#fred needs to get laid

[pucksandpower]

Breaking Point

Charles Leclerc x Ferrari!Reader

Summary: Charles Leclerc finally reaches his breaking point after the disaster that was the United States Grand Prix. Something needs to change … and that’s where you come in

“Again, again!” Charles’ voice rings out, echoing through the debrief room, “How can we mess this up? I was on pole!”

Fred Vasseur looks down, sighing, but trying to maintain composure. “Charles, it was a miscalculation—”

“A miscalculation?” Charles retorts, eyes blazing, “This has been a trend all season, Fred. It’s not a one-time mistake. It’s systemic.”

Carlos, looking uncomfortable, tries to chime in, “It wasn’t just about strategy, you know the car—”

“Oh, I know the car,” Charles snaps, “And it was built against my driving preference. But it’s not just that. It’s everything. The poor race strategy, the unnecessary swap, and now being disqualified as if my day has not been bad enough!”

Enrico Cardile, the team’s technical director, steps forward, “Disqualification was not anticipated. We followed the regulations to the best—”

“Enough with the excuses!” Charles’ voice cracks with emotion. The weight of the season, the betrayal he feels, finally makes him see red. “Every time there’s an excuse. We’re a team and yet somehow it feels like I’m constantly battling not just our opponents but Ferrari as well.”

A deep silence settles.

The head strategist, Ravin Jain, finally speaks up hesitantly, “We thought the one-stop made sense. The data suggested—”

“Data,” Charles interrupts bitterly, “The same data that led to a decision that every other team on the grid laughed at! Did the data also suggest swapping me with Carlos? Or was I being punished for being able to manage my tires?”

Carlos, despite himself, looks hurt. “I didn’t ask for the swap,” he mutters.

Charles takes a breath, looking at his teammate, “I know. It’s not your fault, hermano. But I need to trust the team’s decisions. And right now, I don’t.”

Sporting Director Diego Ioverno tries to mediate, “It’s been a tough season, Charles. Everyone is understandably stressed. Let’s sit down, review everything together, and find a way forward.”

Charles shakes his head, “That’s what we said last time. And the time before that. And the twenty times before that! Empty promises, meetings, discussions, and then what? Nothing gets done and there is another disaster waiting to happen.”

Fred tries one more time, “We’re as frustrated as you are. We’re a family. We’ll figure this out.”

Charles scoffs, “I can’t keep being let down and used. Not like this.”

The room falls silent once more, a heavy cloud of disappointment and tension hanging in the air.

Carlos reaches out, placing a hand on Charles’ shoulder, “Things will get better.”

Charles meets Carlos’ gaze, nodding slightly. But the fire in his eyes has not dimmed, “I need to believe in this team again. But right now ...” He pauses, “I have a call to make.”

He turns, leaving the room filled with introspective silence. The team is left behind, grappling with their own emotions, knowing that actions will always speak louder than words.

***

Charles steps out into the warm evening air, taking a moment to compose himself before dialing a number he knows by heart but hasn’t touched in months.

“Hey,” Charles’ voice is a low rasp, every ounce of weariness evident.

Then a pause, as he listens to the voice on the other end.

“Yeah, it’s me ... look, I know what I said earlier this season. About handling it myself.” He takes a deep breath, letting the weight of it all settle.

A longer pause, broken by Charles’ intermittent nods and “Uh-huhs.”

“Every race feels like it’s been one disaster after another. And it’s not just the car, it’s everything. I can’t ... I can’t keep doing this to myself.”

He listens closely.

“I told them today, laid it all out. But it’s like talking to a brick wall. They listen, they nod, and then? The same mistakes. Over and over.”

He shifts his weight, the sound of his shoes scraping on the gravel echoing softly.

“I know, I know I told you not to get involved ... but maybe ... maybe that was a mistake.” He sounds defeated, a man at the end of his rope. “I need help. Real help. Maybe it’s time you step in.”

Charles is silent, absorbing whatever the person on the other end is saying.

“No, it’s not about leaving the team,” Charles’ voice is earnest, desperate even. “It’s about respect. Trust. It’s about feeling like I’m not constantly fighting against the tide, not just against other teams but within my own garage.”

A long pause.

“What I mean is, maybe some changes within the team would be good. Fresh perspectives. New faces, perhaps. Somewhere I can trust the decisions, the strategy ...”

He sighs.

“I just want to race, you know? Without all this drama. Without constantly wondering if I’m being set up to fail no matter what I do.”

Another pause as he listens, nodding, lost in the gravity of the decision he’s about to make.

“Thank you. Really. Let’s talk tomorrow? Lay out all our options?”

There’s a moment of quiet, only the sound of his breathing, the distant hum of the circuit, the world slowly dimming around him.

“Thanks. Goodnight, Y/N.”

***

“Emilia,” you call out, and before a moment passes, your ever-efficient personal assistant is by your side.

“Yes, Y/N?” Emilia asks, perfectly poised.

“I need the jet prepared. We’re heading to Mexico City,” you say, voice steady and determined though inside, the turmoil from the phone call with Charles still lingers.

Emilia raises an eyebrow slightly, a silent question in her eyes. “Any particular reason?”

You sigh, looking away for a moment, reflecting on the weight of the legacy you carry. “Scuderia Ferrari needs my direct attention. I trusted them to handle things, but ... it’s clear that has not been happening.”

Her eyes flash with understanding. “Of course. I’ll have the jet ready. When do you wish to depart?”

“Tomorrow morning, early.”

She’s already typing into her tablet. “I’ll book you the Presidential Suite at the Four Seasons. Will you be needing a meeting space there?”

“Absolutely,” you nod. “On Wednesday, before the Grand Prix. Organize for all team personnel to meet in the hotel conference room. And Emilia ... they are not to know the reason for the meeting or that I’m the one calling it.”

Her eyes gleam with a hint of mischief, “Mystery and surprise. I love it. Consider it done.”

A small, wry smile tugs at your lips. “Thank you. And can you make sure Charles knows about my arrival? But ask him to keep it quiet.”

“Of course. Anything else?”

You pause, taking a moment to consider. “Just one more thing. Make sure we have everything we need to review the team’s decisions and strategies for this season. Every little detail.”

Emilia nods. “Absolutely. Everything will be arranged as per your instructions.”

You take a deep breath, “Thanks, Emilia. This … it’s about preserving a legacy, and right now, that legacy is on shaky ground.”

She places a reassuring hand on your shoulder, “If anyone can steer this ship right, it’s you.”

***

The door to the conference room opens with a low creak, and the room immediately falls silent. Everyone turns to see you entering, your presence commanding every ounce of attention.

“Good afternoon,” you begin with ice-cold authority. “Thank you all for meeting on such short notice.”

There are murmurs of acknowledgment but no one dares speak up.

“I’ve reviewed our performance this season,” you continue, pacing the length of the conference room, letting each word sink in. “And to say I’m disappointed would be an understatement.”

Fred shifts uncomfortably in his seat, eyes darting around the room. You lock eyes with him, “Fred, you promised change. But the only change I’ve seen is our team’s steep decline.”

“I understand your frustration,” Fred stammers, “We’ve faced challenges—”

You cut him off sharply, “Challenges? Every team faces challenges. What matters is how you overcome them.”

Several team members look down, uncomfortably shuffling papers and avoiding eye contact.

You turn to the strategists, “Your decisions have cost us dearly, time and time again. Your inability to read a race situation, to adapt, to strategize effectively ... it’s quite frankly appalling.”

One of the strategists, a middle-aged man named Roberto, speaks up defensively, “We did our best with the information we had.”

Your eyes narrow, “Your best? Tell that to Charles, who has been left out in the cold race after race.”

Moving on, you address the engineers and designers, “Our car has issues that should have been rectified at the beginning of the season. Yet here we are, still struggling.”

An aerodynamicist named Lucia, clearly agitated, stands up. “We’ve been working tirelessly, trying to find solutions.”

You level her with a gaze, “Then maybe it’s time we look for people who can find those solutions more efficiently.”

Lucia’s face reddens, “You can’t just—”

“Actually I can,” you interrupt, “And I will.”

Your attention turns to Xavi, Charles’ race engineer, who has been noticeably silent. “Xavi, your dynamic with Charles has not been the slightest bit helpful. His feedback, his needs ... they’ve fallen on deaf ears.”

Xavi, trying to defend himself, says, “It’s a two-way street. Charles can be difficult.”

You shake your head, “Charles is a world-class driver. It’s your job to bridge any gaps, not widen them. I checked and it turns out that constantly repeating we are checking like a broken record is not beneficial for race performance!”

Taking a deep breath, you make your announcement, “Effective immediately, Roberto, Lucia, and several other strategists, engineers, and aerodynamicists that a personal audit revealed as detrimental to team performance relieved of their duties. Xavi, you too are let go.”

There are gasps around the room, the weight of your words sinking in. Roberto stands, fuming in anger, “You can’t just dismantle this team!”

You lock eyes with him, “I’m not dismantling. I’m rebuilding. And if that means letting go of every one of you who can’t uphold the standards of Scuderia Ferrari then so be it.”

Fred finally speaks up, “And what about me?”

You lean in, “Consider your position on very thin ice. I expect results. And fast.”

You straighten up, the room thick with tension, “Scuderia Ferrari is not just a team, it’s a legacy. My great-grandfather would be rolling in his grave to see what has been done to his beloved team. I will not stand by and watch it crumble.”

With a final, piercing gaze around the room, you pivot on your heel and exit with a flick of your hair.

***

You lean against the cool wall, taking a moment to gather yourself after the emotional intensity of the meeting. The hallway is quiet save for the distant hum of voices but soon familiar footsteps make their way around the corner.

“Charles,” you call out softly as spot the driver.

His green eyes, clouded with a mix of emotions, meet yours. “Y/N.”

“Are you okay?”

He hesitates, “I wasn’t expecting all of that.”

You nod, “It was long overdue. I should have intervened much sooner.”

Charles runs a hand through his hair, clearly trying to process everything. “It’s ... a lot. I didn’t think you would actually step in like this.”

You sigh, “I hoped I wouldn’t have to. But my bisnonno once said that aerodynamics are for people who can’t build engines, and right now, it sure seems like Ferrari can’t do either.”

Charles chuckles dryly, “You have a point. It’s been ... frustrating.”

You gently touch his arm, trying to reassure him, “Enzo also believed that dreams become bigger, much bigger, to build a car that doesn’t slow in the curves, that flies without leaving the ground. I want that dream for you. For us.”

He looks at you, “It’s all I’ve ever wanted. A car that allows me to race to my full potential.”

You nod, thinking of the iconic red car and its tremendous legacy, “I know. And we’ll get there. Remember, racing cars are neither beautiful nor ugly. They become beautiful when they win.”

A smile tugs at Charles’ lips, “I haven’t won in too long. I almost forget what it feels like.”

You step closer, “That is going to change. I’m here for the long haul. To rebuild, restructure, and reclaim the Ferrari legacy. Glory will be dressed in red once more.”

He nods and swallows thickly. “Thank you, Y/N. It means more than you know.”

You smile softly, “We’re a team. And I promise to do whatever it takes to see us on top again.”

***

Early that Friday at Autódromo Hermanos Rodríguez, you gather the team in the garage.

“Good morning, everyone,” you begin. “I know it has been a whirlwind these past few days but I want to set the tone for this weekend.”

Fred, still adjusting to the new dynamic, nods silently from the back.

“We haven’t had the time to implement any physical changes to the car,” you continue, “But they are coming. For now, the difference will be about being smart … being strategic.”

Charles listens intently, his gaze occasionally drifting to the newcomers in front of him.

Speaking of the new additions, you gesture to the two people standing on either side of you, “I’ve brought on Marit Nilsen as our Principal Strategy Engineer and Claudio Segreti as Charles’ new race engineer. Not only are they exceptional engineers but also global chess masters.”

There are murmurs of surprise and interest among the crew. The world of Formula 1 and professional chess has rarely, if ever, intersected.

Marit, a tall woman with striking blonde hair, steps forward, “Chess is all about strategy, foreseeing the opponent’s moves and countering them. That’s what we’re here to do but on the track.”

Claudio, with his dark hair and deep-set eyes, adds, “Every move and decision we make will be precise. We’ll anticipate, adapt, and overcome.”

Carlos clears his throat, “So what’s the plan for free practice?”

You smile, “Today, we observe. We learn. We see where the car stands, where our strengths and weaknesses lie.”

As free practice commences, there’s a different energy in the garage. Marit, with her sharp analytical mind, quickly picks up on patterns, working closely with Claudio and Carlos’ engineer to ensure both drivers get feedback they need.

There’s a visible shift throughout the weekend. The team, rejuvenated by fresh perspectives, operates with a renewed vigor. And while the car may not have upgrades yet, new strategy quickly begins to make a difference like anticipated.

Qualifying sees Charles securing P3, an unexpected but welcome result. The garage is full of cautious hope but Marit and Claudio remain focused, already planning for the race to come.

Race day dawns and the tension is thick. You pull Charles aside, “Remember, things have changed. Believe in the strategy and the moves we make.”

He nods, “I trust them. And I trust you.”

As the lights go out and the cars roar to life, Charles delivers a performance that’s both calculated and aggressive. Every pit stop and every overtake is orchestrated like a chess match.

The race sees Charles finishing in P2 and Carlos in P4, a significant improvement from recent races.

The garage is a mix of tentative elation and relief.

Marit thoroughly reviews the race data, “This is just the beginning. Once the car upgrades are in place, the board will be ours.”

The sun sets on the Mexico City Grand Prix, but for Scuderia Ferrari, a new dawn is on the horizon.

***

“Fabiano Turati,” you muse, looking at the impressive portfolio before you. “Aerospace engineer, a key player in the development of hypercars for Agnellotti Motors, a professor at Politecnico di Milano. But never in F1?”

Fabiano, with salt and pepper hair and an air of quiet confidence, smiles slightly. “It’s not for lack of offers. I have just always believed in pushing boundaries outside of traditional paths.”

You lean back, intrigued, “So why Ferrari now?”

His eyes scan around the garage, “A challenge. An opportunity. A legacy to uphold. And, to put it simply, I think I can make a difference.”

You nod, appreciative of his candor. “We have three races left this season: Brazil, Las Vegas, and Abu Dhabi. Realistically, how much can we improve?”

You can practically see the gears in his brain turning, “In terms of complete redesign? Not much. But in terms of optimization and efficiency? Quite a bit.”

By the Brazilian Grand Prix, Fabiano’s influence is evident. While not a complete transformation, the SF-23 sports streamlined wings and a refined rear diffuser, maximizing what the current design allows.

“Initial feedback is good,” Charles reports after the practice session. “There’s a notable difference in the corners.”

Carlos chimes in, “The balance feels better.”

The improvements are evident, with both Ferraris finishing just off the podium. But Las Vegas poses a new challenge: a circuit unfamiliar to all teams and drivers.

“This is anyone’s game,” Marit says, examining the track layout.

Fabiano nods, “This weekend will be all about adaptation.”

The Las Vegas Grand Prix is an exhilarating rollercoaster. Charles fights for a podium finish, narrowly missing out but showcasing the SF-23’s newfound prowess, while Carlos secures a solid sixth.

As the season finale in Abu Dhabi looms, anticipation runs high. The Yas Marina Circuit will end the year with a test of Ferrari’s mettle.

Post-race, with both Ferraris finishing on the podium after avoiding a pile up that took out multiple opponents, there’s a sense of satisfaction but also of hunger.

“We’ve made progress,” Fabiano says as the garage winds down. “But next season, we’ll aim for a car that is not just evolved but fully revolutionized.”

You smile, “With you on board, I truly believe we can. The future is bright for Scuderia Ferrari.”

***

“Look at her,” Fabiano muses, admiration clear as the blueprint for the SF-24 is spread out before you both in your Maranello office.

“She’s a beauty,” you agree, tracing your fingers over the schematics. “If she performs half as well as she looks ...”

“She will,” Fabiano leaves no room for doubt. “We’ve streamlined the aerodynamics, enhanced the power unit, and made significant weight reductions.”

Carlos walks in with a grin on his face, “Is this the beast we’re taming next season?”

“That’s the plan.”

Charles catches your eye from where he lingers by the door. “It’s a fresh start,” he murmurs, approaching the table almost reverently. “I feel it.”

Over the following weeks, you rarely leave the factory other than to sleep and shower. You immerse yourself with the team, observing wind tunnel tests, joining strategy sessions, and even trying your hand with pit stop drills.

One evening, after a particularly long meeting, Charles finds you in the lounge, sipping an espresso. “Mind if I join you?”

You gesture to the seat across, “Of course not.”

He sits and just looks at you until you get the urge to fidget. “I’ve been thinking,” Charles begins, “About the changes, the car, and ... us.”

You raise an eyebrow, “Us?”

Charles smiles slightly, “You and I. We’ve spent so much time together these past weeks. I’ve gotten to know you, not just as Y/N Ferrari but as ... Y/N.”

You flush and not just from the hot coffee, “I feel the same. It’s been ... refreshing. Getting to know the man behind the helmet.”

He leans forward, elbows on the table, “There’s this great little place just outside Maranello. Quiet, hidden. I was thinking, maybe, dinner?”

Your heart skips a beat but you maintain your composure, “I’d really like that.”

The winter in Maranello unfolds, and as the SF-24 takes shape, so does the bond between you and Charles.

Between brainstorming sessions and late-night discussions about optimal setups, there are stolen moments: shared glances, lingering touches, and dinners that stretch long into the night talking about anything and everything.

Carlos teases, “Seems like the new car isn’t the only thing igniting sparks.”

You roll your eyes but there’s no hiding the smile tugging at your lips. You don’t try to deny it. Why bother when you hope it might be true one day?

***

r/formula1

Posted by RaceRundown · 6 hours ago

First look at the SF-24! Thoughts?

