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finelinefae · 2 months

Text

rose [tattooH x innocenty/n]

synopsis: Harry's a tattoo artist who can't figure out the best way to say how in love he is with the flower shop owner next door

word count: 10.5k

content warnings: smut (first time oral f recieving, daddy kink, praise kink, virgin Y/N), brief mentions of violence

read part 1 here

this is a lot !! like a lot happens !! also everyone smiles a lot,, i can't help it they're happy

. . .

Harry had come to the conclusion that of all the things he had had to do in his twenty-six years of life - all the things he had to do and say to get where he was today - saying I love you to his girlfriend was proving to be one of the most intricate tasks he had encountered.

And it wasn't because he didn't love her. From the moment she stepped into his tattoo shop with determination and fear all intertwined into one expression right up until now, he was pretty sure his relationship with Y/N was the physical embodiment of what it meant to be loved and to love in return.

He had learnt so much about the sweet, pretty girl next door. From her little habits and small quirks that she didn't think he ever noticed.

Y/N loved wearing Harry's clothes. He had bought a new band tee from an online shop one of his friends had recommended to him. When the parcel hadn't arrived on time, he wondered if it had gotten lost in transit or they'd delivered it to the wrong address. He had emailed them once or twice to see its whereabouts only to find the Fleetwood Mac t-shirt on the body of his girlfriend asleep on his sofa when he came home from work. "But Harry, they're so soft and comfy!" She argued when he accused her the next morning. "Know that baby but I need clothes to wear." He was trying not to smile and pinch her cheeks when he caught a glimpse of her pouty lips. "But Harry-" He couldn't help but interrupt her with a quick kiss to her lips, "Can use some of my old shirts flower, y' can pick them out. C'mon sweet girl," He led her to his wardrobe and let her scramble through the box of his old shirts.

She loved being praised. Harry thought it was the cutest thing ever when he'd compliment her or tell her how good she was for him and her cheeks would turn a dusky pink colour. He'd often find himself kissing the crescent moon-shaped dimples on her cheeks whenever she'd beam up at him after he mumbled sweet praises into her ear, "M' good girl," He'd say, "Best girl, m' favourite flower."

She loved physical touch from him and him only. His favourite time of day was coming home after a busy day of working and finding his darling girl sitting up in bed, either reading or watching TV, waiting for him in his favourite soft, satin pyjamas she wears (he loved the feel of them under his hands whenever he held her). She'd make grabby hands for him as soon as she saw him walk through the door of her bedroom, wanting to touch him almost immediately. He'd kiss her a few times, run his fingers through her hair, stroke her cheek and brush his fingers over her arm. Even when they were walking through the streets of the town, Y/N would often cling to Harry - feeling anxious being around too many people. He'd comfort her with soothing touches, rubbing circles on the pulse point on her wrist to make sure she was okay.

There were so many things Harry had come to adore about his favourite girl in the entire world. From the way she'd look at him with big rounded eyes as though he hung up the moon and stars in the sky or knew the answer to everything she asked, to the way she'd melt under his touch whenever they'd do something even slightly intimate. He was so in love... He just didn't know how to tell her that.

Harry had never been in a serious relationship before so the idea of love didn't come easy to him. He had spent the majority of his life believing he was destined to be lonely, finding himself in one-night stands and never getting past the first date for lack of connection. He didn't know what romantic love looked like, felt like or even if it existed at all until he met his favourite flower.

Moments would crop up where he could feel the first syllable spike the tip of his tongue but invisible hands wrapped themself around his neck as he tried to let the words out. Y/N would sit patiently, waiting for him to continue speaking, but he'd just end up kissing her, hoping he could communicate his words without saying them.

He wasn't quite sure what he was expecting when it came to saying those three simple words, words that carried so much weight between them. Maybe it was because he wanted the moment to be special and memorable for her, so he waited for the perfect opportunity to confess. But the anticipation was driving him a bit crazy.

It was very early Wednesday morning. Y/N was cutting up sheets of tissue paper since it was nearing winter and people would be out buying gifts soon for their loved ones. She had ordered a bunch of new seed packets and planned to make little gift sets to sell.

Harry was sitting at the workshop table in the middle of the shop. He was wearing his shorts and a black hoodie with the hood pulled over his head. He wore his worn-out, white Vans as if they were slippers, with the left shoe dangling precariously from his toes, threatening to slide off at any moment. His tired eyes tried to remain focused on counting the coins for Y/N's till since she always miscalculated and would have to go visit him for more money even though his shop was cashless which he reminded her every time as he slipped her a five-pound note from his own back pocket.

The shop was silent in the early hours of the morning as the two worked separately. Y/N enjoyed that she didn't constantly have to make conversation with her boyfriend for him to be interested. They were happy to just be in each other's company for as long as possible.

"Baby," Harry's raspy voice broke the comfortable silence between them. Y/N's head lifted naturally in response, "C'mere." He opened his arm out but his eyes were still trained on counting the coins.

Y/N smiled tiredly and walked over to him, tucking herself into his side and holding onto the arm that wrapped around her. He kissed the top of her head, "Didn't get to hold y' this morning, left me cold." He murmured against her.

"M sorry, H. It's always stressful when the season changes." She sighed, thinking about all the work she still had yet to do before autumn passed.

"S okay, just missed you is all." He hummed. Y/N turned herself so she was pressed against the worktop and looking up at him. She loved every version of Harry at all times of day but something about Harry in the morning made her swoon. He was so soft and cuddly, needy and grabby, she'd always have to pry his hands off of her in the morning so she could get to work on time.

Y/N grinned and leaned her head forward, past the hood of his sweatshirt, to kiss him. "Wanted to ask you if y’ would come on a date with me this Saturday.” He whispered, eyes still closed from kissing her.

Every eight weeks, Y/N’s shop would close for the entire weekend. Since her shop was open most days, she wanted to give herself at least some time off to look forward to. Harry knew that particular weekend was coming up because of how much she was looking forward to it so he made sure to free up his weekend too so he could take her out for the day.

They had been on dinner dates and done a few other things here and there but there was only so much they could do in their small town. So as soon as he thought of the idea, he booked train tickets to take Y/N to the coast for the day.

