time he was between your legs. You felt like your head was spinning with pleasure as he hooked his arms around your thighs and happily settled between them. You felt like you were in some sugar cookie induced dream as you glanced down, catching his eager eyes watching every little move and reaction you made.
The fire was roaring a few feet away, loud and proud and yet, it was his touch and whispered words that made your whole body feel like lava was coursing through your veins. It was the way his tongue swiped and licked your needy pussy, the way his lips wrapped around your clit until your back was arching off the ground. It was the way Charles murmured soft praises as his hands reached out for yours, as he intertwined your fingers and softly squeezed as you came on his tongue once, twice until you felt like a pile of bones.
It was the way he smiled down at you like his face wasn’t glistening with your release. The way he leaned down to kiss you with the taste of yourself still on his tongue. It was the way he was fully prepared to leave it there, let you rest, spend the rest of the night listening to the random rants he could coax out of you.
Charles only let out a surprised noise when you pushed him onto his back, as you straddled him like you fantasised about earlier and reached between your bodies to squeeze his aching cock.
You knew Charles Leclerc was pretty, even in the days where you thought you despised the man. It was an undeniable fact that he was easy on the eyes, that he was gorgeous, that he had one of those faces that didn’t make him feel like he was a real human.
But he was undoubtedly prettier when you were sinking down on his cock, walls squeezing him as his lips parted to let out a string of curse words in a handful of languages you didn’t speak.
His hands were all over you, his lips never stopped moving and all it took was a slight lapse in your tempo as you rocked back and forth for the boy to grip your hips, hold you up with ease and fuck up into you.
You were a puddle on his chest, his lips right beside your ear as he whispered filthy words to you. His hands and kisses were gentle when it felt like you could feel his cock in your throat from how deep inside he was. Charles Leclerc was a fucking enigma that you didn’t ever want to work out.
And even after he did most of the work, even after he was breathless and flushed and fucked out, you were still the first thing on his mind. Your comfort, your pleasure, just you.
“Cherie,” he murmured softly, the accent seeming a little thicker as he spoke. “We should move to the bed.”
“No,” your words muffled as you nuzzled yourself further into his chest, content where you were with your legs tangled together and your naked bodies pressed together. “I’m comfy here. Beside you.”
“Okay,” was all he said in response as he pressed a lingering kiss to the crown of your head and pulled the blanket over the both of you before holding you closer—if that was even possible.
…
The first thing you noted when you woke up was how comfortable the ground felt beneath you.
The second thing was that you were no longer on the floor, but on a very comfy bed with a mattress that felt like it was a cloud.
Your hand blindly reached out to your side, expecting to feel a solid, warm body and probably a disgruntled curse from a certain Monegasque, but it never came. Your brows furrowed together, your hand continuing to pat the bed but it felt cold under your touch.
For a short moment, you wondered if you had dreamt it all. You wondered if it was just a hyper-realistic dream where you swore you could still feel his touch on you, if it was all a part of your imagination.
And then, from the other side of the door, you heard a voice.
Your lips unknowingly tilted upwards as you sat up in bed, the sheet falling to your waist as you did. You stretched out your limbs, moving with no real rush as you grabbed the first piece of clothing you could find—a shirt of Charles’ that rested at your thighs—before making your way towards the door.
You pushed the door open, expecting to find him lounging on the couch as he talked away to whoever he was on the phone with, but he wasn’t. You leaned your head out, peeking around to instead finding him on the balcony, the door still open to let his voice and a chilly breeze carry through into the suite.
You contemplated bracing the cold and making your way towards the balcony, to wrap your arms around his waist and settle into the warmth of him as he finished his call. Your hand moved to pull the door open wider, but then the muffled voice became actual words and you froze.
“She doesn’t mean anything to me. She never has. Why should I care now?”
You frowned a little.
“I was doing her a favour, for no other reason.”
Your stomach churned, but you tried to ease your thoughts that were threatening to spiral.
“I’m not going to ever see her again after this trip, what’s the big deal anyways?”
But that? That was your final straw.
You felt sick to your stomach as you rushed around the room, staying as silent as you could as you redressed yourself. Your head felt like it was spinning, like you couldn’t even keep up with your own thoughts. You wanted to feel angry and spiteful, and maybe you did.
But most of all, you just felt disappointed.
In yourself. In the situation. In the man you thought Charles Leclerc was.
You were fighting down the bile that felt like it was rising up your throat when you finally slipped out of his suite. He was still on the phone, still on the balcony when you left. And he probably wouldn’t even realise you were gone until you were safely back in your own room, where you could let everything hit you at once and let the tears threatening to spill finally fall.
You didn’t want to believe it. You didn’t want to believe he was that kind of guy, another asshole that you had laid yourself out in front of, only for it to be thrown back in your face. You wanted to believe he was the gentleman you saw, touched and kissed last night.
But the truth of the matter was that Charles Leclerc was just another name on your list of men who disappointed you, and you didn’t want to see his stupid, perfect face ever again.
…
Charles was absolutely fucking baffled.
He felt like he was missing a key bit of information in his own life, and no matter how many times he replayed the last week or so in his head, he couldn’t work out what he was doing wrong.
After a season of disappointing races and a team that played with his strategy like a fucking water balloon being thrown around by a group of toddlers, Charles wanted an escape. He wanted a place away from journalists and fans and everyone who even knew who he was. He just wanted a break from his own life.
The vacation at The Chalet was meant to just be that, but it became so much more.
For the first time in a long time, Charles felt like himself again. He felt happy. He was excited for the new year, he was excited for the future, he was excited for what possibly lay ahead of him. He felt like he was in some dream, but it wasn’t a dream. It was his reality and he woke up every day eager to know what amazing thing would happen to him—to know what amazing day he would have with you.
But that dream seemed to crumble into pieces when he realised you were ignoring him.
He didn’t try to take it too personally when he headed back into the bedroom that morning, his cheeks tinted pink from the cold weather but eager to spend a few lazy hours with you in between the sheets. He was eager to make you smile and maybe kiss you, maybe do something more.
But disappointment hit his chest when he saw the empty room.
He just assured himself that you probably had to head back to your room before your family and friends woke up, or maybe you wanted to freshen up. He assured himself he would see you at breakfast and everything would be fine.
But it wasn’t fine because you weren’t at breakfast. He waited in case you came at the end, but you didn’t.
He waited for you at the usual spot in the foyer, but you never came.
He waited for you at lunch and dinner too, but you never came.
The next day, he almost expected the same and was preparing himself to ask one of your friends if you were okay, but he was shocked to find you sitting in your usual place at breakfast. He smiled at you, something in his chest easing as he made a step in your direction, but the dirty glare you sent his way was enough to make him stop in his tracks.
You didn’t turn up to the foyer that day either but between the dirty looks from you and the fact he was pretty sure Harper tried to trip him up at the coffee stand, he knew something was wrong.
He just didn’t know what.
And every time he tried to get near you, tried to talk to you, it was a pathetically failed attempt that left that competitive streak inside his chest blaring with annoyance.
You were ignoring him and he didn’t know why.
And then he saw it, three days after you started ignoring him. He was making his way into the dining hall, having just showered after a day in the slopes his friends dragged him out for, when he saw you and Evan by the buffet.
Your eyes found his and something in his chest sparked.
And then his eyes fell to the way your hand rested on Evan’s arm, the way you leaned into him as you laughed, the way Evan’s arm was thrown over your shoulder as you both walked back to your table. He watched as you both sat next to each other, so close your thighs were probably pressed together under the table and something bitter settled in his stomach.
He knew he had no real reason to be jealous. Especially between the fact that you yourself had assured him everything between you and Evan was platonic (if not familial) and the fact there was no real talk of anything being between you and himself other than a shitload of chemistry.
But even logic didn’t stop the jealousy he felt.
His appetite was gone after that, as he turned around and headed back to his suite that felt a little bittersweet after the amazing night and shit morning he had with you. But he wasn’t in the mood to eat or pine for you from a distance.
Charles was sick and tired of you ignoring him, and he was going to get to the bottom of it.
And the first step in his plan had everything to do with the blond you were currently laughing and touching. He just needed to get Evan alone.
…
It was Christmas Eve when Charles’ plan finally reached its final step—to finally talk to you.
It felt like an odd sense of deja vu when you woke up that morning, making your way down for breakfast before you got ready for the slopes that day. You thought nothing off the weird looks Evan was giving you or the way he seemed giddier than usual, because truthfully it was no different to how Evan usually was on Christmas Eve.
You put down his eagerness to head towards the slopes under the assumption he probably had some weird challenge for you and Harper at the top. You just hoped this one wouldn’t result in another sprained ankle.
“I’m riding with you today, Stormy,” Evan said as the three of you headed towards the ski lift.
“Uh, get in line, loser,” Harper spoke up as she stood on the other side of you. “I called dibs.”
Evan narrowed his eyes. “No, you didn’t.”
“Well, I did just now,” Harper retorted.
“Does it really matter?” You questioned, amused as you glanced between the two of them.
“Yes!”
“No!”
Harper and Evan turned to glare at each other, confusion from one of them and insistence from the other. However, you just laughed and shook your head.
“Fine, first one to the lift wins!”
You were already settled in the lift as you heard the two of them bickering to each other. You waited to see which one would win, to see who would settle in the spot next to you. However, what you failed to notice was the way Evan all but threw himself on top of his sister so she couldn’t reach the lift before someone else did.
You turned, a smile on your face as you waited to greet the winning Montgomery, but instead you found yourself staring at a painfully familiar set of green eyes.
And in an instant, your smile dropped at the sight of Charles Leclerc sitting next to you.
But before you could even think about jumping off the lift and taking the next seat, the lift was already too high up for you to do anything about it.
“You’ve been ignoring me,” he said to break the silence.
But you didn’t respond.
“Look, I know you don’t want to talk to me but at least hear me out,” Charles continued, a hint of desperation in his voice. “This is all a misunderstanding.”
You kept your gaze facing forward.
“Evan told me what you thought happened that morning.”
And just like that, your head snapped around to stare at him, a mix of emotions going through you right now—though the biggest was possibly Evan’s betrayal.
“You weren’t lying when you said he was a big fan,” he said with a nervous laugh. “It didn’t actually take much for him to tell me why you’ve been ignoring me.”
“You used my friend?” You questioned, the bitterness and coldness in your voice evident.
“I asked and he gave me information,” Charles corrected before his shoulders sagged a bit. “Look, don’t blame him. He heard what I had to say and—”
“And I don’t care what you have to say so go talk to Evan about it,” you spat back at him, watching the way he winced at your words.
“Cherie—”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Stormy—”
“And definitely don’t call me that.”
“Please,” Charles pleaded as he looked at you with wide eyes, ones that held so many emotions you did not want to see. “That phone call was not what you think.”
You looked away at the mention of the phone call, something quite like anger and disgust bubbling inside you at the mere reminder of the words you heard that morning. “Just…stop it, Charles. I don’t care, okay? You go about your life and I’ll go about mine.”
“No,” he stated simply.
You scoffed. “What? You need another girl in another city to have fawning over you? The hundreds of others not enough?”
“No, because I am not interested in my life not having you in it. I am not interested in a hundred other girls.” The words were stated like they were facts. “Stormy, I just want you.”
You scoffed again but a hand tugging yours made you look over at Charles, fully prepared to pull your hand away.
“I wasn’t talking about you on the phone that morning,” Charles quickly blurted out before you had a chance to say anything. “Everything you heard on the phone that morning, it wasn’t about you.”
You blinked.
“It was about Melanie.”
Your brows furrowed together, a crease forming between them that Charles had the urge to smooth out with his thumb, but he resisted.
“What?”
“She—” Charles paused for a moment, like he was trying to gather the correct words. “She’s not my friend, not really.”
You blinked again. “She’s not? But she acts—”
“She acts like we are, yes. She’s a friend of a friend, and that’s about all there is to her. She’s…uh, how do you say? She seems to have gained a crush on me? Or maybe it’s some weird obsession. I’m not quite sure,” Charles admitted with a frown. “She asked me out once, almost a year ago and I declined. But she has latched onto the group ever since and I couldn’t quite shake her off.”
You didn’t say anything, instead letting him continue.
“She wasn’t even meant to be on this trip,” Charles confessed. “But she said to our mutual friend that she was alone this Christmas and…I just couldn’t say no, right? But she’s spent the last year acting like I didn’t reject her and I didn’t like the idea of being trapped up here with her. But even with all our other friends, she was always beside me. She was always there. And when she started to throw tantrums to our friends and make up stories after I started spending time with you, I had enough.”
Your lips parted slightly in shock.
“Turns out she told all our friends that we were together,” Charles said with a grimace. “That we wanted to keep it a secret from the media, and that meant I wanted to keep it from everyone. She tried to make it out like I was a monster to our friends when I started spending days with you. Thankfully, none of them believed a word she said but…it was just too much.”
“Oh.”
“That’s why you heard me ranting on the phone about not seeing her after this trip because I have no plans to be around her ever again and I made that clear to my friends. You can even ask them if you don’t believe me,” Charles said as he finally let out a long breath. He looked at you, an almost pained expression on his face. “I would never say those things about you. Not when you might just be the best thing that has ever happened to me.”
Your cheeks burned. “Charles—”
“I know you feel it too,” he continued, and that desperate note to his voice returned. “I know you’ve felt it all week. I know you felt it that night. I know you feel like this—us—could be something.”
“I’m such an idiot,” you muttered, closing your eyes as you realised the agonsing and the pain and the ignoring over the last few days could have been avoided if you stayed in the bedroom a little longer that morning. Or if you had just spoken to him instead of letting the pettiness take over.
“You had no reason to think otherwise about me, cherie, and I get that,” Charles said as he squeezed your hand, almost like a tester to see if you would pull away or not. But you didn’t. “But I want to change that. I want to explore this. I want to show you that I would never do that to you. I want to give you reasons to trust me.”
“I would like that,” you murmured in a soft voice, but Charles heard you loud and clear as he grinned at you.
“Yeah? You don’t hate me still?” He questioned.
You laughed, shaking your head as you did. “I don’t think I ever hated you, Charles.”
“Good, it makes this easier then,” he said before he leaned in, his slightly chapped lips pressed against yours—and something about it felt like coming home.
You sunk into his embrace, your hand coming up to cup his cheek like you needed to believe he was really there (even if the gloves made it a little awkward). But feeling him smile against your lips was assurance enough.
“Merry Christmas Eve, Charles.”
“Merry Christmas Eve, Stormy. I hope it’s one of many with you.”
And maybe Charles Leclerc became another one of the many reasons you loved The Chalet.
.
#charles leclerc#formula one#f1#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc x y/n#charles leclerc fic#charles leclerc one shot#charles leclerc smut#formula one x reader#formula one x you#formula one x y/n#formula one fic#formula one one shot#formula one smut#f1 x reader#f1 x you#f1 x y/n#f1 fic#f1 one shot#f1 smut
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all i want is you ❀ cl16
in which charles thinks he can stay just friends with you after a breakup (spoiler alert: he cant)
read part two here.
contains: social media au, ex!charles leclerc x fem!reader, angsty charles and yn living her best life, mentions of charles’s new girlfriend, charles is a confusing man
note: something small just to feed the kids yk, pls don’t read into the twt dates i was too lazy to change them
📍south of france
liked by charles_leclerc, pierregasly, lilymhe, and 100,675 others
yourusername this travel thing is kind of fun 🇫🇷
tagged kikagomes
view all 1237 comments
lilymhe my wifey is so pretty
alexalbon okay then just date atp
yourusername wdym? we already are
alexalbon why do i put up with this
lilymhe because you love us duh
pierregasly no photo credits or tag? i’m (deeply) hurt
yourusername oh please you complained the whole time and then made me and kika take photos of you
pierregasly that is not a crime
kikagomes my stylish icon 🤍
yourusername te amo te amo
carlossainz55 coming to spain next i hope?
yourusername who knows 🤭
landonorris actually she’s coming to the uk with me next
carlossainz55 😢😢 yn you betray me
yourusername you know you’re my favourite carlos
landonorris ouch
charles_leclerc very pretty
yourusername thank you charlie
luvleclrc it’s so sweet that he still comments on her photos
user i miss them real bad
4ouryn are we getting any more travel vlogs soon?
yourinstagram im working on it! it’ll be out around this friday :)
liked by yourusername, carlossainz55, landonorris, and 1,235,166 others
charles_leclerc good times at home
view all 7,455 comments
user charles leclerc the man that you are 😭😭
user seeing him with a baby is just what i needed on my tl
yourusername two cuties at sea!
charles_leclerc so you think i’m cute 🤔
yourusername only because of the baby in your hands
charles_leclerc you hurt my feelings y/n
user omg charles still flirting with yn is so crazy
user idk if it’s flirting per se, they’re just friends now
user they were so cute i still don’t get why they broke up
user charles broke up with her bc he wanted to focus on racing
carlossainz55 somebody wants to be a daddy
charles_leclerc don’t put words in my mouth mate 😅
user is this a joke ? 👀
pierregasly i see what he’s doing
charles_leclerc ??
landonorris he’s cooking
alexandrasaintmleux so handsome
liked by charles_leclerc
twitter
📍 lake como, italy
liked by alexalbon, kikagomes, carlossainz55, and 97,333 others
yourusername loving italia 🇮🇹
carlossainz55 next stop madrid?
yourusername we’ll see, won’t we
landonorris i better be invited
carlossainz55 you know your way here mate
user omg the ferrari flag
yourusername deep down everyone is a ferrari fan :)
user should we read into that
yourusername no lmao
lilymhe travelling with you is the best
yourusername what would i do without you
alexalbon everyday i wake up
user no charles like or comment :( i guess he really is dating that girl
user justice for yn literally
user they still follow each other tho but i feel so bad for both girls
kikagomes i have no clue how anyone could break up with you, like seriously
yourusername me too, but life is too short to worry about things like that babe
user 👀 charles shade??
user i think we should stop tying y/n’s identity to charles in general
liked by yourusername
carlossainz55 updated their story 2 hours ago. landonorris updated their story 1 hour ago.
📍madrid, spain
liked by landonorris, carlossainz55, lilymhe, and 433,125 others
yourusername troublemakers in madrid
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landonorris who are those studs in the first photo
yourusername so humble !
alexalbon potential summer soft launch?
yourusername who knows
user ugh why is she always with those two, i swear she wants them so bad
yourusername ew no those two are my sons 🤱
pierregasly who’s the daddy 🤔
landonorris don’t say it like that yn 😭😭
carlossainz55 i’m older than you though, no?
yourusername no carlos it’s like, in spirit
user WHO IS THAT MAN???? is that carlos?? lando??
yourusername no! but he’s certainly someone 🤭
user that’s charles right?
user he’s in monaco right now, it couldn’t be him plus he’s got a gf
lilymhe okay mysterious girl
yourusername i love to keep people on their toes
lilymhe but seriously text me and tell me who that is
kikagomes girl me too
user shout out to yn for reuniting carlando!!
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yourusername updated their story 5 mins ago
carlos’s phone 📞
charles
are you with y/n right now
i know you are
carlos
then why ask m8
yes i’m with her, why?
charles
is she mad at me
carlos
that’s a stupid question, but i don’t know man, she hasn’t brought you up
and lando and i aren’t going to
what’s the phrase?
poke the bear
actually, i shouldn’t compare her to that
but i would be mad if i were her
charles
who’s that man she posted the other day??
you’ve been with her during her entire spain trip yes? what does he look like, do you know him?
carlos
he is a good friend of mine yes
i somewhat set them up, things have been going good, they’re both here at our dinner
charles
aiii carlos! why would you set them up??
how could you do this to me??
carlos
did you forget that you broke with her? to focus on racing?
which would be fine if you didn’t get another girl just a month after?
i don’t even know how she could stay friends with you, but she asked me to find a guy for her
i am a good friend, so i found someone
if you’re jealous, you shouldn’t have broken up in the first place
charles
i’m not jealous at all carlos
carlos
then why are you stalking her account and asking me about a man she is seeing?
if you’re so concerned, text her yourself
charles
argh you’re no help
your phone 📞
charlie
hey
i miss you
a lot
#f1 x reader#f1 fanfic#f1 imagine#f1 smau#charles leclerc x reader#cl16 x reader#f1 x female reader#charles leclerc imagine#f1 x black!reader#f1 fic#f1 social media au
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Home.
Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader
18+ MDI
Based on a request you can find here <3
Warnings: angst, mentions of family member death, mentions of alcohol, arranged marriage, awful reader relationship with mother, vaginal sex, nipple play, vaginal fingering, praise, making love
A.N: Hello my loves, and hello to my lovely anon. I'm so sorry for being MIA, I had midterms and good god they almost killed me ‘︿’. Anon- I hope that this is what you wanted, I am not the most experienced in writing angst but I found this quite fun (perhaps my love of making a dramatic story lol). Thank you all for the love, as always. Mwah ≧◡≦
He did not expect you to change so much in your time away. Sure he expected you to mature in the four years you were gone, you were coming back at the new age of twenty-one. He just did not expect all of the light, the light he loved, to be gone. His Y/N had changed. She had gone from warm to cold, from happy to sad, in such a short time.
Your father and his father were close friends. Both of them being Viscounts meant that they spent a lot of time together. You, being the eldest of your family but also too young and rowdy to really click with Anthony, got on just as well with Benedict. There was always an unspoken love between the two of you that neither of you were brave enough to admit.
The only one with who you got on better than Benedict, was your father. It was apparent for anyone to see that the two of you had a unique bond. A bond that you most certainly didn't hold for your mother. She was cold and extremely cruel, your father had only married her for convenience. So, when your father died, Benedict expected you to be devastated. Who wouldn't be? He had been sick for many years before his death, a case of scarlet fever that just never went away. It was expected, but that did not mean it was less painful.
The night he passed, you showed up at his family's doorstep in tears begging for the footman to bring him down. So, after being woken up by said footman, he tugged on a robe and rushed down the stairs. He saw you and immediately knew. He rushed to you and scooped you up in his arms before taking you up into his bedroom and soothing you into sleep. Proper decorum be dammed, he stayed with you the entire night and then had a carriage bring you back home at dawn.
A week later, you, your mother, and your younger sister showed up at the Bridgerton's door dressed in all black. Violet led you all into the drawing room and gathered the rest of the Bridgertons as well, after hearing your mother mention that she would like her dear friends to be present for a big announcement, always the attention hog. Benedict was dragged in by Eloise, expecting another lecture about the upcoming social season, but his face quickly fell when he saw you.