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RedFever · 6 hours ago

This could be the machine that keeps Ferrari at the top. Just look at those lines!

⇧ 2.5k ⇩ | Reply | Give Award | Share | Report | Save | Follow

PitStopPundit · 5 hours ago

Getting major 2004 vibes from this. Could be a dominant year for the Scuderia!

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***

You step into the air-conditioned motorhome, grateful for an escape from the Bahraini heat. Charles and Carlos, race suits unzipped around their waists, are animatedly discussing their first day of preseason testing with the SF-24.

“Last year, we didn’t have to sandbag because the car was, well … genuinely that slow,” Charles laughs. “But this time around ...”

Carlos grins, finishing his sentence. “This time, we have an ace up our sleeves.”

You nod, “Just remember, it’s only testing. We still have to see where we truly stand.”

The race weekend finally kicks off and the paddock is full of speculation. After a deliberately unimpressive showing during testing, no one expects Ferrari to be a front-runner.

Yet, when the lights go out, the SF-24 does not just impress …. it dominates. Charles takes P1 with Carlos not far behind in P3. And the world takes notice.

The next few races see a rejuvenated Ferrari. In Saudi Arabia, Charles and Carlos deliver a nail-biting duel with Red Bull, securing a double podium. Australia is a tougher battle, with Mercedes coming to form, but Charles clinches a respectable P4.

The Asian leg of the season has its highs and lows. In Japan, despite a torrential downpour, Charles masterfully handles the wet track to clinch the top step. On the podium, he points up at the sky and then shapes his fingers — first into a one and then a seven — a silent tribute to his late godfather and mentor.

However, China proves challenging and sees the SF-24 struggling unusually with tire degradation. But as Miami approaches, the team regroups and Charles takes a commanding win under the Florida sun.

Then comes Imola, the first of Ferrari’s home races.

As the sun shines brightly over the circuit named after your great-grandfather and grand uncle, you find yourself walking the track alongside Charles. The weight of racing on home soil evident in his eyes.

“Everything okay?” You check, sensing his nervous energy.

He looks at you and taking a deep breath. “Racing in front of the Tifosi at home always feel different. I want to make them proud.”

“No matter what happens today, they will be proud of you. The whole team will be proud of you. We’ve come so far.”

He smiles, visibly lighter. “Then let’s give them a race to remember.”

And it is nothing short of spectacular. Charles starts P2, but with determination and brilliant strategy, he overtakes Max in the final lap and secures a victory for Ferrari on home soil.

The roar of the crowd, the sea of red flags, the tears in Charles’ eyes as he stands atop the podium — you make a promise to never forget this moment.

As the sun sets on Imola, the Scuderia Ferrari team comes together, basking in their victory.

As Charles, champagne-soaked and beaming, pulls you in for a damp hug, it is clearer than ever that this season is only the beginning of a beautiful journey ahead.

***

“Norris is approaching on a flying lap. Make sure not to impede,” Claudio’s voice comes through crisp and clear over the radio during the dying moments of Q3 for the Monaco Grand Prix.

You can practically feel Charles’ concentration from where you’re seated on the Ferrari pit wall. The narrow streets of Monaco leave no room for error … Charles knows this better than most.

“Copy,” Charles responds, adjusting his position on the track just enough to give Lando the space he needs to pass while keeping his own momentum.

The clock is ticking and Charles needs a perfect lap if he wants to clinch pole position.

“Tires are feeling good. Pushing now,” Charles says, rounding the first corner with precision. The SF-24 dances around the iconic circuit, the roar of its engine echoing through the streets.

From Casino Square to the hairpin and through the tunnel, Charles’ driving is flawless. Every apex hit and every corner nailed.

“Final sector, Charles. Make it count,” Claudio encourages.

And he does. Crossing the line and jumping to the top of the timing board.

The garage cheers but there’s no time to waste. Tomorrow’s race is what truly matters.

***

Race day in Monaco is always special, but today, with Charles starting from pole, there’s an electric tension in the air.

“Lights out in ten,” Marit announces over the intercom.

Charles, already in the zone, simply nods.

And then he’s lined up on the front row.

The lights illuminate one by one. Then, in a heartbeat, they go out.

The race is on.

Charles gets a strong start, holding off challengers through the initial turns. The streets of Monaco are notoriously difficult for overtaking, so track position is everything.

“Maintain the pace. Tire management is key,” Claudio advises as the laps progress.

As the race unfolds, strategy becomes crucial.

“Plan to box in two laps,” Marit instructs through Claudio. With with Verstappen close on his tail, everything must be executed perfectly.

The pit stop is lightning-fast, the crew working in synchrony. Charles emerges just ahead of Max, who had followed him into the pits.

Throughout the race, Charles’ skill shines. He manages his tires, navigates the backmarkers, and keeps a razor-sharp focus.

The final laps approach. The team, the spectators, the entire Principality holds its breath.

The chequered flag waves and Charles crosses the finish line to takes his first home win. The elation, the pride, the sheer emotion of the moment is overwhelming.

“Monaco, Charles! You’ve won Monaco!”

Tears in his eyes, Charles responds, voice choked, “We did it! This is for Monaco. This is for Ferrari. Grazie mille. Merci beaucoup.”

The team gathers beneath the podium, celebrating their victory and the hometown here. Charles quickly sprays the two drivers beside him before aiming the bottle at the sea of red cheering in front of him and soaking his team in champagne.

He thinks back to how this weekend ended last season and let’s his elation wash away the years of dejected he faced before.

Things are different now.

***

“I’ve never seen Monaco come alive like this after a win,” you shout over the pulsating music in one of the city’s many upscale clubs.

Charles grins, leaning in closer so you can hear him. “It’s the magic of a home race victory!”

As the night turns to early morning, alcohol flows freer and the laughter grows louder.

The Ferrari team loves any reason to celebrate and they’re certainly making the most of the location.

Charles pulls you to a quieter corner of the VIP section. “Have you ever danced with a Monaco Grand Prix winner?”

You roll your eyes at the attempt at flirting but laugh as you accept his outstretched hand. “There’s a first time for everything.”

The two of you dance, losing track of time.

The world blurs around you. All that matters is the magnetic pull between you two which has been simmering for so long that it is threatening to overflow.

Charles pulls you closer, his lips brushing your ear. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you.”

You relish in the warmth of his breath against your skin. “What’s that?”

“I’m drawn to you,” he admits, eyes searching yours. “Not just because of tonight but ... there’s something between us. I feel it. And I think you do too.”

You swallow hard. “I do.”

He hesitates before wrapping an arm around your waist, “Come with me.”

Without a word, you both exit the club, making your way to his apartment. The air between you is thick with anticipation but also vulnerability … openness.

Once inside, he gently pushes you against the wall, lips crashing onto yours. It’s passionate and intense, like a dam that has been waiting to break.

Charles pulls away slightly, “Are you sure about this?”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life,” you whisper, eyes locked with his. “But ... Charles, not just for tonight. I don’t want this to be just a result of a victory high or the Monaco night air.”

He cups your face, thumb brushing your cheek. “I don’t want that either. This isn’t about the race or the party. It’s about us. I think it’s been about us for a while now.”

“Then why didn’t you say something sooner?”

He chuckles softly. “You think it’s easy, being around you every day, wanting to be close but maintaining a distance for the sake of professionalism? To spend every evening when we’re in Maranello sitting across from you at dinner and wishing that I could call it a date? But tonight,” he pauses, eyes searching yours, “Tonight felt different.”

You waste no time to draw him closer. “No more waiting then.”

***

Canada’s Circuit Gilles Villeneuve echoes with the roar of engines and the cheers of fans. Charles dominates the track, mastering the chicanes and the notorious Wall of Champions.

But the race isn’t straightforward. Mid-race, strategy suddenly changes when an unexpected rain shower soaks the track. However, the new strategy team you’ve brought in makes all the right calls and Charles takes the chequered flag.

In the Spanish sun, it’s a different story. The high-speed corners expose a slight flaw in the SF-24 which leaves Charles fighting valiantly but finishing third.

Despite the setback, you see determination in his eyes. “We’ll get them in Austria,” he promises.

True to his word, at the Red Bull Ring, he dominates. The SF-24 suits the straights and fast corners. Charles takes pole and leads every lap, building a gap that the competition can’t close. The victory feels even sweeter given the circuit’s name.

Silverstone proves challenging. There’s fierce competition, and while Charles doesn’t win, he’s involved in one of the most thrilling wheel-to-wheel battles of the season with Max Verstappen. They exchange positions multiple times, showing pure racing talent. In the end, Charles finishes a proud second after a photo finish.

The Hungarian Grand Prix tests the team. Tire strategy becomes paramount. The SF-24 shows vulnerabilities in the surprisingly sweltering conditions. Still, Charles’ impeccable driving and some cunning strategy calls earn him a place on the podium.

At the Circuit de Spa-Francorchamps, Charles shines brilliantly. He conquers Eau Rouge and Raidillon like few can, making it seem effortless. The SF-24 feels perfectly balanced and he takes another win, smiling at the Ferrari flags waving high in the crowd as the Monegasque and Italian anthems play.

Through it all, you see Charles grow not just as a driver but as a leader and beacon of hope for the team and global fanbase. He is not just driving for himself or for Ferrari, he drives for everyone who believes in him.

***

The warm Italian sun pours golden light onto the expansive villa overlooking Lake Como. The water below sparkles, mirroring the sky. For a brief moment, the hectic world of Formula 1 feels miles away.

You’re lounging under an oversized umbrella, Aperol Spritz in hand, while Charles emerges from the pool, beads of water cascading down his toned physique.

“That swim was perfect,” Charles grins as he flops down beside you.

“You were in there for ages! Trying to turn into a fish?”

He shakes his head like a wet puppy, making you squeal as you try to escape the splashes. “Just preparing for our yacht trip. Besides, I have to burn off all those pasta dinners we’ve been having or else I won’t fit in the car by the end of the month.”

“The troubles of a professional athlete,” you laugh, “I’ve been indulging and I’m not even sorry.”

That evening, the two of you share a quiet moment on the terrace. Soft jazz floats from inside and cicadas buzz rhythmically.

“Remember our first race together?” Charles starts. “It feels like a lifetime ago.”

“I never imagined we’d be here. But I am so glad that we are.”

He meets your gaze, his eyes reflecting the same heat you feel. “Me too. These moments, away from the track with you ... they’re special.”

The following week, you find yourselves on a luxurious yacht off the coast of Sardinia. Charles’ family and both of your friends are aboard. The sun decks echo with laughter, music, and the soft lapping of waves. There is never a quiet moment and you relish in the sounds of happiness.

As you stand by the railing, watching Charles and Joris race each other on jet-skis, Arthur slides up beside you. “So, how’s life with my big brother?”

You laugh, “It’s an adventure every day. But honestly, I wouldn’t change a thing. It’s wonderful. He’s wonderful.”

Arthur nods, “I’ve never seen him this happy, you know?”

You smile warmly, your gaze drifting to where Charles has somehow fallen into the water and is now splashing his friend. “He brings out the best in me, just as I hope I do for him.”

***

The gentle lapping of the Mediterranean waves seems like a distant memory as you find yourself in Zandvoort.

“Quite the change of scenery, isn’t it?” Charles chuckles, standing beside you as the sea breeze of the Dutch coast tousles his hair.

You laugh, “A bit but I’ve missed it. Nothing beats the excitement of a race weekend.”

And what a weekend it was. Charles, against all odds, comes out on top at Max Verstappen’s home race. The Dutch crowd offer begrudging respect as Charles takes the top step.

And then, Monza.

Monza is different. There’s an electricity in the air that cannot be replicated anywhere else. It’s the home race of Ferrari … the cathedral of speed.

“Do you know,” you tell Charles as you both walk through the paddock, “I used to come here with my grandfather as a child. This track ... it’s steeped in history. I’ve always loved it.”

“Winning here was like nothing else I have ever experience,” he reflects. “Let’s do it again. We’ll write our own chapter in history this weekend.”

Qualifying is a nail-biter. Charles pushes the SF-24 to its limits, dancing on the edge of control.

“How are we looking?” Charles checks in.

“You’re on provisional pole,” Claudio responds over the radio. “But push on the last sector. Max is close and getting closer.”

And push he does. Charles clinches pole with a margin that leaves no doubts about the capabilities of both the driver and the car.

Race day, the atmosphere is fever-pitched. The Tifosi, in their sea of red, wave their flags and banners, chanting Charles’ name like a prayer. As the lights go out, the battle rages. The strategy is aggressive, a one-stop that requires Charles to defend position in the latter stages of the race.

“Lap 45. Push now, we need widen this gap,” Claudio instructs.

The tires scream in protest as Charles further carves out a lead. But as the laps tick down, Verstappen and Piastri close in.

“Drive smart and hold them off. Four laps to go. You’ve got this,” Claudio urges him on.

Going wheel-to-wheel with Max through the Ascari chicane, Charles pulls ahead. The Tifosi roar, their energy and sheer will pushing him on.

“Last lap. Bring it home!”

And he does.

As Charles crosses the finish line, the crowd erupts. The track is soon packed with red as fans flood the track, surrounding the podium.

From the sea of faces, one voice stands out — yours, “You did it, Charles. Monza is yours.”

He lifts the trophy high, a tear in his eye, “We did it. This is for Ferrari … for the Tifosi … for us.”

***

The streets of Baku and the lights of Singapore both witness the magic that Charles and the SF-24 weave together. Two more wins, two more steps closer to the championship.

And then you find yourselves in Texas.

“Do you remember this time last year?” Charles asks.

“How could I forget? It was the phone call that changed everything.”

Charles laughs but there’s a weight to it, “For both of us. It was a disaster ... pole to sixth and then the disqualification. All because of...” He doesn’t finish the sentence, the mismanagement of the team a heavy shadow neither of you can forget.

“You’ve grown since then,” you point out gently, “The team has grown. Look at where we are now.”

He nods, taking a deep breath, “One year. So much has changed. From one of the worst days in my racing career to ... this.” Charles gestures around, to the revamped team, the transformed car, the very atmosphere of competence that permeates every corner of the Ferrari garage.

“I can’t believe we’re here,” he whispers, “The championship is within our grasp. Right back where it all went wrong.”

You take a moment to pull out your laptop and open a data sheet, “Here’s the breakdown. If Max gets P2 in both the sprint and the race, you need P1 in both. That’s how we seal the championship this weekend.”

Charles’ eyes scan the spreadsheet, “That’s ... a tall order.”

“But not impossible. Not for you and not for this team,” you assure him.

He chuckles again but it’s brighter now, “With you in my corner? I know anything is possible.”

***

The energy is electric when qualifying day arrives in Austin. You find Charles in his driver’s room, eyes closed in focus as he visualizes the track.

“You ready for this?”

His eyes pop open, determination burning in them. “Ready. Let’s show them what we can do.”

Qualifying unfolds in a blur of fast laps and bated breath. Charles pushes the limits, wrestling the SF-24 around the bumpy circuit.

“Time for one more lap. Give it your all here,” Claudio radioes through.

Jaw set, Charles squeezes all he can from the SF-24. Silence falls as he crosses the line … broken by cheers as his new lap time is set.

Pole position for the second season in a row.

Charles sheds his helmet and rips off his balaclava. “Yes! That’s how we start a weekend!”

The sprint shootout and race similarly see Charles launch cleanly from P1, building a gap early.

“Verstappen is matching your pace, don’t let him get within DRS range,” Claudio advises.

“Copy,” Charles responds, focused.

A late charge from Max raises tensions but Charles keeps him at bay, taking the chequered flag and the eight points.

“That’s the way to do it!” You shout as Charles enters the garage.

“Grand Slam in the sprint, now time for the main event,” he grins.

You rally the team Sunday morning. “Remember, the start is crucial. The car that lines up in P2 has led by the end of lap 1 for five years in a row. We need full focus.”

It seems like barely any time has passed before Charles takes his spot on the grid. Lights out, tires screeching, he holds the lead through the first lap madness.

“Nicely done,” Claudio praises. “Manage those tires now.”

The pit stop strategy is executed flawlessly. Charles takes his second stop, emerging ahead of a charging Verstappen.

“Ten laps remaining,” Claudio counts down.

Charles responds with measured confidence, “Let’s bring it home.”

In the closing laps, he is poetry in motion, hitting each apex and maximizing every straight. Max closes in but Charles is perfect to the millimeter.

“Charles Leclerc,” Claudio’s voice cracks with emotion, “you are the World Champion!”

Eyes wet, Charles radios in, “Yes! Yes! Yes! We did it! Thank you guys! This is unbelievable! Grazie, grazie mille, grazie a tutti! It’s been an incredible season with all of you. This is for the team, for Ferrari, for all the fans, and for everyone who has supported me. We brought it back to Maranello! I’m speechless ... grazie, thank you!”

In the garage, celebrations in full swing, you lean in with a laugh, “Don’t worry, I checked with the FIA — the plank is up to regulation this time.”

Grinning, Charles pulls you into a passionate kiss as the team hoots and hollers around you.

The World Champion smiles so bright he makes the Texan sun look dull in comparison.

You would do anything to make sure he feels like this every season. You will do anything to make sure he feels like this every season.

***

The winter sun casts a warm glow on Maranello as you walk beside Charles into the Ferrari factory. The off-season buzz of activity fills the air as the team prepares for next year’s challenges.

Charles looks at the sleek lines of the new SF-25 with anticipation. “She’s beautiful. I can’t wait to see what she can do.”

“This one’s special. She’ll be fighting for the championship again.”

“Yeah?”

“You heard me right,” you say with a smile. “I made you a promise. Last season was just the beginning.”

As Charles turns for a briefing, you spot Fred across the room. Your relationship has evolved and he now respects the authority you wield for the team’s benefit.

Approaching, you extend a hand. “I wanted to say, you’ve led the team well this past season.”