“Hmmm,” Y/N sighed, reaching into his hood to wrap her arms around his neck, his skin warm against her touch. “Where would we go?”

“S a surprise,” He whispered into her ear, his breath warm.

“I’d love to go on a date with you Harry,” She replied, voice soft.

“Yeah? It’ll be cold so you’ll need to wear a sweater.” He told her.

"I only own sweaters," She rolled her eyes, pushing away from him so she could get back to work.

"Yeah, my sweaters." Harry teased.

Y/N narrowed her eyes, "Get back to counting those coins or you'll be fired."

"Yes ma'am," He couldn't stop smiling to himself as he carried on counting each penny.

. . .

The small train was busy on the way to the coast on Saturday morning but luckily they had managed to grab two seats next to each other by the window. Y/N insisted that they listened to one of the very many playlists she had curated for them both to listen to. It wasn’t long into their relationship that Harry had come to realise that music was one of Y/N’s love languages.

He remembered when he first moved in and heard her music through the walls of her apartment as he bought his food shopping up the stairs his first night. The music played well into the night and he had planned to knock on her door and ask her to turn it down like she had done to him the day they had first met, but his ears caught onto her singing. He pressed his ear up against the door and listened as she sang to herself whilst dishes clinked together. She wasn’t the best singer he had ever heard but something about her soft voice soothed him, so he turned around and went about his night with the girl singing next door.

Y/N pulled out her wired earbuds not long after they’d sat down and gave one of them to Harry. After Hours by The Velvet Underground started playing and Harry smiled to himself as he watched Y/N gaze out the window of the train. He reached for her hand which was covered by her fingerless gloves she had crocheted herself and intertwined their fingers together.

The train pulled into the final station an hour later. Harry held tightly onto Y/N as people bustled to get on and off the train at the same time. The weather wasn’t perfect when they had arrived - slightly overcast and grey - but it didn’t stop Y/N from gasping at the sight of the ocean in front of her.

“Harry look!” She pointed as the waves rolled into the shore. She looked adorable in her white hat and earmuffs, her white puffer coat made her look like a giant marshmallow. She was almost matching Harry, in his black puffer coat and green bobble hat.

“Y/N! Slow down baby,” He called for her as he ran to catch up with her.

They walked down the steps and onto the beach which was practically void of any people other than a few dog walkers. He was thankful he had told her to wear a thick coat since the wind was bitter and cold. Harry’s smile was so wide, that his dimples pierced each one of his cheeks as he watched her run around in her UGG boots and leggings.

“Beautiful,” Harry whispered, hoping the words would get caught in the wind and blow straight to her so she could hear them.

“It’s been so long since I’ve seen the sea,” She closed her eyes and inhaled the fresh sea air. Harry came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist.

They walked side by side with each other. Harry held Y/N’s hand inside the pocket of his coat and every once in a while, she would stop to pick up a shell which she would pass to him to put in his other coat pocket. At some point, it started to drizzle down with rain but they carried on walking and talking along the beach.

Harry would watch as Y/N ran up to the sea to pick up bits of sea glass and try to not get caught by the water. She looked adorable as she ran up the beach looking back at him with her woolly hat and giant coat swamping her. Strands of hair stuck to her damp, rosy cheeks as rain dripped from her coat since they had been out so long. He pulled out his phone and snapped a picture of her as she crouched down to look at something she’d found in the sand. He made a mental note to share it on everything he possibly could so everyone in his life would know how much he loved her, even if she didn’t know just yet.

Harry swore he was going to tell her he was in love with her right there and then but his heart fell out of his chest when he watched her trip and stumble back onto the sand. “Y/N,” He rushed over, immediately wanting to check if she was okay, only to be met with her giggling and laying back on the sand like a starfish on land.

“Lay here with me,” She patted the spot next to her.

The last thing Harry wanted to do was get his new black trousers wet and dirty from the sand but he would do anything and everything she asked him to do so he fell onto the sand and laid right next to her.

His pinky finger hooked with hers as they both looked up at the sky, “Are you happy flower?” He asked.

“I think this is the happiest I’ve ever been in my life,” She confesses and the words make Harry’s heart grow ten times the size. “I think spending time with you is when I’m the happiest Harry.”

When it reached past midday, Harry took Y/N to grab something to eat before they had to take the train home again. Their coats were dripping when they stepped inside the small cafe Harry had picked out for them. The kind owner had even offered to dry them both for them before they had to leave again.

“Harry,” She gasped, “They do blueberry pancakes!”

Harry smirked, not wanting to tell her that he had picked this cafe specifically because they made one of Y/N’s favourite foods, “Really? Tha’s your favourite right baby?”

She nods, “I’m gonna get that- ooo it even comes with the option of honey or syrup!” Y/N beams.

By the time their food had arrived, they were well invested in conversation, “Was thinking of getting my ear pierced next weekend. One of my mates has free space and thought it would be fun to get a hoop or something.” Harry tells her.

Y/N paused on chewing her pancake as she pictured her boyfriend with a hoop earring. She swallowed down her food before getting out, “That would be hot.”

Harry laughs at her bluntness, “Yeah?” He smirked, “You think so?” Y/N nodded, her cheeks tinged pink.

Although they kissed and made out at any spare moment they could, they hadn’t really branched out from the time Harry had touched her for the first time. Y/N knew Harry was trying to be patient about it - he was a gentleman like that - but she was going crazy not having his ring-clad hands touching her skin, providing that ecstasy he had given her a glimpse of for the first time.

“Y alright there flower?” Harry crooned, “Anything on your mind you’d care to share.”

Y/N shook her head, ridding them of her dirty thoughts, “M okay, H.”

“Alright,” His eyes twinkled as he smiled at her, “You look beautiful by the way.”

“Thank you, Harry,” Her eyes softened, “And thank you for bringing me here today, I’ve loved being here with you.”

Harry parted his lips as if to respond, but found himself speechless, the words trapped somewhere in his throat. Y/N looked at him expectantly, her eyes silently urging him to express whatever was on his mind. With a sigh, his shoulders slumped, and he finally spoke, "I've loved being here with you too. I love every moment I get to be with you." Y/N beamed as Harry inwardly cursed himself for being unable to articulate the depth of his feelings. Yet, as he saw the radiant smile spread across Y/N's face, he couldn't help but feel a surge of warmth and contentment wash over him, knowing that his words were enough to reach her for now.