You already looked so defeated, so tired. You looked up and forced a sad smile, moving over on the sofa so he could sit next to you. He walked towards you quickly, and sat down next in the space you made, discretely offering his hand. Your face softened, and he could tell you were holding back tears, but nevertheless, you gripped his hand tight in your own before focusing your attention on your mother.
"We are going to France, where my family lives. I feel the girls should get to know the rest of their heritage now that their father has passed on." She says bluntly, the cold look on her face never changing. His eyes widen and instantly snap over to you, internally pleading with whatever power he can think of that this is not true. That you will not be swept away before he even has the chance to try and win you over.
You are chewing on your bottom lip, the anxious habit you have had ever since you were young. You look over at him slowly, your eyes filled with unshed tears that he knows you will not let fall. That is when he knows that it is true. His Y/N is leaving. For God knows how long. To be stolen by God knows who.
You sigh as you get out of the carriage that has trapped you for the past eight hours, stretching out your limbs before taking in the scenery. That damn two-day carriage ride from the port had been nothing but exhausting. The estate you grew up in is standing tall right in front of you, and yet it is almost unrecognizable now.
It looked the same, sure, but something about it seemed a lot less colorful without your father. The impending doom of your arranged marriage hanging over your head probably didn't help that fact either. Your mother had been clear in what she wanted when you got to France, a rich man. Not for herself, but for you. Someone who could expand upon the rather large dowery your father had left you. Someone who could make her rich, your happiness be damned.
And so that is just what you found. The hunt for a suitable husband had begun a year after you arrived in Paris, your eighteenth birthday coming and going without a peep from anyone but your sister, Lucy, and a long letter from Benedict. Your grandmother was just as cruel as your mother, if not more so. She quickly introduced you to a man named Noele Beaumont, a man in high-up places in French nobility. An extremely wealthy man.
In the three and a half years you had known him, the two of you had done nothing but fight. Well, the fighting consisted entirely of him shouting at you until you were either in tears or hidden away in the closet somewhere, your chest rising and falling much too fast. It seemed that cruelty was, in some sick and twisted way, attracted to you.
Your mother, after much convincing, had allowed you and Noele to take your home in London upon marriage. That, and, she had allowed for the marriage to be held in England. You were home, finally home, and now you were realizing that it does not matter if you are home or not. The world had lost its color.
"Y/N, whatever is the matter?" Lucy piques up from beside you, taking your hand. "I miss him, Luc. That is all. I miss him and I wish that he were the one here instead of mother." You whisper, wiping an escaped tear from your eye with the back of your hand before turning to your sister. "But at least I have you, and at least we are home." She smiles sadly in response, gently leading you inside.
Your mother greeted you both with a flat expression, having insisted on traveling home a week before to make sure nothing had gone awry in the years that you had been gone. Noele and his family will join you in a month, during the week of the marriage. It seems that neither of you wish to spend more time with each other than necessary. "You have a letter already, Y/N. From one of the Bridgerton's. Do make haste of reading it, we have no time for silliness." She mutters, handing it to you before walking off with your sister.
You sigh and walk into the drawing room after handing your cloak to a maid with a smile. You look around the familiar room and breathe deeply, hoping for the comforting smell of the tea your father used to brew, but are quickly disappointed when all you smell is your mother's obnoxious perfume. You sit down on the chair by the bookshelf and open the letter.
You recognize the handwriting immediately, Benedict. He wishes to see you as soon as he can, but more importantly, he has asked you to be a model in the latest portrait he is painting for his classes at the academy. You smile softly to yourself, taking in the woodsy scent that comes off the letter, the world getting a bit brighter if only for a moment. You sigh and walk up to your bedroom, smiling at the comfort that washes over you, before sitting down and drafting a letter of your own, telling him that you will make time for him come noon tomorrow.
You run your fingers over the parchment when you have finished signing your name. So many words left unsaid. You smile sadly and fold up the letter, sealing it with the wax crest of your family before passing it to a maid with instructions to take it to the Bridgerton household before the evening comes.
Oh, how you despise your mother. After about two hours of arguing yesterday, she had finally given up and allowed you to go and see Benedict. You were used to the names she called you, 'whore' and 'harlot' being the two she most often used, but she had far stepped over the line yesterday.
She had run out of insults to call you and moved on to Benedict. Insulting his artwork, his standing in his family, his habits, anything she could grasp at she used.
"You are to be married to a nobleman in a month, Y/N! You will be tainted by that boy, he is nothing but a disgrace! His head has always been in the clouds, you know that!" She shouted from where she stood in your bedroom. You grit your teeth. "Take that back this instant, you moron! That family has done everything for us! He has done everything for me, he cares more about me than you could ever dream of!" You shouted right back.
She had gone on for at least a half-hour more, finally giving up when Lucy walked in and pleaded with the both of you to stop. "You are nothing but a whore looking for attention, Y/N. You will ruin yourself with him. You will, and I will not help you out of the hole you dig yourself into." Your mother huffed, before turning and walking out of your bedroom.
Your sister had stayed with you last night. You had fallen asleep in her embrace, nothing but a mess of sobs. You wished for nothing more than to go to him right now and run away to the countryside, and leave all of it behind. But you had a duty, you had to look out for Lucy's happiness so she would not be doomed to the life that you are now forced to live.
You had woken up in the early morning, your lady's maid helping you into a dark blue dress before leaving you to your own devices. You spent the hours up until eleven reading and avoiding your mother like the plague. You walked downstairs once it was time to leave for the Bridgerton estate.
A short carriage ride later and there you are, in the same position that you were four and a half years ago, knocking on his door with tears in your eyes. You had become emotional about five minutes out, overcome with the joy of finally seeing him. Finally being able to speak to him, rather than imagining what his voice sounded like when you read his letters. You had missed the feeling of home when you were around him, you had missed how the world looked when he was in it. You had missed him.
He had been unable to sleep once he had written your letter, and unable to do anything but read in the drawing room in the hours before your arrival. He was sitting on pins and needles, waiting for the familiar sound of a knock on the front door to come so he could rush to it before any of the servants. He wanted your welcome home to be comforting, as he had known how much you had been through in France.
When he had gotten the letter explaining the marriage you had been dragged into he locked himself in his studio for weeks on end, being unreachable to anyone, even Eloise. He had spent the first two laying on the chaise, looking up at the ceiling with an unstoppable rush of tears slipping down his cheeks which only stopped when he fell into a restless sleep.
The tears turned to anger, which he let out through pages upon pages of poetry. Confessing his love, damming his foolishness or lack of words, berating himself into oblivion for why could he be so stupid as to not tell you to wait for him? To hold onto hope that he would save you?
Then the weeks of anger turned to inspiration, hours spent drowning his sadness with art. Countless paintings of you, of your favorite flowers, of the hill the both of you held so many memories upon, anything that could get him out of the depression he had been sucked into. It was the point that he was at now, a melancholic feeling lingering over his head that he refuses to let himself feel.
The knock comes right when the clock strikes twelve and he practically throws his book to the side, rushing to the door and throwing it open. You are finally home.
The tears start before you can stop them and he quickly tugs you inside, closing the door before wrapping his arms around you. You bury your face into the crook of his neck, and finally, after months of not allowing yourself to cry, you sob. You sob hard, a million pent-up emotions releasing like the snap of a string in your chest.
You look up at him through your teary eyes and smile. "I have missed you dearly, Benedict." You whisper a hidden meaning you hope he can uncover buried beneath your words. He flashes that silly crooked smile you have come to adore before ruffling your hair. "I have missed you too, Y/N. You will never know how much I missed you." He says, wiping your tears before taking a step back.
"You have grown up. You look so... mature." He comments, almost as if he is trying to figure out something about you. Something that even you cannot decipher. You smile in return. "You have as well. I believe I have the right to call you an old man now." You hum, beginning down the hall to where you know the room he has painted in his entire life is.
He chuckles from behind you, before following. "I am but eight and twenty." He whines playfully and you laugh. "That is two years away from thirty, and if Anthony is old then so are you." You opine, looking back over your shoulder at him before stopping in front of his studio's door. He grins and nudges your shoulder before opening the door for you.
You marvel at the surrounding room when you walk in. You knew that he was a good artist, it came naturally to him, but he had improved in your time away. You walk into the center of the room, walking in a slow circle to take in all of his works which line the walls and stack up upon the floor. Most are of women in various states of dress, ever the lady's man Benedict Bridgerton.
You are glad that some things do not change, but it also makes a strange feeling of longing bubble up in your chest. You wish to be naked like the women in the paintings, talking and flirting with him for hours on end. Making love to him when the heat of the room becomes too much. You wish to wake up to him beside you in the morning, for every morning for the rest of time.
You shake the feeling off and look over at him, noticing that he has already taken his place behind the easel. It looks as if he has already started his sketch. "It is gorgeous in here, Ben. You are the most talented artist in all of England." You say, a look of pure adoration in your eyes that he immediately picks up on.
You wish to die with nothing but the image of that sweet pink color that overtakes his cheeks to remember. He quickly turns his attention to his canvas and nods slightly, clearing his throat. "And you are the best flatterer in all of England. Thank you Y/N." He says quietly. When you begin to turn to face him fully he holds up his hand. "I quite liked the position you were in when you were looking over your shoulder. If it is not too uncomfortable, might you hold it? You had the most beautiful look in your eye." He says kindly, looking up to meet your eyes.
It's your turn to blush at both his kindness and his way of complimenting you. He had always said these types of things in passing, not realizing how much they affected you. You nod and take your original place in the room making him smile. "Perfect, as always." He whispers to himself before returning to the sketch.
After about an hour and a half, your legs grow tired. "Benedict, might we take a break? My legs are getting achy." You say, and he meets your eyes. "Of course, I shall have the maids bring us some tea and you can tell me more about your time in France." He says, gesturing with his arm for you to sit on the chaise that sits by the window.
You do so gladly, taking in the image of him wiping his hands of charcoal. You blush at the thought of the feeling of those hands around your waist, or cupping your cheeks. God, this is torture. You wait for him to come back, which only takes a moment.
He sits down next to you and offers his hand. You look down at it and smile softly, taking it in your own just like you used to. What happens next, you could have never predicted in a million years. He lifts your gloved hand to his mouth and kisses the back of it. Your eyes widen and you open your mouth to speak, but you are quickly cut off by him slowly kissing up your arm.
"Benedict stop." You whisper in a tone that is a far cry away from the authority you wished for that statement to have. He doesn't, he presses kisses to your elbow, continuing to work up your arm. "Benedict, I am serious we mustn't." You say, a bit firmer as tears gather in your eyes, but he still does not relent. "Benedict!" You shout, ripping your arm away and standing up.
"Oh please." He scoffs. "Do not tell me you did not wish for me to do just that." He says, standing up with you and stepping close. "Have you gone utterly mad?! I am to be married by the end of the month!" You shout in return. You wish for nothing more than for him to continue but he cannot. You have a man to marry, a sister to set free. Nothing can come between that.
"You do not love him! You have told me those words exactly!" He shouts back and you shake your head, beginning to walk out of the room. You get all of two feet away before he grabs your arm, pulling you to his chest. He leans down, his breath ghosting over your ear. "I have loved you since we were children, Y/N." Your heart shatters when he whispers the word love in your ear.
"You cannot do this now." You say, trying to tug out of his grasp but he keeps his hold tight. "I have to say it now, I have been a fool. I have kept my mouth shut for far too long, but I can save you. I can take you far away from this place, I-" He starts, but you are quick to cut in.
"How could you possibly save me, Benedict?!" You shout, finally getting away. You turn around and look at him dead in the eye, your eyes beginning to water. "By running away?! We cannot! My sister will be left to deal with that woman all by herself and then my fate will be hers! I cannot let that happen!" You shout, tears streaming down your cheeks.
"I left and came back married and suddenly you gain the confidence to say this now?! It is far too late!" You sob. His face softens and he brings you into a tight embrace, one hand at the back of your head while the other runs up and down your back. "You are too late. Why did you wait?" You sob into his chest and he says nothing, allowing you to cry.
He places his chin on the top of your head as he rubs your back, rocking you from side to side. "You must think of yourself, Y/N. Your happiness. Your father left you his money for a reason, you know that." He whispers after a few minutes of listening to your sobs. You look up at him and he cups your cheek with the hand that was on your head. "Your mother, however terrifying she may be, does not hold the power over you she once did. Your father made sure of that." He continues.
"You own the estate, you have the money, and you can make your own decisions. You just need to tell her, you must be brave." He whispers as your crying calms. "But what if she... what if she does something to Lucy-" "She will not. She will not have the power to." He interrupts.
Lucy is capable, you know that much is true. You also know that he is right, you have the money and the house, and therefore you have the power. A final gift from your father that you were too scared to realize. You look up at him and before you can think twice about it, you press your lips to his.
He smiles into the kiss and pulls back after a moment, pressing his forehead to yours. "You are a fool, Benedict Bridgerton." You whisper, taking a deep breath. He chuckles. "Perhaps, but I am also a fool who wishes for nothing more than to marry you." He says and you smile. "I shall do what you suggest, what my father meant for me to do." You whisper and he nods. "And I will be right there with you." He murmurs before kissing you again.
After an hour of warm tea and affectionate words, he takes you back to your estate. You go back and forth with your mother for an hour, trying to be kind, but it is when she starts the insults that you snap. You threaten to sell the house in France and never speak to her ever again, let alone give her any money, and she quickly shuts up.
You write Noele and the engagement is called off within the week. For once you thank the man's hatred of you, for it made him all too eager to get away. The engagement between you and Benedict is announced the next week, and the wedding is planned for two months in advance. The ton gossips about the timeline, of course, but the two of you pay no mind. You have both waited far too long to get married, why wait even longer?
You lie restless in bed the week before your marriage, your thoughts filled with nothing but him. The kiss you shared when he confessed running through your mind, sending tingles between your legs. The hot feeling that overcomes your body makes you want to do the things you saw men and women do in the paintings that lined the walls of your favorite salon in Paris.
Sex. You knew what it was, anyone who spent more than five seconds in Paris knew what it was. You had fantasized about it before, only ever with Benedict. You wanted his hard cock buried deep inside of you for hours on end, you wanted his head between your thighs, your lips around his length. You wanted all of it, yet he had insisted on waiting until your wedding night.
You sigh, tugging on the silk sheets and rubbing your thighs together to try and ease the dull ache that settled in your core, whining in frustration when the feeling did not go away. You hear the tapping on your window, almost as if it was hailing in the middle of May.
You stand and walk to the large window that leads out to a view of the garden. A pebble hits the glass and you jump, placing a hand over your now racing heart, and look down at the garden. You grin when you find your fiance looking up at you with the crooked grin that has such a hold on your heart. You open the window and lean out.
"What on earth are you doing down there?" You laugh, leaning your elbows on the window and placing your chin on your hand. "You are meant to say something about Romeo." He calls back, his grin only widening as you giggle more. "I shall not. You must answer my question." You smile.
"You are no fun." He groans, dropping the pebbles on the ground. "I wished to see you. I have been nothing but restless tonight and I thought I would spend that restlessness with you. Might I come up?" He calls, already beginning to climb the lattice that lines the estate walls. You nod, even though he did not wait. "I am quite restless as well." You sigh, watching him climb. "You do not need to sneak, mother is already back in France and Lucy cares not of what we do." You hum as he climbs through the window.
He wraps his arms around you and picks you up. "It is more romantic to sneak through the window." He murmurs in your ear as you wrap your legs around his waist. "It was very romantic, I promise you." You whisper as he lays you back on the bed, stripping down to his trousers before sliding into bed with you and pulling the covers up over the both of you.
He nuzzles your neck and places his hands on your hips, pulling you close. It's quite an innocent gesture, but it sends that tingle you were experiencing earlier to your core. Arousal begins to dampen your panties and you press yourself against him, silently asking for more.
He smirks against your skin when you rub up against him. He presses an open-mouthed kiss to your neck before leaning back to look at you. "It seems you were restless for the same reason as I was, love." He teases, which makes you blush. He chuckles and cups your cheek, running his thumb along your cheekbone. "Might I request something of you?" He whispers.
"Of course." You return, leaning into his touch and closing your eyes. "I wish to make love to you, now. I cannot wait one more second, and I most certainly cannot wait until our wedding night" He whispers in your ear, kissing the skin below it.
He makes a trail of wet, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, making you moan softly in response. "Please." Is all you can manage as he bites down on the skin of your shoulder, making sure to leave a mark. He grins and pulls back, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. You return it eagerly, wrapping your arms around his neck. This time, a moan slips past his lips and his hands tighten around your hips.
He moves his hands down your legs, slipping them under your nightgown and cupping your breasts. You whine and break the kiss, pressing your forehead to his as you pant. He watches the look in your eye as his thumbs swipe over your hardened nipples, making your mouth fall open. He groans at the guttural moan that escapes you before taking his hands away and throwing back the covers.
"Benedict please." You breathe, grasping at his arms. He grins but shakes his head. "Patience my love. It will feel so much better if I tease you." He opines, unbuttoning his britches. You gasp when they come off, leaving him in nothing. His cock stands proud against his stomach, it is big and thick, much bigger than you imagined. You grow antsy with the fear that it will not fit inside.
He senses your apprehension and bends down, peppering your face with kisses. "Worry not, dearest, you need only to tell me to stop or to wait and I shall." He whispers, patting your hips as a signal to sit up, which you do. "I will get you plenty warmed up for me, I promise." He breathes against your skin, making you shiver.
He lifts your nightgown up and over your head, throwing it to where the rest of his clothes lay against the floor. He groans at the sight of you in nothing but your panties, his cock twitching with delight. He unties the ribbons that hold your underwear up on your hips, throwing them across the room before capturing your peaked nipple in his mouth.
Your head shoots back and you cry out, laying back on the bed. He follows, situating himself on top of you without releasing your nipple. His tongue swirls around the hardened bud as his other hand cups your other breast, his thumb and pointer finger tweaking your nipple.
Arousal drips down your thighs as you cant your hips up, desperate for more. He growls when the soft skin of your stomach meets his already weeping cock. He pulls back from your nipple, moving the hand that is not occupied with your breast down to your hips. He presses down on your hip bone and you whine when you realize you have lost your ability to brush against him.
"You are doing so well, darling. You mustn't move, it is making me want to bury my cock inside you right now and fuck you until you see stars." You moan at the thought, wrapping your arms around his neck to bring him into another kiss. He grins against your mouth, letting you kiss him for a moment before pulling away and moving his hand off of your breast.
He moves that hand down to your hips, pressing down with just as much force as the other did. The one that was on your hips moves to your breast just as he takes your nipple into your mouth, giving your breasts the same treatment as before.
You are a moaning mess beneath him, your thighs and cunt soaked with your arousal as sweat drips down your neck. "Please, Ben... Need more. I... more." You whine, tugging on his hair. He lifts his head and smiles, making your heart flutter. He can go from a growling, groaning man to a loving partner in just seconds. It's intoxicating.
"Tell me where you need it, sweet girl." He whispers, kissing down your stomach and stopping just above your pubic hair, inhaling almost lewdly with a groan. You whine and your cheeks turn rosy with embarrassment.
"Between my legs..." You whisper, pressing your face into the pillow as the embarrassment of wanting him so much washes over you. He pats your thigh gently, making you look down at him. "Louder. Do not be ashamed. I want it just as much as you do." He murmurs, pressing a kiss to your abdomen.
You smile softly, warmth blooming in your chest. You sigh and let out a breathy moan as he sucks on the skin just above where you wish he would. "I want you between my legs, Benedict. Please. I.. have thought of nothing else for nights." You beg, loudly now as his kisses turn sloppy.
He groans at the thought of you laying in bed, unable to sleep because of the thought of him fucking you, of him pleasing you with his fingers or your tongue, with your hand between your legs. Rubbing at your swollen clit until you come calling his name. He wishes for nothing else than to watch.
He runs his fingers through your soaked folds, the both of you moaning in unison. He rubs his nose through your patch of hair before pressing his tongue against your engorged clit, sucking and swirling as he pushes one of his long fingers into your body, making you cry out.
You silently thank God that Lucy insisted on sleeping in the room downstairs, as now you do not have to silence the steady stream of moans that slip from your lips as he sucks and fingers you into a headspace you have never been to.
You clench around his fingers as he slips another one into your tight hold, his tongue still swirling around your clit. Your hand shoots down to grab at his hair when he starts thrusting and curling his fingers into your body, the other grasping the silk sheets that rest across your bed.
You scream his name when his fingers find a spongey spot inside you that sends a bolt of pleasure right to your already abused clit, and you see stars. You gush down your thighs and his chin, and he pulls out his fingers. He peeks up from below, wiping his face with the back of his hand before sucking your juices from his fingers.
The sight sends you back into a state of arousal so strong that all you can think about is his big cock ripping you open as he fills you to the hilt. He grins when he sees the look in your eye, coming back up so he can give you another open-mouthed kiss. You wrap your legs around his waist and he moans deeply, an almost feral noise coming from somewhere deep inside him.
He breaks the kiss and presses his forehead to yours once more, kissing your nose. "Can I?" He gusts, his breath hot against your skin. "Please." You whisper back, taking one of his hands in yours, the other resting upon his shoulder.
That is all the incentive he needs, he slowly pushes into your body, groaning loudly at how tight you are. You cry out, your nails digging into the skin of his shoulder. He bottoms out and moves his forehead to rest on your shoulder, waiting for you to adjust. God he's so close already, the thought of being the first and only one to take you enough to make him come, but he holds back.
After a moment he looks up at you and you nod, needing him to fuck you hard. That is just what he does. He sets a brutal pace, his thighs meeting yours as your ankles rest on his hips. You cry out and squeeze his hand as his tip nudges the same spot his fingers do, making you clench.
"Fuck." He grunts, picking up the pace as he chases his release. He pounds into you now, making you nothing but a moaning piece of putty ready to be molded by his hands. "Benedict- Again.. I'm going to..." You whine and he nods, pressing his lips to yours as his thumb finds your clit.
Your back arches as you reach your peak once more, dragging your nails down his back and leaving angry red marks on his skin. That is what sends him over the edge, spilling his seed deep inside of you before collapsing on top of you.
After a moment he pulls out and rolls onto his back, catching his breath before standing up and walking to the bathroom, leaving you on the bed to do the same. You rest your arms over your eyes as your breathing calms. He comes back with a washcloth and cleans up the mess he made before snuggling up to you in bed.
You flip onto your side and snuggle up to him, his arms encircling your body immediately. He presses a kiss to your forehead and traces the ridges of your spine with his fingers. "I love you." You whisper, already half asleep.
He smiles at the sight of you drowsy and flushed, his hand coming up to stroke your hair. "And I love you, my heart." He whispers back, closing his eyes and quickly following you into slumber.