He grasps it firmly. “We share this success. Thank you for being the catalyst we needed”

You know there will still be challenges ahead. But Ferrari has been reinvigorated. Its racing spirit has been reignited.

That evening, Charles joins you on the terrace of the home you both share when in Maranello and wraps you both in a warm blanket to fight the chill. “Can you believe what a year it’s been?”

You shake your head. “It’s been a dream.”

He pulls you close. “The dream is just beginning and it’s a dream I hope we never wake up from.”

[papaya-twinks]

italian blood - l.n

Warnings: Age Gap!

Pairing: Lando Norris x antonelli!fem!reader

Summary: Lando falls for Kimi’s twin sister

Kimi’s 20 in this, in order for his twin, y/n, to be 20 too. I also made 2025 into 2024 because idk what’s going on and it makes sense to me

part 2

You and Kimi were some of the closest siblings ever - going through each and every formula together, almost like a duo act. And now, with rumours circling of your brother joining F1, you couldn’t not be happy, but you also couldn’t not be hit with a tinge of jealousy. You’d been just as good, if not better, than Kimi, winning an extra F2 title than him. 

“Ciao, Kimi, Y/N,” Charles said, seeing the two of you walk down the pit lane, suits hanging low in your waist, having just finished your final practice. “Hey Charles,” you said, waving at him, “a word?”. The Monegasque nodded shortly as you waved off your brother, following the older driver into his garage. “How’s it going?” he asked, watching as you slumped against one of the tables. “Merda (shit),” you groaned, pinching the bridge of your nose. 

“Y/N, Y/N,” he said, sounding reassuring, “it will simply take time. I’ve put in my word to Fred and Carlos can vouch. Simply putting an Italian in an Italian, well, eh?” he nudged you as you shrugged. “Surely that’s what you want, no?” you asked, eyebrow raised. “Mon dieu (my god), Y/N, the meeting is it a few minutes,” Charles sighed, “let us wait til then,”. And you did so, a few bits of small talk with some engineers before moving to talk to Carlos. And then, you were called in. 

“Y/N, Y/N,” Fred ushered you and his drivers into his office as you sat down. “I’m sure you see the position I am in, yes?” he confirmed as you nodded warily. You weren’t quite sure what he was getting at, but nodded anyways, in order to speed up the situation. “We have a variety of options for Carlos’ replacement,” he continued, “Hamilton, perhaps,”. 

Wow, he was really pushing you to the edge. “And?” you said, expecting for him to tell you the outcome. “We’ve decided,” he spoke slowly, “to sign you one year,” your eyes widened, “to see how you are,”. Scrambling out your chair, you nodded before rushing out the office, finding Charles. “You got it?” the Monegasque asked, eyes wide at your reaction. “You bet!” you shrieked, throwing your arms round your friend. 

And shortly after that, a week or so later, Carlos’ departure was announced, but not your arrival. There was no doubt going to be a lot of controversy over a female racer, there already was in F2, let alone F1. The hate you already got for racing in F2 was hard enough to deal with. Of course, Charles knew, and you were allowed to tell a few people you trusted, such as your best friend, Oscar. 

“Wait wait,” he shushed you after you explained, “you’re meaning to tell me…MY best friend is gonna get beaten on track by me?”. You snorted at his words. “I believe the words you were looking for were, ‘beating YOU’,”. Oscar raised an eyebrow, following you down the pit lane. “Well, before you join the dark side…or the red side,” the Aussie said, “stay here for a bit,”. 

You scrunched your nose at his comment but followed him to his garage anyways, into the motor home behind. “Right, right,” he said, “you’re gonna need to come to this little dinner with a few drivers,”. You raised an eyebrow, “who’s coming?”. Oscar hummed, before counting on his fingers, “Charles, Max, Carlos, me and Lando,”. You knew Max and Charles, jabbing kitted a few times with Max, and you knew Carlos by extension of Charles.

However, Lando was not someone you knew. Besides, you’d never say no to food, who would? So it was arranged, you were going to meet Charles at the elevator before you left together for the fancy ass restaurant. Choosing an outfit that wasn’t too posh but wasn’t too laid back was probably going to be the main challenge. In the end, you settled on a pretty black dress and some platforms, and a bag to finish off the look.

“Hey Leclerc,” you saw your teammate waiting for you. He was wearing a simple shirt and dress trousers, so you were appropriately dressed. “Looking good, Antonelli,” he raised an eyebrow as he went into the elevator with you. You arrived at the restaurant a few minutes before everyone else, see if Carlos and Max in conversation as you sat down, smiling to them.

“Oscar’s on his way, and not sure about Lando,” Max said, handing you a menu. Your conversation was relatively easy and laid back, a few comments about the race before going onto random topics amongst yourselves. Oscar arrived and joined in with you and Charles. The only person left to arrive was Lando. “Finally, mate,” Charles looked up, seeing the young British driver behind me, wearing a white button up shirt, open at the top with a few necklaces, and black dress pants.

“Hey mate,” he leaned over you, before shaking Charles’ hand. You watched as his necklace fell in front of your eyes before he raised an eyebrow at Carlos, gesturing subtly to you. “Ah, Lando,” Charles sai,d realising Lando didn’t know of your job. “This is Y/N,” he introduced you to him, “she’s going to be the new Ferrari driver in ‘24,”. Lando raised an eyebrow, taking in your body and figure, before turning to Carlos.

“She’s your replacement?” he asked the Spaniard, as he nodded. “Right…” he turned back to you, “you have some big shoes to fill,”. You nodded, already aware. “Try to compete with you lot, then,” you shrugged. “Oh Y/N,” Max said with a small smirk, “you can try to compete with us, we’ll be lapping you,” Charles scoffed. “Yeah yeah, don’t get ahead of yourself, this is Ferrari territory,” he huffed.

You rolled your eyes at the boys arguing already before turning to Oscar who was on Lando’s other side. “Help me,” you mouthed, watching Charles on your right as Lando laughed. “You’ll get used to them,” he said sympathetically as the menu was handed to him. The dinner ended up going well, you exchanged number’s with Lando and got on his number. There was no doubt he treated you differently, but it was expected. He almost acted with caution.

“Add her to the group, mate,” Oscar said to Lando as you turned to them. “Well, it comes with a warning label,” he added your contact to it, smiling, “these guys are kinda loony,”. You laughed at his comment, you expected nothing less of the guys around you. “I’m sure you’ll fit in just great,” he nodded to you with a smile. “I hope so,”. The rest of the dinner was finished and Charles drove you home, dropping you to your apartment.

Lando was very nice, he spoke to you a lot, and made sure you felt comfortable, but you had to say, it was a pleasant surprise seeing a text from him already, as soon as you walked into your room.

You grinned at the texts, he was certainly very open to being friends, but the only way to put that to the test would be through racing. You were well aware, throughout other formulas, what competing against your friends could do to your bond with them, and testing the waters now with Lando would be too early. Your train of thoughts was broken by the sound of your phone dinging, a message coming in from your brother.

This was going to be interesting.

Shortly, the 2023 season rolled by, Max winning yet another championship and the seats were announced. Your brother, Kimi, was the new Mercedes driver, and you were the Ferrari driver. Of course, the hate was definite but you only used it to fuel you on and prove them wrong. And finally, you arrived in Bahrain with Charles and testing was to begin.

“The car’s good,” you said, not that you really had much to say, as this was your first F1 car. You were on your 15th lap so far, other drivers behind and in front of you, testing their own cars. “This is good, this is good,” your engineer said over the radio, “we need to box you for new tyres in the next lap, avoid Lando, please,” he said, making you look to your mirror, seeing the orange McLaren behind you.

You turned your head to your right, seeing Lando on your side, a small wave to you as he drove round, going into the next corner. You followed him, you knew it was testing, but a bit of racing wouldn’t hurt, right? “Y/N, what are you doing?” the engineer asked as you sped up, going round Lando on the next corner. You couldn’t see his face or anything, but you could almost sense he understood what you were doing and following you, behind you as he went down the inside on the first corner.

“Y/N, you missed the pit,” your engineer said, “we are not racing Norris,”. You huffed, it was just a bit of fun. “Sorry,” you slowed down, Lando’s car doing the same as he drove alongside you down the back straight. He held his hand up as if to say, ‘what are you doing?’ You shook your head, as if to say, ‘we can’t’. He threw his hand up, exasperated and drove off. You wanted to race him too, but maybe in the next races.

“Y/N Antonelli,” the interviewer smiled to you as you walked into the media pen. You smiled at the full name as he spoke more, “you were rapid on track, setting the fourth fastest time, just behind George, Charles and Lando,”. You grinned again, “Fourth is good an all, but we know a few of the better teams could be sandbagging,” you referred to Max without directly saying it, “and the car’s doing amazing, honestly,”.

The interviewer chuckled before he continued. “On the subject of Lando,” he said, “we saw a bit of wheel to wheel action between you two. This is testing, right?” he joked. You laughed again. “Yeah, well, he went down the inside and I was like ‘why not have some fun’?” you explained, “and he was alright with it, it was just joking around a bit,”. The interviewer hummed, “Is joking around really what should be happening?” he asked, making you raise an eyebrow, “did Lando even do it as a joke, or because you annoyed him?”.

That was the media for you. Creating unnecessary drama, as always. You didn’t say anything, your expression stoic and somewhat pissed. “Good racing, Antonelli,” a voice said behind you, making your cold expression break as you saw Lando. “Have some more of that in the race, yeah?” he shook your hand as you nodded. “Preferably when I’m in front,” you smiled as he clutched his chest. “I’m wounded,” he said dramatically. You shook your head at him.

“To answer your question, I think we both knew it was a joke,” you said triumphantly to the interviewer. This was going to be a very interesting season.

[desideriumwriter]

could you write a hurt/comfort where in the battle of hogwarts reader sees fred get hit by an explosion and goes on a rampage until a weak and limping fred stops them from casting the killing curse bc even tho he’s seriously injured he’s worried about them?

(also i absolutely love anyone but you)

i wrote this in one night can you tell lmao, anyways tysm!!! i hope this breaks your heart and puts it back together all at once

wc: 829

cw: talks/depictions of explosions, blood, injury, death, dissociation, reader literally almost kills a man, barely proofread

“Bombarda Maxima!” You heard his voice, you saw his face, you recognized it from the wanted poster you saw of him. Augustus Rookwood, a death eater.

You saw the spell hit right where Fred was standing. You witnessed him go down, disappearing in smoke and debris from the attack.

Once your ears stopped ringing a painful amount and the smoke cleared. You could see his body laid against the wall, head hanging down and his body still.

In the distance could see Rookwood standing there, staring at the destruction he caused with a pleased look. 

Body moving faster than your brain, you were sprinting towards him now. He began to runaway.

You were screaming an array of offensive spells as you chased after him. Reciting every one that you remembered from your dueling classes.

You were able to knock his wand out of his hand when he tried to cast something back at you, it flew somewhere out of reach of the both of you.

Throat sore and legs aching, you didn’t stop chasing after him.

“Diffindo! Confringo!” You moved onto more destructive spells, not caring about the pillars and stone you accidentally hit when the spells missed him.

“Sectumsempra!” A white bolt shot out of your wand, hitting him right in the back and knocking him forward into the ground.

You didn’t expect the spell to work, more of you didn’t know what to expect. You’d never used it before, never learned about it.

The only time you heard it and witnessed it being used was when Snape casted it and cut off George’s ear.

All you knew is that it did damage, harm, pain. That’s all you wanted to cause towards Rookwood.

You came to a stop once you were just a few steps away from where he was, grunting and squirming in agony on the ground. 

There were slash marks all over his body, blood soaking all throughout his clothing.

As you stood there in front of him, the only sounds were your sharp breaths, out of sync with Rookwoods pained ones.

Fred was gone. You saw him yourself. Limp and lifeless in the debris.

All morals were gone as you stared at him, your wand pointed and ready to cast.

It’s not fair he gets to live while Fred doesn’t. He doesn’t deserve to.

The call of your name and a hand on your shoulder was enough to make you spin around, pointing your wand threateningly at whoever was behind you.

“It’s me! It’s me!” Fred shouted, putting his hands up in innocence. 

“Hey, hey, look at me.” Fred’s shaky hands hovered over your shoulders, not sure if you were okay to be touched yet. You wanted to lock eyes with him, to comfort him with your gaze if he needed it, you knew he did. But a large part of you didn't want to see the state he was in.

You weren’t sure there was any comfort in your eyes either, only anger and fear. It was this strange  dissociated daze you were stuck in. Fred tried to shake you from it with his words.

“Look, it’s me. It’s only me.” He held your face with weak and bloodied hands, wiping the dirt and strands of hair that stuck to your sweaty face.

Your breaths were still sharp, body still tense, hand still tightly grasped around your wand, still looking around for any danger.

He kept repeating his words, saying your name, pleading for you to look at him until you finally did.

As your eyes locked with his, your sharp breaths turned into shaky sobs. 

“I thought you were…you looked…” Your hands roamed all over his upper half, “You’re here…oh God, you’re hurt.” you sobbed as you felt a warm soaked part on his torso. 

“I know, I know, let’s just…let’s just sit.” He limped and directed you to sit down with him on a knocked over pillar. You noticed more of his injuries through bleary eyes.

“Your leg, it’s all-“ You stared in horror at his damaged body, blood bleeding through his shirt and pants.

“I know. Let me just..” Your wand was now in his hand. He must’ve taken your wand from you while he was trying to bring your focus back to him. “Ferula.” He casted and bandages appeared, wrapping around his wounds. He closed his eyes and let out a relieved breath in response.

“I didn’t mean to scare you.” He breathed out, his voice soft yet out of breath. Your only response was to cry even more and wrap your arms around him.

Fred rubbed your back and shushed you. 

He held onto as if you were built out of ash, like you would crumble into his hands if he applied too much pressure. While you gripped onto him, his shirt balling up in your fists, refusing to let go. You practically were crumbling in his hold.

“It’s alright. It’s all over. It’s done. I’m here. I’m here.”

[sailtomarina]

Buy None, Get Two

cw: smut, M/M/F

It was supposed to be a short stop, your intention being to pick up a few personal items then head on home. Today was the one and only day of the Weasleys’ Wizarding Wheezes Spring Sale, after all, and their lines of WonderWitch were second to none in creativity and efficacy.

In hindsight, it would have been smarter to enter like any other customer from the front door. The main entrance meant light, open space, and plenty of witnesses. You would have been able to shop in peace with little interruption but the knowing wink of the clerk.

Let’s just say that eagerness played a part in your absence of thought. You tossed on your favourite corduroy skirt, a heavy knit jumper, and your trainers before grabbing your purse.

You went through the Floo by habit, stepping directly from your cottage into the twins’ flat above the shop. Were this any other day, the lights would have been out, the space quiet, the telltale ginger hair bent over experiments or paperwork downstairs in their offices.

So when you walked directly into the well-lit sitting room where Fred and George lounged on the sofa directly facing the fireplace, you froze.

“Well, well, what do we have here, Forge?”

“I don’t know, Gred. It looks like our girl’s here to take advantage of some great savings.”

You could feel your lips curling into the familiar grin these two always prompted, but you angled your body towards the front door in an attempt to squeeze by safely. “Now boys, I only have a small window of time that I intend to use wisely–”

Your well-laid plans ended in a squeak as you were lifted off your feet and laid unceremoniously across two sets of legs. Fred’s arm cradled your head carefully while his other automatically wrapped around your waist. George immediately took to removing your trainers, strong fingers massaging circles against the tight muscles and turning you limp.

“Our little sale has been more successful than anticipated and we thought we’d get away for a breather–,” Fred said lightly, his hand now tracing down your cheek.

“–so your arrival comes at a perfect time, love,” George picked up where his brother left off. You couldn’t help the sigh that escaped you as he slipped off your socks. His hands were warm against your smooth skin, and you thanked yourself for the foresight of shaving the night before.

“What did you two have in mind?” While you knew exactly what it was you wanted, you decided to play coy. They’d disrupted your original ideas, after all. You couldn’t make things too easy for them.

“Well…” Fred’s fingers propped your chin up as he leaned down to hover just out of reach, “that depends.”

“On?”

Your eyes flickered away from Fred to watch as George shifted on the chaise, separating your legs so he could turn and kneel between them. 

George licked his lips as he eyed the two of you, and his hands moved up your thighs to continue his gentle rubbing. “On what it was you were planning on purchasing.”

Trapped between their warm bodies as you were, you couldn’t help the flush that worked its way up your chest to fill your cheeks. They smirked at the sight.

“I wanted to pick up some Daydream Charms,” you continued despite the way Fred clicked his tongue in disapproval, “Crush Blush, since I’m almost out, and a Tongue Twister–”

“I can understand the blush, but do you really need the others when you already have two wizards who are more than happy to fulfil any fantasies you might have?” George interrupted.

His hands slipped beneath the thick fabric of your skirt, long fingers sweeping up the expanse of your thighs and encouraging you to widen them as he bent forward.

“George, you really don’t need to–”

“He wants to, love, as do I,” Fred said, gripping your chin firmly and raising his eyebrows. “Or do you want us to stop? Just say the word.”

The mouth that had been kissing its way up your inner thigh paused now above your centre, the heat of his breath priming you for a very different sort of tongue. A gush pulsed through you at past memories of how skillful they were with their fingers and mouths. They were insatiable, their focus unwavering and discerning of how every single sensation affected you. They used that knowledge to their advantage and your demise, turning you into a helpless puddle at their beck and call.

Sometimes it mortified you, afterwards, thinking about all the ways you unravelled at their touch, how easily they could make you say and do things you never would have dared on your own. You weren’t a very open person, despite how your body and mind seemed to unfurl at the mere suggestion of their eyes on yours.

You knew without a shred of doubt that, were you to say so, Fred and George would remove their hands. You hadn’t put a label on what it was that went on between the three of you just yet. You hoped, yes. You craved and dreamt.