After the train journey home, which took slightly longer than anticipated, Harry carried Y/N up to her apartment and into her bedroom where he slumped her down on her bed. Y/N hummed at the feeling of her warm, cosy sheets beneath her. “Comfy m’love?” He grinned, tugging the sleeves of his coat off so he was just in his white t-shirt and black trousers.

“I’m so sleepy,” Y/N sighed, eyes closed whilst Harry tugged her shoes off as her feet dangled over the edge of the bed.

“Cause you’ve been running around all day huh? Could barely keep up with you half the time.” Harry briefly massages the souls of her feet after taking both her shoes off, knowing they were probably aching from running on the beach all day.

“But it was sooo much fun,” Y/N whined, her tired eyes peering down at Harry.

“Yeah, yeah, I know that lovie. Need to get y’ out of these clothes so I can put them in the wash.” He tugs on her leggings.

“Can you do it?” Y/N asks, “M too tired.”

Harry pauses, “Y’ sure baby? Don’t want y’ to be uncomfortable.”

“M sure Harry, I trust you.” She tells him.

He smiles to himself as her words settle in the space between them. A smile curves his lips almost involuntarily, reflecting the quiet gratitude he feels towards her trust. “Alright, lift y’ hips for me, flower.” He instructs and Y/N does as she’s told, lifting her hips so he can pull down her leggings leaving her in her pink lacey panties.

Harry swallows as he sees the apex of her thighs. He hadn’t seen this much of her before and he could already feel himself harden in his jeans at the sight of her. “Think y’ can sit up for me flower? Jus’ so I can’t take your sweater off?” He tries to stop staring at her bare legs but he can’t seem to take his eyes away.

Y/N groans but does as she’s told, sitting up and putting her arms up so Harry can remove the sweater from her torso. Her eyes are still shut and Harry gently pulls the soft sweater over her head.

When her eyes open, the first thing Y/N sees is Harry standing above her with his gaze fixed on her figure and she realizes this is the most he's ever seen of her yet. She had nothing but a vest and underwear to cover her body. Y/N was pretty sure he could see the curve of her breasts and the outline of her nipples through the thin, white material.

“Harry…” she whispers, suddenly realising what was happening, how the temperature in the room had suddenly shifted.

Y/N shivered as Harry cupped her cheek and bent forward to kiss her. She leaned backwards onto the bed, resting on her elbows as Harry kept his hold on her cheek, using his other hand to place on her hip as he crawled on top of her. His hand was warm and big and his fingertips pressed into her skin sending a joint of electricity down through her body.

They kissed and Harry groaned as Y/N uncontrollably rolled her hips into him, “Harry,” Y/N repeated, placing her hands on his chest.

“What baby?” He asks.

“I-I feel strange,” She confesses, not really knowing how to go about telling him what was on her mind.

Harry furrowed his eyebrows, “What’s wrong?”

Y/N shook her head immediately, “N-no nothing’s wrong. It’s just… Remember last time? When you…” she couldn’t seem to finish her sentence, too embarrassed to describe what Harry had done when he taught her how to touch herself.

“What about it?” He wonders, patience and curiosity on his face.

“I-I want to do it again but different.” She cringed at her words, “I mean, I want to try something new. L-like I want you to show me something new I mean.”

Harry’s features softened, “Yeah? You want me to take care of you huh?”

Y/N nodded, relieved he understood what she was hinting at without her having to admit it herself, “Yes.”

“What do you want me to do baby?” He kisses down the side of her neck, Y/N’s head rolling to the side to give him more room to explore her skin.

“I-I don’t know,”

“Oh I think you do flower otherwise you wouldn’t be asking for something new to try would you?” He sucks on the skin of her neck and she whines at the feeling. His green eyes meet hers as he lifts his head up, “C’mon sweet girl, tell daddy what you want from him.”

Her mouth fell open and her heart beat erratically in her chest, “I-I need you down there daddy.”

“Yeah? You want daddy to touch you down there baby?”

“Y-yes daddy please.”

“Still so polite.” Y/N seemed to melt as he crawled down her placid form, he could do anything to her and she wouldn't mind as long as he was touching her in some way.

She suddenly gasped when she felt him blow warm air onto her nipple beneath her vest. “Can I lift your vest baby? Can you let daddy see these cute tits?”

“Mhm,” She hummed, her body vibrating with excitement and nerves. Harry’s fingertips brushed the skin of her tummy as he pulled her vest up to reveal her breasts.

“Fuck baby,” Harry groaned. “You’re so beautiful.”

“Your shirt too!” Y/N insisted, feeling a little insecure as Harry was still in his white shirt.

Harry was quick to pull off his shirt to reveal his tattooed torso that Y/N had traced and slept on almost every night since they had met. Her hands were immediately on his warm skin as he kissed down the swell of her breasts. Y/N gasped as Harry gently pressed a kiss to her left nipple, sliding his other hand up to cup her other one, “See that? Y’ were made for daddy.” He said as her breast fit perfectly in his hand.

“Daddy I need you,” Y/N whispered.

“Such a greedy girl.” He tuts, “Trying to worship you ‘n you’re just begging me to make you cum.”

“N-no-” Y/N wanted to argue but Harry quickly kissed her lips before moving down her body.

“Look at these pretty panties. Can already see you’re all soaked through them.” Y/N could practically hear the smile on his face. “Can I see baby?”

“Y-Yes, daddy.” She swallowed back her nerves, even though Harry had already seen her down there, it was her first time experiencing someone be so up close. Y/N felt his fingers hook around the waistband of her panties until they were halfway down her thighs and waited for him to react.

“Fuck me,” Harry hisses. “Won’t ever get over the sight of this pretty pussy. Always manage to live up to y’ nickname, don’t y’ flower?”