Oh, what a joy it is to finally feel at home.
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deal - cl16 (18/?)
Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader
Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.
Chapter Summary: Canned soup always works wonders.
Warnings: cliffhanger (whoopsie), angst (duh), Lando is a cutie, swear words
Word Count: 3.6k
series masterlist
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A/N: not 10k words, but I did my absolute best. thanks for always having my back. I love you.
"Fuck!" You cross your arms in front of your face and exhale deeply. "FUCK!"
How hard can it be to find an apartment in the south of France? An apartment that has a shower, a bed, and a stove top? A window would be ideal, too, but you have to cut back somewhere, after all. But even a single room in a shared apartment costs almost 2,000€ - how much do you have to pay for an apartment where your privacy is not disturbed?
Although that didn't bother you much in this apartment either. After all, you even shared the only bed with Charles. Voluntarily. The longer you think about it, the worse your headache gets.
After slamming the door in his face yesterday and then wallowing in your misery for hours, you decided to tackle the apartment hunt this morning. You don't want to spend a second longer than necessary in these four walls, which is why you briefly considered asking Kika if you could move in with her and Pierre at short notice and only for a short period of time.
But then you would also have to explain what happened. And since both of them are Charles' friends first and foremost, you don't want to get in the way, even though he's been acting like a huge asshole.
Meanwhile, you're neither sad nor angry - you're just disappointed.
Of him, because he's gone to so much lengths in the last few days to make you feel at home in his company and presence. He showed you the place that is most important to him, told you about his father and showed you his vulnerable side. He has indirectly supported you financially by getting Joris to pay you back and waiving the accruing rent. By God, he even took you to dinner with his friends so you could meet them because he thought "you'd fit in quite well."
And then he ditches you, showing his coldest, rudest, nastiest side by using what your last relationship failed at against you.
But you are even more disappointed in yourself. There has been absolutely no reason why you should trust Charles so much after such a short time. You told him about Raphael, that he left you because you wouldn't sleep with him, and that he cheated on you. You took his compliments without even a thought as to whether he meant them. You had even had a fucking - hot - sex dream with him.
You trusted him blindly. And that's getting back at you now.
Lounging lazily on the couch and looking at apartments that are definitely beyond your budget isn't an approach to making you feel better either, so you decide to pack your suitcase already.
If you can't find a place to stay in a hurry, you'd move to a hotel first. Or a hostel. You wouldn't have any privacy there, but at least they are so cheap that you could stay there longer and thus have more time to look for something reasonable.
And anything is better than staying here.
You open the suitcase you've kept in the closet for months, spread it out on the bed, and start putting your clothes in it. Sweaters, jeans, gym clothes, underwear - the stuff you don't want to leave home without. When it's filled and locked, you put it next to the door of your room. But only to realize that your whole life doesn't fit into one suitcase.
You put your hands on your hips.
You still have a few days before Charles returns. Theoretically, you would still have enough time to get another suitcase, because you haven't packed your shoes or bathroom utensils yet. And you can only fit a few things into your gym bag.
A ping sounds from the living room, and as you poke your head into the room, you see your cell phone light up on the coffee table. You pick it up to read the message.
Lando: Hi. I wanted to check in and see if you're feeling a little better today. Been worried about you all night.
You're chewing on the inside of your cheek.
Yesterday at noon you sent a message to Lando saying that you were feeling unwell and so unfortunately you couldn't go out with him. Aside from the fact that your eyes were swollen from crying and no ice cube in the world could have helped you with that, it didn't feel right to have dinner with him.
Charles had thrown it at you that Lando only wanted to go out with you to get you into bed. How much truth there was to that, you don't know. After all, Charles said some things that hurt you. But whether you can take them at face value is another matter.
Charles has known the Brit for much longer and, above all, better than you. And the way he has courted and flirted with you since you first met, there may be some truth in Charles' words.
But even if there were, Charles has no right to judge. To judge how you handle the matter, whether you like going out with Lando or not. And if you were to go out with him, it could be on a purely friendly basis. Maybe you would have dated and immediately realized that you would be better off as friends.
But you can't find that out now without worry. Now that Charles has hurt you so much and pushed you away. His words are burned into your mind, which is why you answer Lando carefully.
You: I'm feeling better already, thank you. I'm sorry I had to cancel our dinner.
His reply comes immediately.
Lando: You don't need to apologize. I'm just relieved that you're feeling better. Have you eaten anything today?
As if on cue, your stomach is growling. Yesterday your mood was so low that you lost your appetite and, apart from a few cornflakes, you couldn't choke down anything. And that's exactly what you answer him.
Lando: All right. Give me half an hour and then I'll be with you, okay?
Indecisive, you type a reply, delete it, and start again. Does it make sense to let Lando into the apartment while you're in the process of packing your bags? If that's exactly what Charles was addressing?
Charles can go to hell.
You merely give Lando a thumbs-up in response before putting your phone aside and going to the bathroom to get ready for a bit. You may not care how you look right now, but you still don't want Lando to think the worst of you. You comb your hair, wash your face, and slip into more appropriate clothes than your sleeping clothes before cleaning up the living room a bit.
When the doorbell rings, you flinch.
You open the apartment door and a smiling Lando stands in front of it. He is wearing a black sweater with a zipper on the collar and black sweatpants. In his hand he holds a white bag.
"I didn't know which canned soup was your favorite. And that's why," he raises the bag next to his face, "I brought a selection." Grinning, he pushes past you and enters.
You close the door behind him. "You didn't have to do that."
As if it were a matter of course and as if he were here every day, he takes off his white sneakers and heads toward the kitchen, which of course he finds immediately because of the size of the apartment, and takes the cans out of the bag. "I know," he replies to you, setting the soups side by side before turning to you and resting his hands behind him on the edge of the counter. "But I'm someone who cares about his friends when they're miserable. So," he rubs his hands together. "which soup do you want to try first?"
The selection the Brit brought with him is limited to chicken, beef or vegetables, with the picture on the can of the former looking the most appealing. While he heats the soup in a small pot on the stove, you sit at the dining table and watch him.
"May I ask why you weren't feeling well yesterday?" he asks, wooden spoon in hand, stirring the soup.
Indecisively, you look at him.
Lando is Charles' friend. And you don't want to tell him about how Charles treated you yesterday any more than you want to tell Kika or Pierre. Because even though he hurt you so much, you don't want his friends to think badly of him.
Lando hands you a bowl of soup before sitting down across from you in the seat that actually belongs to Charles. An image flashes before your eyes of you eating croissants for breakfast with your roommate. Sitting across from each other, eating pasta, even though you've only known each other for half an hour.
You barely noticeably shake your head to get rid of the image. A movement that Lando takes as an answer to his question.
"Okay. But if you need to talk to someone, I'm here for you."
You smile at him. It's the exact same phrase Charles said to you in the most beautiful place in Monaco when you were feeling so bad about Raphael's call. It feels like a lifetime ago.
"Thank you," you reply to Lando. "I really appreciate that."
As you comfortably spoon up your soup in a slightly better mood, the Brit tells you about his plans for the coming Christmas. He wants to fly back to England to be with his parents and siblings. He shows you pictures of his niece Mila, who steals the show in every photo, but you can't blame her with the chubby cheeks.
"I can't wait to see everyone again," Lando says as he puts his phone in his back pocket. "Are you spending Christmas with your family, too?"
You shake your head. "Nope, I'm staying here."
Lando looks at you, confused. "Alone? What about Charles? He'd take you to see his family for sure."
He would. In fact, he offered when the two of you sat at Jori's dinner table a few days ago. You remember how the two of them joked around, even though Charles had been busting his best friend's chops just minutes before. You thought that you wouldn't do anything that would risk that friendship.
A thought you had often.
"Where is he, anyway?" asks Lando, stretching to be able to see the rest of the apartment from where he's sitting, which isn't difficult when the apartment itself isn't particularly much bigger than a shoebox.
You look into the empty bowl you're clutching tightly. "He has meetings in Italy," you reply curtly, setting it on the table in front of you before pulling your knees up to your chest.
Your friend raises an eyebrow. "Are you going there too?" As you shake your head in confusion, he points to a spot behind you with a nod of his head. "I'm just asking because there's a suitcase there."
As you turn around, you immediately realize what Lando means. You've left the bedroom door open, and from where he's sitting, he has a perfect view of the doorstep. Right to where your suitcase is.
"It's not for that," you reply.
"What for then?"
You stand up to stall some time, and to avoid looking Lando in the eye. You rinse the bowl slowly, hoping you'll think of another good excuse to give him. But you don't want to lie to him either. After all, Lando doesn't deserve that.
And that's why you don't say anything as you reach for the kitchen towel to dry the bowl. You rub over each spot at least three times, and even though it's already completely dry, you keep wiping over it.
When you suddenly feel a warm hand on your shoulder, you wince.
"What did he do?" Lando's voice is calm and gentle as he takes the bowl and cloth from your hand and sets both down on the countertop.
"Nothing," you reply curtly, and are about to grab a glass from the cabinet when his large hand clasps yours and stops you in your tracks.
"Come on, Y/N." Lando pulls lightly on your hand to make you turn in his direction. You keep your head lowered, however.
If you were looking at him right now - you just can't lie to him.
"I know Charles," he says softly, before placing his index finger under your chin and lifting it to make you look at him. When you look into his worried blue eyes, you've lost the fight. "What did he do?"
You can't stop the tears that gather in the corners of your eyes. Nor can you stop them from rolling down your cheeks as you try to blink them away. Lando thinking badly of his monegasque friend is the last thing you want.
But if you move away from here, you certainly won't see Lando again either. And then, theoretically, you may as well not care what he thinks of his friend. And after all, it's not like Charles didn't deserve it, the way he treated you. Charles brought it on himself.
You tell Lando everything.
You start with the fact that Raphael cheated on you and dumped you. That you lost your job a few days ago and Charles was suddenly standing in your - his - apartment. You tell him about your agreement to share the apartment because he still lets his ex-girlfriend live in his first apartment and that after four days he grew so close to your heart that it made you dizzy.
You tell him about Raphael waiting for you in front of the apartment on the day of the dinner with your friends, and that's why you had to spend the night at Kika's, and that Charles called you in a panic and after that you shared the bed for the first time. How you were so unsure about your feelings, because Charles is Charles, and that he had you completely wrapped around his little finger, even though you've only known each other for a few days.
You tell him about yesterday morning. What he threw at you, even though he knew exactly how much it would hurt you. How he talked about his own friend to make you feel even more insecure. And you tell him that you told Charles that you were going to move out.
Lando stays silent the whole time, but doesn't take his eyes off you. His eyes follow every tear that drips from your chin onto your sweater, and in between he gently squeezes your hand as a sign that he's following your story.
When you fall silent, he says nothing at first, but pulls you toward the living room, where he places you both on the couch. You worry that you've told him too much, gone a giant step too far, but it all just poured out of you and you couldn't stop the torrent of words.
But Lando doesn't seem to be angry with you. Quite the opposite. His gaze seems softer as you look at him. "I'd like to offer you the guest room in my apartment," he finally says. "But I don't think you'd accept the offer."
You tighten your mouth into a thin line. "I think it would be best if I just moved away. There's nothing keeping me here. No job, no responsibilities. I can go anywhere." You wrench your arms in the air. "Maybe I'll get a job in the United States. Or in Australia. Just really far away from here."
"That would be a possibility, of course," Lando replies. "But that can't be what you really want, can it?"
Puzzled, you tilt your head. "Why not?"
Lando leans against the back of the sofa. "You could have moved away when you were fired. Or when Raphael dumped you. But you stayed."
You shrug helplessly. "But now I have a reason to leave."
"Do you?" he asks.
"Obviously."
"Then why didn't you tell me everything yesterday? Or when I was just outside your door? Or warming up your soup?" he counters. You don't like the direction this conversation is taking. "You could have told me all about it right away. But you didn't, because you didn't want me to think badly of Charles."
You shrug, trying to express your indifference towards your still-roommate. But Lando isn't buying it. Not one bit of it.
"Come on, Y/N. You can't tell me you don't care about him at all. If you did, you wouldn't be so upset by all this that you'd want to leave the country. And then you wouldn't have tried to protect him in the first place."
You hate that he's right.
"I didn't realize you were so emotionally mature," you reply to him, slightly flippantly, and no sooner have you said it than you're sorry. "Sorry. You're not the person I'm mad at." You pucker your mouth into a thin line. "Are you mad at him? At Charles?"
Lando shrugs. "I'm not thrilled, of course, that a friend of mine would talk about me that way. Especially since he knows none of it is true," he explains. "Charles is good at pushing people away who mean something to him. I just don't know if he's doing it to protect the person or himself."
"Definitely himself." You shake your head. "You don't do something like that to protect someone! That's complete bullshit!"
"Are you sure about that?" Lando rubs his palm over his cheek. "Weren't you planning on sleeping on the couch and breaking your deal?"
You raise your index finger. "Nuh-uh. That was to protect myself."
"So you haven't been telling yourself the last few days that a friendship between you is better? After all, your ex cheated on you and left you because you wouldn't sleep with him. You got fired, Y/N. Your emotional baggage is higher than the Eiffel Tower." He puts a hand on your shoulder. "You know I don't mean that in a bad way, or to hurt you. But I'm sure you're trying to protect not only your heart, but Charles' heart as well."
You feel tears welling up in your eyes again. But this time you don't even try to stop them. "He deserves someone better. Someone who won't lie to him. Someone who doesn't carry around so much baggage." You shake your head slightly and wrinkle your nose. "He deserves someone great."
Lando's hand moves from your shoulder down their arm until he can intertwine his fingers with yours. He squeezes them gently. "I know someone who's been hurt so much, but still sees the good in people." He smiles at you. "I don't know anyone more great than you."
Lando stays with you for the rest of the evening, trying to distract you, which he clearly succeeds at with the miserable rounds of Uno in which he cheated at least twelve times. As you part with a tight, friendly hug, he presses a kiss to your cheek.
"You're still allowed to be mad at Charles. What he did is absolute bullshit," he says as he slips on his shoes. "But wait a little while before you move out. Maybe he'll come crawling back and apologize. Besides, for selfish reasons, I don't want you to move to the United States. Or Australia. Or anywhere else." He gives you one last squeeze. "If you need anything, call me. I'll be right over."
"I know," you smile, "and thanks again for the soups."
He raises his index and middle fingers to his temple, a joking goodbye. "You're always welcome. See you around. Here in Monaco."
You close the door behind him and actually feel a lot better. Lando's presence was comforting and warm, and he's someone you definitely wouldn't want to miss as a friend.
After brushing your teeth and combing your hair, you settle into bed. Your suitcase is still at your bedroom door, but the decision to move out isn't as set in stone as it was just a few hours ago. Perhaps you would look for a hotel for the time being to gain some distance. And then seek a conversation with Charles to have his behavior explained to you.
Friends don't treat each other like that. And he's definitely going to have some work to do to straighten that out. But there needs to be distance between you to make it work, which is why you're looking for hotels in the area to check into tomorrow.
A violent knock on the front door startles you. It's the middle of the night and you're not expecting anyone, so you carefully tiptoe towards the door. Maybe it's Lando, who left the rest of his soups here, or maybe he left his cell phone and can't call you to let you know he's coming by. Or maybe it's just a neighbor who got the wrong door.
It could have been all of these possibilities. But it's none of them when you open the door.
And you immediately regret that you didn't move out yesterday.
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#charles leclerc#charles leclerc smut#charles leclerc prompt#charles leclerc blurb#charles leclerc imagine#lando norris#carlos sainz jr#charles leclerc fanfic#formula one#charles leclerc fanfiction#f1 edit#charles leclerc cute#charles leclerc x yn#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc x female reader#Charles Leclerc fluff#Charles Leclerc angst#f1 smut#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#f1 fanfic
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stupid in love | for valentine’s day
‧₊˚♡𓂃 enhypen hyung line x fem reader fluff works
established relationship, non idol!au, just silly cheesy love.
heeseung ₊˚⊹♡ book a flight to paris only one way
having pancakes at 3am was something that was becoming a weekly tradition between heeseung and you. and while he was always the one who was craving them, he was awful when it came to flipping them around, so, just like every other week, he was sitting in the kitchen island watching how you flipped the pancakes and put them on a plate, he wanted to help you but the insane amount of times he almost broke something there had him in observing duty. and he didn´t mind it one bit (he did mind washing the dishes after but he wouldn´t tell you that), he got to see you (even if it was your back) in his sweatshirt, with your hair up and glasses in the warm light of the decorative lamps, and his thoughts always came back to how he was incredibly lucky to have you in his life, someone so perfect to him, someone who loved him as much as he loved you, he wanted you to give you everything you could wish for, he just didn´t know where to start. "should we go to france on our anniversary love?" he asked almost in a whisper "huh? its still months away?" you answered without looking at him too concentrated in the pan in front of you. "its always better to think ahead of time, we can ask for vacation days at work" he said simply "for how long?" you asked him turning off the stove and making your way in front of him "we´ll know that when we get there" he smiled mischievously while grabbing a pancake with his fork and blowing you a kiss.
jongseong ₊˚⊹♡ paper rings are good for now
neither you nor jay had a lot of experience when it came to taking care of little people, sure, he was the designated mom friend dealing with twenty-something year old men, not with kids whose safety relied solely on him. but as scared as he was he would not show you that, if he panics, you panic. so, here he was, "babysitting" his nephews as a favor, and it was low-key a lot easier than he thought. maybe it was because you were a perfectionist and had created a timetable with activities you could do to avoid boredom and tantrums. and now he is sitting in a chair that was clearly too small for him working in a table that was not created for someone his size on some origami pieces with his niece and nephew while you explained how to do a paper boat. and even if he wasn´t paying attention to his boat, he was paying attention to you, not you explaining, just you. looking at you was his favorite thing to do in the world, he could do it for hours and never get tired of it, so he didn't even realize the moment the kids were done with their boats. only seeing how they ran to the couch in front of the tv to do movie night and how you went to the kitchen to make some popcorn, but he was still sitting in that uncomfortable little chair folding a little strip of paper getting up after some minutes joining you at the kitchen "here you go" he said while putting his arm around your shoulders showing you a pink paper ring "what is this for?" you asked looking up at him smiling. "ill give you the real thing soon" he said while kissing your temple.
jaeyun ₊˚⊹♡ let’s get matching tattoos
in the years you´ve been dating jake there were some things you ended up learning of him: how his voice gets higher when he sees a dog, or how he becomes a social butterfly while drunk. how he was an early sleeper and he wouldn't stay up until midnight because "he needs his beauty sleep" and also how he never drinks caffeine after 7pm because he gets hyperactive. so you can imagine your shocked face when you walk home just to see jake pouring himself what you assume is his second cup of coffee and he explains to you how it was because he couldn't find hot chocolate and was craving a warm drink. and while you didn´t make a big deal out of it because it was still ´early´ and he wasn´t getting all excited, the clock reached 0:30 and instead of cuddling and listening to his light snores all warmed up wrapped in the blankets, you were listening to jake insane late night thoughts and questions. "ynie, what do you think happens when poison expires? does it become more poisonous? how would that work" he asked while looking at the ceiling "I don't know jake, just go to sleep" you said avoiding his questions "but how does sleeping work, if our body shuts down why do we dream and why do we remember it? would you like to see your dreams when you are awake?" he continued "sure" you answered him hoping for him to finally fall asleep. "should we get matching tattoos?" he asked "yes" you said without registering his words thanks to your sleepy mind "great!" he said hugging you and lulling you into sleep "go to sleep babe" you said quietly "good night darling" he said hugging you tighter and putting his head on top of yours.
sunghoon ₊˚⊹♡ what’d you think about sharing our last name?
with sunghoons extremely busy schedule, he learned to find happiness in moments of simple nothing, he found joy in the little things of life, in its monotony. he loves picking you up from work after he got out of his office, he loves holding your hand while walking on your way home after going grocery shopping, he loves seeing both of your toothbrushes on the bathroom counter, he loves your weekly going out for dinner dates, and most importantly, he loves you. he loves keeping a routine, and he loves that you were part of that routine, he absolutely adores knowing that every single plan in his life includes you. he could not fathom the thought of not having you in his life; he tried to not think of it because it would make him spiral, and because you would always erase his insecurities. he knows that he would do whatever was in his power to have you in his life for as long as possible because he was happy simply being yours. he blinked looking for you only to find you cuddling him in the living room. he didn´t remember why his thoughts went that way when he was supposed to watch a drama with you since both of you had the day off. he wasn´t sure if you saw him spacing out since you were leaning on his shoulder way too invested in the tv. and he loved that. doing nothing with you, even if he was not paying attention, just sharing his space with you made sunghoon feel overjoyed "angel, do you think yn park sounds nice? well I could also be sunghoon yln. or maybe we can also merge them you know park-yln or yln-park" he ranted still looking at nothing in front of him but holding you closer. making you raise your head off his shoulder, pause the tv and look at him surprised "what are you talking about?"
#enhypen fluff#enhypen imagines#enhypen scenarios#enhypen x reader#sim jaeyun#lee heeseung#park sunghoon#park jongseong#⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ bluemoonhoonworks
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my summer girl
pairing: jay x reader
genre: smut, fluff
summary: it's 1975, jay is about to enter his last year of university, and he's still a virgin. however, he plans to change that this summer when he goes abroad to france. the only problem is finding someone good enough to be his first.
warnings: unprotected sex, swearing, voyeurism, dubcon
word count: 7.2k
--
It was the summer of 1975, and Jay was going to lose his virginity. He knew that he was a late-bloomer; 21 years old, three years of university under his belt, and he hadn’t so much as seen a woman in her undergarments. But contrary to the teasing remarks of his friends, it was his decision. Jay wanted it to be a perfect experience, something out of the fanciful, romantic novels he regularly read in his spare time, or like a movie. He wanted his first time to be complete with red roses on white sheets, aromatic oils dripping from their bodies, and swelling music that led to a sensuous, thrilling crescendo. Jay occupied the time not spent on work, school, and his various hobbies with these grandiose fantasies. While his friends cavorted with the women from their established university, Jay bided his time.
Then he got the best news of his life. As he packed away his clothes for summer vacation, one of his classmates who worked in the school office knocked on his door.
“Jay,” she said, “your mother called.”
Jay brightened; he liked to hear from his parents, and he was fully prepared to brag about both his grades and his prowess on the rugby field. The words that came out of his mother’s mouth, however, dashed away all thoughts of grandstanding.
“Honey,” his mother said as he clutched the phone. “We’re coming to get you shortly.”
“Today? I already booked a flight to visit you guys in a few days,” he replied. “I was just packing up.”