“Don’t stop.” Low and breathless, you sounded desperate because, well, you were.

“Your coins are no good to us, sweetheart,” Fred murmured. He maintained a steady commentary while George mouthed you through the thin cotton of your knickers. 

The barrier was a joke sodden as it was with the combination of his spit and your steady arousal. He sealed his mouth against you and hummed. The vibrations sent you into a backbreaking arch with a moan. It was only Fred’s hands against your shoulders that stopped you from lifting off of the chaise entirely. His chuckle was warm against your cheek, his kiss a reassuring pressure to your temple.

The moment the gusset of your knickers was swept to the side and George ran a flattened tongue the full length of your slit, you cried out, scrabbling for purchase on something, anything.

Fred met you, fingers threading through yours and lips crashing down to muffle your cries. Slowly, he brought your hand up with his own to wrap around your throat. He didn’t squeeze, but he didn’t have to. The mere presence was close enough of a claim to tip you over the edge as George plunged two fingers inside and curled them upward.

“Pretty girl, so sweet and good for us,” Fred cooed. “Can you be good for a bit longer?” His hips shifted beneath your head where it rested. You could feel the thick length of him straining against the constraints.

“Please!” This was why you’d come over, wasn’t it? You’d dreamt last night of a scenario much like this one where the twins moved over and around you, taking turns wringing pleasure from you like another one of their experiments. 

You only had to turn your head the barest amount before your jaw opened wide to take in his bared cock, while, at the same time, you felt a blunt pressure at your cunt. Like they shared one mind, they impaled you from both ends. Hands pressed against your hips and the back of your head, bringing you flush against them. You trembled, and you gagged, and still they held on tight.

“Nnnnn,” you couldn’t speak with your mouth and throat stuffed full; you weren’t sure how much longer you could last like this.

One of them, you weren’t sure who, shushed you. Fingers brushed against your clit, a fist tightened around your hair, spots danced across your vision through which you could only see the milky skin of Fred’s lower abs and a thatch of red hair slightly darker than the rest.

Just as you felt like you were about to pass out, they pulled back, and you gasped for air just in time to be filled once again. They repeated the process until you shouted around Fred’s cock and shook beneath George’s circling thumb.

“Oh, fuck, oh, fuck, I’m–” Fred groaned deep as he started to come, spilling down your throat as you worked to swallow all of him. “Look at you, drinking me up.” He didn’t care about the cum still coating your lips as he bent down to tangle his tongue with yours, thrusting deep and swirling around as if he meant to clean you up.

His mouth caught your cries as George pulled your knees up and spread them in a wide v, thrusting as deep as he could to finish. George nuzzled against your tits over the jumper you still wore as he pulsed inside of you. The slight tingle of magic across your abdomen let you know one of them had cast a contraception charm. It wasn’t until he slipped out of you and sat up that Fred pulled back from your kiss.

“Any chance we can convince you to join us downstairs?” George asked as he offered you your knickers. 

They both wore satisfied grins, eyes crinkled at the corners and lips swollen and red. Given the state of their faces and how their hair stood in disarray, there was no question about what they’d been doing in their free time. 

You tapped your chin as you pretended to think. “I do still have a few more fantasies I’d like to experience if there are any more Daydream charms left…”

Laughter bubbled out of you at the insulted looks they gave you, a joy that turned into dismay when George vanished your knickers with a casual wave of his hand.

“Cheeky witches don’t get to wear knickers,” he sniffed. The act was just that, his smirk giving away his amusement.

“We do still need to eat, if you’d like to join us for lunch.” The uncharacteristic seriousness in Fred’s voice prompted you to look more carefully at him.

“Are you asking me out on a date, Fred Weasley?”

“What if we are?” His chin came up in that stubborn way of his you sometimes saw around his family and rivals. George looked much the same, even with the hint of his smile remaining.

You could slap the invitation down with your usual playful air, and they’d likely go along with your decision. While none of you had strictly gone out of your way to hide the attraction you felt for one another, this would be the first such instance of publicly acknowledging it as such.

“I could be persuaded…”

You looked them both over, biting your lip as you imagined all the ways they could go about convincing you. The possibilities were endless, your mind a playground for three. They leaned forward, beckoned by the prize dangling before them.

Then you bolted, aiming for the door sans knickers and trainers knowing full well they’d never let you make your escape. Laughter rang out behind you, then the familiar weave of their magic wound around you and yanked you back into their arms.

Right where you belonged.

1825 WC

5.19.24 FB: Lauren’s Kitchen prompt: “sale”

Cross-posted on Tumblr, Facebook, and AO3.

[bellarkeselection]

I had an idea for rip. It’s kinda like the scene from season 1 where jimmy got beaten up by Fred but instead of Jimmy could it be the reader is rips wife and she’s secretly pregnant with their second child and she protects her stomach and then revel to rip she’s pregnant again. You can easily change bits to the story or even add a little bit of smut that’s fine with me .

The Rule Of Fighting…Especially my Wife

Threading my fingers through his black hair Rip broke the kiss pulling himself out of me where we laid under the covers naked. Running a hand over my face I began catching my breath. Moving my other hand over my growing pregnant belly until Rip grasped my hand in his. Rolling onto my side I whispered still not awake even though we woke up in a very pleasing way. “Do you have to go to work today. Can’t we just take a day and lay around the house?”

“You’re daddy wouldn’t like that. Besides I owe him everything for letting me work at the ranch.” He responded leaning forward and kissing me on the head gently getting up from the bed. He shrugs his jeans on and grabbed his black jacket with his hat off the hook.

Holding myself up on my elbow I held the sheet up against my chest even though he had seen me naked already. “Yeah you’re probably right, baby. Hey though where do you think our little Georgie is off too?”

“I ain’t too sure. He’s probably trying to sattle a horse or running around with his grandpa John. I’ll see you later tonight Y/n.” He placed his hat on his head coming over giving me one last kiss going to work.

Getting out of the bed, I ran my hands down my grown belly, looking myself over in the standing mirror we had in the corner of the bedroom. I slide on the pair of jeans that didn't press on my stomach, pairing it with a light orange flannel shirt that was tucked into them. With some light brown boots and a tan cowgirl hat on my head. Heading towards the barn, I grabbed the saddle for my horse about to throw it over until I heard someone make a remark about me entering the room. "Woah, I guess that Wheeler really couldn't let you go, so he just keeps knocking you up."

"I'm sorry do you have a problem with me?" Throwing the saddle over my horse I turned around on my feet with my boots kicking up dust.

My gaze met the appearance of one of the ranch hands who was named Fred if I remember correctly. "I've got a problem with you getting special attention from the boss."

"Your boss is my father, so.." Crossing my arms over my chest, I snipped in a slight tone.

Fred stepped closer towards me, glaring down at me since he was slightly taller than me. "I ain't talkin about your daddy, Dutton. You're sleeping with Wheeler and get off work early and still getting the same pay as we do. That isn't right in my opinion."

"First off, I get breaks more than you because of my five year old son Georgie and are you blind cause at the moment I'm pregnant again. Two, I'm heading to work now Fred - argh!" I screamed when he stomped up grabbing me by my hair yanking me backwards until I elbow him in the face.

He stumbled backwards holding his nose while I spun around on my feet. "You bitch!"

"You don't want to fight me, Fred." I warned him, getting in a fighting stance with my hands into fists ready to go.

Yet the ranch hand refused my warning and came charging straight for me. He tackled me to the dirt before I could really blink. He was throwing punches at me but I was blocking most until he gave a harsh one to my belly and I released a cry of agony. "God damn!" I cursed curling up in a ball for a second with him getting to his feet.

"You need to remember who is stronger here, Dutton girl." He spat down to me.

Sniffing through some tears i glared at him until I swiped my feet underneath his near mine where he topped to the dust. Forcing myself to my feet I held my stomach with one hand landing a good punch on his nose with the other. Fred came back trying to kick my stomach yet I buried my face close against it so he kneed me in the face. My nose begins bleeding where he quickly grabbed my arm throwing me over his back until we heard my son's sweet voice. "Mommy, why are you wrestling?"

"You're boys gonna see how weak you are - ohhh fuck!" Fred groaned in serious pain onto his knees when I kicked him in between his legs giving me the chance to rush to my son.

Grabbing his shoulders I croaked through tears and some pain myself. "Georgie, go find daddy now. Bring him here." He ran off when Fred started getting up until I charged tackling the man even though it was harder when I was pregnant.

Swinging a few punches at Fred I got some of his blood on my knuckles. He grabbed my wrists twisting them behind my back throwing me down again. "I told you I was stronger than you, bitch!" He growled in my ear where he about kicks me in the stomach again until someone harshly shoved his body against the wooden barn stalls.

Gasping for breath and some relief I sat upright seeing my husband Rip had him by the collar where he threw him against the stall and then did it again but it was down in the dirt raising his voice. "What's the rule about fighting, Fred. You wanna fight somebody, come fight me. I'll fight you all damn day!"

"That girl done started it with her saying that she deserves the same pay as we do but cuts out half the work. I guess you'll believe anything when you married a whore." Fred coughed looking at me when Georgie came over by my side.

Rip yanked the guy by his jacket holding him against the wall where he almost couldn't breathe by the choke hold he had on the ranch hand. "What did you call her!"

"She's knows I'm right that's she had to send in the little guy to get the big guns." Fred taunts until my husband kicked him harshly in the gut and he collapsed into the dirt.

He grabbed Fred up one last time against the wall for good measure croaking his deep tone with the words he declared. "If you ever hit or speak to my wife like that again I'll kill you, Fred! Are you okay, Y/n?" He released him from his grasp coming slowly over to me with his gaze softening.

"I hurt a little bit...here especially. But otherwise I think I'll be fine." I mumbled placing my hand in his with my eyes dropping to my pregnant stomach where he tugged me up to stand where he picked me up bridal style when I almost collapsed onto the dirt not able to stand on my own.

He carried me back to our cabin with Georgie following us and opening the door to the cabin, then our bedroom and finally the bathroom. "Georgie, go grab one of my shirts and the shorts off the foot of the bed for mommy." Rip spoke towards our son who quickly came back with what he asked.

"Is mommy going to be okay, daddy?" He asked with worry in his sweet voice.

Rip sat me down on the toilet lowering himself to his knees since I didn't have gotten my balance back yet. "She will be. I want you to go play with grandpa John while I help mommy okay little man." He nodded leaving us alone in the bathroom letting silence into the room.

He slowly tugged on my shirt shrugging it over and off my body giving him perfect view of my belly. "I'm sorry he did this to you..to our baby. I'll take him to the train station tomorrow morning if that's what you want." He placed his on my bump feeling me slightly pull away when he touched the sorest part of my body from the fight.

"Rip, don't blame yourself for this. Fred has always been a jackass from the day my father hired him. I'll go to the doctor and get the baby checked out." Resting my hands on his shoulders I sent him a half smile knowing he would start blaming himself for me getting injured.

He nodded, helping me remove my pants and slide the shorts up. He ran a hand through my hair once I slipped his shirt on that was like a dress on me. "I love you so much, darling. He will never touch you again I swear it." He softly took me into his arms carrying me into the other room laying me down in the bed.

He climbed in on his side and I snuggled up into his warmth knowing he would leave to deal with the rancher when I went to sleep and rested. "I love you, Rip and so will this second child of ours." Whispering up into his brown eyes I intertwined our hands together closing my eyes letting sleep overtake me.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

[emotionally-damaged-carrot]

Charles Leclerc x male reader

Spectacles

Thought about this like last year, been wanting to write it. I was gonna make it sad cause haven't done one of those in a long time but eh. Enjoy 🫶

Mostly in Charles' pov.

Warning:none

"Chaaaaaarles?"

A shout could be heard from somewhere in the ferrari garage.

"Better see what that's about, Charles, we're done for the day anyway."

Fred told Charles with a smile as he ruffled his hair.

"It's most likely about his glasses."

I said as I took a pair out from my bag.

"Why is it that he always loses his glasses, I'll never know."

Fred said with a questioning look.

"I'm off now, get some rest, winterbreak is just next week, and it's still wedneaday."

He said as he walked away.

"Charles?"

"You lost them again?"

Y/n nodded with a guilty smile.

"Here, I bought another pair incase you lose yours."

"th-this is embarrassing, sorry."

He put them on looking ashamed.

"It's fine, it's probably just in my driver's room."

I said as I took his hand and pulled him with me as I began to walk outside.

"Sorry for losing my glasses all the time."

"Y/n, it's fine, I know once you put them down it's hard to find cause your eyes are so shit."

I said with a laugh as I gripped his hand tighter.

"that's mean."

He pouted.

"Just facts, amour, have you eaten yet?"

I asked as I looked at him, he shook his head no.

"What do you want to eat?"

"I don't know."

"Do you even want to eat?"

I looked at him with a bored look as we approached my car. He shook his head as he gave me a smile.

"You don't have a choice, I know you haven't eaten since lunch, I'm getting you, your favourite."

I gave him a smile as I opened the passenger door for him and closed it after he got in.

"Do you want to stop by anywhere before we go to our room?"

I asked as I started the car and backed out of our parking spot.

"No, I wanna sleep."

"We eat first, then brush our teeth and sleep."

I drove out of the parking lot and placed my hand on his thigh occasionally squeezing.

"Fine."

"You have squishy thighs."

I glanced at him for a moment, seeing him blush and looking down, I chuckled.

"Let's just have our food delivered to our room, we might cause a crowd to form if I get out."

He nodded as I gave his thigh a pat.

After some time we made it in front of our hotel, a valet approached our car, I got out of the car and gave him the key as I opened the passenger door.

"Come on, princess."

I held his hand as he got out and closed the door, we made our way inside the hotel as the valet drove off.

"What do you want to drink?"

"Iced coffee please."

"This late? Are you okay in the head, love?"

I looked at him confused as I stopped walking.

"I like it."

"Fine, but you are going to eat."

"Sure.

We arrived inside our room, he immediately let go of me and jumped on the bed going over to my side and burying his face in my pillow.

"Can you even breathe?"

I sat beside him, petting his hair as I grabbed the hotel phone, getting ready to order our food.

I felt him nod.

"No you can't, come on."

I grabbed his head and put it on my lap as I dialed the front desk, I continued running my fingers through his hair as I ordered our food.

"You really need to eat more."

I worriedly said as I put the phone down, I felt something nudge my hand as I did. Looking over I see a pair of glasses behind the telephone.

"I think I found your glasses, amour."

I laughed softly as I reached over to take the glasses off the table and held it in front of his face.

"Where was it?"

He asked excitedly as he took the glasses from my hand.

"Behind the telephone."

"Ow... I wonder who put that there."

He rolled his eyes as I recalled the events of last night.

"Don't blame me, I was too excited to fuck you."

I laughed.

"You're vulgar."

He blushed as he tried to get up but I held him down by putting my hand on his forehead.

"Stay, it feels nice like this, calm."

He grumbled but obliged, moments passed and we heard a knock on the door.

"Must be our food, I'll get it, stay here."

I gently laid his head on a pillow as I got up and went to the door to get our food.

"Sorry it took a while, the person was a fan."

"No worries, I'm not even hungry."

"Yes you are, now get up and come here on the table and eat before I dragged you here."

I said sternly as I prepared our food.

"Okay, Mother."

"You're childish, hurry up."

"Don't rush me, I still need to put my crocs on."

He slowly slithered off the bed and onto the floor making me roll my eyes.

"Come on, up, up."

I approached him and pulled him up by his hand before carrying him to the chair next to the table.

"Is my iced coffee, here?"

He looked around the table searching for his coffee.

"Eat at least half of your food first before I give it to you."

I waved his beloved coffee in front of him.

"You monster."

He tried to sound menacing.

"Eat."

"Charles?"

He asked as I sat down in front of him.

"Hm?"

"How many pairs of glasses did you buy?"

"why??"

I asked confused.

"just 2, why?"

"Nothing, just asking."

"No it does not mean you can lose your glasses 2 times and just approach me."

I rolled my eyes knowing him too well.

"You're so mean."

"just eat."

———

After eating and he finished his iced coffee, we laid in bed. Just cuddling, me being the big spoon, I buried my face in his hair, taking a deep breath of his shampoo.

"You smell nice."

I mumbled against his hair.

"I know."

"You're so arrogant."

"But you wuv me."

He whined.

"Unfortunately, now g to bed, we need rest, it's 2am."

"Fine...... I love you."

"Love you too, ma lumière."

"Goodnight, Charles."

"Goodnight, Y/n."

[cutielando]

holidays | c.s.

synopsis: in which you can finally relax together

my masterlist

After an agonizing first half of the season, the summer break had officially started, meaning you and Carlos finally had time to relax.

You loved accompanying Carlos to his races, you marveled in seeing him do what he loved. But, in all fairness, it was really tiring.

Constantly changing time zones, not having time to get home before you would have to fly all the way to the other side of the world, constantly being on the move and living out of your suitcases. It tired you out, even though you loved it.

Now, with the summer break officially here, you got to spend one whole month relaxing with your boyfriend in the beautiful Spain, getting some much needed rest before the season would pick up again.

After much consideration, you both decided that going home to Spain for the break was the best solution. You were home, you could have your fun, go to the beach seeing as it was very close to your house, it was the perfect destination.

"Mi amor, are you ready to go?" Carlos asked as he packed the last of your beach bag, ready for an entire day of soaking up the sun and relaxing with you.

"Yes, I'm coming!"

You scrambled to get your phone and your hat before bouncing downstairs where Carlos was waiting for you.

When he laid his eyes on you, his brain started malfunctioning. You were gorgeous in your brand new red bikini, one you had purchased specifically for the break.

"You look amazing, mi amor" he said once he finally regained his composure, wrapping his arms around your waist and bringing you closer.

"Thank you, love" you pecked his nose quickly before pulling away from the embrace.