Y/N’s cheeks heat but before she has time to protest Harry leans forward and presses a kiss to her throbbing pussy. She snaps her thighs shut tightly and gasps, “W-what-“

“Shhh flower,” Harry kisses her knee and then gently hooks both her legs over either of his shoulders so she can’t close her thighs to hide away from him, “Daddy’s gonna take the ache away okay? Know you’ve been feeling all needy for daddy. Gonna do something that’ll help and put you right to sleep m’kay?”

Y/N swallows harshly and fists the fabric of the blanket beneath her. Her heart was racing and her belly was swirling with need and desire as she waited for Harry to do something.

He kissed the inside of her thighs, “You trust me?” He asked, waiting for her approval, “Because I’ll stop as soon as you say so, promise y’ that.”

“Yes, daddy.” She said because she did trust him, wholeheartedly, “I trust you.”

“That’s m’ girl.” Y/N waited until she felt his warm breath blow over her pussy. His mouth pressed another kiss to her before she felt his tongue swipe across her slit. Y/N gasped at the unfamiliarity of it as he flicked his tongue softly over her to get her accustomed to it. His eyes looked up to see Y/N’s reaction at the first touch of his mouth. He smirked to himself as her breasts heaved cutely and her cheeks were flushed pink.

“Harry,” she whimpered.

“S not my name flower.” He murmured against her.

She tried to close her thighs but Harry’s head lay buried between them, licking and stroking his tongue against her. He wrapped both his tattooed hands around her thighs to keep them open, pressing his fingertips into her plushy skin. “Daddy,” she whined.

He licks up her wet cunt once more until he finds her clit. Y/N jolts at the sudden attention to her sensitive bundle of nerves. His lips pucker against her tiny, pink clit glistening with arousal, a whimper eliciting from Y/N’s lip. He moves his tongue in circles around it before gently sucking on the small bud.

Y/N’s a writhing, whimpering mess beneath him as he licks and sucks on her clit, her wetness coating his chin. She bucks her hips against his mouth and quickly removes one hand from the bed to weave into his hair. Harry groans as she tugs on his curls, his cock leaking precum in his trousers, the vibrations going straight to Y/N’s clit.

“Daddy, f-feels so good,” She mewls, continuing to tug on his hair. Harry ruts his hips against the mattress, in hopes he could get some relief as he continues his assault on her pussy.

“Y' so fucking sexy Y/N.” He grumbled, unable to stop his attention from her weeping, little cunt.

Her thighs began to tremble as she felt the coil tighten in her belly. Harry’s hand removed itself from her thigh and slid up the bed to reach for her hand that wasn’t already in his hair. He intertwined their fingers as if comforting her without saying anything.

He paused his assault on her clit, Y/N whimpering at the sudden loss. Instead, he flattened his tongue against her once more before dipping his tongue into her hole a little as if testing the waters to see whether she’d like it. Y/N’s back arched and Harry’s hand left hers to place itself flat against her tummy to hold her still, the cool metal of his rings made her shiver as they touched her skin. His tongue delved in and out of her, using his other hand to rub circles on her clit with his thumb.

Y/N’s mouth fell open, her head fell back and her legs turned to jelly. “Y close angel girl?” Harry murmured, peeking up at her to see her blissfully zoned out from his touch.

“Feels s’ good daddy, s-so so so good,” She babbled her head lolling from side to side.

“Wanna cum baby? Wanna make a mess on daddy?” He urged her, feeling her core clench.

She jerkily nodded, “Mhmmm,” She hummed.

“Lemme have it, baby, daddy worked so hard, lemme taste y’ cum.” He hastened his movements on her clit and continued to lick and suck at her pussy, “Cum f’ me baby.” He coaxed. "Can't wait to feel y' round my cock someday, practically begging to feel y' tight, little hole. 'm gonna be the first and only one to fill y' up, isn't that right? Gonna let daddy stretch you out and fill y' up. You're all mine, 'm favourite flower."

His filthy words set Y/N alight. She felt the coil snap as pleasure rushed through her entire body and filled all of her senses. Harry groaned, continuing to press himself up against the bed until he felt his own orgasm building too, his lips staying on Y/N as she came. He lapped up her juices, riding her through her orgasm and tasting all she had to offer for the first time. “That’s my girl baby, so good.” He cooed.

Harry’s eyes rolled back as his cock released inside of his boxers, his head falling to the side and resting on the inside of her thigh as he breathed heavily, “Fuck,” He groaned, eyes rolling to the ceiling.

The room was quiet other than the sounds of them trying to catch their breath. Harry kissed the inside of Y/N’s thigh and worked his way up her body, placing soft, spongy kisses on her bare skin until he was face-to-face with her.

Harry grinned lazily, his eyes tired as he brushed the hair off her face. His heart stuttered; he felt himself losing his breath all over again despite having just come down from the high of his release as he looked down at his girlfriend. Her cheeks were flushed and her skin was glowing from the afterglow, tendrils of baby hairs framed her face and her eyes were hazy and soft as she looked into his own.

“Thank you daddy,” She whispered to him.

Harry pressed a kiss to her lips. Her legs hooked around his waist as he circled his arms around her to pull her in tighter, “You okay? Was that good? Not too much?” He wanted to make sure she was okay before anything else. He’d hate himself if he did something she didn’t like or didn’t want to do.

“M okay,” She smiled, her voice tired. He kissed her once more knowing she could probably taste herself on his lips. “It felt good.”

“Y’ made me cum,” He admits, feeling the discomfort of his own release in his boxers.

“I did?” Y/N’s eyes widened, her lips parting in surprise.

“Yeah, flower. That was so fucking sexy.” Y/N whined and tried to hide herself behind her hands. Harry chuckled at her reaction, grabbing her wrists to move her hand away and kissing her forehead before lifting himself from her. “Let’s get y’cleaned up.”

Harry walked over to Y/N’s dresser to grab himself some clean boxers from the drawer he had curated from the nights he had spent with her. He also grabbed her some clean underwear and one of his shirts to wear to bed.

In the bathroom, he got himself cleaned up and grabbed a cloth dampening it under the running water in the sink for his love who was waiting for him in bed. Harry paused at the door when he entered her room after he was met with a sight he longed to treasure in his mind forever. Y/N was lying completely bare on her bed. Her eyes were shut, her chest moving up and down and her hair was sprawled out around her. He didn’t know how he got so lucky with her, she was a living angel.