“Well, we’ve had a slight change of plans. We’ve decided to fly to France for a month this summer!”
Jay nearly dropped the phone, but he tried to feign nonchalance. “France? That’ll be a great opportunity to practice my French with the locals…”
His mother cooed, “Oh, aren’t you so practical? We’ll be staying at this gorgeous chateau in a town called Gordes, I’m sure you’ll love it…”
She kept speaking, but Jay was too busy imagining his summer. He wouldn’t just lose his virginity in France, he would be able to have madcap adventures with a gorgeous woman. A wild summer fling charged with youthful exuberance and set in such a romantic country…it was beyond his expectations.
When he got off of the phone, Jay was practically vibrating with excitement. He rushed to his friends’ dorm room- Heeseung and Jake’s room. His own roommate, Sunghoon, was nowhere to be seen. Probably trying to convince his on-again off-again girlfriend that they should take a break so he could “sort himself out.”
Jay burst inside of the room. “Guys,” he said, opening the door with gusto, “I have some excellent news.”
Heeseung and Jake had been sitting cross-legged on the floor and playing a game of Crazy Eights, a game that they didn’t halt despite Jay’s intrusion. “Are you finally going to get laid?” Jake asked blithely, setting down a five of spades.
“Yes, actually,” Jay said, leaning against the doorframe.
Heeseung and Jake looked at each other, then at Jay.
“Really?” Heeseung asked suspiciously, while Jake asked, “You’re not going to visit a whorehouse, are you?”
“Yes,” Jay said, pointing at Heeseung. He shifted his finger over to Jake. “And no to that.”
Heeseung chanced a smile. “You’re seriously going to do it?”
“Yes,” Jay said, crossing his arms. “My family and I are going to France for the holidays. I’m going to meet a beautiful woman, and she will be my summer girl.”
Heeseung rested his hands on his jeans, a smirk on his face. “Your what?”
“My summer girl,” Jay explained, gesticulating madly. The scenes played out in front of his very eyes like a Technicolour romance. “We’ll meet at the chateau, we’ll play tennis together, hold hands, and then I’ll fuck the everliving daylights out of her every single day. Then- stop laughing at me- then I’ll leave her behind, because she’s my summer girl.”
Jay heard footsteps behind him- it was Sunghoon, trotting down towards the room with an annoyed expression on his face. “Hey guys,” he said, walking past Jay and sitting on Heeseung’s bed.
Jake turned to Sunghoon, who was swigging on a bottle of coke. “Sunghoon,” Jake said with feigned innocence, “our friend Jay here is going to find a ‘summer girl’ and ‘fuck the everliving daylights out of her.” Sunghoon choked on his soda as he doubled over in laughter. Jay clenched his hands into fists as his friends teased him. That’s fine, Jay thought, It is not by muscle, speed, or physical dexterity that great things are achieved, but by reflection, force of character, and judgment. And he had force of character in spades. While they dabbled with whores and sluts, he would find a quality, stunning woman to be his summer girl.
–
As it turns out, not only were there no quality, stunning women milling about the chateau, there weren’t even any whores and sluts. Jay had walked all around the premises of the area in abject horror. The chateau stood by itself, nestled into a forested area with no neighbors for miles. Jay could. The nearest town was a 40 minute drive away, and not only was Jay an unconfident driver, but the town was so small he figured that any single woman was probably single for a reason. He tried to keep up his spirits so that his parents wouldn’t realize that he was disappointed- or worse, attempt to figure out why he was so disappointed. As he trudged through the opulent, spacious chateau, however, he felt a heaviness in his heart and a stiffness in his cock. There was a codgy butler milling around, a cook in the kitchen, and apparently there was a maid. Presumably, they were all related.
Jay slumped onto his bed and sighed. His room was rustic, with dark-stained floors, white-washed walls, and hand-carved wooden furniture. There was a small bookshelf in his room replete with both French and English books, so at least he would come away this summer with a decent grasp of French grammar. Jay groaned again, closing his eyes. He wished that the soft light filtering through the gauzy curtains beside his bed would turn to raucous thunder and gloomy skies, or at the very least a drizzle of rain to complement his mood.
He heard a knock on the door and sighed. “Who is it?”
“Ah, housekeeping,” the voice said quietly. Jay’s ears perked up; that voice sounded decidedly feminine. Then he came back to reality; maids were generally married women who would have little interest in sleeping with the son of the master of the home. When Jay didn’t respond, the woman continued, saying, “Mrs. Park asked to have some tea delivered to your door, in case the flight unsettled your stomach.”
He wished that it was the flight causing him this internal anguish. “Please,” he said, closing his eyes and crossing his arms behind his head, “bring it in.”
The door opened quietly, and Jay could hear the rattle of the tea tray as it was carried into the room and set on his nightstand. His nose picked up on something, a floral fragrance that wafted in a pleasant cloud.
He opened his eyes, and then he saw you.
You were wearing a dark blue maid uniform with a stained white apron, but you kept yourself well. You were groomed well, your nails were clipped short and polished, and your face was bright and sweet. And that perfume…Jay wondered how much you had had to save up to purchase it, or if it had been a gift. Maybe a boyfriend had gifted it to you.
“Did you need something else?” Your voice was so kind, and you looked at him so expectantly.
“No,” Jay whispered softly, “nothing at all.”
You nodded and pointed to a small piece of cloth hanging out of the wall above his desk. In his despondent mood, Jay hadn’t noticed it. “If you need me, you can pull that and it’ll alert me. It’s a bit old-fashioned, but this is an older house…”
Jay smiled. “Any time?”
“When you need something, sir,” you replied, smoothing your apron down.
Jay cleared his throat. “Of course.” He poured himself a cup of tea, dropping two lumps of sugar inside and mixing it languidly. As he sipped his tea, he noticed that you were still lingering nearby. His smirk was hidden by his teacup as he looked you up and down. You must want him already. “Ah…you’re still here, Miss…?”
You told him your name, then said, “I have to be dismissed.”
Jay’s face reddened. “Right. Yes, right, of course. You’re dismissed.”
You bid him goodbye and left him with the tea tray. As Jay sipped his tea, his feet crossed at the ankle, his vision for the summer shifted. Instead of wild encounters in haylofts and dirty, wet hot sex in valleys and behind churches, Jay now envisioned himself ravaging you in that little maid outfit of yours. Yes, he thought as his hand slowly crept to his crotch, this was perfect.
He had found his summer girl.
–
Jay was able to quickly ascertain the problem with his plan- you were his maid. And you had to work. While he lounged outside, sunbathing shirtless, you were inside polishing the silver. He would eat lavish dinners, and you were the one who set the table, brought the food, and stood by on hand and foot. While he enjoyed being able to ogle you at his leisure, he started to feel like a brat. What could he do to prove to you that he wasn’t just a spoiled child?
When he would stew over this, he would feel indignant. Why did he care about what the wait staff thought of him? He was Jay Park, and you should be so glad that he wasn’t ordering you to hand-wash his boxers. In fact, what was stopping him from just ravishing you the second you walked inside of his room? He was a rugby player, and rich, and he could get away with it. Just as quickly as those thoughts would enter his head, however, they would be cast out. For starters, it wouldn’t be right. Moreover, it wouldn’t have been earned. He had spent years building up to the loss of his virginity, and he didn’t want it to be with a woman struggling to get away from him. He wanted to seduce her, pliant in his arms as he made passionate love to her on his bed, or on a beach, or maybe on the balcony, or by a river…
Generally, these mental deliberations always ended with him squirting lotion onto his hands and soothing his angry cock the best way he knew how. They were always fuelled by the image of you puttering around the chateau.
You had this way about you that Jay found intoxicating. He would always pretend to read, but he would take peeks at you as you cleaned up. Something about your movements, your manner of speech were all so sensual. The care with which you take care of the house, the knitting of your eyebrows as you scrubbed at a particular spot, the precision you utilized when tidying his room, it all appealed to his more epicurean sensibilities. And, of course, that scent…whenever you left the room, he would stand where you had been and he would deeply inhale its heady aroma.
After a week of this, Jay had come up with a paltry idea. He tugged on the piece of cloth, and within three minutes you arrived at the door. As usual, your expression was bright. “Hello, sir,” you said politely.
“Hi,” he said with a tenderness that would have earned him Jake’s derision. “I would like you to bring me some Earl Grey tea. And bring two teacups.”
You gave him a quizzical look, but you said, “Yes, sir,” and bustled out of the room anyway.
When you left, Jay picked up his small pocket mirror and checked his hair. He unbuttoned one of his buttons on his loose shirt, fluffed out the collar, and parted the curtains so that the light would settle on his face better. He laid on his bed with a practiced relaxation, waiting for you to return.
You came back with a tea try equipped with two cups. Setting it on the nightstand, you smiled. “Enjoy, sir…”
“No, no, you’ll join me,” Jay replied. The way your eyes widened was so cute, Jay just wanted to kiss you.
“Oh…I don’t know if I can do that, I’ve got to polish the silver…”
“I’ll come down and vouch for you,” Jay said, holding one of the cups to her. “Please? I haven’t been able to talk to anyone near my age in a week. I’m going mad.”
You laughed and warily accepted the cup, which you then set down to pour his own tea.
Jay rested a hand on yours and shook his head. “Please, allow me. Come on, sit on the bed.”
You did as he said, leaving a fair bit of space between the two of you. He carefully poured the tea for both of you, willing his hand to stay steady. “How do you take your tea?”
“Just like this,” you said.
“Really? No sugars, no milk, no cream?”
You shook your head, and Jay sighed. “Have you ever tried it with sugar?”
Once again, you shook your head, sipping your tea. “No point in wasting sugar like that.”
Jay gently took your cup and dropped a lump of sugar into your tea, mixing it. “Try it like this.”
You wrapped both of your hands around the cup and took a slow sip. He loved the way you drank. “It’s good like this,” you said. “Very good.”
“Isn’t it?” Jay looked at you closely, and he knew that the warmth bursting inside of his chest wasn’t good for his plan. You were his summer girl, and affection would only ruin that. Jay drank his tea, trying not to stare at you. He decided that engaging you in a conversation might help; reminding himself of the class difference between you two would stave off the feelings blossoming within him. “So…what do you like to do?”
“What do I like to do?” You drummed your fingers on the cup as you thought. “Well…I like to go for walks. The area is simply gorgeous, so I go for walks when I’m not working. I like to sketch, too.”
“You sketch?” Jay swallowed his tea in one painful gulp. “What do you like to draw?”
“Oh…everything, I guess. The things I see. I like to draw flowers, trees. Sometimes people.”
“Would you draw me?” Jay blurted out, setting his tea cup on the tray.
“I couldn’t do that,” you said with a slight laugh. “Imagine how embarrassed I would feel if I made you look bad.”
“I’m sure you couldn’t do that,” he said, leaning against the headboard. “You’re so careful with everything you do. I bet your drawings are lovely.”
“You’re just flattering me, sir.”
“No, no, not at all,” Jay said with a laugh.
“Or you’re trying to get a free portrait out of me.”
Jay shrugged. “Can you blame me?”
“Yes, I can. Someone like you could afford to fly Elisabeth Chaplin here and have her paint a portrait of you,” you retorted. Then you stiffened; Jay figured that you weren’t used to speaking so casually.
He kept his voice light. “What are you saying then, that I should pay you?”
“How much would you pay for a portrait I did of you?”
“For you-,” he began, but just then, you heard a bell chime in a different room. The veneer of nicety came over you, and you quietly put your tea cup on the tray and lifted it.
“Thank you for the tea-time, sir,” you said politely. “Have a lovely day.”
“Yeah,” Jay said, dejected. “You too.”
–
After that, he pulled on the cloth and asked for tea three more times. Three more times he had shared conversations of varying length with you, and something dreadful had happened to Jay. Instead of waves of raw, primal lust overtaking him and pushing him to take you on the sheets, Jay felt warm when he spoke to you.
You told him about your ambitions, about how you had become a maid, your favourite records, your favourite books, how you would walk down the dusty road winding into town and meet your friend halfway. Then you would watch movies with her. You liked movies that were thrilling, a contrast to your own life. Every time you laughed, your eyes shifted, every time your fingers wrapped around the small teaspoon as you swirled a lump of sugar into your tea, Jay felt like the sun was rising within him.
He watched you as you cleaned up. When you would go outside to tidy up the tennis courts after your parents would play a game, he would watch you, sometimes with one hand shoved inside of his pants.
Jay knew that his fantasy of using you as nothing more than a warm body and bragging rights was fading away quickly. He had to refocus his efforts…but how? As he paced around his room one night, he got an idea. A damned good one, if you asked him.
He knew that you got off work at 6 pm, so at 5:59 pm he tugged on the cloth. The scene was set; his bedsheets had been rumpled to mimic a post-coital aftermath, his shirt was sensually unbuttoned, and he had dabbed cologne behind his ears and on his wrists. The record player in the corner was playing a crooning Serge Gainsbourg song. The piece-de-resistance was the bottle of pinot noir that Jay had filched from his parents’ room while they were taking a stroll in the forest, along with two fine-stemmed wine-glasses.
As he heard your footsteps approaching his room, he adjusted his position so that he was lying on his back, one hand draped over his stomach, the other hanging over the edge of the bed.
“Mr. Park?” you asked softly, rapping on his door.“Come in,” Jay said in a low, husky voice.
“What was that?”
“I said, ‘Come in,’” Jay said normally. You stepped inside, closing the door behind you, and Jay smirked at you. You had no clue what he had prepared for you. As usual, you were wearing your maid outfit, and your hands were clasped in front of your apron. Even from here, he could smell your sweet, floral scent; it was almost an aphrodisiac to Jay.
“Come sit.”
You sat at the end of the bed so that his feet were pointed towards you. He shifted his position so that he was sitting up slightly. He leaned over to his nightstand and grabbed the bottle of wine.
“Do you like wine?” Jay asked, uncorking the bottle.
You nodded. “I do. I don’t drink it often, though.”
Jay poured you a glass of wine, making sure not to spill a drop. “This is a nice Domaine de Montille Les Pezerolles, from Pommard.”
“Oh, really?” You swirled the wine around in the glass, and he was pleased to see that you held the wineglass’ stem at the bottom. “It sounds good.”
“Yes,” he said, pouring himself a glass. He took a slow sniff of the wine before taking a sip. “This is from 1969, so it hasn’t completely thinned. In fact, it has a full body- you smell that?”
Before you could speak, Jay continued. “It was a dry summer when they harvested these grapes in Pommard in a premier cru- do you know what a premier cru is? It’s a vineyard where high-quality grapes are harvested. Of course, these aren’t the creme de la creme. The best grapes are harvested in what are called grand crus. Do you know Romanee-Conti?”
You paused, then said, “Ah…that’s a very expensive wine, yes?”
“It’s a type of wine,” Jay said, taking another sip of his wine. “I take it you’ve never had any?”
“Well…no.”
Jay pointed his pinky at you while he held onto his wineglass. “I’ll have to get you some someday. I’ve had a glass once, I believe it was a 1956 La Tache, and you can simply taste the caliber of the grapes. The tannins weren’t strong, more on the silkier side…”
You tilted your head. “What are tannins?”
Jay’s face brightened.Somehow, without knowing it, Jay had spent two hours explaining what tannins were, how wine was harvested, the ideal temperature to enjoy wine, and how he would pair the wine they were currently drinking with a meal. After 8 o’clock had approached, you had quietly excused yourself, bidding him goodnight. Jay had waved goodbye gaily, until he looked down at his empty wine glass and realized belatedly that he had squandered his opportunity to fuck you.
Jay sighed and poured himself another glass of wine, sitting on his bed and closing his eyes. He was running out of ideas, and the third week of vacation was steadily approaching. If he went back to school without knowing what you felt like, what you tasted like, Jay thought he might die.
His dreams that night centered around you lying on his bed, naked save for a black pair of pantyhose. Jay was pouring that wine all over your body and sucking it off of your breasts, licking the sweetness from your stomach like a madman. He poured wine into your mouth, and you kissed him back so that he could drink from you. When Jay woke up, the taste of pinot noir was heavy on his tongue.
–
The next day, after breakfast, Jay knocked on the door of his parents’ room in the chateau. His father opened the door, smiling at him.
“Hey, kid,” Mr. Park said, affectionately ruffling his hair. His father was wearing the same set of pajamas that Jay wore
“Dad,” Jay said quietly, “I need to speak with you.”
His father’s eyes narrowed in confusion; Jay’s expression was earnest and his tone was pleading. “Sure.”
Once they were safely inside of Jay’s room, Jay sat on his bed. His father joined him.
“Dad…” Jay hesitated, unsure of how to word his question. Finally, he said it as plainly as he could: “How did you win Mom over? I mean…how did you approach her?”
Mr. Park’s eyes twinkled. “Has someone caught your eye?”
Jay tried to ward off his father, who was nudging him in the ribs with his elbows. “Not-not quite, Dad. Just…for the future, you know? For the future.”
Mr. Park laughed. “Sure, son.” He looked up at the ceiling as he thought, and Jay looked directly at his father. “Well, it wasn’t easy. I had to chase your mother. She was popular, beautiful, and smart, so it wasn’t an easy task. But she said that what she enjoyed was when I would send her flowers.”
“Flowers?”
His father shrugged. “She said it was such a classic gesture, it made her feel like I was more of a traditional man. Not someone who would just toy with her emotions then cast her aside like so much filth.”
“Flowers,” Jay repeated, his eyes darting around. Of course. Flowers.
“I was also honest about my intentions,” Mr. Park continued. “I knew that she was desirable, so I didn’t want to waste time. I told her how I felt and showed her my cards. That might not work for every woman, but your mother and I thought- think- similarly. And that’s what you want to find, Jay. Not someone who mirrors you, but someone who thinks just similarly enough to you that you’ll hardly argue, and differently enough that your arguments will be interesting.”
Jay smiled at his father’s joke, but he quickly became lost in thought. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “I’ve got a lot to consider.”
Mr. Park ruffled his son’s hair again. “Glad I could help, sport. I hope things go well with this girl.”
Jay smiled at his father affectionately. “Yeah, me t-,” Jay’s face blanched. “I mean, there is no girl.”
His father laughed as he left the room, and Jay sighed. At least now a plan was forming, something concrete.
–
Jay spent his entire afternoon wandering through the forest bordering the chateau searching for flowers. He brought his thick canvas bag with him, as well as a pair of shears. Every time he saw a gorgeous flower, he snipped it carefully and placed it into the bag. Violets, white flax, buttercups, sheaths of elderberry, red and purple poppies. Jay had to work fast; he wouldn’t forgive himself if the flowers even slightly wilted before you could enjoy them. As the sun set, Jay’s fingers were caked in dirt, sweat coated his brow, but his bag was filled with various, fragrant flowers. To his delight, he realized that their scent was similar to yours, and he walked towards the grounds of the chateau with his nose buried in a handful of flowers.
You lived in the servants’ quarters, which was a smaller house located on the edge of the premises. It was past six o’clock, so you would surely be there now, washing up. Maybe you had already changed into something comfortable. Jay darted inside of his bathroom, cleaning all of the dirt off of his nails and changing into a loose shirt and linen pants. He slicked his hair back and applied cologne. Using a light blue ribbon from a package of artisanal biscuits, he tied the flowers together into a rough bouquet. Jay arranged the flowers carefully, placing the violets at the front and tucking the elderberry flowers as accents.
Jay swallowed thickly and walked over to the servants’ quarters. He knocked on the door, and as he waited for someone to come to the door he reminded himself that he was Jay Park, the son of James Park, someone to be revered, someone to be respected.
To his delight, you answered the door. You were wearing a long nightgown, and your smile was so soft and dreamy Jay could have melted.
“Hello, sir,” you said, leaning your head against the doorframe. “To what do I owe this honour?”
“Nothing,” he said quickly. Then he thrusted the flowers towards you. “Here. For you.”
You beamed at him, and Jay knew he would have spent a month traversing that forest if it would make you smile like that again. “Thank you.” You received the bouquet, touching the flowers delicately. You closed your eyes and took in their scent.
Jay lingered outside of your door. He felt like he was being split into pieces. He wanted to caress your hair and kiss your cheek; he wanted to barge into your house, toss you on your bed, and take what he wanted from you; he wanted to run away until he was a better man, a stronger man; he wanted to be one of the flowers you were stroking, the perfume you inhaled.
You looked up at him. “The butler and the cook won’t be back until 8,” you said quietly. “They’re still at the chateau.”
Jay’s breath caught inside of his throat. “Is that so?”
“Yes, sir. So if you liked, we could go inside and talk?”
Jay’s eyes glowed. “Yes, yes, of course.”
You led him inside of the small home; there was one large room that constituted the kitchen, living room, and dining room, a bathroom, and three bedrooms that were hardly more than a cot and a dresser. Yours had drawings stuck on the wall, a threadbare blanket covering the bed, and a dresser that was covered in your makeup, hairbrush, and other toiletries. Jay sat on your bed and frowned as he looked around his room.
“What is it?” you asked, setting the bouquet on the dresser. “Not to your liking?”
“That’s not it,” Jay said, his eyes fixed on your drawings. “It’s just that you deserve something better.”
You smiled at him. “Do I? Why?”
“Why? What do you mean, why? You’re…you’re too good for this,” Jay said, gesturing wildly.
“So where should I be?”
So many words sprung to his mind that they clogged in his throat. You should be in my bed, in my college, in that chateau, on a beach being ravaged next to the ocean, lying in a flower field, anything except being a maid. Instead, Jay looked down at his hands.
“I’ll just get a vase for this,” you said, gesturing at the bouquet. Jay nodded, and as you left he gripped his thighs and sighed. He could hear his heartbeat thumping madly, and the fact that he was in your room wasn’t making things any better. Your scent was everywhere, lingered on everything, and it set his heart ablaze.
With a furtive glance at the door, he leaned down to your pillow and inhaled deeply. Jay moaned slightly; he wished that you would stay away for a little longer, so that he could pleasure himself in a cocoon of your fragrance. He’d leave traces of himself everywhere, in your clothes, in that maid outfit, in your underwear. Jay was considering pawing around in your drawers to find your panties when you came back with a chipped vase. You set it on your dresser and tucked the flowers inside of it carefully, not disrupting the arrangement that Jay had made. For some reason, the way that your fingers deftly placed the flowers in the vase made him shiver from arousal.
He couldn’t hold back anymore. Three weeks now, three weeks of smelling you and seeing you and learning about you without so much as a touch. Once you stepped away from the glass vase, Jay came up behind you and grabbed your shoulders, pinning you to the bed. You seemed more curious than anything else, your arms splayed at your sides.