The two of you made the quick drive to the beach, deciding to set up in a more secluded part of the beach, where hopefully you could sit and sunbathe in silence for a little while.

Carlos immediately jumped into the water as soon as he finished setting up your umbrella, just like a dog would, which made you laugh.

You started applying some sunscreen on your body to make sure you wouldn't get a sunburn. When Carlos finally emerged from the water half an hour later, you frowned when you saw his skin already beginning to turn red under the sun.

"Amor, come here so I can put some protection on you" you called out, shivering when the cold droplets of water from Carlos' hair hit your skin.

Seeing your shiver, he starts ruffling his hair so more water could get on your hot skin, which made you squeal.

"I will hit you if you do that one more time" you said, trying to act stern but the smile threatening to appear on your lips was saying something else.

"We both know you would feel bad" he said, finally taking a seat in front of you in the sand with his back facing you.

"Don't tempt me, your trainer and Fred will have my head if they see bruises on you" you joked while starting to apply a generous amount of sunscreen on his red skin.

"Thank God for Ferrari" Carlos turned his head and winked at you, making you roll your eyes but smile.

Being there with Carlos was everything you could have asked for. Everyone knew how tough the season had gone up to the summer break, how much both Carlos and Charles had been struggling with the car and getting it to perform at its best. The car, plus the countless strategy fails that the Ferrari engineering team kept making, the losses started pilling up and they were starting to take a toll on your boyfriend.

You knew how talented, driven and passionate he was about his job. How much he loved racing and how close he came to winning a race, only for it to be completely ruined by his team. He had started doubting himself, something you never wanted him to start doing.

That was primarily the reason why you suggested you go on holiday alone, just the two of you, for the first 2 weeks of the break. No phones, no internet, nobody around to put further stress on Carlos or you. Completely detaching yourselves from your hectic lives, even if it was just temporary.

"What are you thinking about?" Carlos' voice snapped you out of your thoughts, not having realized you had zoned out for a couple of minutes.

"Nothing important, just stuff" you shrugged it off, not wanting to bring up the subject while the atmosphere was so serene.

"I know you're lying. Tell me, what's got you so deep in thought?" he scooted closer to you and brought his hand to your cheek, rubbing his thumb against your skin gingerly.

Looking into his deep brown eyes, you knew you never had to be ashamed to tell him what was on your mind. He would always listen to you, no matted what it was.

"I'm just thinking about you" he nodded, signaling for you to continue. "It's just, this season has been so hard for you and I'm just worried that nothing is going to change after the break and you'll be struggling and stressing yourself out and exhausting yourself" you admitted.

Carlos knew you had been worried about him, hell, he was worried about himself. He had expected much more from his team, but after continuously being let down, he didn't know what to think or do anymore. He didn't know where to put his trust.

"Amor, look at me" he took your face in his hands, holding it gently. "You don't have to worry about me. We both know that there is no consistency in this sport, we will have bad times and we will have good times. We've hit a rough patch, and yes, I have been stressing myself. But that is simply because I know we can do better and I'm trying to make sure we give it our best to be on top after the break" he explained.

"But you're wearing yourself out. This isn't healthy for you" you said, worry creasing your face.

He leaned in and kissed your forehead, making you close your eyes and enjoy the feeling f=of his soft lips against your skin.

"Please, stop worrying. I'm going to be fine, we just have to get through this together" you looked at him and eventually nodded.

Even though you were still worried deep within, you knew that you had to trust Carlos. Until anything further, you were going to enjoy the free time and soak up the sun with your boyfriend, away from all stress and just basking in your love for one another.

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[leascorner]

f.g.w. | Trouble

Summary:  After the war, Fred met Y/N at St Mungo's Hospital. At that time, they both thought the other was trouble. In the end, they both discovered all the meanings of that word.

Pairing:  Fred Weasley x f!healer!reader

Warnings: Mention of death and near death experience, injuries, blood, probably incorrect medical notions, some swearing, happy ending

Word Count: 5.1k

Masterlist

“Uh-oh”, George said, practically running from the front of the store up to the cashier counter. “Trouble.”

His twin brother had no time to ask what was going on; the doorbell rang, indicating a new customer had entered the shop. Fred blinked and suddenly, George was somehow nowhere to be seen. Steady steps coming up to the register resonated in the boutique that was as usual quite empty on this Tuesday morning. No need for him to look to the front door, he knew he was indeed up for trouble.

Turning to face his worst nightmare - a woman named Y/N, furiously making her way to him - Fred put his best customer face on. Her face was wearing the same frown as the day he met her at Saint Mungo's Hospital. He, that day, had been called in after some kid had used one of his products out of its original purpose and nobody there could work out how to reverse back the spell.

Holding his breath, Fred watched her walking toward him until she made it to the counter and laid on it what seemed to have been one of these kid magic wands they sold at the store. From the state of it, Fred knew he was in for a lecture… Again.

“This was up someone’s arse.”

“Godric!” Fred immediately shouted. He had seen a lot of things - their customers were somehow as inventive as they were - but he had never expected such things. With a swift move of his wrist, he made it disappear. “How did it even get there?”

“I did not ask!” she shouted back.

Y/N had been an official graduated healer for nearly a year now. She had started her curriculum the year before the war started, just after graduating from Hogwarts, and sometimes after a twenty-four-hours shifts like the one she just had, she was regretting the black magic spells injuries. Nothing compared to the lot of injuries she was dealing with from the twins jokes shop products.

“Seriously, please just-” she sighed, passing a hand on her face out of frustration. “It’s all I deal with all day, I can’t anymore.”

In that last year, Fred and she had become some kinds of acquaintances - Y/N was regularly paying the twins a visit at the end of her shifts. Though he acted annoyed most of the time, he was actually quite fond of her. His favourite thing about her was how she would respond to anything he would throw at her. He did not even know her that long, yet he already knew just how to push her buttons.

So, of course, he couldn’t resist doing it again today.

“You should see what we have in the works, then.”

Frown quite not leaving the lines of her face yet, she followed him in the back shop where he meticulously explained her all about this very new product he had thought about that same morning – a new invention that not even George knew about it.

Biting his inner cheek, he watched impatiently the line between her eyebrows grew even deeper as she read the parchment with the ingredients for the product: a potion. This was not the first time he had pitched a new product idea to her. In the past, George had even insisted they presented her with some of their riskier ideas. She had never turned down any of them, even encouraging them to work on them further - though she had them promise to send a patronus to her if they were testing anything she thought would be deadly. Fred was convinced that, despite her grumpy attitude, she actually quite enjoyed being asked for help.

“You can’t mix this quantity of octopus powder and erumpent horn together,” she finally spoke.

“Why not?”

Y/N looked back at Fred, her eyes scanning his face to know if he was being serious. As if he ever had been serious. “Have you seriously never listened to anything Snape ever taught you?” Quite frankly, he had listened to it much more than he would admit, but he wouldn’t tell her that. “I am serious, Fred,” she scowled.

“Alright, alright!” Fred rose his hands in defence. He knew from the way Y/N sighed that her concern for his own physical integrity was genuine. Just like probably everyone else, she was aware of what had happened to him during the battle of Hogwarts – he had a severe brain injury that left him in the hospital for months and from which he was still recovering. Unlike anyone else, she didn’t remind him constantly what a little fragile thing he was and how he must be taking it easy. Though he probably wouldn’t admit it to her face, he was grateful to her.

Fred was rather interested on what she was thinking of his new idea, so he knew better than to continue annoying her. She made him nervous taking her sweet time to examine the parchment. He couldn’t tell if it was a bad thing or not. She had been more enthusiastic when George and he pitched her other ideas. Perhaps he had just gotten himself overexcited about this new product; perhaps it was just bad.

“So, what do you think?” Fred asked when he couldn’t take it anymore.

“It sounds good,” she reassured him, without looking at him. “It’s the ingredients I am not sure about. I’m not sure it would work,” she mumbled, still focus on the parchment, and Fred could nearly see the cogs of her brain working behind her eyes.

“I’ll work on this,” he assured.

Y/N only nodded in answer. Fred could see something was bugging her, but she couldn’t quite tell what. He studied the expression of her face; how her frown had changed – from the grumpy one to one of             concentration. He noticed how she would scrunch her nose ever so slightly as she focused as well.

He thought she looked cute like that and immediately slapped himself internally for having such thoughts. Y/N was not cute, she was the pain in his ass that would show up every other day at the shop to lecture him. She was simply annoying and way smarter than him though she was not one to rub it in everybody’s face – he was pretty sure she had been that person to cry after a test as she supposedly failed, but still got an ‘A’.

They stayed in silence a couple more minutes, Y/N still trying to figure out what was missing in the potion recipe, Fred watching her every move, before the doorbell rang again. A new customer had come in, breaking the spell.

“I have to go,” Y/N stated, after checking the time. She gave the parchment back to Fred and watched as he abandoned him on top of his messy desks – it was so messy she wasn’t sure he would be able to find it again. “Just put some kinds of warning for the other thing.”

“External use only, got it.”

She rolled her eyes, but still smiled softly before bidding goodbye and leaving him alone in the back shop.

A few weeks later, on one of the last days of January, Fred had just finished the grant post-holidays inventory when he found the parchment again. With the rush of the end of the year, he had totally forgotten about it.

Diagon Alley was covered in snow at that time of the year and the weather was so bad that no soul would have dared to put even a toe outside in the cold. He knew he wouldn’t have any customers today, so he decided to put his time to a better use and test out this new product.

He gathered all of the ingredients from the reserve and got to work. Everything went well until it was down to the last ingredient: Octopus Powder. Taking the bag and measuring the exact amount he needed, he suddenly recalled the conversation he had with Y/N and how she insisted this amount of Octopus Powder would be too dangerous. He had heard her concern, yet he was still sure it was going to be fine.

Just before adding it to the mix, he finally had second thoughts; just in case, it wouldn't hurt to have a patronus ready. So, he reached out for his wand and materialized a patronus, requesting for it to find Y/N if anything was to happen to him. With his patronus magpie on his shoulder, he didn’t even think twice this time and poured the entire amount of powder in his cauldron. The mixture started boiling quite aggressively and Fred braced himself for it to explode, but nothing happened.

When the boiling stopped, his only thought was that he just couldn’t wait to tell Y/N how wrong she had been– though he wouldn’t admit it to her, but he still had sighed out of relief everything went fine. He turned to his patronus, ready to dismiss it as everything was fine.

He had barely taken his eyes off the potion that it suddenly exploded; his body was thrown into the air as if he was a paper doll.

“Can you tell me your name?”, Y/N asked as she made Fred follow the light coming out of her wand. He had been awake from the coma following his accident for a good thirty minutes now.

“Fredrick Gideon Weasley.”

Y/N nodded, watching him as she made another back-and-forth movement with her hand. Pupillary response to light, checked. Pupillary response to the dark, checked. Equal pupils’ size, checked. She was mentally ticking every part of the post-concussion protocol she knew by heart; everything so far seemed to be normal.

Yet, she could still feel her heart beating furiously in her chest. She had experienced utter panic when his patronus found her, something she had never felt before – even during the darkest time of the war. She had been one of the first to apparate within the shop and found him in what was left of their workshop. She had heard his troubled breathing under the bits of stones, wood and plasterboard, and for one split second, she had thought she would never hear him tease her ever again. She still could feel how his mother, Molly, grabbed at her once she got to Saint Mungo's Hospital, as if she was a lifebuoy. How would she have liked to let her know everything would be alright at that time, but she herself couldn’t even trust her words.

It had been a long couple of days before Fred finally woke up. She had stayed with him during all of her breaks. She had made sure his family was alright and that they had all the food they needed without leaving his side. All while she, on the other side, ate very little – her stomach was in knots from the worry. Even if she tried, Y/N couldn’t shake the memories out of her head. The image of a very blank unconscious Fred covered in blood was there, printed on the back of her eyelids, every single time she closed her eyes, so she didn’t sleep either.

That night, his family had finally left his side after a lot of convincing from Y/N that everybody would feel better after a good night of sleeps in their own bed. As she was just coming in to check his vitals yet again, she had found him there, eyes wild open. She knew she shouldn’t be treating one of her acquaintances, but she was one of the few healers on call that night and she only couldn’t care less anyway. He was alive. That was all that matters.

Putting away her wand, she thought of what was next on the protocol and continued: “When were you born?”

“First of April, nineteen-seventy-eight.”

“What were-”

“I know the deal,” Fred sighed, he had already been there after all. He knew she was just going to ask him stupid questions to make sure he had no memory lost; he could at least save them the trouble. “I’ve got four brothers, a twin brother, a sister. I left Hogwarts before even graduating to open a joke shop with my brother. ‘Been doing that twenty-four seven ‘til now. I’ve mixed Octopus Powder and Erumpent horn, hence I ended up here.”

Y/N eyed him, a stern look on her face as she realised what caused his accident. After they had found Fred, they tried understanding what happened. If they had gathered that he was preparing a potion, they weren’t sure what really had caused an explosion. Never had she thought about their earlier conversation a couple of months ago.

“And you can go ahead and tell me I told you so.”

She kept silent, not knowing what to say. She was angry with him still doing what she had explicitly warned him about – mixing this quantity of those two ingredients. She – and probably everyone he knew – had had the scare of their life. But lecturing him now wouldn’t change the outcome. The good thing was that he had been clever enough to send a patronus, so he had been found in time. It could have been way – way – worse.

Not trusting her words, she made him tilt his head so she could have a proper look at the bandage wrapped around his head. His wound had not bled since the last time the dressing was changed, which was also good thing. He had woken up and was talking. He didn’t have any memory loss and was responsive to all neurological exams. He was going to be alright, she tried to reassure herself. Everything was going to be alright.

“I don’t think I need to tell you that,” she spoke softly as she helped him to settle back comfortably in the bed and tucking him in under the covers. He grimaced when one of her hands brushed his side, but immediately gave her a reassuring smile when he saw the way her body stiffen. If he was not in any pain, he was definitively uncomfortable. His condition was much worse than he thought it was.

“How bad is it?”

“You hit your head pretty badly, broke a couple of bones and were unconscious for a more than two days now.” She explained quickly. “Considering your history, they want to keep you a couple of days to monitor any brain injuries.”

“Just great,” he sank into his pillows. When he had thought he had seen the hospital enough for his entire lifetime, here he was again. It had taken him months to learn again to do anything by himself and he did fell as if he wasted a lot of his life in the hospital getting treatment. His whole family dynamic had shifted around him and though he liked them all very much, he had just become fed up with them all eventually. And now, it was like going back to square one and starting all over. He couldn’t let that happen.

Y/N eyed him sternly, clearly judging his attitude. Whatever lucky star he was born under, he should rather be thanking it. Not everybody would survive two major head injuries. Not everyone had a family willing to keep watch over him for two days straight…

Checking the time, Y/N realized it was already time to get back to work. She was much more relieved to go and leave him knowing he was awake, talking and had a good chance of being out of the woods. She tucked him in the bed a little more tightly, making sure he couldn’t escape the sheets before starting to leave.

“You scared the hell out of your mom,” she stated, eyeing him and his grumpy expression. “I’m going to send her an owl. You better get some sleep; they’ll be here first thing in the morning.”

“Y/N?” Fred called after her. She stopped at the door, hand on the handle, only turning her head to him. “Thank you.”

“Did my mom make you check on me?” Fred asked Y/N, who was currently checking out the shelves of their love potions. He was glad she finally decided to be an actual customer for once, but she should have chosen any other section; this one was only ever visited by fourteen-years-old teenagers.

“What? No!” She nearly shouted, face growing hot. Fred eyed her with a knowing look and a smirk, she was definitively a bad liar. “Maybe a little. But in my defence, she is a very persuasive woman.”

Fred laughed softly; that he would know. The last time he saw her – and it was less than forty-hours ago, she had made him eat two servings of her pasta gratin as, according to her own words, he was skinnier than ever. Fred was pretty sure his weight was stable, but he still happily obliged. He knew when to choose his battle now and this wasn’t one.

“You don’t have to, you know,” he spoke as he leant against the shelf, crossing his arms, as Y/N continued to pretend she was interested in those shiny purple vials. “Promise I’ll listen now when you say not to mix up stuff.”

“I bet you would,” she snorted lightly. She had seen him in the hospital in the next days after he was out of the coma, and she had seen him those last few weeks when he was obliged to rest. It hadn’t been easy, and Y/N would lie if she didn’t say she had found him so miserable every time she had visited. She knew he had learned his lesson this time. “I don’t mind anyway. Unless… you know? You do mind…”

“No!” He cried out and cleared his throat after he realized how loud – and a bit desperate – he had been. “No, I don’t mind,” he repeated again, his voice much softer this time.

“Cool, cool,” Y/N answered, not daring to meet his eyes.

“It would be hm… That would make…”

Y/N frowned as she took her eyes off the WonderWitch products shelves she was still investigating while Fred had gone to help a customer - whatever moment they just had was long gone.

She observed Fred struggled to perform a simple addition for the customer that was buying two packs of fireworks. He was stuttering and couldn’t put together a full sentence; it was clear something was wrong. And with his history, it could be very bad.

She decided to step in to help him. Fred let her push him ever so slightly on his left so she could take his place behind the counter and handle the customer as if nothing was happening.

“That would make 10 galleons, Sir,” She accepted his coins and put them in the cash register with a swift movement of her wrist just like she had seen Fred do a hundred times before. “And for the pretty lady, we’ve always got lollipops under the counter. No funny business, they are cherry flavoured. What do you say?”

The little girl gave a look at her father before accepting the lollipops Y/N was handing her. She thanked her in the cutest way and Y/N would have liked to interact with her more if she wasn’t pressed by time.

“Thank you for shopping with us, have a lovely afternoon,” she smiled at them. She watched them turn to leave and immediately reached out to Fred to lead him into the back shop. “Alright, sit down.”

She helped him sit down on his office chair before having a full look at him. His eyes were groggy, and he was as white as a sheet - at least even more so than he usually was.