“C’mere flower,” He murmured, spreading her legs apart slightly and trying not to react to the sticky, glistening mess between her thighs. He placed the dampened cloth against her and calmed her down as she jolted beneath his touch from how sensitive she was.

Once they were all cleaned up, Harry climbed under the blankets with Y/N half asleep against his chest. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and ran a finger up and down the length of her spine beneath her shirt. "Sleep now, flower," he whispered his voice a gentle caress in the quiet of the night. The warmth of his presence soothed Y/N to fall asleep.

In the hazy blur of her consciousness, she murmured, words slipping from her lips without thought. "Love you," she breathed, the three words escaping her lips as effortlessly as a sigh, yet she remained unaware of what they meant.

Harry stilled, his breath catching in his throat, “W-what?” But Y/N didn’t reply, instead, soft snores left her lips as she fell asleep beside him.

. . .

It was the Friday after Harry had taken Y/N to the beach. Fridays were always busy at the tattoo shop so Harry was working away until the late hours of the evening. Y/N sat on a chair, her legs swinging backwards and forward as she played a game on Harry's phone. The sound of the tattoo gun hummed in the air whilst a bossa nova played over the Bluetooth speaker. Harry was still working despite the fact it was nearly time for Y/N to go to bed (She had a strict regime before bed which gave her exactly eight hours of sleep each night). He had promised her this would be his last customer as she waltzed into his tattoo shop, ready to go to his apartment together.

Harry hadn't mentioned to Y/N what she had unknowingly said in her sleep. When they woke up the next morning, he gently broached the subject, asking, "Hey, do you remember anything you said last night while you were asleep?"

Y/N, still rubbing the sleep from her eyes, just shrugged in response. "Not really," she mumbled, her voice heavy with drowsiness. "Did I say something strange?"

"No, not at all," Harry assured her, though inwardly, he couldn't shake off the weight of her words. "Just thought you might've had a dream or something." But even as he spoke, he couldn't shake off the lingering memory of her whispered confession, playing over and over in his mind like a sweet melody.

"Y' holding up okay there m'love?" Harry checked in, working on the final few finishing touches of the tattoo he had been working on.

"Mhm," She smiled but Harry could tell she was getting sleepy from the way he'd caught her eyes fluttering shut when he glanced over at her.

"Can go sleep on the couch out front if you're feeling sleepy." He offered, wanting to make sure his girl was okay before he finished off the tattoo for his customer. He knew first-hand how grouchy she got when she didn't get her sleep.

"M okay here Harry," She insisted, thinking she was lying to him well enough over how tired she was. "Can I watch?" She strained her neck to get a better look at what Harry was doing.

"Course flower, c'mere," Harry pushed his chair forward to give Y/N space to stand behind him so she could watch over his shoulder. He pushed down on the peddle and continued the tattoo as Y/N watched over him.

"Does it hurt?" She wondered, watching the needle press ink into the customer's skin.

"Jus' a little sting but when you've had so many it's not so bad," Harry replied.

Y/N watched in fascination. She was not only impressed by the design Harry had drawn out and tattooed to the customer so effortlessly but also how brave people must be to have such a permanent mark on their skin. She tilted her head to the side, "I want one," She mumbled.

Harry paused, "What?"

"Nothing," She replied, quickly.

Harry had heard what she said but decided he'd bring it up when there wasn't another person in the room, knowing how shy she got around people she didn't know.

After completing the tattoo, he wrapped it up and chatted with the customer for a little bit. Meanwhile, Y/N browsed through his tattoo design sketchbook with a furrowed brow. Once the conversation was done, he shut the door behind the customer and turned the sign to 'closed.'

He walked over to his seemingly overthinking flower and kissed the top of her head, "Wha's wrong m'love?" He smiled softly, wrapping both arms around her and pulling her into his chest.

"Jus' looking H," She tilted her head back to look up at him, kissing his chin in the process.

"Didn't know we were telling fibs tonight flower," He teased, spinning her around in his embrace.

"M not lying," She hid her face in his chest because he always knew when she was lying and she was most definitely lying.

"Can you look up f'me baby just f' a sec," He murmured and looked down to see the prettiest eyes he'd ever seen, round and sparkling under the blue lights of his shop. "Woah," He whispered to himself.

"What's wrong?" A crease appeared in between her brows.

"Nothin' just...you're so pretty," She whined, nuzzling her face into his neck to hide her very red face. Even though it was hard to tell under the blue lights, he knew she was blushing. "Hey, no, can I have a kiss please?" He cupped the back of her head and pulled her away from the comfortable spot in his neck.

Y/N stood on her toes to kiss him, tasting the tinge of eucalyptus lip balm she had given him when he had complained of having sore lips from kissing her too much in the colder weather. "So y' want a tattoo?" He murmured against her lips.

Y/N pulled away, "I-I was just thinking but-"

"You're not sure?" She nods. "Don't have to get a tattoo today m'love, especially if you're not sure." Harry comforted her, seeing the uncertainty on her face. He kissed the crease between her eyebrows but her eyes were fixed on a tattoo on his upper arm.

"Where'd you get that?" She asked, her fingers skimming over the small design. It was a fine line drawing of a pair of angel wings with a flower in the centre between each wing. Harry had designed it not long after meeting Y/N and had only tattooed the design onto himself a few days ago.

"Jus' a little something I drew 's all." He shrugged, "Reminded me of you."

Y/N's lips parted like she couldn't believe what he had just said, "For me?"

He nods, "Wanted to have you somewhere on me at all times."

Y/N goes quiet and Harry gives her the time to think as he packs away his things to head upstairs. By the time he's finished, Y/N's tugging on his sleeve and looking up at him with rounded eyes, "I think I'd like a tattoo, Harry."

Harry bit back a smile, "You do?"

"Mhm," She nodded, seeming sure of herself, "But I want you to do it."

"Wouldn't let anyone else do it anyways flower." He pulled out the kit he had just put away, not feeling annoyed in the slightest because he loved this girl and would set up his equipment all over again even if she decided she no longer wanted the tattoo anymore.