“I want you,” Jay whispered. “I want you so...ardently, it hurts.” With trembling fingers, he shoved your nightgown all the way up to your waist. Now, he could glimpse your panties- white, of course you wore white panties. It was like you had been designed to ruin his summer.
Jay didn’t bother taking his pants off all the way, instead only tugging them along with his underwear down slightly. His cock was hot and already leaking precum as he looked down at you, at your gorgeous pussy that was covered in a fine mat of downy hair. You stared up at him, seemingly daring him to make his next move.
Jay spit onto his hand and coated his cock in a mixture of saliva and precum. His entire body screamed for him to enter you, ruin you, to fulfill millenia of biological hardwiring. Jay trembled in anticipation as he finally pushed himself inside of you. It was like nothing he had ever experienced. You were so warm, inviting, and silky, like you had been made for him. The small gasp you had made as he had entered you was just perfect.
He thrusted inside of you, overwhelmed by the sensation of your velvety pussy. After another stroke, he realized that his orgasm was already racing through him.
“No, no,” Jay whispered, pulling out of you, but the friction of your pussy as he slid out of you caused him to spasm. Cum spurted out of him in humiliating globules, landing on your stomach and nightgown.
Jay hovered over you, his eyes widened with shock. “No. No, no, no. That-that was nothing. That only lasted for, what…”
“A minute,” you replied, your face impassive.
“A minute,” Jay repeated in horror. “Oh, my God, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry…” Jay squeezed his eyes shut and groaned. Now everything was ruined. He had come in a pathetically short amount of time. You probably didn’t feel a thing.
Then he felt warm hands stroke his cheek, and his eyes opened. A small smile had graced your lips, and despite his despair he managed a smile too.
“Was that your first time?” you asked quietly, tracing his lips with your thumb.
Jay hesitated, but there was no point in lying. “Yeah,” he whispered, “it was. You were.”
You nodded sympathetically. “It’s okay,” you said.
“It…is?” Jay stared at you in awe.
Then, to his delight, you brought his head down and kissed him softly. It wasn’t rough, not the way his friends had described it- teeth clashing, tongues choking each other, hands wildly groping. This kiss was so gentle, and Jay reciprocated, his hands cupping your face. Your scent tickled his nostrils, filled his mind with a haze.
Soon, you were licking his bottom lip, so Jay parted his lips. You slipped your tongue into his mouth, and he touched it with his, once, twice. He ran his tongue over your teeth, probed into your mouth, sucked on your tongue. He wanted to memorize every inch of you.
Jay felt one of your hands slip under his shirt, and you ran your hands over his abs. He was proud of the hardened muscle he had worked so hard to cultivate, and he could feel his pride slowly returning. Emboldened, he kissed you even more deeply, and he began to feel your breasts over your nightgown. You weren’t wearing a bra, and he could only imagine how soft they must feel properly in his hands.
“Take it off,” you whispered against his lips. Jay didn’t need to be told twice. He undressed you slowly this time, helping you push the nightgown over your head.
Jay groaned under his breath as his eyes flickered over your body. It was amazing. You were like Aphrodite, the Venus of Willendorf, a being designed to be admired. How could he have ever thought of thrusting into you like you were his right hand? “Turn the light on,” he said quietly.
“Yes, sir,” you said, flicking your standing lamp on. Your body was bathed in the soft, rosy glow, painting you in colours that rivaled the work of the pre-Raphaelites.
“Don’t call me sir,” he said pleadingly. “Call me Jay, please.” With that, he dipped his head down and kissed your neck softly. You whimpered, and the sound was like the song of an angel. He kissed you all the way down to the space between your breasts. One hand gently fondled one breast, and the other hand held your waist as he kissed the other breast.
“Lick my nipples,” you whispered. “I like that.”
Jay did as you asked, taking one nipple in his mouth and licking it. The way it hardened was fascinating to him, and he lavished both of your nipples with attention. His hands stroked your waist, up and down, and he could feel you tremble. Jay trailed wet kisses down your stomach, sticking his tongue into your navel to make you laugh. He splayed your arms out on the bed and kissed and licked them. When he got to your hand, he kissed your palm and your fingertips. Jay lifted your legs up and kissed them from your inner thigh to the backs of your calves to your ankles, all the way to your toes.
You made these darling little sighs as he kissed you and touched you. “This feels great, Jay,” you sighed out. On occasion, you would tell him to pay special attention to a certain part of yourself; your inner thighs, Jay found, were a sensitive spot. He would frequently return there on his journey around your body and bite and suck at the soft flesh there.
As Jay gripped your thighs, kissing them, you pulled at his hair so that his face was tugged upwards.
“I want to teach you something else,” you said, looking him in his eyes.
“What?” Jay whispered.
As a response, you parted your legs slightly. Jay could see pools of arousal leaking out of your pussy, and his cock stirred. You took your fingers and touched a small, pearly nub of flesh.
“Do you know what this is?”
Jay had a rough idea, based on the conversations he had had with his friends. “Your clitoris?”
You smiled and nodded. “Yes,” you said, your fingers still threaded through his hair. “I want you to lick it.”
“Lick it?”
“It’ll make me feel good,” you whispered, and you gently pushed his head down between your legs. After one tentative lick, Jay was hooked. You tasted amazing, not quite sweet, not salty, but something else. Something primal and delicious. He laved your clit with his tongue, spreading your legs apart even further.
For the first time, you moaned, a sound that made its way all the way to Jay’s gut. He kept going, lapping at that little pearl with feverish abandon. Jay pulled away after a while, worried that he was going too fast, being too rough again. “Is this okay?” he asked.
Your voice was tense and high as you said, “Yes, you’re doing amazing, Jay. It feels amazing. Keep going, keep going.”
That encouragement was all Jay needed. One hand firmly split your legs apart, and the other reached up and toyed with your nipples again. He felt you writhe and shiver as he swallowed your arousal, making circles with his tongue around your clit.
“Jay, Jay, I’m going to, I’m going to…” A series of high-pitched moans passed through your lips and your back arched off of the bed. Jay continued licking your clit until you weakly pushed his head away. Jay stared in awe at your cunt opening and closing on its own, and he inserted a finger inside of you to feel the contractions for himself. He shivered as he imagined his cock in here, but he decided to wait until you weren’t so exhausted.
Jay dragged himself up the bed so that he was lying beside you, and he affectionately rubbed your stomach. Your face was wet with sweat, lips parted, and your eyes were lidded. Still, that same smile was plastered on your face, and Jay wiped your face with his thumb.
“How was that?” he asked, just to hear you praise him.
“It was great,” you said weakly. “It was…wow. You’re a fast learner, aren’t you?”
“Top of my classes,” Jay said with a wide grin. You playfully pushed him, and he kissed your cheek. “I’m sorry I couldn’t…you know… last.”
You shook your head. “It’s okay. It was your first time. No one has a very good first time.”
“Did you?”
“That’s a story for another day,” you said with an eye roll.
Jay traced your stomach with his hand again, his eyes flickering over you. After a while, he whispered, “Teach me.”
You looked at him. “Teach you…?”
“How to please you. I want you to enjoy it, too. Please?”
You glanced at him, and your eyes were so soft Jay got the sudden urge to cry. “Okay. Come on, sit up.”
Jay sat so that his legs were spread, entrapping you between them. You sat up as well, leaning against the headboard.
“Your pants…”
“Oh, right.” Jay scrambled to take them off, and his boxers too. His cock flopped out, and he was dismayed to see that it wasn’t completely hard. He glanced at you to gauge your reaction, but your gaze was fixated on his dick.
“How have you managed to stay a virgin with that?” Your hand rested on his thigh, rubbing up and down.
Jay’s heart swelled with pride. “Oh, well, I’m picky, I suppose. I only like the best of the best.”
You smiled softly, catching the compliment, and then your head bobbed down to his cock. His eyes drank in the sight of your wet little tongue swirling around the tip, your hands massaging his balls. Jay moaned loudly, his arms falling back to hold himself upright. “Oh, will you jack me off, too? Please.”
You obliged him, letting some of your spit trickle down his shaft before massaging it loosely. Jay leaned his head back and moaned loudly. He was so glad you two were in the little servants’ quarters and not the chateau, where the sounds would have echoed. The sloppy noises of your mouth wrapped around his tip and your hands fondling his cock, and his own moans.
Soon, you were pulling away, and Jay was initially disappointed by the lack of his contact. You wiped your mouth and smiled at him, and his annoyances were forgotten. You shifted backwards so that you were sitting against the headboard again.
“Now,” you whispered, “come here.”
Jay crawled over to you, sitting upright as well. He pulled your legs over his, so that you were straddling him. As he waited for you to keep speaking, he caressed your smooth legs.
“This time, be slow. You want to feel everything, feel the way I fit around you. Take your time. There’s no rush, Jay.”
He kissed you, then, his hands around your throat. Jay pushed himself inside of you again, this time noting how delicious the stretch was, how your pussy squeezed his cock mercilessly. You wrapped your arms around his neck, and your lips were still on his. You moaned into each others’ mouths as he bucked his hips against yours. Jay’s hands fell from your neck to your shoulders to your breasts, fondling them slowly. He grew accustomed to this rhythm, of becoming one with you, and it was better than what he could have ever imagined.
Jay gently pulled you on top of him, his back hitting the bed. He thrusted into you slowly, languidly, and you matched his movements. From this position, Jay could swirl his tongue around your nipples again as his hands groped at your ass. He pushed you down on his cock, forcing you to take his full length. Now that your moans were no longer muffled by his lips, they reverberated all over your small room. The air was thick with your scent percolating with Jay’s, your soft moans with his harsh grunts.
Jay could feel his orgasm approaching, but he resisted the urge to pound into you. Instead, he rolled you over so that he was on top of you again. He pulled out of you and kissed you the way you liked, slowly, tongues meeting, spit dribbling down chins, hot, wet mouths sharing breaths. While you kissed, Jay’s hand worked down your body and he tried to find your clitoris again. Your hand reached out and gently guided him towards your small nub; he rubbed it in steady circles, and he relished in your whimpers.
“Are you close?” Jay asked before pressing his lips against yours again.
You nodded, unwilling to stop kissing him.
With that, Jay thrusted inside of you again, his fingers still playing with your clitoris. He felt powerful as he felt your back arch. When he dug his knee up slightly, he could feel your legs begin to tremble. Finally, he let himself go, rutting into you the way he had wanted from the start, his free hand on your waist. Jay grunted as he approached his high, his eyes shutting in ecstasy.
You came first, whining his name and clutching him tightly. Your pussy clenched around his cock, and he came with a final, primal grunt, emptying himself in you.
Jay didn’t want to pull himself out of you. He wanted you to stay full of him, and the way you held him made him think you felt the same way.
Jay kissed your forehead and laid on top of you, stroking your cheek as you came down from your highs together. The way you nestled your head into his neck made his heart sing, and your scent was even stronger now. He knew that he could never let go of you.
You were his summer girl.
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women artists that you should know about!!
-Judith Leyster (Dutch, 1609-1660)
During her life her works were highly recognized, but she got forgotten after her death and rediscovered in the 19th century. In her paintings could be identified the acronym "JL", asually followed by a star, she was the first woman to be inserted in the Guild of St. Luke, the guild Haarlem's artists.
-Artemisia Gentileschi (Italian, 1593-1656)
"... Si è talmente appraticata che posso osar de dire che hoggi non ci sia pare a lei, havendo fatto opere che forse i principali maestri di questa professione non arrivano al suo sapere". This is how the father Orazio talked about his nineteen year old daughter to the Medici's court in Florence.
In 1611, Artemisia got raped, and she had to Undergo a humiliating trial, just to marry so that she could "Restore one's reputation" , according to the morality of the time. Only after a few years Artemisia managed to regain her value, in Florence, in Rome, in Naples and even in England, her oldest surviving work is "Susanna and the elders".
-Elisabeth Louise Vigèe Le Brun (French, 1755-1842)
She was a potrait artists who created herself a name during the Ancien Règime, serving as the potrait painting of the Queen of France Marie Antoinette, she painted 600 portraits and 200 landscapes in the course of her life.
-Augusta Savage (Afro-American, 1892-1962)
Augusta started making figures when she was a child, which most of them were small animals made out of red clay of her hometown, she kept model claying, and during 1919, at the Palm Beach County Fair, she won $25 prize and ribbon for most original exhibit. After completing her studies, Savage worked in Manhattan steam laundries to support her family along with herself. After a violent stalking made by Joe Gould that lasted for two decades, the stalker died in 1957 after getting lobotomized. In 2004, a public high school, Augusta Fells Savage Institute of Visual Arts, in Baltimore, opened.
-Marie Ellenrieder (German,1791-1863)
She was known for her portraits and religious paintings. During a two years long stay in Rome, she met some Nazarenes (group of early 19th century German romantic painters who wanted to revive spirituality in art),after becoming a student of Friedrich Overbeck and after being heavily influenced by a friend, she began painting religious image, getting heavily inspired by the Italian renaissance, more specifically by the artist Raphael. In 1829, she became a court painter to Grand Duchess Sophie of Baden.
-Berthe Marie Pauline Morisot (French,1841-1893)
Morisot studied at the Louvre, where she met Edouard Manet, which became her friend and professor. During 1874 she participated at her first Impressionist exhibition, and in 1892 sets up her own solo exhibition.
-Edmonia Lewis or also called "wildfire" (mixed African-American and Native American 1844-1907)
Edmonia was born in Upstate New York but she worked for most of her career in Rome, Italy. She was the first ever African American and Native American sculptor to achieve national and international fame, she began to gain prominence in the USA during the Civil Ware. She was the first black woman artist who has participated and has been recognized to any extent by the American artistic mainstream. She Also in on Molefi Kete Asante's list of 100 Greatest African Americans.
-Marie Gulliemine Benoist (French, 1768-1826)
Daughter of a civil servant, Marie was A pupil of Jaques-Louis David, whose she shared the revolutionary ideas with, painting innovative works that have caused whose revolutionary ideals he shared, painting innovative works that caused discussion. She opened a school for young girl artists, but the marriage with the banker Benoist and the political career Of the husband had slowly had effect on her artistic career, forcing her to stop painting. Her most famous work is Potrait of Madeline, which six years before slavery was abolished, so that painting became a simbol for women's emancipation and black people's rights.
-Lavinia Fontana (Italian, 1552-1614)
She is remembered for being the first woman artist to paint an altarpiece and for painting the first female nude by a woman (Minerva in the act of dressing), commissioned by Scipione Borghese.
-Elisabetta Sirani. (Italian, 1698-1665)
Her admirable artistic skills, that would vary from painting, drawing and engraving, permitted her, in 1660, to enter in the National Academy of S. Luca, making her work as s professor. After two years she replaced her father in his work of his Artistic workshop, turning it into an art schools for girls, becoming the first woman in Europe to have a girls' school of painting, like Artemisia Gentileschi, she represent female characters as strong and proud, mainly drawn from Greek and Roman stories. (ex. Timoclea Kills The Captain of Alexander the Great, 1659).
#judith leyster#artemisia gentileschi#Elisabeth Louise Vigèe Le Brun#Augusta Savage#Marie Ellenrieder#berthe morisot#Edmonia Lewis#Marie Gulliemine Benoist#Lavinia Fontana#Elisabetta Sirani#women artists#renaissance#baroque#art#women in art#artist women#feminism#women history#radical feminists do touch#radical feminists please interact#history#terfblr#terfsafe#cultura#culture
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Sweet Creature
harry styles masterlist
pairing: kinda dark!harry styles x reader
summary: harry’s mother finds a girl on the side of the street one day while harry’s away. he hears about her for months, until he finally decides to see for himself. expecting her to be an undercover rat, he is surprised to find a girl more similar to a deer in headlights.
warning: kinda dark harry kinda alludes to him doing illegal, mafia type stuff but it isn’t specified. third person writing instead of second, READER DOESN’T USE HER REAL NAME!!! she will eventually just not yet.
—
harry had been hearing about some girl non-stop. by who, you may ask?
his mother.
his sweet, kind mother somehow found a girl who was living on the streets, took her in (gave her his room!), and is obsessed with her.
“oh, harry, she’s just the sweetest! gemma says she’s like a kicked puppy, but she’s just so sweet. this morning, i woke up, and she’d cleaned the whole house! and i asked her why, because i obviously didn’t tell her to, and she said she figured she should. you’d love her. proper sweetheart.”
and honestly, it was sweet. he probably would like her if he wasn’t the way he is. because the way he is, he thinks it’s a trap. he thinks she was never really living on the streets, and it’s a ploy. someone found his family and is trying to ruin it.
but, of course, he’d never let his mother know of the way he actually is and thinks, or what he does for a living.
“she sounds lovely, mum. what did you say her name was?”
“she says it’s belle. she’s always singing some french song. i think she lived in france before she got here.. i’m not sure. she isn’t very talkative.”
“she got an accent?”
“a little bit of everything, hazza. when will you come visit? i think you have to be the one to tell her that your room is hers now. she keeps saying ‘harry’s room’ and ‘your son’s room’. i feel horrible!”
“she’s probably just weary mum. if she was on the streets before, she probably just doesn’t want to jinx it.”
“you’re right.. gosh, she won’t even let gemma and i buy her things. she just borrows gemma’s clothes and apologizes a bunch for it. i’m not sure what to do.”
“i’ll come visit soon.”
—
and he did. a surprise visit in the middle of the night, because he was convinced he’s find this belle girl doing shady things .
except when he snuck in the front door, the house was quiet.
alright, he supposes, she’s stealthy.
so he goes upstairs and quietly opens his bedroom door.
and that’s when it’s a little louder. a girl is twisted and turning and mumbling in her sleep on his bed.
all she is saying, from what he can hear, is no. no, no, no, no, no. please, no.
and he feels a little bad, so he walks over to tap her. when that doesn’t work, he shakes her.
her eyes snap open and she has probably the worst reaction possible in this situation.
she fucking screams. like a goddamn banshee.
and sure, it lasts for maybe five seconds, probably four, but she definitely woke his mother up. and it’s so loud, he backs up to the doorway.
gemma was probably still passed out. she would sleep through the world ending.
“hey! it’s just me, calm down!”
she squinted at him through the darkness before yanking the chain on the lamp, turning it on.
he could hear her practically hyperventilating from the doorway.
she let out a sigh of relief when she recognized him from the photos in the living room.
“you really are jumpy, huh?”
“i woke up to a random man hovering over me,” she deadpans.
he almost laughs.
“it’s my room.”
and it’s like a fucking switch. her breaths are staggered and labored, but she still rushes out a whole ass monologue. kicked puppy, indeed.
“oh, my god. i am so sorry. i forgot. i can— i can take the couch— you probably want to sleep in your bed. i’m sorry, anne didn’t say you were coming by or else i would’ve cleaned up—“
the room is spotless, probably cleaner than when he stays in it, but harry doesn’t say that.
“i’ll just.. grab my blanket and stuff and go to the couch. i’m so sorry, i didn’t know—“
“relax,” he finally says. “i knew you’d be in here. i was just.. grabbing a pillow. didn’t realize mum was serious about you being jumpy.”
“oh.. uh.. are you sure? i can take the couch—“
“belle— belle, right?” she nods. “go back to bed. i have slept on plenty of couches. i will survive.”
“i feel bad.”
“well, don’t.”
he should feel bad. she is very clearly not dangerous unless she is a phenomenal actress.
“you’re not mad, are you? because i can sleep on the couch—“
“jesus, are y’gonna cry?”
“i can’t help it! i’m sorry!—“
“what on earth is going on— harry! what did you do!” anne asked as she rushed through the doorway, moving to sit next to belle.
“i didn’t do anything!” he defends.
“he didn’t do anything, anne,” she repeats. “just.. frightened me, is all.”
anne gives her a look before pulling her into a hug, and she just flips another switch and instead of watering eyes, she sobs.
who the hell is her acting coach? maybe he could take a few lessons.
“h, go get her a cuppa.. and there’s those baby yogurt melts in the cupboard.”
he doesn’t comment on the fact that belle is at the very least 19, and probably shouldn’t be eating baby food.
—
the next morning, belle made her way downstairs quietly. she was surprised to see harry making a cup of tea this early, but she didn’t say anything, not wanting to disturb his peace.
she adjusted her earbuds in her ear (anne offered to buy her better ones, airpods or something, but she was fine with her earbuds, even if the wire was a pain in the ass), so they didn’t fall out as she walked.
once she made it into the kitchen, she walked into the pantry, grabbing some random granola bar.
when she turned, she jumped. harry was right behind her. well, in front of her now.
“sorry,” she mumbled, moving out of his way.
he muttered something she didn’t understand.
“um.. sorry about.. last night. i’m kind of jumpy.”
“i noticed.”
he was very short. he didn’t seem to like her much.
“you can.. uh.. take your.. room back.. if you want.”
“it’s yours. i’m fine.”
“are you—“
“i’m sure.”
rude. why was he so rude? what had she done to him? well, besides scream at him, but in her defense, he was just hovering over her! that’s weird!
—
harry still didn’t trust her after a week of being there. she kept to herself for the most part, although he was pretty sure he heard her and gemma giggling in the middle of the night.
he just couldn’t figure out who sent her. why she was here.
his mother explained her freakout when he showed up eventually.
“you gotta be careful with her, h. she’s like.. a bunny, in a way. if you aren’t careful in how you approach her and speak to her, she bolts. first day she was here, i asked her what happened, because she had this horrible cut on her cheek. locked herself in your room for a week. i think whatever put her on the streets is a sensitive topic, and was difficult for her.”
“i jus’ dunno if i trust her, mum.”
“well, i do. she’s sweet, she just needs to warm up to you. she warmed up to me and gemma after about a week or two.. and she’s been more jumpy when gem brings michael around. so.. she might just need a minute.”
“the whole thing just seems.. shady.”
“she’ll tell us when she’s ready. and until then, you’ll make her feel welcomed. speaking of, i’m gonna go wash her clothes. poor girl won’t let us buy her anything. she just has these same clothes she had and a few things gemma convinced her to use.”
—
a/n: little thing i wrote on a plane, part 2 soon-ish maybe
#harry styles#harry styles x reader#harry styles fic#harry styles imagine#harry styles oneshot#harry styles au#harry styles angst#harry styles x you#harry styles fluff#harry styles one shot#harry imagine#harry oneshot#harry fic#harry#styles#harry and belle#sweet creature series
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I’m absolutely obsessed with your writing! I was hoping I could request a one-shot where Daryl and fem!reader are married. They are working on separate outdoor projects but Daryl can’t stop watching the reader throughout the day. The dirtiest thoughts cross his mind as he watches her. Later that evening when they are home and finally alone he recreates all those thoughts with her throughout the night. Daryl has a pleasure and praise kink, includes oral, Daryl loves going down on the reader!