“How is the head?” Y/N inquired; her infamous frown had made its way back on her forehead.

“It hurts,” he mumbled; he seemed to be ashamed of it – as if he could do anything about it.

Y/N’s mind was running through all the medical explanations.

This could be the symptom of a brain swelling, but the trauma was weeks ago so it wasn’t most likely, and they would have caught up on it already.

It could be the beginning of a stroke, a part of his brain that stopped working for no reason. His mouth didn’t warp, and he seemed to be able to move his body correctly. He was still able to speak as well and had no facial paralysis. So, she crossed that option out.

He could also just be tired, which would make sense since he was already fully back to work only weeks after he had been cleared and despites his healers order to keep it low. Magic or not, bodies still needed time to heal. “I think it’s time for a little break, yes?”

Y/N went to fetch Lee to cover for Fred. She then managed to get the redhead up the tiny stairs and to the flat he shared with his twin brother just above the shop. He crashed on his couch, eyes sleepy, and Y/N went to the kitchen to get him a glass of water and something to eat. The fridge was empty, but she managed to find some biscuits in the cupboard and make them tea.

“I don’t even know why I am surprised there is no food in this fridge,” she told him as she handed him a cup.

“Don’t even need it when everybody is showing up at my door with dinner. They are just passing by, they say. With a plate of lasagna or a pie. You folks need to start lying better than that.”

“They care about you,” Y/N spoke softly as she brought her cup to her lips.

“I would do the same if that was one of them. I know.” He sighed, passing a hand on his face. “Godric, if it was George, I wouldn’t leave him alone one second. I just wish they would leave me alone for once, you know?”

A couple of days later, Y/N found herself back to the small flat above the joke shop. She was meeting Fred and George before going to The Burrow. The whole family was gathering to celebrate the twins’ birthday and Molly had insisted for Y/N to come as well. Fred was still banned from apparating on his own and they never were too much of two to do it with him.

George and she each positioned themselves on one side of Fred. She wrapped her arms around his waist, her tote bag with their gifts well secured on her other shoulder. Fred hesitantly wrapped his own arm around her shoulders, sending her a troubled look as if he was a teenager boy seeing a girl for the first time. That was probably the closest they had ever been and even if it was nothing, it still made Fred’s heart race in his chest. Y/N interpreted this as his nervousness of apparating and gave him a warm smile before focusing to do it at George’s order.

At The Burrow she met familiar faces, all wearing a much less worry than the last time she had seen them when Fred was still in a coma at the hospital. As soon as she stepped in the house, she was caught in a whirlwind of embraces, most of them muttering in her ears small thank-you’s for looking after their brother as they hugged. Fred got the same treatment even though, from the look on his face, he was less than thrilled. It was all overwhelming so many people, in such a small place, all ever so happy to be here altogether – and especially happy for him to be with them.

After his mother released him from a good five-minutes hug, Y/N gave him a thumbs-up for support to which he rolled his eyes to answer. Thankfully, his niece and nephew were soon to beg him and George to play with them and the whole family focus turned to the children.

“Godric, would you leave me live in peace for once? I am not made of glass; I won’t break. I’m not dead. I am not dying. I am fine.”

Lunch had gone well until after the main course. Molly had gone to the kitchen to get the birthday cake she made, and Fred had insisted he’d go to help her – after all this was his birthday celebration and as always, she had done a tremendous work all by herself. One of his siblings had brought up that he should rather stay and that they would do it for him. It had been only a short sentence that had Fred literally exploded. He was up from his chair, yelling; anger had turned his face as red as a tomato.

Molly stopped on her track, a few meters from the table, cake in her hands, clearly mortified. The silence that followed his cries left everyone uncomfortable. The air was tensed. Y/N, sat at his side, tried reaching out to this arm. She wanted him to realize he had gone too far; he needed to take a step back and ease the tension a bit. But he just pushed her hand away quite harshly, directing his anger to her. “And you! Don’t you have anything better to do than try to fix and save people? I am not dying now, am I? So just find some stray orphan kittens to take care of and leave me the fuck alone.”

Y/N watched Fred storm out of the room. Her cheeks were hot from the embarrassment and her eyes were wide open from what Fred had just yelled at her. She knew it was just too much for him; the war had left its mark and his accident had just made him live it all other again. He didn’t want to be thinking about it every day. He didn’t want everybody to fear he would just disappear. He just wanted to be alive, and happy. And he wanted them to be alive and happy… and not to worry about him.

She knew why he said what he did. Yet, she couldn’t help but feel her heart stang by his words. Behind his anger, there was still a little bit of truth.

Perhaps she was also just too much; she had imposed her presence to him even though they were merely acquaintance. She had acted as if they were great friends, a friend with a medical degree that scrutinized his every little move to make sure he was alright. Perhaps, she had not given him any air to breathe, acting exactly just like every other member of his family though he had specifically voiced he didn’t want that. Perhaps she also had a saviour complex, after enduring so many patients’ loss during the war and being traumatized by it, that she just wanted to fix him because she knew she could.

“I, uh-” Y/N started, gazing around the table, “I think that’s my clue.”

“Y/N, darling…”

“That’s fine, Mrs Weasley. He needed to get this out of his chest, I guess.” She went to grab her coat by the door, as Molly and everybody else tried to stop her from leaving. She was too upset by what had happened to even bother to put her coat on, even if it was still freezing outside, despite it being already April. She was so disturbed she almost went through the door without saying goodbye, but stopped on the doorstep to turn to the table she couldn’t even see from the tears building up in her eyes. “Thank you again for the food. I’ll see you all.”

Two days after that, Y/N found Fred at her door, waiting for her to come home.

After crying all night about what happened at lunch, she had kept herself busy with a 24-hours shift. It was the first time since then she was coming home and she found him, leaned back against the corridor wall in front of her door.

She gave him a dirty look when she reached his level. She was exhausted from her shift - a shift during which everything that could go wrong actually did - and also from the very little sleep she had got in those two days after Fred’s outburst. This was the first time they were seeing each other. She hadn’t reached out to him, willing to give him space as he so needy apparently. One part of her had hoped he’d send an owl to apologize, but she didn’t get anything.

From the apologetic look on his face, he wanted to have this discussion now. Unfortunately for him, she just wasn’t in the mood, so she just ignored him and went to unlock her door. He still stepped closer and called after her.

“Look, I don’t have time for this,” she stated as she wiped her foot on the doormat.

“My heart hurts a little, can you have a look at it?”

Y/N turned to him to scan his face; she didn’t know if he was serious or not. She searched into his eyes to try and find his well-known playful sparkle. When she didn’t find any, she sighed and opened the door, instructing him to get in. Following him in, she let her coat and bags by the door and made him seat on one of her kitchen chairs.

She listened to his heart with the help of her wand, making sure to listen to multiple heartbeat sounds and see if anything was wrong. When she was done, she put her wand away, still refusing to look at him.

“So, what’s your diagnosis?”

Y/N could hear the smile in his voice; of course, there was most likely nothing wrong with him. He wouldn’t have gone to hers if he was truly believing something wasn’t right, he would have gone to the hospital. She sighed, passing a hand on her face from the frustration. “You’re a fucking idiot, you know that?”

“I am sorry.” He grabbed her hand and Y/N finally looked at him. She could tell from his tight smile and the way his eyes desperately searched for hers that he was indeed sorry. “I didn’t mean anything I said back there. You never treated me like I was made of glass or like I would just breakdown any minutes. You went through your own stuff, and this was unfair of me to tell you any of those things.”

Y/N nodded slowly as a way of accepting his apology. Fred smiled, relieved she was no longer mad about him, and she smiled weakly in return.

“Does your heart really hurt?”

“I dunno,” he shrugged, a sly smile on his face. “Would you kiss it better if it did?”

[pottersfia]

A smut one shot with George Weasley x femreader - one bed trope, enemies to lovers, angry confessions kinda thing would be soo good if you’re up for it.

warnings/content: smut ofc, fingering, george is a bit of a perv

george stared at the back of your head as he laid in his bed. how did he end up stuck in a bed with the one person he did not want to see during his winter holiday. the two of you were alone for the night as fred opted to sleep in the living room due to his cold and ginny's room was occupied by her and hermione.

you kept your eyes closed attempting to fall asleep but it was no use. george thought the slowness of your breathing and lack of movement was a clear indicator of you being sound asleep. he continued to stare.

as much as george disliked you, he couldn't help but replay memories of you in his head. he remembered the way you looked as you came out of the shower with your skin still slightly moist and soft from your lotion. before you pulled on a hoodie for bed, you wore a tight tank top and the smallest shorts he'd ever seen. you had even bent over almost exposing yourself. you were undeniably beautiful and he couldn't help but think of the things he'd like to do to you if he didn't hate you.

his mind drove him crazy and now he had an annoyingly hard problem in his pants. he didn't want to jerk himself with you right there but he figured a touch wouldn't hurt.

he reached down into his pants and touched his tip to feel his pre cum. he spread it over his tip and held back a moan. all he could think about was how nice it would be to touch you as your scent filled his lungs, you being right next to him.

"fuck." he whispered as he touched himself a little faster. this got your attention. your eyes opened and you heard little movements from george. you slowly turned and saw his hand down his pants with his eyes squeezed shut.

"george?" you whispered shouted. his eyes widened and he froze, looking over to you. "what the bloody hell are you doing?" you ask.

"i- i just, um." his face burned red.

"you just decided to start jerking off right next to me?" you sat up and scooted slightly away from him.

"y/n, i'm sorry it was-" but you interrupted him.

"don't even. what the fuck were you even thinking about that made you this horny?" you crossed your arms. "probably something stupid like a dirty magazine i bet you have or something. you're such a perv i bet you're addicted and just couldn't go one night without touching your-"

"it was you!" he almost shouted. it was your turn to be silent now. "oh my fuck, you're annoying." he leaned back on his pillow.

"what do you mean, it was me?" you asked.

"i couldn't get you and your stupid soft skin out of my head." he mumbled. as much as you disliked george you couldn't deny finding him attractive.

the two of you stared at each other in momentary silence. you didn't know what to say. should you yell at him? tell him how disgusting he is? completely leave the room? you weren't sure but the way he was staring you down with the moon shining through the window was driving you crazy.

before you knew it, you were laid on your back, chasing george's lips as he parted them from yours. he gave you a smirk as he lifted your hoodie up and off your body.

"so bloody hot." he whispered. you held back a small whimper and watched as he left kisses around your neck, collarbone, and down closer towards your chest.

george did not hesitate to pull your straps down, exposing your tits for him. he looked up at you.

"this ok?" he asked. you nodded.

"yes. get on with it, george." he smiled at you and obeyed. his kisses spread to every inch of your chest and down your torso. you played with his hair and pulled on it as he got closer and closer to where you needed him most.

george pulled your shorts off to reveal how wet you were.

“all wet for me, love?” his voice was low and rough and it sent flutters to your core. george leaned back over you so your faces were close and placed his fingers on your lips. “suck on them for me.”

you did as he said, sucking on his fingers while staring right at him. he bit his lip as he watched you, and took his fingers out of your mouth. he then reached down and slowly pushed his fingers inside you.

“fuck, george.” you closed your eyes and moaned out. he moved his fingers in and out if you making you wetter and wetter. he loved the way you looked, whimpering under him as he made you feel good. he leaned down to kiss you and you reciprocated. your sounds were muffled by his mouth and you reached down to rub your clit.

you could feel yourself getting closer and closer but you wanted all of him. you broke the kiss to look at him.

“i need you, please.” he smiled down at you.

“i’m right here, y/n. what do you need?” his fingers kept going.

“pl- please,” you whimpered again. “fuck me, george. i need you inside of me.”

“never thought i’d hear those words from you.” he said as he began to pull off his pants. you smiled and rolled your eyes at him.

“hurry up and fuck me.”

[leviscolwill]

sanctuary

pairing: jude bellingham x f1 driver!reader

summary: after an eventful singapore gp, the only thing you can think of is your comfy bed but your body has another plan and your boyfriend isn't happy about that. [wc: 1,6k]

req: Ferrari driver reader x jude where she feels a bit dizzy after a race and kind of faints when they get at the hotel, like just fluff with him taking care of her + CAN YOU WRITE JUDE ANGST THEN FLUFF IDC ABT THE SCENARIO JS JUDE ANGST IN JUDE X DRIVER READER 🙏🙏

contents: established relationship, charles is reader's teammate, ferrari being good au (impossible ik), reader faints, jude is a worried bf, barely has angst ngl 🏃‍♀️, nothing else i think

note: i have no idea how to write about fainting and it probably shows. ALSO, i wrote most of this at 1am so i hope it makes sense (probably doesn't but we move😪)

now playing: sanctuary by joji (nectar)

usually you would say you absolutely loved singapore. the track was one of your favourites on the calendar and you practically counted down the days to this race. but this week was probably the most difficult of your entire career in motorsports. of course, marina bay had never been an easy race, and the weather conditions in singapore were only making it harder to handle. but this year, no number of ice bath and cold shower could appease the dizzying headache that plagued your weekend.

and to add to that, everyone at the team has been stressing you out about the championship. obviously, you were grateful that you could finally fight for one, ferrari had built the perfect car this season. but this came with a price, fighting against charles for the title. you were great friends with your teammate but you had to admit your relationship took a toll with the constant tension between the two of you throughout the season. anyone wearing a bright red kit kept reminding you that you needed to be careful on track, that if you crashed with anyone, but especially with charles, you'd be in great trouble.

thankfully your boyfriend joined you after qualifying, and made your weekend instantly better. he noticed something was wrong right away. of course, you told jude about your struggles but he didn't expect to find you in this state.

"maybe you shouldn't race tomorrow..?"

you took a glance at jude, laid down on the hotel room bed, to check if he actually meant what he just uttered only to find a very serious look on his face.

"yeah, i'll just call fred to tell him i'm feeling sick and don't care about the championship anymore, that's definitely the best choice i have." sarcasm dripped out of your words as jude rolled his eyes.

"just because you had a bad day, doesn't mean you have to give me an attitude." it was your turn to roll your eyes. you quietly got under the sheets and muttered a barely audible 'goodnight', clearly not having the energy to argue with him tonight.

as you closed your eyes you felt jude turn around to wrap you in his arms around you.

"i'm just worried for my girl, that's all." he said, softly kissing your hair. you turned around to face him, having to trace his face before finding his lips because of the darkness of the room, and pressed a quick kiss on his lips.

"i appreciate your concern, i really do. but this race is so much more important than a silly headache. i'll be okay." you kissed him again for good measure. "you're gonna have to trust me with this one."

"i always trust you." the two of you talked some more before falling asleep in each other's arms.

—

the only thing you could think of when you stepped out of your car was your bed. as expected the race had been particularly draining and truth be told, you didn't know if you would be able to stand on the podium in your state. you managed to score a satisfying p2, well it would have been more satisfying if charles wasn't standing on the highest step of the podium, with a 4-point difference before catching on you in the driver's standing.

when the whole team congratulated you on your results, it felt like you were in a fever dream, barely making out what was real and what wasn't. you didn't even notice jude talking to you before he snapped his fingers in front of you.

"are you okay ? should i take you to the medics ?" he asked in a worried tone.

"i'm alright... just need to get through the podium." which did not happen. you ran off stage as soon as the italian anthem stopped ringing in your ears. it was all too much, the heat, the noise, the exhaustion, the pressure. all too much to handle for you.

when you joined jude, he was already talking with your pr manager, telling her you wouldn't be able to do any media work right now. it was the truth, not a petty lie to get away with it. you genuinely felt even more lightheaded (if that was possible) at the sole thought of having to go through a dozen interviews.

seeing you barely standing straight must have conceived her, so soon enough you were on your way back to the hotel in a cab jude called.

you quietly laid your head on jude's shoulder. he barely said a word to you since the podium incident, only asking how you felt, if you drank enough water, and how many hours of sleep you had. you watched him as he typed things on his phone in total silence. you wondered if he was mad at you for putting yourself in such a situation or only worried. regardless, you felt a pang of sadness in your heart thinking about it before drifting off.

—

as soon as jude opened your hotel room's door, you felt your legs giving up on you, your hands found the wall to steady yourself. you could hear jude's voice but couldn't make out what he was saying, like you were underwater.

you tried making it to the bed, but you fell down on your knees and just propped your back against it, waiting a minute before getting up, to get your head to stop spinning uncontrollably.

"y/n. are you okay ?" you felt your boyfriend kneeling down next to you and could finally understand his words, but it felt like they were resonating in your brain, only worsening your headache.

"i'm fine, i'm fine... i just need a moment." you didn't want to worry jude more than he already was, although the weak tone of your voice alarmed him more than anything. you felt him shift around you, and caught a glimpse of him coming back from the bathroom before your eyes shut.

when you woke up, you were laid on the bed with a wet cloth on your forehead. and the first thing you saw was a wide-eyed jude handing you a glass of water.

"i thought about making you drink when you were... asleep? but i didn't want to drown you. so i waited for you to wake up." he was talking fast, too fast for you to fully understand his nonsense.

"hello to you too." your voice was still weak but you felt much better than at the race track. you quickly took a few sips of water before jude tried drowning you for good.

"what's that ?" you asked pointing at the cloth still laying on your face.

"some website said that's what you're supposed to do when your irresponsible girlfriend faints." you hid your face in your pillow at his accusatory words.

"no, but seriously y/n. do you have any idea of how worried i was ? imagine if something wrong happened. god, i knew i shouldn't have let you race..." his words had an angry tone to them and you were confused as to why jude was mad at you over hypothetical scenarios.

"but nothing wrong happened, i even got points. are you not proud of me ?"

"are you being serious right now ? you know i'm always proud of you, points or no points. but you think i'm gonna clap for you after putting yourself in danger like that ?" jude's tone got somewhat angrier but he kept going.