Y/N shimmied up onto the chair and glanced over at him, "What are you wanting on you baby?" He asked.

"I want the same one as you please Harry," She says, referring to the tattoo of the angel wings.

He smiles, "Wanna match with me, sweet girl?" He kisses her lips quickly.

Y/N nods, beaming up at him, "Yes please."

"So polite," He taps her cheek before going to his worktop and drawing out a stencil with a careful hand. Y/N sat in the chair with her feet hovering above the ground. She was fiddling with her fingers in her lap as she glanced around at the designs she had admired many times before when she'd sit and wait for Harry whilst he worked.

"M'kay lovie, where'd you want it?" Harry asked.

"Oh," She pursed her lips, "I didn't think that far."

"Didn't think that far?" Harry chortled, "How about on your arm?” He squeezed her arm softly above the crease of her elbow, "Won't hurt too bad if we do it here."

"Okay Harry," She nodded, trusting him implicitly. Harry wanted to smother her in kisses with the way she was looking at him like she would do anything he said without even questioning it.

Harry prepped everything, making sure he had all he needed to start the tattoo. He went a little slower than he normally would, wanting to give her enough time to make sure she was certain about getting the tattoo. He mixed up the ink and switched on the tattoo gun as Y/N lay back against the leather chair.

"Y' okay flower?" Harry checked again, expecting to get the same answer he had already gotten only for her to chew on her lip and scrunch up the fabric of the skirt she was wearing.

"M a little nervous," She admitted, blushing.

"Hey it's okay to be nervous," He cooed, dropping the equipment and rolling over to her on his chair. He leaned against the seat she was lying in so his face was up close to hers, he brushed a few strands of hair from her face and the feeling of his hands calmed the nerves Y/N was feeling. "It'll hurt a little bit. Some people say it feels like a little like a tiny scratch but you get used to the feeling."

"But what if you start and then I don't want it anymore because it hurts?" She realises she should have asked these questions before they had gotten this far.

"Tha's why you need to be sure you want it sweet girl. Don't wanna see you in pain either but it's a small tattoo so won't take long and it's on your arm which means it hurts a little bit less." Harry explained.

"Okay," She nodded, "B-but can you distract me a little? It'll help if you distract me."

Harry smiled, kissing her lips, "Can distract you any way you want, baby. Here," He removed the dog tag necklace he wore all the time without failure and handed it to her, "Can fiddle with this while I draw on you."

Y/N felt her shoulders relax a little as she felt the cool metal in her hands, "Okay Harry." His lips pressed against her forehead, "Okay Y/N." He grinned.

Harry pulled on some gloves and got the tattoo gun running. Y/N went stiff as the humming sound filled the room but she reminded herself of Harry's words and continued to play with his necklace. "Okay, ready baby?" He gave her one last kiss for comfort and then, when she nodded her head, the needle made contact with her skin.

She gasped as the tiny needle pricked at her skin. It wasn't as painful as she thought it was going to be but it wasn't comfortable either. She tried to relax but her muscles were all tensed up.

Harry tried to comfort her as best as she could. Whispering words of encouragement, "So good baby, y' so brave." He'd say and tell her it would be over in a moment even though a moment felt like an eternity in her mind.

"Is it over yet?" She was starting to feel the discomfort and was already waiting for it to finish.

"Almost angel," He cooed and finished up the final lines of the drawing. "There we go, all finished."

Y/N let out a long breath she didn't know she was holding and immediately her eyes flickered down to the tattoo Harry had drawn on her. She was in awe of how beautiful and intricate the design was and how quickly Harry had managed to draw it so perfectly. It was a perfect size on her arm, the angel wings matched exactly the same as the ones Harry had done on himself. She almost squealed with how happy she was with her first ever tattoo and how it was a permanent reminder of her sweet and loving boyfriend.

Harry grinned as he watched her face light up when she saw the tattoo, "'Y like it?" He asked, preparing the cream and wrap to put on it before she did something that would get it infected - they both knew she would do that if he wasn't careful.

"I love it, Harry!" She grinned, her smile lighting up the whole room.

Harry laughed at her happiness, "You're welcome baby." He applied the cream and wrapped it up before she could move anywhere. Instead of leaping out of the chair, she wrapped her arms around Harry and pressed her lips to his. He hummed, "Best tip I've ever gotten." He murmured.

"I kinda want another one," She couldn't stop looking down at her tattoo and taking in how pretty it was.

"Woah, slow down there flower, think you should wait a while until the next one." He repressed a smile. "But I'll happily draw up another one f'you."

"Okay Harry," She said, not really paying much attention to him.

"Alright c'mon, le's go upstairs. Wanna kiss you in bed if tha's okay." He quickly put all of his equipment away as Y/N gawked at her tattoo.

"I think I'd love that more than the tattoo," She sighed. Harry decided not to pull her up on the fact she was probably telling another fib.

. . .

"Y/N is that a tattoo!" One of her friends, Shakira, spoke out.

It had been two weeks since Y/N had gotten her first tattoo and she still wasn't over how pretty it was. Every morning she'd wake up and look at her arm and tell Harry how good of a job he did.

"No wonder you're a tattoo artist Harry!" She'd say, to which he'd just smile and sit patiently as she rambled about how much she loved her tattoo and how she wanted him to draw her another one.

"Oh yes!" Y/N rolled up the sleeve of her pyjama shirt so her friends could get a better look, "Harry did it. Isn't it pretty?" She sighed, thinking of her boyfriend who she hadn't seen since this morning.

Y/N had planned a slumber party at her place a few weeks ago since she hadn't seen her two friends, Shakira and Layla, in forever. She'd known them since high school and were the only two friends she really had other than Harry who was also her best friend.

Harry had promised he'd stay away and give her some much needed girly time. Although Y/N didn't like the idea of being away from Harry, she knew it was needed. He had some things he needed to do anyway and she wanted to give him space to do that too.

"Do you think he could do one for me?" Layla asked, her arm already littered with small tattoos.

"I can ask him for you if you'd like," Y/N offered, receiving a nod from Layla.

"What's it like being in a relationship?" Shakira asked, "I mean Harry seems the complete opposite of you, I'd never have pictured you together."