*Set during later Alexandria or Commonweath era (Daryl never goes to France!)
STOP IT RIGHT TF NOW ANON CAUSE WHY HAVENT I THOUGHT OF A PLEASURE KINK. DROOLING RN
Heres me admitting im only on season 9 of TWD so this takes place in Alexandria 😿
A/n: Thought I’d actually title this bc reading it again months later I just think it needs one 🥸
gif creds @daryl-dixon-daydreams
BUSY BEE
Daryl was going to simply pass away and die.
He hated his own mind for it’s never-ending thoughts, even more so when he had a literal job to be doing. His racing thoughts had been distracting him the whole day, occasionally using the wrong tool, knocking something over, and even almost spilling all the oil at one point.
It was just the way your hips looked, so well rounded in those jeans, shirt clinging to your body as you walked quickly with your own tasks in mind, not noticing your husband’s hardcore staring.
His mind was bursting with thoughts of what horribly dirty things he wanted to do to you. Sometimes he physically can’t wrap his head around how he ended up with someone like you. All Daryl could think about was just how bad he wanted to fuck you, cock already stirring to life in his pants.
No. No. He had to stay focused. He couldn’t be seen not doing his task and also now needed to hide the tent forming in his pants. It was worse that he was out in the open, having been assigned to work on the cars to keep them running longer.
You had been assigned to ask around to see what was needed for the next run, only for some reason you had timed yourself to get to everyone in under an hour, hence your quick pace and focused gaze. Daryl had seen you walk past at least three times, each time you sped past while furiously scribbling on a notepad. He felt like a teenager watching and obsessing over his crush.
God, he was so ready to blow himself up, staring down at under the hood of one of the cars used for runs. He forced his mind to focus on fixing shit instead of wandering off. Rick had been saying that the brakes had been failing, only Daryl couldn’t exactly do much without a jackstand.
He decided to test the car battery instead since it had been having trouble starting. Stepping around the car to the toolbox, he almost tripped as you bumped right into him. “Bulky bitch!” You yelped as you fell down onto your ass, dropping your pen and paper. Daryl gently but quickly pulled you to your feet, picking your stuff up. “Tha’ hell ya runnin’ from girl?” He stepped closer to you, sliding a hand to your waist. “I’m a very busy woman with places to be and times to beat” You rolled your eyes, yet smiled softly at Daryl. “Too busy fer me now?” You nodded, leaning up as if to kiss him but going for his ear instead. “Very busy” You whispered sweetly, placing a faint kiss on his cheek before speeding away again.
Daryl simply stood there with his cock straining harshly against the fabric of his pants, cock pulsating as he could feel himself leaking pre-cum. He should just blow his goddamn brains out, now.
He slammed the hood of the car shut and climbed inside, dropping his head onto the steering wheel. It felt like his head was about to fall off with how many filthy thoughts were flooding in. You were the biggest tease and absolutely knew it, sweat dripping down his face as he tried to silence his brain, hands gripping the steering wheel. He wasn’t about to jerk off inside a car with the clearest windows ever, at that point he might as well do it out in the open.
While Daryl was suffering silently, you were simply serene as you rocked on the porch swing of your house, turning in the list to Rick right before your timer hit fifteen minutes. You toyed with the ring on your finger, smiling down as you thought of how Daryl refused to get you something small. He had found a jewelry shop out on a secret run and spent an hour overthinking and questioning himself before finding the perfect ring. It was a sliver band with clusters of smaller diamonds around a larger one that so happened to be the shape of a skull, matching the one he wore every day. He smashed the glass without a second thought.
You smile fondly, also remembering that the same man was probably struggling to do his work. Getting him super worked up was your favorite thing to do as he basically melted in your hands the second he stepped foot inside.
Speaking of inside, you had stepped in earlier to change out your underwear, switching into a black thong you found. You could practically feel Daryl’s hands roaming your body, shivers running down your spine at the tingling sensation.
Whilst you were enjoying yourself, Daryl was still sitting in the car, staring down at the steering wheel as he tried to focus his mind on anything else, aside from the cocky sway of your hips, and the ghost of your lips against his ears.
He needed to get off badly. The only thing really stopping him were these shitty windows, however he proceeded to begin rubbing his hand on his clothed cock, letting out a shaky moan. Daryl slammed his hands back onto the steering wheel, gripping it tightly as he tried to recenter himself. He thought for a moment, sweat rolling down the back of his neck.
The car door swung open and he kicked it shut behind him, walking quickly to avoid anyone who might wanna talk, quickly making his way back home. He passed Carol, who was sitting out on her swing. She waved and he gave a short wave back, trying his hardest to keep his hard-on concealed as he sped past.
He stepped heavily up the stairs, the wooden porch creaking under his weight as he opened and shut the front door. It was remotely quiet as he kicked his shoes off next to yours, tearing his shirt off as he stomped upstairs to your shared bedroom, where he found you in one of his shirts lying on your stomach reading a book, closing it at the sound of your husband's arrival. “Already stripping nude for me, Dixon?” You pushed yourself onto your knees and he approached the bed, grabbing your face rougher than intended and crashing his lips onto yours.
It seemed like in that moment, Daryl’s hyperactive mind finally shut itself down, his shoulders relaxing as his hands held your soft face, licking into your mouth desperately. Your hands wrapped around his neck, fingers splayed out on his upper back as he moved to join you on the bed, readjusting you so your legs rested comfortably on either side of his hips. There was a burning desire in his gut as he sucked harshly on your skin, grinding against you as he did.
Daryl’s hands stayed locked at your hips, massaging and groping the flesh as he continued marking up your whole body, practically eating you. He reached your boobs and ran his tongue over the right one and started to suck deep marks into the sensitive flesh.
His hips picked up speed, becoming erratic before burying his face in space between your boobs, shaking as he literally came in his pants. It was the hottest thing you’d seen. “Feeling better?” You whispered breathlessly, watching him groan and lift himself sluggishly off your chest. “M’not done yet” His words were slightly slurred as he leaned back on his knees, hands fumbling to undo his pants.
You eventually reached down to unzip his zipper, and he was back on you instantly, shoving his boxers down enough to free his hard and dripping cock, precum pouring from the puffy tip. “God, Daryl, you’re so needy tonight” You moaned as he pulled down your pajama shorts, eyes staring down at the black thong. “Yes tha’ hell I am” He whispered, hands sliding up your sides and he slid down, cock pulsing as he got a look at your cunt even with the thong on. There was just so much he wanted to do to you that it was overwhelming his senses.
He ran his tongue up and in between your folds, tasting you through the measly garment. He rubbed circles in your clit as his tongue explored every inch, slipping past the thong and into your entrance, causing your brain to short-circuit as he worked you to release, especially since his own was drying in his underwear. Alongside his tongue, Daryl eased two fingers in, stretching and scissoring you open, his tongue going in much deeper and curling. “Fuck yes, baby just like that” You bit your bottom lip harshly, sliding your own fingers down to stimulate your clit, knowing how to push yourself off the edge quicker. He got so fucking hard at the sight of you playing with yourself, even more so that it was your ring finger, the diamond skull standing out as your fingers sped up. Daryl pulled his tongue out, continuing to move his fingers as he licked your clit, a strangled sob coming from you as you came.
Daryl settled for unleashing another attack on your torso while you recovered from your orgasm, licking, kissing, sucking, and biting at the smooth flesh of your stomach, one hand holding your thigh over his shoulder, and the other resting right by your boob, his thumb teasingly stroking the skin under it. He felt every curse, moan and gasp you let out, licking right in between your already marked boobs, kissing the junction of your throat all the way up to your lips. The head of his cock nudged your pussy slightly, and the heat of the kiss had you dizzy. “C’mon handsome, I can’t wait much longer” You batted your lashes at him, running your hand down his one of his big arms, your ring shimmering in the dim lamp light.
Your other hand slid in between your bodies to shift your soaked thong to the side, pulling him closer by wrapping your legs around his waist. He used one hand to steady his cock, and gripped the headboard as he slammed in, two of you moaning in unison. Daryl’s cock was more sensitive than ever, eyes rolling to the back of his skull as he readjusted himself, pounding roughly into you as you gripped his bicep.
Daryl’s thrusts were relentless as he kept his pace up, bed creaking and headboard slamming as he panted like a dog, watching the way his cock was sliding in and out of you, a giant wet spot forming on his jeans as he showed no signs of stopping. “My big strong man, always fucking me so good with your fat cock” You bit down on your lips as one of your hands came to rest on his cheek. He turned his face to the side, kissing your palm while staring into your eyes with a lovingly lustful gaze. “M’all yers, m’gon always give my woman wha’ she wants” His voice was raspy and breathless against your hand before he locked your fingers together, pinning your hands onto the mattress and dipping his head down to press his forehead against yours, simply panting into each others spaces.
From how tightly you were holding hands, your rings dug into one another’s fingers, and it only turned Daryl on more. You were his and he was yours. “M’so proud ta call ya Mrs. Dixon. Gon fill ya up w all my kids” He whispered, bumping his strangely cold button nose against yours. “Let’s just start with one?” Your voice sounded foreign to your ears, and by the way Daryl’s hips had sped up you could tell he was close “Not one now!” You shrieked, nails digging into his hands as he railed your sweet spot, orgasm already hitting him incredibly hard as he practically laughed in your ear from how hard he came, pulling out just a little too late.
He fell on top of you, but recoiled when something wet touched his navel, eyes flickering down to see his cum soaking into the black fabric of your thong and seeping out your hole. “Gonna clean that up for me?” You winked suggestively at him, and he lowered himself to be eye level with your messy cunt, massive hands spreading you further apart as he licked his lips. “Yes ma’am”
｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆
I made myself very horny writing this but I also kept falling asleep as I was writing
also I based both rings off Normans ring :3 (he should put his finger in my body)
#daryl dixon#daryl fanfiction#the walking dead#daryl x female reader#daryl x reader#norman fucking reedus#the walking dead daryl#twd#daryl dixion imagine#daryl dixion smut#twd daryl#daryl x you#daryl dixion x reader#daryl imagines
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PUT THE FEAR OF FRENCH (and BBH) INTO HIM 💪💪🇫🇷🇫🇷 (transcript below)
[Video Transcript:
Jack: Stay away from fucken’— I’m just getting a lot of ‘stay away from’s. Badboyhalo, fucken— Etoiles
Tubbo: Yeah, stay away from Etoiles. Definitely stay away from Kenny.
Jack: I— I don’t even know who Kenny is!
Tubbo: Uhh, I don’t know, he’s one of— one of Etoiles’ mates
Jack: Oh my god (sighs)
Tubbo: If you give yourself a Skeppy skin maybe you can get the psychological warfare advantage
Jack: This is a good strat, this is a good strat, I’m working—
Tubbo: It’s literally all psychological warfare
Jack: —I’m working on a Skeppy, I’m working on a Skeppy skin as we speak
Tubbo: Yeah. Basically all of the French streamers are kind of— crazy good
Jack: Someone should— right, I’ve got an idea Tubbo, but it might be illegal
Tubbo: What?
Jack: We need to cut off the grid in France
Tubbo: (laughs) Noooo!
Jack: It’s the only way
Tubbo: Noooo, leave Etoiles alone! Leave him alone!
Jack: If we go to France and we— what we’re gonna do, I need a shovel and a dream
Tubbo: Leave him alone!
Jack: Oh, and a plane ticket to France, and what I’m gonna do is go, and I’m gonna go, ‘Yes!’, I’m gonna have a high-vis jacket, and I’m gonna go, ‘Yes, I’m a maintenance worker!’ And then I’m gonna start digging and (drrrt noise) oops! Shovel through the fibre optic cable!
Tubbo: Leave Etoiles alone, leave him alone!
Tubbo: Well Etoiles shouldn’t be a threat to me then
Tubbo: Leave him alone!
Tubbo: He would still find a way and probably get the train to the UK
Jack: My guys will be there to apprehend him
Tubbo: Your guys? Oh, from Manifold Legal
Jack: You know of my guys
Tubbo: You mean Manifold Legal, right?
Jack: Oh yeah, they be there and they go, ‘Mmm, is this legal?’
end Video Transcript.]
#qsmp#purgatory 2#tubbo#jack manifold#etoiles#étoiles#jay clips#once again return of the ‘nobody can bully him but me!’ étoiles tubbo dynamic#16/12/2023#etoiles showed up in chat later and Jack proceeded to shit talk paris which . yeah i’ll allow it
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mistletoe or mistlefoe- theodore nott x reader
p: theodore nott x fem!slytherin!reader
s: after seeing her best friend pine after a certain slytherin boy, pansy decided she would take matters into her own hands
w: fluffy, slight drinking mention
a/n: i know its not the holidays anymore but i wanted to write for theo soo oh well
Theodore and (Y/N) were returning from the kitchens, with food piled in their hands.
Pansy had thought it would be a great idea to have a small party for the start of the break, seeing as most of her friends were staying at Hogwarts during this time.
While she and Daphne were commanding the boys to get the common room more festive for the holidays, she sent her best friend and Theodore to ask the house elves for food for the get together.
Pansy knew of (Y/N)'s crush on the quiet Slytherin boy, so what better way to bring the two together than having them run an errand by themselves?
When Pansy told the two their job, (Y/N) saw the smug look on her face, knowing what she was trying to do. Little did she know, that was not the only trick up Pansy's sleeve.
The walk back to the common room was quiet, the sound of their footsteps filling the halls.
Until Theodore broke the silence.
"How come you stayed?"
"My father had matters to attend at the ministry and my mother is visiting family in France," (Y/N) replied. "What about you?"
"I didn't want to deal with my father right now."
(Y/N) just nodded. She knew how harsh Theodore's father is towards him, especially since his mother passed away.
"Well, at least you have us," (Y/N) said to him.
"Yeah. But unfortunately I have to deal with Mattheo's snoring," the boy said, smiling a bit.
"Really," (Y/N) asks, chuckling a bit.
Theodore nodded. "Threatened to use the silencing charm on him."
At that point, they made it to the entrance of the common room. Theodore uttered the password, letting the two of them enter.
Pansy was the first to notice the twos arrival, smirking a little.
"Welcome back you two, got what we need?"
"We did," (Y/N) assured her.
"Good, now we can get started."
The group began grabbing from the pile of food that (Y/N) and Theodore brought. Everyone was enjoying it. But of course, Pansy was trying to figure out how to set something in motion.
Mattheo tapped on the girl's shoulder, bringing her out of her thoughts before whispering in her ear. Pansy started grinning before taking the bottle that was in his hands.
"Alright everyone! I want to play a game with you guys!" Pansy called out to them. "Come sit in a circle!"
"Now what dumb game are we going to be playing this time?" Draco grumbled as he sat down next to Blaise.
The dark haired Slytherin rolled her eyes at the boy. "Well I was thinking we play spin the bottle."
"The muggle game?" Questioned Crabbe.
Mattheo nodded. "I say we should add a bit of a twist. You and the person you get have two options. Either kiss or fight to see who can pin the other to the ground first."
"Mistletoe or mistlefoe," said Enzo, laughing at his own joke.
"Yep."
(Y/N) rolled her eyes at Enzo's words. "Let's get started then before I have to hear Enzo crack another dumb joke."
"Hey!"
Mattheo started, landing on Theodore. The two looked at each other with a smirk on their faces.
"Oh this is gonna be fun," Mattheo said before jumping on Theodore.
The game went on, Theodore gave a kiss on the cheek to Blaise, Blaise fighting Goyle, Goyle attempting to kiss Pansy, Pansy kissing Draco, Draco fighting Crabbe, Crabbe fighting Enzo, Enzo kissing Daphne, Daphne kissing (Y/N).
Then it was (Y/N)'s turn.
She spun the bottle. Everyone watched it spin. (Y/N) was anxious, but she wasn't the only one. Pansy was too. The bottle began slowing down, appearing as though it were to stop on Crabbe. Mattheo noticed the panicked look on Pansy, discreetly pulling out his wand and making it stop on Theodore, who sat two people away from Crabbe.
"Well, its Theo, so you guys have to kiss."
(Y/N) looked at Mattheo quizzically. "Wait but don't I choose if I want kiss or fight him?"
"Nope. There's mistletoe." Mattheo said while using his wand to place mistletoe above Theodore's head.
(Y/N) felt her face burning. Was she going to kiss Theodore? Or would she avoid that by fighting him? Either way, she would probably embarrass herself. She looked towards Pansy to see what she would tell her.
The dark haired girl was looking right at her, mouthing her to just do it.
(Y/N) got up towards Theodore, the boy staring at her with his blue eyes. She crouched down in front of him, eyes flicking between his eyes and lips. A million things were going through her head. But there was a voice telling her what she should do.
She kissed him.
She kissed her crush.
And he was kissing her back?
She felt a hand on her cheek, pulling her in, deepening the kiss. The cheers from the gang were drowned out by her focus on Theodore.
The two had departed, taking time looking at each other's eyes.
"I like you Theo."
The boy smiled. "I like you too (Y/N)."
"Fucking finally!"
The two turned to Mattheo, Pansy standing next to him. Both having smug looks on their faces.
"Been waiting for you to admit it since forever," Pansy laughs.
"Same with Theo," Mattheo chuckles.
A cough fills the room.
"Well I'm happy for Theo and (Y/N)," Draco began. "But we still got a party going on."
"Firewhiskey for everyone!" Enzo shouted while passing the drink to everyone.
(Y/N) stood by Theodore, who's arm was wrapped around her.
She lifted her drink towards him. "Cheers Theo."
Theodore did the same. "Cheers. To the holidays and to us."
#harry potter#harry potter x reader#hp fanfic#theo nott x reader#theodore nott x y/n#theodore nott imagine#theodore nott x reader#theo nott imagine#theodore nott#theo nott
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our trust
part 1: a paddock day , part 2: our leclerc win, part 3: our love in photos, part 4: our home, part 5: ripples in our love
#TAGLIST : @autumn-bitch7 @raevyng @luvvtrent @boherahpsody @treehouse-mouse @chasing-liberosis @celestialams @cherry-piee @stevesthetics @ilovechickenwings
the night of the fight, charles was slapped with the harsh reality you had left as he entered your shared home.
usually, you would provide him with delicious food you cooked by the time he was home. now, he had to walk next block to pick up some food. though he could just order, he opted not to wallow on the couch and take the 5 minute walk.
the first thing that stood out to him as he entered was your shoes. white stilettos you’d wear on your date nights, beige sandals you wore practically everywhere, and the adidas shoes he had gotten your for your anniversary with a strawberry keychain, your favorite.
he stared back at the empty coat hanger where yours was, usually. then he made his way to the living room, no blanket of yours was there or those little stuffed toys he had grown to love and appreciate over the last few months.
making his way to the dining or kitchen area, it was only set for one. he sat down staring at your seat. the same seat where he had pleaded you to stay.
after eating, he made it back to your shared room. the things he noticed at first glance was baffling. no salt lamp you loved so dearly, no fluffy blanket you loved, no slippers beside the bed, your skincare products all gone, your jewelry box missing from your bedside table, and many more.
he saw your closet halved of what it was. he sighed and took his pajamas before entering the bathroom and feeling the hole in his chest grow deeper. he had done this to himself.
he settled in your side of the bed, hoping to feel the last ounce of you. scrolling on his phone, he conversed with the grid on his mistakes and what he should do. pierre had told him to march over to france and beg yn to take him back, alonso was strongly opposed to that, suggesting to charles he should give her space but also make himself known. so that’s what he did.
he texted you every time he could and also stalked every yn fanpage known to man. when he got the message you wanted to meet at baku, he held himself from screaming in excitement as he was having dinner with the grid.
y/n/n my love 😘❤️
september 10, 2024
y/n/n my love 😘❤️
would you mind if i went to baku this week and we talked?
sharlie brown 🫀🏎️
Of course, amour! Would you want me to pick you up at the airport?:)
september 11, 2024
y/n/n my love 😘❤️
if you’re not too busy
slr i just finished booking the flight
sharlie brown 🫀🏎️
I am never too busy for you.
y/n/n my love 😘❤️
Thennn tomorrow 9pm, pick me up?
sharlie brown 🫀🏎️
Can not wait to see you, I love you! 😘
Charles rushed out of the ferrari garage to fetch you. On the way, he was starting to worry if ‘and we talked’ would mean you were ending it with him.
He saw you sitting on your luggage outside the airport. He smiled at the sight of you and immediately went out of the car.
It wasn’t easy to not spot Charles as he pulled up in his Ferrari all red attire and his fancy car. You stood up, he hugged you tightly, and you smiled at the familiar feeling. “I missed you so much, amour. Are you okay? How was the flight?”
“I-“ You were cut off as many fans approached you both. Charles was quick to bring you in the car and your luggages and carry ons. A fan asked him to sign a Lightning McQueen shirt and you couldn’t help but laugh, making Charles smile.
The drive wasn’t awkward at all. Charles put on your favorite songs and asked little questions about your time away from him.
You mentioned how you discovered a new restaurant he would love in Nice and should go together.
Charles’ heart sped up at the idea you thought of him in places like restaurants and you wanted to go places with him. It gave him hope your conversation would end positively.
you sat criss crossed on the bed after changing and looked at Charles. “i- I really missed you, Charles” you confessed as he smiled “I missed you more than words can explain it, belle” he replied
no matter how many times you had rehearsed this on the plane, your feelings were confused. you sighed and laid your head on charles’ lap as he stroked your hair.
“i still wanna be with you charles, of course i do. i just… i dont know how to trust you. i need your word charles. you won’t do this to me ever again because it fucking hurts, charles leclerc. It hurts. drunk or not, i need you to control yourself, though i don’t know how you’ll control your drunk self. i cant do this again.”
“again? … i know, amour. i have been making myself better for you while you were away. i am lessening my drinking because i can not live without you. i have not even drank since you left and you are my everything, my priority, even on top of ferrari” he kissed your forehead as you smiled.
“‘kay… i missed you” you said quietly, nuzzling into his sweater. “me too, love” “get rest, you’ll do great tomorrow” “with you by my side, i hope so” he chuckled.
charles knew you wouldn’t just forget about it, so he was determined to prove to you he meant everything he said.
yn.charlesupdate
liked by 13,484 others
yn.charlesupdate PARENTS BACK TOGETHER AT BAKU AIRPORT !!!❤️❤️❤️
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ynslife happy if they worked it out but i really hope yn doesn’t get hurt again:/
gridzfire LFG PADDOCK YN BACK AT IT AGAIN
september 12, 2024
clercspaddock
liked by yn, and 7,585 others
clercspaddock YN AT THE PADDOCK WE WON
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yn what can i say, i missed u hoes 🤷🏻♀️
�� clercspaddock More than charles?