"fuck, when you fainted i already saw myself explaining everything to your mum. you can't take those risks, especially when you drive a fast car for a living. you can understand that right ?"

you felt tears well up in your eyes at his words, thinking about how worried he must have been this whole time.

"i'm sorry, it's just... i've been thinking about the championship a lot. i guess that clouded my judgment." you wiped away your tears quickly, before jude could notice them but it was too late.

"hey, hey, hey... you shouldn't be saying sorry to me, you probably spent a worse weekend than i did anyway. i'm not mad at you but at the situation, alright ?" his fingers stroke the wet spots under your eyes, wiping what was left of your tears away. "i'm proud of you, and happy for your points. but you're not winning a championship by making your dangerous job even more dangerous." his voice and his eyes were soft and you felt your chest get significantly warmer.

"you're right..." the room got silent for a couple seconds at your words.

"what was that ? i couldn't hear you babe" jude had a shit-eating grin on his face and you knew exactly what he wanted, and it almost made you physically sick to give him this satisfaction.

"i said... you'reright." you tried getting those terrible words out as fast as you could, but he wasn't happy with that.

"mmh mmh, that won't do... say it nice and loud for me love." you felt your face heat up, both in fluster and embarrassment at his words.

"you're right." your words had a defeated tone to them, but jude decided that would be enough by the way he didn't taunt you anymore.

he moved and got under the covers with you, even though you were gonna have to get up again as you were both still dressed. he just wanted to share this little moment of peace with you.

"you know, it's crazy how you drive the fastest car in the world but can't survive singapore's heat for a weekend." you playfully elbowed jude's ribs at his teasing.

you were grateful to have someone like jude to support you and your intense lifestyle, but also someone to talk about silly little things, legs tangled under the sheets.

[thefiery-phoenix]

PLATONIC YANDERE WEASLEY FAMILY HEADCANONS

They're very protective of each other, that's for sure. Molly might be the first one to meet you, or the Weasley children at Hogwarts. Heck, you might not even be related to the Weasleys and they'll still think of you as one of their own when they see the chance to make you theirs for good, you're just too naive and innocent for this world. And no doubt Harry and Hermione would play roles in helping them with their obsession with you as well since they are yanderes for you after all

Arthur would LOVE to talk to you about your knowledge of Muggles if you know about them that is. But don't worry, there are still plenty of other things he'd LOVE to talk to you about. It's actually kind of nice and adorable seeing him get so excited whenever you bring up the topic of Muggles, the way his eyes shine and light up with excitement like as if he's some sort of kid in a toy shop. But Molly has to be there to rein him in in case he makes you feel too overwhelmed with his questions. Arthur doesn't care if you're pure blood, related to them or not, half blood, muggle or heck even if your dad is Voldy himself. Unless of course, you're good. He'll still look after you like his own and care for you, and of course, keep you far far away from the prying eyes of the evil Malfoys and dangerous things like Death Eaters and concerning yourself with the activities of the Dark Lord

Bill is the chill and easy going brother who'll understand how you're feeling since he's a pro at it and he's also the oldest Weasley, he's the brother to 6 siblings of his. He's a good listener and always has good advice for you whenever you need to ask him about something and he'll also love it if you talk to him about his work and stuff. And he'll also tell Fred and George to lay back off a bit if their pranks become too much to which they'll apologize instantly. They would never think of hurting you, not even in their worst nightmares. And if you were brought into their family by force, he'll know how you're feeling and he'll make sure to always be there for you no matter what. Oh, and no dating, NONE of the Weasleys would ever allow you to date someone at all. Nope, you're their precious little baby and they don't want some riff raff tainting your innocence

Molly is a really coddling and protective yandere for you. She'll always make you nice hot lunches and meals when you need them, she'll always give you the comfort and love you need from a mother and of course, she'll get jealous when you talk about your past family. You just can't seem to hate her no matter what since she's being so nice to you, hating her would literally be a crime. She looks after you so well and that's actually part of a plan she has in mind. Oh, yeah, she's crafty too. She wants to win over your love and affection by doing these sweet things and all that, but she does truly genuinely care for you. And if you ever mention the name of someone you like, I seriously pray for that poor schmuck, be it boy or girl since I believe in gender equality lol

Charlie loves you as well and he's the adorable nerd, who'll like talking to you about dragons and stuff. Like Bill he's also laid back and easy going, and trying to make you feel more comfortable with the family. He'll tell you funny stories from his time in Romania, some of the hilarious things his brothers and sisters have done, their embarrassing stories and stuff that'll be sure to have a smile on your face. He would literally cry if you wanted to enter his field, he'd be so freaking happy and pleased, no doubt he'd actually say "IN YOUR FACE!" to the rest lol

Percy Weasley is the uptight stick in the mud, the spoilsport and sometimes the killjoy but he truly does want what's best for you despite him being arrogant and pompous. He tries to be a good example for people and his family but it's frustrating when no one follows him or even strives to be like him. He'll try to get you under his wing before the twins try corrupting you. He'll help you with your homework, ask you how your day is going and if anyone's bothering you, he'll teach them a lesson. He knows he isn't supposed to use his status as Headboy for personal reasons but he won't tolerate it if someone decided to make his sibling feel bad about something. And if you guys are at Hogwarts, he'll make his duty to check in on you every single freaking day and act like some sort of pompous watchdog for you

The fun loving Weasley twins, who love pranking you and the others, but will never go too far with their pranks for you since they would never want to see you cry. They're the best to come to when you're having a bad day or when you feel like crying. In which case they'll cheer you up by some of their pranks and make you laugh since they can't stand to see you cry and be sad. And as for the person whoever made the mistake of making you sad... they'll be on the wrong end of their pranks and NO ONE, I repeat NO ONE wants to be on the wrong end of their pranks, trust me on this. And they'll even take your opinion for their products at their joke shop Weasley's Wizard's Wheezes, and go as far as naming something after you and giving you some of their stuff for free, low prices or discounts ESPECIALLY for you. Lol, they'd just rub it in Ron's face and he'd so freaking jealous

Ron would be the really overprotective type for you. Normally the Weasleys are just over protective of you but he's INSANELY over protective. And it's mentioned in canon too that he's really protective over Ginny when she starts dating Terry Boot, Dean and Harry. And if you think he's bad there, he's WAY worse when you're concerned since the way he sees it is NO ONE is worthy of being your s/o, you're the baby of the family and he will NOT allow someone to ruin you. He'll love to talk about Quidditch with you and maybe even show off some of his flying skills to you, to impress you. And he will not think twice to defend you if some prat like Malfoy decides to be a prick to you, and what'll make his blood boil even more is if Malfoy decides to take an interest in you. In which case the entire Gryffindor house would have to get involved in trying to hold him, the Weasley twins and Percy from literally punching the hell out of him. And of course, with the help of his trust y friends Harry and Hermione they follow you with the Marauder's map and keep tabs on what you're doing just for your safety of course

And last but not the least, Ginny, the youngest of the family but knows how to get something when she wants it. And that includes your attention. She's kinda crafty and demands for your attention regularly. And she will snatch you up like some feather if you're spending time with someone else, except for Molly of course. NO ONE has the guts to dare to go against Molly lol. And of course, she'll introduce you to Luna and even Luna would turn out to be very protective over you. For someone who looks so innocent and calm like her, she does know how to get rid of people who bother you and make you sad. There's always someone watching you no matter what, be it a Weasley, a Granger, a Potter, or a Lovegood... they're all there for you and they're at the back of you, scaring people off who they don't like seeing close to you since all they want is the best for you, that's all. They might not have much, but they have family and it's home...

[pucksandpower]

Best Laid Plans

Carlos Sainz x Vasseur!Reader

Summary: you were just supposed to be a means to an end — a way for Carlos to get back at your father for dropping him — but the best laid plans often go awry and you quickly become so much more than that

Warnings: 18+ content and manipulation

Note: did I spend the whole day writing this to celebrate Carlos’ win? Maybe …

So much love to @struggling-with-drivers for always giving me the best ideas

The warm Portuguese sun beats down on Carlos as he strolls through the luxurious resort grounds, trying and failing to shake the anger simmering inside him.

How could Ferrari do this to him? After all he has given to the team over the past few seasons? To be so unceremoniously dumped for Lewis fucking Hamilton is a slap in the face he can barely comprehend.

He kicks at the pebbled path, hands jammed in his pockets, catching the eye of a young woman lounging by the pool up ahead. She gives him a warm smile that does strange things to his insides for a moment before he recognizes her — Y/N Vasseur.

The reality of who she is hits Carlos like a truck. The daughter of the team principal who betrayed him.

An idea begins to form in Carlos’ mind, a cruel little seed taking root. If Ferrari wants to play hardball, he can play harder. And what better way to get back at Fred than through his precious daughter?

Putting on his most charming grin, Carlos changes course to approach you. “Y/N, fancy running into you here,” he lies easily. “I didn’t realize you were vacationing at this resort too.”

You sit up, shielding your eyes against the sun’s glare. “Carlos! What a pleasant surprise.” Your smile is bright and genuine, setting off warning bells in the back of Carlos’ mind. He quickly silences them — this is just collateral damage.

“I was just getting ready for a dip. Care to join me?” You gesture towards the welcoming blue waters.

Carlos pretends to consider it for a moment. “You know what, I would love to.”

Stripping off his shirt, he can’t help but sneak glances at your swimsuit-clad figure as you slide into the pool, telling himself it’s just for show. You really are stunning though, he has to admit. This might not be so difficult after all.

“So what’s a beautiful young woman like yourself doing all alone at a place like this?” Carlos asks once he’s waded in beside you.

You let out a tinkling laugh, sweeping wet hair away from your face. “Taking a much needed break from real life, I suppose. My job can be … demanding at times.”

That piques Carlos’ interest — to be quite honest, he had just assumed you did nothing all day. “Oh? Do tell, I’m fascinated.”

With a bashful look, you launch into an explanation of your high-powered career that genuinely impresses Carlos despite himself. You’re whip-smart, articulate, and passionate about your work in a way he can relate to.

“Wow,” he finds himself saying once you’ve finished. “I don’t know why, but I wasn’t expecting that from you. Not that I’m judging a book by its cover or anything!” He adds quickly at your arched eyebrow.

You let out another of those bright laughs. “Don’t worry, I get that a lot. People see a privileged girl and make all sorts of assumptions.”

There’s a hint of bitterness underlying the lightness of your tone that Carlos picks up on all too well. He knows what it’s like to be looked down on and underestimated.

“For what it’s worth, I think what you do is really impressive,” he finds himself saying honestly. “And anyone who thinks less of you for it is a fool.”

The words seem to catch you off guard for a moment before your expression melts into a warm smile. “Why Carlos Sainz, I do believe you’re flirting with me.”

He grins back unrepentantly. “Is it working?”

You pretend to consider it for a moment before laughing again. “Maybe a little.”

The flirtatious back-and-forth continues as you both float lazily in the pool, Carlos quickly getting caught up in the effortless fun of it. You match him quip for quip, parry for parry, in a way he’s not used to from women. It’s exhilarating and unexpected.

In fact, he’s so caught up in your company that he nearly forgets his original intention entirely. Until a stray thought brings the memory crashing back down … you’re Fred Vasseur’s daughter.

The realization is like a bucket of cold water being upended over Carlos’ head. What is he doing? This woman hasn’t done anything to wrong him. Going after you just to get petty revenge on your father is ugly and uncalled for. He should just be the bigger man, swallow the insult Ferrari dealt him, and move on.

But then he thinks about the disrespect, the callousness of dumping him like dead weight after all he bled for the team. Perhaps a little payback is in order after all.

With a wicked grin, Carlos begins swimming slowly towards you, an unmistakable glint in his eye. You seem to pick up on it, cheeks flushing ever so slightly. “What’s that look for?”

“Just thinking,” he murmurs once he’s close enough for you to feel the warmth of his breath. “About how I could make this vacation even more … memorable.”

His heavy-lidded gaze drops to your lips for just a moment, but you catch it. You bite your lower lip unconsciously as heat blazes between you. “Is that so?”

“Mhmm,” Carlos all but purrs, reaching out to gently cup your jaw, thumb stroking over your cheekbone. You shiver despite the warmth of the day, eyelids fluttering. “If you’ll allow me?”

For a long stretch, you seem to be rendered speechless, pupils blown wide as you study his face intently. Then, so softly, “Yes.”

That’s all the permission Carlos needs before he’s crashing his lips against yours in a searing kiss.

The moment your lips meet his, it’s like a jolt of electricity courses through Carlos. He kisses you deeply, urgently, all thoughts of revenge or ill-intent evaporating from his mind. This is pure want, unbridled desire singing through his veins.

You return the kiss with equal fervor, tangling your fingers in his hair and pulling him closer. Your mouth is warm, soft, pillowy — everything Carlos didn’t know he was craving until this very moment. He skims his hands over the slick curves of your body beneath the pool’s surface, marveling at the gasps and sighs he pulls from you with each exploratory touch.

When you finally break apart, you’re both panting heavily, faces flushed. Carlos drinks in the sight of you — hair tousled, lips swollen, and eyes dark with wanting. He’s never seen anything more beautiful.

“Carlos ...” You breathe his name like a prayer and something primal uncurls in his lower belly.

Instead of responding, he simply crushes his mouth to yours once more, walking you backward until your back gently hits the pool’s tiled edge. You let out a muffled moan as he settles between your parted thighs, the heated line of his body flush against yours.

One of his hands slides up over the soft skin of your ribs to cup your breast as you arch shamelessly into his touch. He drags his lips in hot, open-mouthed kisses along the line of your jaw and down the graceful column of your neck, relishing the way you keen beneath his attention.

“You feel so good, cariño,” he rumbles against the feverish skin just below your ear, punctuating the words with a deliberately slow roll of his hips that has you releasing a broken whimper. “So fucking perfect ...”

In this moment, with you writhing and mewling in his arms, Carlos has never been more grateful for his commitment to physical fitness. He knows he can keep this up all day if need be, ravishing you over and over until you’re a limp, sated puddle.

He runs his tongue in a scorching path up the side of your neck before returning to that sinful mouth, swallowing your desperate little moans hungrily. You cling to him as if he’s the only thing keeping you tethered, nails raking deliciously over his back and shoulders in a way that will surely leave marks. Carlos loves it, loves the proof of your passion painted on his skin in thin red lines.

Trailing his lips across the hinge of your jaw, he murmurs “Should we take this somewhere more private, princesa?”

You let out a shuddering breath, hips canting up instinctively to meet each roll of his. “God, yes ... please ...”

The sound of your needy whine sends a molten thrill straight to Carlos’ cock. He’s fully hard and aching for you, straining against his swim trunks with every second that passes. If possible, he wants you even more.

With a grunt of effort, he hooks his hands beneath your thighs and hikes your legs up around his waist in one swift motion. You let out a startled squeak that quickly dissolves into a moan as he shifts against you just right, creating delicious friction. Your arms wind around his neck as you bury your face in the curve where his neck meets his shoulder.

“You feel that, cariño?” Carlos rumbles darkly. “I can’t wait to be inside you. Stretching you so perfectly full of me. Will you be a good girl and take it? Every. Last. Inch?”

He emphasizes each of the final three words with a firm grind of his hips, rutting his rigid length against your clothed heat. Your back bows in response, mouth dropping open on a silent wail of pleasure. Carlos can feel your sticky wetness soaking through the thin material of your swimsuit bottoms and groans harshly.

“P-please ...” You keen, worrying his earlobe between your teeth. “I need you, Carlos. I need it so bad ...”

And just like that, the trance is broken. Carlos blinks, suddenly acutely aware that you’re grinding shamelessly against each other in the very public pool area of this high-end resort. A few pointed looks from other guests are enough to have a flush of embarrassment creeping up his neck.

Clearing his throat, he reluctantly pulls himself back and sets you on your feet. You let out a disappointed whimper that goes straight to his groin.

“P-perhaps we got a bit carried away, princesa,” Carlos huffs out a laugh, running a hand through his damp curls. “Why don’t we go somewhere a bit more … private to continue this?”

You bite your plump lower lip and Carlos has to resist the urge to lean forward and free it with his teeth. Nodding eagerly, you cast a look around before tugging his hand and heading for the exit, leaving a trail of water droplets in your wake.

Carlos follows eagerly, openly ogling the way your soaked swimsuit hugs every tantalizing curve. He’s never been so grateful for his decision to book one of the private beachfront villas at this resort — just a stone’s throw from where you’re leading him, he’ll finally be able to have you all to himself.

The thought has him semi-frantically fumbling for the keycard as you press urgent, open-mouthed kisses to any patch of bare skin you can find — his shoulder, his neck, the line of his jaw. By the time he gets the door open you’re both panting like you’ve run a marathon, desire thrumming white-hot through your veins.

The second you’re inside, Carlos has you pressed back against the door, forearms braced on either side of your head as he towers over you. For the first time, a flicker of uncertainty crosses your features and he’s abruptly reminded of who you are.

“Are you sure about this?” He murmurs lowly, searching your eyes. “Because if we do this, I can promise you there’s no going back for me, cariño.”

You visibly swallow hard but then give a small, determined nod. “I want this, Carlos. I want you.”

That’s all the confirmation he needs before he’s capturing your lips in another searing, desperate kiss that has you melting against him. He walks you backward, never breaking contact until the backs of your legs hit the edge of the plush bed. With a growl, he hooks his hands beneath your thighs and hitches your legs around his hips once more.

You let out a breathless giggle as he tumbles you both down onto the soft cotton sheets, immediately rolling until he’s blanketed by the gorgeous expanse of your body. God, you’re even more stunning like this — hair fanned out in a tousled riot, cheeks flushed and lips swollen, eyes glazed with naked wanting.