Y/N smiles, thinking back to their first interaction and how intimidated she was by him. Now she couldn't get enough of him, wanting to be with him and touch him whenever she could. "I know but Harry's... I don't know, he's not like how people assume. He's kind, caring and lovable. We have a lot more in common than most people think and even the things we don't have in common, Harry always listens to the things I have to say even when he doesn't completely understand."

"Awwww!" Y/N blushed when she realised she had been rambling too much again.

"You're so cute Y/N," Layla grinned. "And we're so happy for you. Harry seems like a great guy."

"He is," Y/N agreed, shyly.

"Have you said I love you yet?" Shakira smirked.

Y/N's smile faltered, "N-not yet..." She looked away from their gazes, "But I think I'm just waiting for the right time. Harry always has these moments where I think he's going to say it but he never does and part of me thinks he's still questioning it." Y/N admits.

Layla offers her a sympathetic gaze, "I'm sure he's just waiting for the perfect moment to tell you Y/N. Saying I love you can be a pretty big deal for some people."

"I know," Y/N nods in agreement, "And I'll wait for him, however long it takes."

Y/N spent the remainder of the evening gossiping and watching movies with her two best friends. Now and then, she would look down at her phone just in case Harry had sent her anything but nothing appeared other than a blank screen. She couldn't help but feel a little bit deflated that he hadn't checked in on her like he usually would but she quickly pushed the feeling away. Harry had other things he was doing, she'd see him later.

"Thank you for having us Y/N! It was so good to see you, we need to do it again sometime," Y/N stood at the door to say goodbye to her friends. It was nearing midnight and she wondered if Harry was in his apartment waiting for her.

"Thank you for coming! I missed you guys," Y/N chirped, she really did miss having her girlfriends around. She was so busy with work and spending time with Harry, that she rarely had time outside of those things. But after today, she was going to make it a priority to see her friends again.

"See you later Y/N!" Her friends waved as they walked down the steps from her apartment. Y/N smiled and waved until they were out of sight. She planned on calling Harry to check in on him and see if he was alright but a crash from his apartment halted her steps.

She paused, stilling herself so she could hear a little better. Another thud came from his apartment followed by a string of curses and something that sounded like a clutter of things falling on the floor.

"Harry?" Y/N called through the door but received no response. "Harry, are you okay? It's me, it's Y/N."

"Y/N," Harry's voice murmured through the door. Y/N relaxed a little at the sound of his voice but she was still worried about him. It wasn't normal for him to keep his distance from her like this.

"Harry, are you okay?" She rested her hand on the doorknob, preparing to open it so she could see him with her own eyes.

"I-I'm fine baby. Go t' sleep m'love. I'll be there in a little while," Y/N frowned when she heard him wheezing a little as he breathed between words. He spoke much too slowly compared to his usual drawl as though it was too much work for him to speak.

"Harry please, jus' wanna see you." She tries again, hoping he'll open the door.

"Promise I'll be there t' give you your kisses baby but I jus' need... a moment," Y/N's face fell.

"H-Harry you're scaring me," She said, quietly.

Harry was on the other side of the door, clutching onto his side. He was already hurting but hearing his angel begging to come in was killing him. He couldn't leave her out there. She looked the perfect remedy to his currently aching body when he looked through the peephole of his door and saw her already in her pyjamas, looking all snuggly and cute.

"Not tryin' t' scare you, dove. Please I'll be out in a minute." He hoped she would listen like she normally would. He needed enough time to clean up as best as he could so he could return to her- looking like the Harry she knew- but she wasn't having it, reminding him of just how stubborn she could be when she wanted to.

"Harry, I-I'm gonna open the d-door. I have to see if you're okay," She spoke, clearly and carefully.

Harry looked down as the doorknob twisted. He wanted to twist the key and lock it to keep her out but he lost control of his own mind as he stepped back and allowed her to push the front door open.

He stood under the dim light of his living room. He had been meaning to get the lightbulb fixed but he'd been spending too much time at Y/N's apartment to remember.

Her eyes went from his feet all the way up to meet his face. Her lips parted and her eyes started to water, his heart ached at the sight. "No baby," He stepped forward, pulling her into him and holding her to his chest even though it ached to do so.

"H-Harry," She whispered, her voice cracking, "What happened?"

She pulled back and cupped one of his cheeks in her small hand. Harry's eyes fluttered shut at the sensation, he could have sworn every ounce of pain lifted from her touch alone. "Was out with a friend, you know, the one who deals," He explained, referring to Mike who Y/N had met. He didn't want to hide from her and she already knew he smoked weed regularly so it was no surprise to her when he told her he'd been smoking, "We pulled over so he could drop something off but I guess the customer got a little aggressive. He was probably on something but he was refusing to pay I think Mike said. I was in the car and all I saw was this guy trying to swing at him. I ran out to help him and we managed to get away before he had the chance to do anything worse but he obviously managed to get a good few hits in before."

Harry hadn’t remembered the last time he had gotten into a fight other than when he was a teenager just after his parents got divorced. He had managed to get a few punches in, making his knuckles all red and cut up, but he'd also been the victim of a few hits too. He had a black eye, a busted lip and a pounding headache from the impact of the punch he had received.

"Harry," Y/N choked on a sob, "Y-you could have been seriously h-hurt,"

"I know baby, I know." He cradled her head in his arms as she wrapped her arms around him, not squeezing too tight because she knew he was in pain. "But 'm here now."

Her eyes were red-rimmed as she looked at him, "You were helping Mike?" She asked.

"'s all I was doing baby, promise." He hated how worried she looked so he was willing to do anything to comfort her until she knew he was okay.

She pulled away, "W-where are you hurting?" She looks down as if checking him for any more bruising. He could see her visibly starting to panic, her hands shaking and her chest moving up and down rapidly.

"Hey, c'mere, c'mon now." He picked her up and brought her over to the couch, "M okay sweet girl, nothing to worry about anymore. Calm down f' me, please. Hate seeing you in a panic." He uttered to her, rocking her back and forth with her face buried in his neck.

"You're all b-bruised," She whimpered, "Y-you must be in so much pain."