⤷ yn you’re as delusional as i used to be if u believe that babes…. but i love u guys 🫀
⤷ clercspaddock hey, i had to shoot my shot
⤷ uryn how did u just casually have a convo w yn
⤷ clercspaddock I DONT KNOW
september 13, 2024
yn’s instagram story:
“ back here ❤️”
viewed by 2,484,484 others
ynnns16
liked by yn, and 2,383 others
ynnns16 yeah maybe he cheated but u cant deny he’s in love with her. it was probably a mistake because look at how he looks when he’s talking abt her:,)
view all 47 comments
september 14, 2023
yn
liked by scuderiaferrari, charles_leclerc, and 2,597,797 others
yn YOUR SILLIEST WAG IS BACK WITH A MAN WITH POLE 🥹
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2024leclercs yn beating the ferrari admin at the pole post 😭
charles_leclerc Je t’aime❤️ je ne peux pas vivre sans toi i love you❤️ i can’t live without you
⤷ yn 😘
⤷ landonorris has charles infected you with that emoji
⤷ yn it started as a joke but im afraid so.
⤷ charles_leclerc What is wrong with it?
fernandoalo_oficial Good to see you again 😊
⤷ yn I LOVE YOU
ynspillow did she just forgive and forget… babes..
⤷ yn againnn, we want to keep this private. but i don’t forget easily
⤷ verstappens3 as u should queen
mclaren You’d look good in orange 🍊
⤷ yn you mean papaya?
⤷ mclaren Whatever works for you! Send the address🧡
⤷ scuderiaferrari Don’t steal our girl🙁
⤷ mclaren Just sent the package of papaya shirts 😘
redbullracing Want to design new shirts for us? ❤️
⤷ yn YES
⤷ scuderiaferrari Excuse us.
⤷ yn you never asked me
⤷ scuderiaferrari Running to Charles about this.
ynsnorris LOL ADMINS FIGHTING OVER YN AND REDBULL JUST ASKS FOR A DESIGN 😭
september 14, 2024
yn’s instagram story:
yn.jpg
liked by scuderiaferrari, charles_leclerc, and 872,584 others
yn.jpg finally get to share my lil gig soon
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charles_leclerc My talented girl ❤️
[ liked by yn.jpg ]
f1 Lets go!!!
chickf1lla RED BULL TOO? WHAT
scuderiaferrari ❤️
⤷ ynclaren u guys badly need all the help u can get after that shit show while yn was gone…
⤷ yn.jpg LOLLLL
[COMMENT DELETED!]
yn that wasnt me
september 16, 2024
yn
liked by charles_leclerc, and 5,584,393 others
yn we’ve been doing this for quite some time so i’m glad i get to share it with everyone now🪷 i had an amazing time doing one of the things i love in one of my favorite places! i worked with f1 and vogue magazine for this one! the “adrenaline on track” issue is out next month🏎️❤️🔥🫧
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maxverstappen1 Amazing
⤷ yn thanks max 🐙
landonorris IS THAT ME
⤷ yn dont let it inflate your ego
lewishamilton fire shots 🔥
⤷ yn thankies lewyyyyy
charles_leclerc These are as beautiful as you ❤️
⤷ yn are u calling my shots ugly
⤷ charlando LMAOAOAOA YN STOP
⤷ charles_leclerc What, No! I am saying you are so beautiful and out of this planet, just like these amazing photos!
charsyln yn making charles work for it as she should
voguesf1 fr though. im so happy charles and yn dated/ are dating because yn’s passions and talents are being showed to the world. everyone has talents but im just grateful we get to see her art and see her make a name for herself, not just charles’ gf
⤷ yn youre so kind:( thank you<333
⤷ voguesf1 YOURE SO KIND?? SEE THIS WOMAN IS THE RIGHT WOMAN FOR HIM AND THE WORLD TO KNOW
[liked by charles_leclerc, and 1,585 others]
⤷ stylishts lets just hope he doesn’t fuck this relationship up
[liked by yn]
september 18, 2024
love4wags
liked by 16,383 others
love4wags Yn’s old twitter account has been found and leaked. Most tweets are about F1 and her current boyfriend, Charles. The twitter account has now been deleter.
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user this is disgusting. why are you posting something so personal here?
⤷ user1 well clearly she posted it on social media. she should’ve made her account private
⤷user3 she probably left it public so she’d get attention😂
checosbrazil “I hope the person I marry one day is not like this” ….. Um
tshoehbookss I never knew she had sm trauma…
yn hii pls take this down:)
⤷ ynsloml oh mom:(
september 19, 2024
[ THIS POST HAS BEEN ARCHIVED! ]
ynstree
liked by 5,282 others
ynsloml WHY AM I CRYING OVER A TWEET.
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f1stime Well, now we know how old she is… 5 months older than Charles!
fruitsofme notice how she always says “it’s okay” in her tweets…
september 19, 2024
yn
liked by charles_leclerc and, 1,595,393 others
yn yes, i am the type to respond to anything against me while staying unbothered, get used to it.
plssss stop sharing my old tweets! they are embarrassing and old and not up to date with who i am now or how i am. i am the happiest with charles and im in an alright relationship with my parents.
i am okay and always have been so! stop! spreading! lies!i worked hard for myself to live the life i live now and im thankful for the opportunities charles has given me.
(i did not at all do this for attention as i forgot about it and thought it was private <i didnt know how to private accounts at the time>)
[COMMENTS ARE DISABLED]
september 19, 2024
ynsodddd
liked by yn, and 6,383 others
ynsodddd why has yn gotten the most shit out of all the wags. what did she ever do to yall😭😭😭 and to the ‘fans’ sharing her old tweets… BFFR!!!! this girl has gone thru sm LEAVE HER ALONE 😭
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user1 fr why is everything just happening to her rn😭 traumatic parents, got cheated on, working with vogue, photographer, can speak like 6/7 languages????
⤷user2 what in the wattpad
⤷author what in the tumblr (;)
september 19, 2024
charles_leclerc
liked by yn, and 7,383,595 others
charles_leclerc Best way to start racing weekend❤️
[COMMENTS ARE DISABLED!]
september 19, 2024
#SOF i ran out of pics for the boarder thing but i may have gotten a little overboard with the drama.
please please share your opinions and lmk if i ruined it 😊
#f1 fanfic#f1 imagines#formula 1#charles leclerc#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc fanfic#social media au#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc 16#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc imagines#scuderia ferrari#charles lecrelc
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DIVINE FEMININE | cl16
SOCIAL MEDIA!AU
charles leclerc x fem!reader
side note: i purposefully left out any tweets because this focuses more on the aesthetics
side note pt.2: thank you @cl16version for the photo inspirations!
♡ liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc and 115,923 others
tagged: yourusername
viviennewestwood yourusername wears a custom wedding gown created just for her beautiful wedding to Formula One driver charles_leclerc in the South of France last weekend.
"When I was younger I always liked to imagine what my future wedding dress would look like. As soon as I met Vivienne at a fashion show, I knew she had to be part of it. I feel very honoured to have worked with her and other amazing designers on my look. It felt like a dream come true."
~ Y/N Leclerc
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user1 imagine having THE vivienne westwood custom design your wedding dress
⤷ user2 thank god charles has money because otherwise that dream would've stayed a dream
yourusername still baffled by all the amazing looks you created for me to wear throughout the night! what an honour!
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user3 the way they wrote 'Y/N Leclerc' has me in tears (in an emotional way)
⤷ user4 i still can't get over the fact they truly married. i'm so happy for them
user5 Y/N LOOKS SO STUNNING
⤷ user6 the most beautiful bride
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tagged: yourusername, charles_leclerc
daniel3.jpg unpaid, personal photographer
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user7 i want a whole documentary about what happened at this wedding
⤷ user8 it looks so much fun i'm so envious of all the guests that attended
⤷ user9 i know everyone who had to cancel is fighting the air right now
yourusername the picture of charles is my new favourite
⤷ daniel3.jpg same, same
user10 i love how with every slide the drunkeness scale rapidly increases
⤷ user11 as it should
charles_leclerc yes, we definitely enjoyed ourselves
⤷ daniel3.jpg the champagne was endless
user12 it's so funny that daniel is the first one to post about the wedding. he is really their number one fan
⤷ user13 i mean he was the one to introduce y/n to charles
⤷ user14 it's like he's watching his two babies getting married
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yourusername to love & to cherish
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user15 i love how she just has multiple wedding dresses
⤷ user16 she's that kind of indecisive
charles_leclerc mon seul et unique amour (my one and only love)
⤷ yourusername i love it when you speak french
danielricciardo i want nieces and nephews in an instant
⤷ yourusername who said you'd be their uncle
⤷ danielricciardo that's not even a question
carlossainz55 felicidades
⤷ yourusername thank you
user17 i just know nicola peltz is crying in her sleep right now
⤷ user18 nicola really thought she ate until y/n stepped up
lilymhe i still have tears in my eyes from how beautiful it was
⤷ yourusername wouldn't have been as beautiful as it was without such an organised maid of honour
⤷ lilymhe i was so scared something would go wrong
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tagged: yourusername
charles_leclerc mon tout (my everything)
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user19 you know they're rich because not only did y/n have multiple custom made wedding gowns, but charles also had multiple suits
⤷ user20 did you expect anything less from them?
yourusername i love you so incredibly much
⤷ charles_leclerc i'm the luckiest man alive
user21 this is my royal wedding
⤷ user22 my met gala
scuderiaferrari congratulazioni! così felice per te! (congratulations! so happy for you!)
comment liked by charles_leclerc
arthur_leclerc i still can't believe my big brother is finally married
⤷ charles_leclerc did you not believe in my charm?
⤷ arthur_leclerc honestly, no
⤷ yourusername it was actually my charm that got you wrapped around my fingers
♡ liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc, pierregasly and 472,065 others
lando.jpg "the wedding of the decade"
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user23 why did it never occur to me that there'd be LITERAL CELEBRETIES attending their wedding
⤷ user24 yeah like you're telling me timmy, billie, zoe, bella and kendall were there? a fever dream, if you'd ask me
⤷ user25 this just makes me question who else was there
user26 this is just so fucking random hahahaha
yourusername i love how these are all pictures i have never seen before! next time i'll hire you and daniel professionally
⤷ charles_leclerc what do you mean "next time"
⤷ user27 Y/N HAHAHAHAHA
user28 the more pictures i'm seeing of this wedding, the more the desire comes for me to get married as well
⤷ user29 literally never wanted to get married until now
#charles leclerc#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc imagines#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc x y/n#charles leclerc fluff#charles leclerc fanfiction#f1 instagram au#f1 social media au#f1 smau#f1 imagine#f1 imagines#f1 x you#f1 x reader#f1 x y/n#f1 fluff#f1 fanfiction#f1 fanfic
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Imprisonment
Summary: Tommy holds you to a high standard in marriage, expecting you to care for the children, tend to the house, and serve him. It was all too much and in an attempt to escape from Tommy’s wicked ways, he catches you in a lie.
Warnings: Noncon, misogyny, physical/mental abuse, traditional values and expectations, spitting, degradation, humiliation, forced breeding
Thomas Shelby. The most important, handsome, dangerous man in Birmingham. The man every woman’s knees would give out for just one night with him and would risk their freedom for.
If only they knew the rope he had around your wrists and neck throughout your marriage, constantly having to watch your tongue, dress elegantly to events with insecure men who used their position of power to have control over others.
What drew you in aside from his constant devotion to win you over was the fact he could provide for you and a family, he gave you a house to live in and share together. He took you in and loved you when you had no money, never once blinked an eye at another woman, always stood up for you but that all changed.
Currently seated in his office, rocking your newborn he was filling out paperwork jaw clenched, nothing but the sound of the clock ticking on the wall filling your eardrums.
Things weren’t how they used to be before the marriage.
There was no quality time together, no signs of affection other than a quick fuck when he decided he needed it. Date nights didn’t exist, the compassion was missing entirely it almost seemed as if Thomas was always preoccupied with business to care for you or the three children you’ve birthed. There were numerous times where you begged and pleaded for just a night out, for Frances to watch the children for one night a month at the least but he wouldn’t have any of it.
Then whenever you’d question him as to why he was out late doing business matters with women you haven’t even met it would be a simple “it’s just business, nothing more”. But you knew that was a lie, yet you stayed, you stayed out of fear because you didn’t know who he was anymore, or the lengths he would go to, to keep you in the house.
Matters became difficult after your newborn was born, you’d only been married to Thomas for three years and it seemed all you were good for was carrying his children and doing all of the chores outside and in while he was god knows where handling the family business, the great Shelby Incorporated. When you reminded him of what he’d hired Frances for he’d simply respond with, “She’s not their mother, she’s not my wife. It is your job to watch after the children no matter what arises. I take care of the business, you stay home help Frances with chores and ensure that the kids are fed, bathed and taken care of, as a wife should.”
He held you to a high standard that was too much to bare and any opportunity to discuss and come to a compromise would be immediately dismissed as he “didn’t have the time to discuss such ridiculous matters”.
You had a plan, a plan to take the kids and run to get away from this circle of madness, even if it meant raising the children on your own and working to make ends meet without Thomas’s help.
Their bags were packed and hidden away outside in the shed, covered with a blanket.
The sound of his pen falling aimlessly onto his desk pulled you away from your thoughts, sending your attention to him immediately as to act like nothing was going on.
He picked up the bottom of his whiskey glass, finishing off what was left in a singular gulp, before his blue eyes that no longer sparkled locked with yours in a moment of skepticism.
“Why were you out in the barn today? You fed the horses at sunrise and released them and if I recall correctly there’s still quite a few more hours until sunset.” Stiffening in your seat, you adjusted yourself to make it seem like nothing was wrong while your hands tightened cautiously around your sleeping newborn.
“Oh I just remembered that Harry left his sippy cup out there and he was asking about it. Didn’t exactly want to handle putting Daisy here down for a nap while he was crying for it.” Thomas huffed and folded his hands, his top lip twitched up as he reached for his cigarettes rubbing the rolled up tobacco on his plump lips before lighting it. You hated when he smoked around the children and he knew that.
“Well I’d prefer you tend to the house, and we have two other children in case you’ve forgotten. Surely they needed you.” At that moment your third began screaming downstairs, he was beginning to start teething and was having his moment of discomfort. Tommy looked at the door expectantly, silently excusing you from the room without one more word, didn’t even offer to hold your newborn while you tended to Patrick.
The following morning after his coffee, he awoke you from your deep slumber dressed in a suit and tie, smelling of teakwood and mint. He was freshly showered, hair combed back while his hands were tucked swiftly in his pockets.
“The garden looks like it could use your attention today as well. Wouldn’t want my money to go to waste. Also Frances retreived the mail when you weren’t awake, Harry is overdue for his physical so get that taken care of today.” He exited the room, picking up his briefcase on the way out.
When you heard the car door close outside you peaked out the window to ensure he had left and rushed to the closet grabbing a handful of clothes.
Your mind was running in every direction and you were damned if you weren’t going to have your freedom if not for you, your children.
The Shelby household was no place for children, guns everywhere, all out wars in the dining room, the degradation of women. Daisy didn’t need to see that or be taught she were less because of being a woman.
Tommy already had it planned out for her, her whole life sheltered until he found a man suitable to marry his daughter, it was dreadful.
Frances watched you walk rather quickly outside through the green fields of fresh flowers to the barn, carrying three bags. She wasn’t stupid and she was not going to lose her job over this.
After you closed the door to the car once the kids were buckled in she met you outside, causing you to roll your eyes and anxiety rise in your chest.
“Frances please spare me the you can’t do this, he’ll find you this and that. I will not raise my children up in a house like this with a man who shows no care or love for them! So respectfully stay out of it and do what you do best and go wash my husband’s blood stained clothes because it will never be enough to keep him satisfied.” With that you closed the door and made your way out of the driveway, on your way to freedom.
The backroads were empty as you intended not single soul in sight nothing but the warm breeze flowing through the rolled down windows, deer galloping in the fields. You were almost out of Birmingham on your way to a new life for you and the children.
Harry and Daisy were asleep in the backseat while Partrick was coloring in a book, kicking his small legs back and forth mindlessly. The sight made you smile widely.
Coming to a stop light you reached down to retrieve your address book and directions to make sure you were going the right way but the sound of tapping on the window drew you out of your thoughts.
“Mommy, look it’s daddy!” You immediately froze in a silent panic, not wanting to look up.
When you didn’t move he reached his hand through the window, unlocking the door and taking a seat on the passenger side.
Your hands gripped the steering wheel tightly until your knuckles turned white, the anxiety rising in your chest causing your breath to get stuck in your throat.
The metallic feeling of his gun settled on your thigh.
“Now don’t make a scene my love. Arthur is going to take the car tonight and John is going to drive us all home. We’ll talk about this later.” Begrudgingly you brought your shaking hand up to put the car in park as a tears flowed effortlessly down your cheeks in defeat.
Stepping out of the car you gathered the kids, crying even more as you felt you failed them.
“Mommy what’s wrong?” Tommy scooped Harry up in his arms, swiping the hair away from his forhead.
“Mommy’s not feeling well and asked me to pick you guys up. We’re going back home she needs to sleep.”
The whole ride home the car filled with silence, Tommy’s hand never leaving your thigh as his nails cut deep into your skin. You were terrified to arrive back home in the prison he built just for you.
After putting the children in bed, telling them you love them you closed the door lightly while Thomas stood next to you outside their room, watching you intently.
Once the door was closed he leaned in against you, his lips just inches away from yours.
“If you attempt this little show of yours again I can assure you, you won’t see the children again. You won’t live to see another day.” He pulled you by your wrist ignoring your choked up cries and pulled you into the bedroom, closing the door behind you.
“You thought you could run away from me? Thomas Shelby? And I wouldn’t find out? Mistake number one was the fucking sippy cup. Frances watched you carry those bags out to the barn and phoned me immediately. Forcing me to cut the deal short and to reschedule. Do you think I don’t treat you well? That I don’t give you everything?” You stayed silent, tears streaming down your cheeks as his dominance and power over you filled the room just by the way he circled around you.
“Did you forget your place? Is that it eh?” He stopped in front of you, wrapping his large hand around your small throat, his hand tightened tremendously, forcing you to gasp for any type of air.
He began to laugh menacingly, darkly. His crystal eyes arose with a blue flame, eyebrows furrowing together in anger as he spat on your face.
“You live because I allow you. You are my fucking property, my dearly beloved.” Not letting go of your throat he began walking angrily with grit, slamming you against the wall where books tumbled down from their shelving.
His lips smashed into yours in a heated, hateful kiss, his free hand running down your thigh to your ass, gripping the flesh harshly forcing a desperate screech to escape your lips.
His knee forced your legs a apart as he unzipped his pants with his free hand.
His hardened erect member popped out freely, smacking against your abdomen.
You tried to protest, words barely even understandable while he slid your panties to the side.
The shadow of his dominating eyes loomed over you with power, his nose snarling while a singular vein in his forehead was standing out noticeably.
In one swift movement his hips bucked upward, his cock sliding between your bruised walls that no longer wanted him.
It stung, you were completely dry, your makeup running down your cheeks in a beautiful disaster, and Tommy took a tremendous amount of joy in reminding you how much power he had over you.
“Big will always fuck small darling. You feel that?” He thrusted up into your core mercilessly, ripping your dress down with a flick of his hand leaving your breasts exposed to him as they bounced up and down, causing you to try to hide your face to look anywhere but him.
“That’s all you are, nothing but an appendage, my little slave. Tell me when are you going to learn your role Y/N, eh?” Your hands left his on your thrust, trying with all their might to push him away but he was too strong.
“Thomas please!” He mocked you repeating those words in a childish tone.
You could feel your body beginning to betray you, his cock warming your insides as the pain turned to pleasure, but you stayed crying as shame fulfilled you.
He began to laugh, as he watched your slick begin to slowly ooze out of you, coating his cock.
“Would you look at that? Still a whore for me arent you? You should feel grateful I’m even fucking you, hasn’t felt the same since you gave birth, more spacious, not so tight anymore.” You spat in his eye.
“Fuck you!” He released your neck, causing you to drop straight down onto the dirty floor.
As you were gasping for air his hand curled into the strands of your hair, dragging you over toward the bed.
Tossing you onto the mattress effortlessly he tugged his tie off, wrapping the expensive fabric between your lips, tying it.
His hand flew back, and came crashing down in a vicious stroke against your delicate cheek, the blow guaranteed to leave a bruise.
“Can’t have you waking the children now can I?” He flipped you over onto your stomach, his body boring over you as he spread your cheeks, taking your flesh in his strong hand aggressively causing you to let out a muffled screech.
He penetrated you once more, his head hung by the back of your head, his hot breath carelessly running down your neck as he drilled into your aching hole.
“Is this all your good for eh?” His balls slapped against your bruised skin, as he spit his venomous words in your ear.
“A nuisance throughout the day but an average fuck at night?” You could feel his cock pulsate in your soaking core, your walls clenching around him involuntarily while you struggled to breath, your head nuzzled into the mattress.
His hands intertwined with yours, his back arching with each forceful thrust.
“Maybe I should put another child in you hm? Would that keep you happy? Shut you up and remind you of your place?” Your muffled protests merely made him laugh, as if he cared what you thought.
He knew the children were your weak spot and you’d never abort, no matter how much you despised him.
His cock inched deeper with every single movement, causing your thighs to turn weak beneath him as the feeling of ecstasy ran throughout your veins from being close.
“I’ve ruined you my darling. No other man would look even once at you knowing who your husband is and what a used out whore you are. So desperate to be loved you jumped in bed with the first man who gave you attention.” His words struck a nerve. Your mind swam in every direction trying to understand when love and harmony turned into the never ending abuse and destruction of any emotional connection you shared.
Thomas owned you in every way. He was your first love, first and only husband, first fuck, and your final downfall.
His breathing picked up, and you felt him pulsate, filling you deep with his seed once more, the warmth sending you crumbling beneath him, your muffled moans sounding like music to his ears.
He layed there for a moment, his fingers combing through your hair gently.
“You have one role. How difficult is that to understand love? Serve me and care for the children. That’s all I ever asked.” He undid the tie and you stayed silent, crying into the mattress when you felt him pull out and his seed puddled out of you, soaking the sheets.