"Not anymore my love. Hmmm, my flower is here, takin' all m' pain away aren't you dove?" He kissed her shoulder.

"C-can I help you?" She whispered, eyes blotchy and red from crying a little.

"Wanna patch up m' bruises love?" She nods as if there was nothing else she'd rather do than be there for him. "Alright, le's go to the bathroom and y' can help me." He carried her to the bathroom and placed her on the counter near the sink. He grabbed a first aid kit from the cabinet under the sink and handed it to her. "Didn't know m' girlfriend was a little nurse." He smirked, a blush covering her cheeks.

Harry stood between her legs with his hands on the counter on either side of her. He watched her as she cleaned the cuts and treated the bruise covering his eye. He smiled when the tip of her tongue stuck out between her lips, "Be careful, I'll bite that tongue." He teased.

Y/N squeaked hiding her tongue away, but quickly composed herself, "You're not getting anywhere near my tongue mister." She sasses and Harry grins so wide, his cheeks hurt.

"No? You don't think I deserve a kiss baby? M in so much pain." He hides his face in her neck and presses spongy kisses on her soft skin.

Y/N giggles at the ticklish sensation, trying to push him away, "No, you can't, not until I patch you up and you stop getting into fights."

"Actin' like I get into fights every other weekend baby," He smirks, "Only f' you."

Her mouth opens and closes as she tries to figure out what to say in such a flustered state from his words. He takes the opportunity to kiss her, their lips pressing together under the low light of the bathroom. He hadn't seen her since this morning and had been missing her all day but knew she needed some time with her girlfriends without him smothering her. It didn't stop him from glancing at his phone now and then to see if she'd called him, just like she had done.

The small time they spent away from each other during the day made him all the more desperate to kiss her. He cradled both her cheeks in his hand, brushing his thumb over her cheekbones. She wrapped her arms around his neck and played with the baby strands of hair on the nape of his neck. "Missed you," She murmured when their lips parted.

"Missed y' too flower." He hummed, "Don't know what's wrong w' me to want you this bad." His hands travelled down her arms, his fingers brushing over her tattoo as he slid past it before he intertwined their fingers together. “Think m just a teeny bit in love with y’ to be honest.” He confessed.

And suddenly they were both existing outside of their own bodies.

"W-what?" Y/N's eyes glazed over.

“Oh shit.” Harry cusses, squeezing his eyes shut, his face scrunching in frustration, “Wasn’t meant to be this way flower.”

“Y-you love me?” Her bottom lip quivered, her brain not quite believing what she was hearing.

Harry's heart was racing as he looked her in the eyes, "I love you." The words left his mouth and had never felt so right or so freeing. He couldn't understand why now of all moments was the time to finally say it but a piece of himself felt whole and all the pain from his body had left as he told her the three words that had been trapped in his throat for so long.

Y/N's mind whirred as she processed Harry's words. The air seemed to thicken around them, and for a moment, time hung suspended. She searched his eyes for any sign of hesitation, but all she found was sincerity and vulnerability. "You do?" She whimpered.

"Oh no flower, don't cry. Hate seeing tears in those pretty eyes," He began to wipe them away as soon as they fell from her eyes.

"I'm sorry," She blubbered, "I never imagined... I never imagined someone could feel this way about me," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Never thought I'd be in love either but here we are," He chuckled, "Love you so much, m'favourite flower." He rubbed their noses together.

Y/N's pouty lips sprouted into a beautiful smile, "I love you too Harry, more than anyone in the whole world."

"Y’ already told me that once before." He smiled, a mixture of adoration and a touch of amusement dancing in his eyes.

“I did?” She frowned.

“Mhm,” Harry nodded, “Before you fell asleep, you mumbled it and told me you loved me and when you woke up y’ didn’t remember.”

“Really?” She couldn’t help but feel embarrassed knowing she admitted something so big in her sleep.

“Honestly,” Harry told her, “Think y’ were probably dreaming or something.”

“Is this a dream? Feels like it,” Y/N whispers.

“S most certainly not a dream m’love.” Harry kissed her quickly, “Gonna love you forever I think.”

She leant forward, running her fingers through his hair as his head fell back. He hummed at the feeling, biting on his lip to stop himself from smiling so much before burying his face in the crook of her neck - in the place he loved so much. "Promise." He whispered, lips ghosting her skin.

Their fingers traced lazy patterns on each other's skin, a silent communication between them. The room was filled with the hushed whispers of their love, as if time had slowed down so they could savour the sweetness of this very moment.

Y/N yawned which made the corner of Harry's lips turn upwards, "Y' done fixing me up now? Wanna go t' bed love?" She nodded, wrapping herself around him. He reminded himself to clean away the first aid kit in the morning, his priority was getting his girl some much-needed sleep.

She curled into him when they lay in his small bed, her head resting on his chest right where her heart was. She played with his hair and he ran a hand up and down her bare back underneath her pyjama shirt, "I love you," She murmured into the quiet.

He hoped she could hear his heart beat a little faster at her words, "I love you s' much, flower. With everything in me, gonna be mine forever y'are." He mumbled the words into her ear.

Harry cupped the side of her face as her tired, glossy eyes looked at him with so much love and adoration, that he didn’t know what to do with it all. In the dimly lit room, they leaned in close, their breath mingling as their lips met in a gentle, passionate kiss. His hands found her waist, pulling her closer, while hers tangled in his hair. They explored each other's mouths, lost in the heat of the moment, their bodies pressed together. Each kiss was filled with longing and desire, igniting a fire between them that burned brighter with every touch.

“I’ve never loved anyone before,” Y/N whispered to him.

“Really?” Harry smiled.

“You’re my first love.” Y/N has to bite her lip to stop herself from smiling so wildly but Harry tugs her lip with his thumb and suddenly her smile is so wide her cheeks turn pink.

“You’re my first and only love.” He murmured.

She liked that and she loved him.

This was exactly where they were both meant to be —with the person who had become not only their first love but their forever love too.

A flower tattooed to his heart.

#harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagines #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #tattooartist x innocent reader #harry styles writing #writing #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #one direction #virgin!reader #harry styles au

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theemporium · 4 months

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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)

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.

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