“Clean this up, and we’ll go to bed.” The bedroom was silent that night as it was every other night, reminding you that this marriage would never be the same. The man that was supposed to love and care for you was now the enemy, his arm holding you in your place against his chest as he slept effortlessly while you were terrified to sleep in the place you once thought was your home.
#Tommy shelby#tommy shelby imagine#thomas shelby imagine#thomas shelby#tommy shelby x you#tommy shleby x reader#Thomas shelby x reader#thomas shelby x you#reader insert#pesky blinders#Peaky blinders imagine#ranaewrites
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cherry
Summary: During your family getaway, things get a little messy when you meet Bucky's old friend.
Pairing: (fake) boyfriend’s brother!Bucky Barnes x female reader
Warnings: age gap (r is 26, Bucky is 38/39), teasing, pet names, language, alcohol, mentions of sex, jealousy, no mention of y/n
Word Count: 4.5K
story masterlist
Bucky Barnes masterlist
A/N: This story will have around 4 parts, this is the 2nd part.
Please, do not repost or translate without my permission!
You keep coming across each other in the morning and during dinner for the next couple of days. He’d refused the offer, you heard from Jessica. You noticed he doesn’t enjoy talking about business in general, so you never open the conversation about it.
His family is really lying to him without shame, and you can sense how cold their bond is, but what can you do? You wish he knew... you wish you could talk about it with him. If only...
That’s why you are surprised when both of your families decide to organize a getaway in Austria for the weekend, and Bucky is coming along.
Thankfully, the cabin you’re staying at has more than enough rooms even with Bucky and William’s sister there.
Rebecca is a physiotherapist, she’s thirty and she lives in France. She seems very close to Bucky. They’ve been hanging around a lot since you arrived.
You wish you could say you are close to your family. You’ve been barely speaking to your mom since this whole arrangement became a real thing. But you didn’t say even a single word to your dad. And Bucky noticed, but he didn’t comment on it even as he helped you get your luggage to your room.
“You know I could have done that myself, right?” You smile.
“No need to. Your boyfriend should have, but he’s a punk.” He shakes his head disapprovingly. “No wonder why you won’t...”
You immediately puff, anticipating what he wanted to say. Why does he want to bring that up? “What, fuck him?”
“I was gonna say share the room with him. My little brother’s sex life is none of my concern.”
You nod, all flushed. “Good. I’ll go take a shower and be right back.”
You don’t know why you tell him this because it’s not like it’s his job to inform anyone. That should be William’s, but he’s not here. And even if he were, you know you wouldn’t ask him to.
“Alright. Uhm, see you later.”
Bucky didn’t anticipate Rebecca waiting for him in the doorway of his room. She has a “I know everything” look, making him blush even though he did nothing wrong.
“How old is she?” She asks soon as Bucky closes the door.
“Who?”
“You know who, Bucky.” She jumps on his bed amused. “Your little crush.”
He puffs in response as if that’s a real answer.
“Come on, don’t be mad. It’s okay. Maybe she’ll realize she is into older guys.”
��Rebecca!”
“What?”
Bucky groans. “You are talking about our brother’s girlfriend.”
Rebecca’s eyes glow, and he has no idea what he’s just started.
“They haven’t been together long though. I doubt two people who live in different rooms-”
For some reason, he gets defensive immediately and interrupts her. “That is their choice and you should respect it.”
So it’s hers, Rebecca puts two and two together.
“You think he is that bad?” Rebecca changes the subject a bit to get more out of him, and Bucky realizes, but he can’t help but ask.
“What?”
“In bed. She seems angry all the time.”
She doesn’t remember the last time she saw her brother looking like this. This is more than a crush at this point. He’s annoyed, angry and livid, all at once.
“What? You never thought about it? Never heard them?”
“Can you go to your room now?” He snaps, trying to brush the images of you with William off his mind. It makes him sick to his stomach. “I don’t wanna talk about my little brother’s sex life!”
Rebecca laughs, walking to the door.
“You didn’t deny she’s your crush! And I didn’t even say her name, by the way.”
Shit... He didn’t even realize. Things are going too far, he needs to snap out of it.
“Your room, Rebecca.”
“Such a bad man, mid-life crisis hitting you for two years..” She stops for a few seconds before she corrects herself with a wink. “One earlier.”
Bucky groans. “Rebecca!”
“She’s into you anyways, Buck. You’ll save him from dating or even marrying someone who doesn’t love him.”
Somehow, her words set him on fire and cool him at the same time. Rebecca is good at reading people, and he sensed something is off about you and William, too, but how can he hope... how can he think about kissing his brother’s girlfriend even after a break up?
“She was checking your ass on the stairs.” She adds with a smirk. “And it was not subtle.”
And then he’s left alone with his confusing thoughts and feelings.
*
Something’s wrong with him. He’s been completely —and obviously— avoiding you ever since he helped you with the luggage, and you wonder what you did wrong. As soon as you get inside any room he is in, he finds excuses to leave. Was your tone too rude earlier? You didn’t intend to get mad, but you couldn’t help it.
You know he is an adult, and he should be able to face you even if it bothers him, yet you can’t help but feel bad when you see him outside, in the cold.
You take the nearest blanket without thinking twice and open the door.
His head snaps in your direction, and you smile shyly, wrapping the blanket around his back.
“Don’t worry, I won’t bother you, I just came to give you this.”
His shoulders relax, and he reaches out to take your hand. “Thank you! You’re not bothering me at all. You can sit with me if you want.”
Neither of you has any idea where this came from. You thought he didn’t want to be around you, but how can you say no to this?
You sit on the chair next to him and smile when he covers you with the blanket.
“No, no. This is for you.”
“I’m not gonna let you catch a cold, love.” His voice sounds authoritative but not distant.
“Then let’s share.” You grab the end of the blanket and adjust it until you are both covered. “See? Perfect!”
After that, you’re quiet for a few seconds, trying to find the right thing to say or ask him.
“Are you alright?”
Bucky smiles. “I’m alright.”
“Well, you look alright.”
He blushes and laughs at the same time, making you giggle. He looks so adorable like this.
“Then why did you ask that?”
“To make you smile. You were quite tense.”
“When?” He tilts his head, and your shoulders touch under the blanket.
“Ever since we arrived, to be honest. Did I do anything to upset you?”
“No, love, you didn’t upset me.” He immediately assures you, but you’re not certain he’s being honest, and he senses it. “I mean it, I’m sorry if I gave you that impression and made you uncomfortable.”
It’s easy to notice when he is lying at least. He surely didn’t intend to make you feel bad, but he’s been avoiding you.
“Don’t worry about me.” You sigh. “You can just tell me next time, though. So I won’t be in your way.”
“What does that mean?” He can feel the panic rushing through his whole body.
“I mean, it’s your family, and they decided to have this random vacation. I could have stayed home.”
Not entirely true because you were asked to come along.
“Well, your family is here too, plus your boyfriend. But it’s irrelevant, anyway. I am sorry for ignoring you, I was just… consumed by my thoughts,” he says honestly, and you smile.
“It’s okay. It happens to me too.”
Especially when it comes to him.
“Why are you not with William?”
You try not to look disappointed as you answer. He has a point to ask you that. After all, William is your official boyfriend, and you two didn’t spend much time together. But you hate it anyway.
“You want me to leave, huh?”
You try to take off the blanket, but he doesn’t let you.
“No, no. Don’t go, I mean... I just expected you two to spend more time together.”
“Well, I wasn’t too keen on coming here. I have a lot of work to do on Monday, and I wanted to prepare some docs beforehand, but my parents forced me indirectly to...” Bucky snorts, amused for some reason, so you stop talking.
“You don’t like spending time with old people much, do you?”
Old people? Does he mean your parents?
“By old people you mean you?” You ask jokingly and turn to him just to see him smirking. The little beard he grew over the last few days makes him somehow even more gorgeous. He’s probably, truth be told, the most attractive man you’ve ever met.
“Yep. I’m turning thirty-nine after all.”
Holy fuck... The question is why you find this so sexy.
“That’s a very nice age,” you comment amused, playing with the edge of the blanket. “You make thirty-eight look very good.”
You don’t have to look at him to know he is smiling again. Good, he should know, and it’s not wrong to compliment someone.
“Thanks.”
You start to talk about random things shortly after: jobs, projects, random hobbies. He is shocked you enjoy origami, and you can’t believe he was in a band during high school. Well, you can imagine it, but it still surprises you. It’s comfortable and nice, but every time he calls you love, you feel yourself shivering more and more. And he senses it, immediately starting to brush your arms with his hands under the blanket.
“Maybe you should go inside.”
“No, no, I’m fine,” you protest, melting under his touch. It feels so good. “Can I ask you something?”
“I don’t know, can you?”
“Ha, funny!” You playfully roll your eyes. “Is it your parents’ anniversary or something?”
Bucky lets out a chuckle. “No, no special occasion for them. Why?”
“Saw a birthday cake...”
“It’s not for them.”
Fuck, is it William’s birthday? No way. Your parents would have told you… you wish you checked the calendar with everyone’s birthday before starting this conversation.
“Is it Rebecca’s?”
“Nope.
“Then...” You think for a little and when it hits you, you gasp. “Yours?”
“Yep.” He pauses, turning his head just enough so he can look into your eyes. “My daddification era is starting.”
Your immediate reaction is a burst of laughter as the lightheartedness of the moment caught you off guard, followed by a flush of embarrassment creeping up your cheeks. It feels like your face is on fire.
“But you’re not turning forty...” You mumble, your words barely audible. “I mean, I had no idea. I’m so, so sorry, it’s so embarrassing!”
“So no gift for me, huh?” He teases, utterly unfazed. He hadn’t expected anything at all, and seeing you blush so furiously is endearing. “I feel deeply hurt.”
Without thinking, you lightly slap his chest. “Shut up!”
“That’s not how you talk to your elders, ma’am.”
“Okay, dad,” you snort in response, but there’s a momentary pause from Bucky. He holds his breath, a flicker of different emotions crossing his face.
*
The knock on the door doesn’t wake him up, but it surprises him. He slowly drops his phone on the bed and puts on the nearest T-shirt before opening the door.
There’s no one there waiting, instead, he finds a tall cocktail glass made of paper with a note inside it. Confused, he carefully picks it up from the floor before getting back inside again.
If you don’t drink anything today, I’m gonna punish you... with my presence.
So think twice before refusing :)
Happy birthday, Mr. Barnes
*
What Bucky doesn’t expect when he gets downstairs in a great, great mood is to see you, Rebecca, and Cherry talking on the couch.
He freezes, shocked, but he doesn’t have time to recover before everyone starts to hug and wish him a happy birthday. Cherry kisses both of his cheeks and hands him a small gift, which he assumes it’s a watch based on the size.
“Surprise!”
Bucky smiles. “It’s actually a surprise, I really didn’t expect to see you here.”
“Becca said we should keep it a secret. When did I ever miss your birthday?”
He instantly looks in your direction, worried for some reason you might misunderstand this situation, but you don’t seem mad at all. And why would you? You are with his brother. You’re not his. Not even a little. Because if you were...
Rebecca smirks satisfied and hugs him too. “Happy birthday, grandpa!”
He hears you laugh, and before he can think twice about it, he sticks out his tongue playfully toward you.
“Keep it low with the flirting, will you? Your little brother is in the room,” Rebecca whispers, amused, in Bucky’s ear before letting you wish him a happy birthday.
You stop awkwardly in front of him, wondering if you should hug or kiss his cheeks.
He makes the decision for you, grabbing you by your waist and getting you closer. You open your arms and wrap them around his back, shocked, knowing how intimate the way he’s holding you might look. But you don’t care. You let yourself enjoy this as you rest your chin on top of his shoulder.
“Happy birthday, Mr. Barnes.”
“Thanks for the drink, love. The best gift I received.”
You hide your smile in his shirt.
“You haven’t even opened others yet.”
“I don’t have to.”
You bite your lip, breaking the hug before it gets too suspicious, and give him space so your mom can wish him a happy birthday.
Rebecca winks at you, which makes you even more confused, but you don’t think much about it, focusing on Bucky.
The breakfast goes well, with Bucky in the center of attention despite his obvious attempts to shift the focus to anyone else. Your parents decide to get some shopping done around lunch and get some food for all of you, so you don’t have to worry about much. William tries to do some affectionate gestures from time to time, but you ignore them as much as you can, without making it obvious. You still have to play your part.
Cherry seems like a nice girl. She’s Rebecca’s age and they met during university. They all have been friends for a couple of years, and it’s easy to see that by how comfortable they act around each other.
As they talk about some fancy place in Spain you’ve never been to, you scroll randomly on Instagram.
You decide to search Rebecca and Cherry up so you can follow them, and as you look at Rebecca’s photos, one post in particular catches your eye.
You can’t hold back your gasp, which immediately draws Bucky’s attention.
“You good?”
“Yes,” you answer absently and zoom in on the first pic. There are around ten people there, including Bucky, Rebecca, and Cherry. It’s clear they are all close, but you didn’t realize how close Bucky and Cherry are. They are sitting next to each other in almost every photo. In the second to last one, he is holding her by the waist in a very boyfriend way, which makes you close your eyes.
Of course they were a thing. Of course! And now she’s here... You feel close to crying and you don’t remember the last time you felt so stupid.
Why do you care so much? You are officially dating his brother and you’ve been just friends.
You close the app quickly and stand up, ignoring Bucky’s eyes on your back as you announce, for the sake of appearances, that you’re gonna take a nap.
You don’t let yourself tear up until you close the door.
What if they hook up again here? What if you’ll hear them?
Jesus, anything but that! You couldn’t bear it... You’d be sick for real.
*
You don’t go down for lunch. Your mom comes a few times to check on you, then William, then your mom again with lunch.
You feel hurt and annoyed with yourself. You can’t act like a kid all the time, so when Rebecca comes to check on you, you decide to go downstairs with her.
Bucky looks at you immediately, concerned and confused, but you don’t let your eyes linger too much on him, especially since he is sitting next to Cherry. You drop onto the couch, next to William, and he smiles.
“Feeling better?”
“Much!” You lie, but you do it well enough not to get questioned.
“So now that we’re all here, can we see the surprise, Buck?” Rebecca asks excitedly.
You watch Bucky get up without saying anything, and everyone stays quiet until he returns with a tray full of drinks. He keeps one to himself and takes another one that looks like a cherry mocktail while everyone else hurries up to take one of the drinks. Bucky heads toward you with a smile. “I guess I am not as rusty as I told you last night.”
You know exactly what he means: his first job was as a bartender. He shared stories with you about glasses he broke in the first month, but how he learned, yet it’s been years since he’s made a drink.
You can’t deny the drink looks tempting, especially with your penchant for cherries, but the mere thought of sipping it turns your stomach. “Thanks, but I can’t drink this.”
Bucky raises his eyebrows, the wrinkles on his forehead becoming more pronounced. “What’s wrong? Still feeling sick?”
“No, I just hate cherries. I can’t drink it,” you lie in a disgusted tone, keeping your eyes on the table.
“Do you want me to make you another one?” He asks immediately, surprised because he saw you eating cherries before. Why would you hate them all of a sudden?
Cherry herself is walking toward you with Rebecca, so in a moment of madness, you extend your hand. “Can I taste yours?”
Bucky nods, and you immediately take the glass from his hand and take a sip.
It tastes okay, but it’s not your favorite, for sure.
“Thanks, but I’m okay.”
“Is it bad? Should I-”
“I’m fine, enjoy your drinks, Bucky. It’s your birthday.” You try to sound as casual as possible. “Gonna get some wine.”
“Wine?” Your mom's surprise is evident in her voice. “Since when do you drink wine?”
“Special occasion. My brother-in-law,” You have to force the words out of your mouth without choking. “Is turning thirty-nine.”
You haven't even gotten tipsy until now, so the half glass of wine, combined with the lack of a proper lunch, makes you feel a bit dizzy. Rebecca immediately catches on and nudges Bucky, who’s been on the edge all night, to help you. William and your parents have already gone to their rooms.
You’re half asleep when you feel Bucky’s arms wrapping around your waist, causing you to open your eyes in shock.
“What are you doing? Let me down.” Your face makes contact with his chest as you speak.
“I’m taking you to bed.”
You snort immediately, letting him climb the stairs with you in his arms. “You can’t take me to bed, silly. Go back to your p-pretty... friend.”
“I’m carrying my pretty friend right now.”
“Smooth talker.” You sigh when he opens the door. “Not me.”
“Who do you mean then, love?” He helps you sit on the bed, and you instinctively reach for his hand, running your fingers along it. His skin feels remarkably soft and warm. You don’t remember the last time you found hands attractive. Or veins. At least, not like this…
Deep down, you know you never stood a chance anyway. Even if you weren’t officially with William, you’re far from Bucky’s type. Cherry, from what you've observed, is an amazing woman, and you can admit that he has great taste.
He probably sees you as too young for him, perhaps even as a little girl.
You scrunch your nose, and Bucky sits on the bed too since you won’t let go of his hand. He allows himself to enjoy this fleeting moment for a few seconds, aware that it won’t last. This won't hurt anyone, right?
“She’s so pretty and nice, I get it.”
“Get what, love? And who is pretty?” He lets you take his other hand too as he gently asks.
“Cherry.” You sigh, tapping his palms with yours lightly. “I guess she came here to win you back. And I understand. But like... you’d be wasted,” you complain, grabbing his face all of a sudden.
Bucky leans in instantly, closing his eyes.
“If something didn’t work once, why would it work now?” You stroke his beard gently, taking your time. “I mean, sometimes it does, but I can’t see it happening for you. You’re old,” you laugh, making him laugh too.
“I’m old?”
“Ihm, you are. The daddification era looks good on you.”
Bucky’s mind is racing now. From your touch to your words... he feels weak.
“Thank you, love. But how do you know about Cherry?”
“Saw some photos on Instagram this afternoon. You looked gorgeous and all over each other,” you bite your lip, unable to stop touching him. Even if he doesn’t belong to you...
“It wasn’t like that. It wasn’t serious, love.” He brings his hand to your face too, caressing your cheeks, which only makes you giggle.
“Hmm?”
“We’ve been friends for ages and we just had some... fun for a little while, but it wasn’t a relationship.”
You puff. “That is a form of relationship too! And maybe she wants you now.”
“I doubt that. But even if she did, I don’t want her like that, okay?”
“But she’s so pretty and funny,” you add, surprised.
“Many women are. But I told you, there is nothing like that.” His tone is serious, but you can’t understand.
“But you had sex with her,” you point out, visibly upset. You hate that even though it’s silly.
“O-kay, you need to get some sleep.”
You move your hand down to stroke his chin. “I’m serious, you’re...” You find yourself glancing down to his lap for a brief moment. Although you can't see anything, you just know it’s big. “A whole package. Don’t waste yourself.”
“You think I want Cherry?”
You don’t understand the surprise in his voice. Why wouldn’t he want her? If he wanted her once...
“You’re so confusing,” you murmur, and your eyes fall on his bottom lip the moment he licks it. It’d be nice to feel how soft it is. His mouth seems so soft and wet, and you bet he knows how to use his tongue. Ah... “You wanted to have sex with her, but you wouldn’t want anything with her now?”
Bucky smiles widely, surprised by your interest in his past. He knows it’s silly, especially since you are with William for some reason and he’s pushing forty, for fuck’s sake, but he can’t help himself.
“It was only for a summer.”
“Is this what you do with everyone?” He gasps when he feels the tips of your fingers on his lips as you speak.
“W-why?”
“Don’t waste yourself, okay, pretty boy? They don’t deserve you.”
Bucky literally chokes, completely taken aback.
“What?” He gently grabs your chin. “Who doesn’t deserve me? Cherry?”
“All of them.” You yawn, trying to keep your eyes open. “You deserve a better family.”
You’re so sad for him. They’re lying to him, and he’s so lonely.
Bucky’s confused but also touched by your words. You probably noticed how tense his relationship is with his parents, and you paying attention to that gets him emotional.
“We all do. But right now, you need to rest.”
“Don’t go to her tonight, okay?”
“Jesus, princess.” He strokes your cheek gently, and you giggle for a second.
“I’m not a princess. But please don’t do it. I can’t hear it…”
“Hear what?”
In response, you clap your hands together three times, mimicking the sound of skin slapping. “Please.”
“You mean sex?”
“Duh! At least...” You shake your head, trying to fight tears. You don’t want to cry. “Not tonight. I don’t want to hear it.”
Bucky sighs. He’s already told you he isn’t going to, but you mean sex now, and he wants to make that aspect clear too.
“I am not going to be with Cherry in any way, okay, princess? You won’t hear a thing because there isn’t a thing going on, alright?”
You nod happily and giggle. “Yes, sir.” You move your hand to your forehead, imitating a military gesture.
“Wow, such a good girl,” he snorts. “I expect this attitude from you tomorrow too, love.”
You roll your eyes, still in a good mood. “I’m sleepy, go away.”
“After you made demands about my sex life?” Bucky laughs. “Should I make demands about yours?”
“Go away!”
“Oh wait, there’s no sex li-” You hit him with the nearest pillow you find before he can finish his sentence.
“Augh! So aggressive.” He leaves the room still giggling.
*
You wake up in the morning feeling well-rested, without any headache or stomach ache. You can’t believe how embarrassing you acted toward Bucky. Like who are you to ask him not to sleep with someone? You wonder how he hasn’t told you to fuck off already.
He’s so kind, and here you are, lying to him, just like the rest of the family. Just like William. You’re deceiving him…
Even if he was into you after all, you lying to him like this would ruin any potential relationship before it even begins.
You need to stay away from him.
Packing doesn’t take as long as you anticipated. William helps you get your bag in the car, and your family makes sure to remind you to be a good girl as if you are a naughty kid being left with a new nanny.
As much as you avoided Bucky until then, you can’t help but stare at him as Cherry hugs him. Indeed, there is nothing but friendliness all over his face, and you wonder if this is how it’d be if you fucked him —in another universe. You’d still be his friend? You cannot understand this. Not even a little.
Unfortunately, you don’t notice Rebecca looking at you until it’s too late. As she hugs you goodbye, her words make you freeze.
“Take care of yourself, and please don’t play with both of my brothers’ hearts.”
The shame floods your entire body, overwhelming you. You rush to the bathroom to splash water on your face, attempting to hide the tears staining your cheeks.
You fucked up really badly.
Tags:
@charmedbysarge @identity2212 @vicmc624 @cjand10 @mayusenpai666 @abitofblues
#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x reader#boyfriend's brother!bucky#boyfriend's brother!bucky barnes#bucky barnes fanfic#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes au#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes fluff#bucky barnes smut#marvel fanfic#marvel fanfiction#bucky fanfiction#my stories#my fanfics#sebastian stan#fake dating
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