Carlos takes a moment just to appreciate the view, raking his eyes over every inch he can see. A tremor goes through you beneath his weighty gaze and he smirks, leaning down to trail open-mouthed kisses along the column of your slender throat.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this, princesa,” he rumbles against your overheated skin. “How many times I’ve thought about having you just like this, spread out beneath me and begging for it ...”

The truth is, he hasn’t thought about it at all until this very day. But something about the way your breath hitches and your hips cant up instinctively at his words makes Carlos want to keep going.

“I’ve watched you, you know,” he lies smoothly, relishing the full-body shiver that wracks your frame. He nips along the graceful line of your collarbone and you whine softly in the back of your throat. “Couldn’t tear my eyes away whenever you were around. Imagining what delicious little sounds you might make with my cock buried inside you ...”

You moan then, loud and unabashed as you tug needily at his hair to bring his mouth back up to yours. Carlos chuckles darkly into the kiss, reveling in how utterly desperate he’s managed to make you for him so quickly.

“Is this what you want, princesa? You want me to fuck you?” He keeps his tone a low, filthy rasp against the plush of your lips. “Hard and deep and ruthless until you can’t remember anything but my name on your tongue?”

“Yes!” The word rushes out in an urgent whine and Carlos lets out a feral growl, slamming his hips firmly against yours in one rough grind that has your mouth dropping open on a broken cry of ecstasy.

Moving with purposeful efficiency, he hooks his fingers in the waistband of your swimsuit bottoms and tugs them down over the swell of your hips and off completely. He shoves his own trunks down just far enough to free his throbbing length, giving it a few firm strokes to spread the pearling bead of precome over the swollen head.

With a low, heated look, Carlos hitches your legs over his shoulders and lines the blunt head of his cock up with your entrance. Just from this angle, he can see how slick and swollen you already are for him, glistening with arousal.

“Last chance, cariño,” he rumbles, rubbing himself in one deliciously torturous swipe through your folds and back again. You moan loudly, back bowing off the bed. “After this, I won’t be able to stop until you’re utterly ruined for anyone else’s touch ...”

The sound you make is practically inhuman, hand shooting out to grasp at his hip almost painfully hard. “Carlos … Carlos, please!”

Never one to deny such a desperate plea, Carlos braces one hand beside your head and slowly, inexorably begins to sink into your welcoming heat.

The tight, slick heat of your core enveloping Carlos inch by agonizing inch is utterly sublime. He has to grit his teeth and squeeze his eyes shut to keep from embarrassing himself right then and there. You’re impossibly tight, so perfectly molded to his shape — he’s never felt anything quite like it.

Beneath him, you keen softly as he stretches and fills you in one steady glide. Your fingernails bite crescent moons into the firm planes of his back as if you’ll fall apart if not anchored to him. Carlos rumbles his approval low in his chest at the sweet sting.

Once he’s fully sheathed, hips flush with yours, he pauses to simply bask in the feeling for a long moment. You feel so indescribably good wrapped around his throbbing length — hot and snug and fluttering subtly like your body can’t decide whether to grip him tighter or ease his way.

“Fuck, cariño ...” The words tear from Carlos’ throat in a ragged groan. “You feel incredible. So perfect for me.”

You whimper wordlessly in response, flexing and releasing your inner muscles in a way that has him seeing stars behind his eyelids. He captures your mouth in a filthy, demanding kiss to swallow your desperate little noises. It’s all he can do not to start pounding away with reckless abandon.

Pulling back slowly until just the thick head of his cock remains inside your clutching heat, Carlos locks eyes with you. Your pupils are blown wide, lips parted enticingly with each panting breath, the picture of wanton desire. He’s never seen anything so erotic in his life.

You must read the promise in his expression because suddenly you’re nodding frantically and chasing his retreating hips with a needy whine.

“Please, Carlos!” You keen desperately, nails scoring lines of fiery pleasure-pain down the rigid plane of his back. “I need it, I need you to-”

He doesn’t let you finish, snapping his hips forward in one hard thrust that buries him to the hilt. The broken cry that tears from your perfect lips goes straight to his dick.

Carlos repeats the harsh, punishing rhythm over and over, relishing the snug drag of your velvet walls against his aching cock. He soon has you a mewling, mindless mess beneath him, whining his name like a holy mantra with each powerful stroke.

“That’s it, princesa,” he rasps against the flushed curve of your neck, lips brushing saltily over your overheated skin. “Take it all for me. Every. Last. Fucking. Inch.”

As punctuation, he slams home with a sharp roll of his hips that has you keening shrilly and throwing your head back. You clutch at him desperately, meeting each heavy thrust in perfect counterpoint as he picks up the pace. The air is thick with the obscene sounds of skin sliding relentlessly together and your punched-out whimpers and moans.

Carlos has never felt so deliriously consumed by physicality before. It’s like his whole world has narrowed down to this moment, this connection of your joined bodies moving as one. He wants to burn the memory of how you feel, how you sound, how you taste, into his mind forever.

“Look at me,” he growls against the sweat-slick curve of your jaw when your eyes start to drift shut in ecstasy. “I wanna see those pretty eyes when you fall apart on my cock, princesa.”

You force your lids open with obvious effort, irises wild and hazy with lust. Carlos feels a molten surge of possessive desire lash through his veins at the sight. He slams into you with renewed fervor, savoring the high, desperate whine it punches from your parted lips.

“That’s it, cariño ... fuck, you’re exquisite like this.” His praise comes out in a ruined rasp but it seems to spur you on. Your nails dig bruising furrows into his lower back as you meet him thrust for bruising thrust.

Carlos can feel the telltale tightening and fluttering in your inner walls that signals your impending release like a vise grip around his cock. He wants nothing more than for you to shatter apart on his length. Slipping one hand between your sweat-slicked bodies, he finds the swollen bundle of nerves and rolls it firmly between calloused fingertips.

You release a strangled scream, back bowing off the mattress as white-hot pleasure spikes through you. “Carlos! Oh my god, Carlos, I’m … I can’t ...”

“Come for me, princesa,” Carlos encourages hoarsely against the side of your neck. He continues to work you over with nimble fingers in time with the punishing snap of his hips. “Let me feel you come apart all over my cock. Fucking soak it ...”

The guttural river of carnal filth coming from his lips seems to be the final straw, sending you crashing violently over the edge. You seize up around him with a shrill, sobbing wail, inner muscles clamping down in hot, pulsing waves. Carlos curses roughly, eyes squeezing shut against the unbelievable sensation of being massaged and milked for every drop.

If he thought the vice grip of your orgasm was intense, the aftermath is even more sublime. You lie utterly limp and boneless beneath him, still aflutter and fluttering in sweet, rhythmic clenches around his cock. He grits his jaw and fights to keep control, knowing he won’t last much longer buried in your intoxicating heat like this.

When you finally regain some coherency, eyes fluttering open with a dazed murmur of his name, Carlos pulls back slowly until just the throbbing crown remains inside. He intends to give you a brief respite before chasing his own thunderous release, but the moment he starts to withdraw your legs lock high around his hips.

“No ...” You keen, nails raking pleadingly down his back. The desperate craving in your tone very nearly undoes him. “Carlos, please. Don’t stop ...”

Growling low in his chest, Carlos immediately buries himself home once more — this time with a single, powerful thrust that has your brows shooting up as the air rushes from your lungs in a strangled cry. Clearly, you still need it as much as he does.

He fists one hand in the tousled hair at the nape of your neck, using the grip to tilt your head to one side as he lays a searing path of nips and sucking kisses along the exposed column. You shudder and whimper beneath him, utterly pliant and receptive to his claiming touches.

“Tell me what you want, cariño,” he rasps between rough drags of teeth over your thundering pulse point. He remains buried to the hilt, muscles bunched and quivering with the effort of holding himself rigid and still inside you. “Use your words and tell me.”

For a long moment, you seem too dazed and overwhelmed to reply. Then, in a small, wrecked voice, “I want … I want you to fuck me, Carlos. Please ...” Your eyes are glazed yet earnest, boring into his from beneath sooty lashes. “Don’t hold back. I need to feel you come too.”

A harsh groan is punched from Carlos’ lungs at your plea. Letting himself go and really taking you the way his body screams at him to would be heaven and hell all at once.

There’s likely no coming back from it — he’ll ruin you for anyone else’s touch, just as he warned. Once all is said and done, you’ll be irrevocably his in a way that frightens and exhilarates him to his core.

For a heart-stopping moment, he hesitates. And then you moan again — a thin, keening sound of utter desperation — and it’s like the last thread of Carlos’ control snaps completely.

“Hold on tight then, cariño ... because I won’t be able to stop.”

That’s the only warning he gives before pulling almost fully out and slamming back home in one brutal thrust that drives the air from your lungs on a high, shocked cry. He doesn’t let up from there — turning you over onto your belly and dragging your hips up onto his thighs so he can take you from behind in a series of ruthless, punishing strokes.

You quickly become an incoherent, sobbing mess beneath his onslaught, hands clawing uselessly at the sheets as he pounds into you again and again like he’s trying to split you apart. Carlos relishes the sharp smack of sweat-slick flesh on flesh, the strained crescendo of your hoarse wails, the drug-like delirium of being utterly surrounded and consumed by your scorching velvet grip.

It’s too much and not enough all at once. He clutches you flush against him, one big hand spread over your lower stomach like he could somehow force his cock impossibly deeper. The other winds around to toy and tug almost cruelly at your taut, reddened nipples — drawing out a stream of broken, overwhelmed whimpers.

Carlos has never felt more powerful. Body and mind, he owns you utterly in this moment. The thought is nearly enough to send him skating right over the edge into oblivion.

Instead, he jerks you up onto your knees fully so he can plunge into your straining, overworked sex at a different angle — this one hitting something deep inside that has you screaming hoarsely. He captures the wild thrash of your head in the curve of one sweat-slick bicep to bare the elegant line of your throat to his hungry mouth.

“Could you possibly have taken any more of me, princesa?” Carlos husks against the side of your neck, relishing the way it makes you tremble and clench even harder around his pistoning length. “You were made just to be split open on my cock ...”

You let out a garbled sound halfway between agreement and overwhelmed protest. Carlos snarls against your racing pulse, sucking a blatant mark of possession just below your jaw where everyone will be able to see before abruptly rolling you both back over.

He looms above you once more, grinding steadily into your core with deep, purposeful strokes that leave you writhing and wailing with over-stimulation. But Carlos isn’t finished yet — isn’t anywhere close to getting his fill.

“Look at me, cariño,” he commands in a guttural rasp, waiting with molten, heavy-lidded eyes until your lust-drunk stare meets his. “I need to see that pretty face when I come inside you ...”

His words seem to energize you somewhat, your eyes snapping sharper with renewed awareness.

And then, incredibly, you cunt flutters and grips down around him again in the unmistakable clutch of another orgasm ripping through you like a livewire. Carlos has to use every ounce of stamina and control not to follow you right over that blinding edge as you thrash and shriek beautifully beneath him.

By the time you come back down, cheeks flushed and chest heaving, Carlos is practically vibrating with the force of his impending release. His movements have taken on a desperate edge, hips snapping in erratic, forceful jabs as he chases that final blissful oblivion.

When your sated, velvety heat squeezes rhythmically one final time, Carlos throws his head back with his own roar of release. White-hot rapture spikes through every nerve ending as his balls tighten in excruciating bliss. His world narrows down to the exquisite pulsing of your sheathed depths rippling and drawing every last drop from him in endless, blistering waves.

It seems to stretch on forever, Carlos unable and unwilling to move from his impaled position even once the final shudders have wrung him dry. He simply remains blanketed over you, lungs heaving and muscles quaking with the aftershocks of his orgasm.

When he finally regains enough presence of mind to open his eyes and look down at you, the devotion burning in your spent, glowing expression makes his breath catch. For a long, fragile moment, it’s like you’re the only two people in the world.

Eventually, your eyes drift shut on a contented sigh and your body goes lax and pliant against the sheets once more. Carefully, Carlos eases out of your swollen, used entrance and rolls to collapse in a sweaty heap beside you. He immediately tugs you into his embrace, savoring the feeling of your damp, feverish skin pressed to his.

As you drift off to slumber coiled against his chest, Carlos presses a lingering, tender kiss to your crown and tightens his arms around you. He can feel the words pressing at his lips, straining to be released into the silence of this moment.

For now, he keeps them locked behind his teeth. But already he knows this isn’t simply lust or passion or a primal need for revenge that will fade with time. This was always meant to be more — something deeper …. everything Carlos never even realized he was missing until you stormed into his life in a whirlwind of smiles and secrets and blinding desire.

He’s in trouble now. Trouble of the very best kind.

***

Pale morning light filters in through the sheer curtains as Carlos blinks awake slowly. For a disoriented moment, he’s unsure of his surroundings — the rumpled white linens tangled around his naked body are certainly not what he’s used to waking up in.

Then the previous night’s events come rushing back in a heated wave. The pool … the frantic, desperate passion as he took you again and again until you were both hollowed out and sated … finally collapsing into a sweaty pile together. Carlos feels his chest tighten with a complicated swirl of emotions.

He turns his head on the pillow to find the source of the delicious warmth pressed along his side. And just like that, everything else falls away.

You’re tangled up with him still, one shapely leg hooked over his and an arm flung possessively across his torso. Loose riotous locks tickle Carlos’ skin where your face is half-buried in the curve of his neck.

He has to tamp down the overwhelming urge to pull you even closer, to wrap you in his arms and inhale the sweet, clean scent of your hair.

Like this — sleep-rumpled and soft in the morning’s buttery rays — you look almost unbearably lovely. An ache blossoms behind Carlos’ ribs as he studies the delicate fan of your lashes brushing flushed cheekbones and the gentle part of those full lips. Disheveled and without a stitch of make-up, you’re somehow even more breathtakingly beautiful.

Unconsciously, Carlos’ fingers find their way into your tangled tresses, lightly stroking and playing with the silken strands. You make a small, snuffling sound of contentment and burrow infinitesimally closer. He freezes, worried he’s disturbed your slumber, but your features remain smooth and serene.

He should get up. He should definitely get up and extract himself from this warm, addictive little bubble you’ve created before things go any further. This was only ever supposed to be a fling — a deliciously vindictive way to get back at your father for how he so callously cast Carlos aside.

Yet even as Carlos turns the thought over in his head, it rings hollow. What happened between you last night transcended anything so petty and cruel as revenge.

When he was sheathed so deeply inside you, your bodies moving in perfect sync like they were made for each other, Carlos felt something far more profound than just physical gratification. It was spiritual … cosmic, even, like every star in the universe had finally clicked into perfect alignment.

He should be disgusted with himself for having such saccharine notions. Carlos has always considered himself a realist — someone grounded in facts and figures, not given to romantic flights of fancy whatsoever. Yet here he is, helplessly mooning over a woman he barely knows all because of one night of incredible sex.

Except … Carlos is self-aware enough to recognize there was more to it than that, even if he can’t put words to the feeling yet. Some invisible cord has been lashed between you in a knot that feels unbreakable. Some intangible shift has occurred in his perspective that he can’t seem to walk back from.

Perhaps you sensed it too in the way you gazed at him afterwards — not just satiated, but glowing with a sort of wondering, naked adoration far too profound for a mere fuck. Carlos knows he should have been unnerved by the depth of emotion in your spent, happy features. And yet, he only felt it mirrored and compounded tenfold within himself.

With a frustrated huff, he tugs you closer and burrows his face into your hair, allowing your warm, comforting scent to soothe his wildly spiraling thoughts. You make another soft sound and your fingers twitch where they’re splayed over his ribs — reflexively trying to pull him in even tighter.

“What are you doing to me, princesa?” Carlos murmurs, low and graveled, against the crown of your head. “This isn’t how it was supposed to go at all ...”

Because the truth is, this was never meant to be anything more than a fleeting dalliance — an explosive joining of bodies and nothing more. But now that he’s had you, had this bone-deep connection to you, Carlos doesn’t think he can let it go so easily. The prospect of never again feeling you wrapped so perfectly around him in every sense of the word is abruptly gut-wrenchingly awful.

Which leaves him at an impasse. Because you … you are the daughter of the very man who unceremoniously discarded Carlos like an old rag after he gave everything to Ferrari. The offspring of the person who threw him away in a way that cut all the way to his core.

How could he possibly pursue anything real with you after that? It would be a horrific conflict of interests and constantly make things unbearably awkward, to say the very least. Not to mention Carlos has no idea if you even want more than just this one night of passion between you anyway. Perhaps to you he really was just an itch to scratch, a bout of impulsive lust to take the edge off before moving on.

The thought makes his stomach churn with jealousy so potent he has to physically swallow it back. Which … is not great, all things considered.

Tilting your head back with the lightest touch beneath your chin, Carlos studies your soft features searchingly. Perhaps if he stares hard enough, he’ll find some hint of deception or shallowness there. Some glaring evidence that this insane sense of yearning he feels is all one-sided — a misguided obsession brought on by the sort of euphoric sex one can never quite recapture once the high fades. He could use that as his cue to bow out now while you’re still tangled up together so prettily.

But even as he looks, really looks, all Carlos sees is the serene picture of a thoroughly satisfied, openly contented woman. There’s no shuttered gaze or pinched expression betraying any darker thoughts and feelings. Just blissed-out joy written in every relaxed line of those lovely features.

Something in Carlos’ chest cracks wide open at the realization that this is real for you too. You’re not just some meaningless one-off fling, but a woman who seems to have had her entire world upended in the same way his has been over the span of one incredible night.

“Carlos?” You murmur then, voice husky and slurred with the remnants of sleep as your lashes flutter open. “What’s wrong, mon beau?”

Your endearment sends a shockwave of tenderness and want pulsing through him straight to the roots. Carlos shakes his head minutely, winding one hand into your hair to hold you steady so he can simply … bask in your presence for a while.

“Nothing’s wrong, princesa,” he assures you lowly, thumb stroking gently over the arch of your cheekbone. “I just woke up early and got a little lost in my head for a bit there, that’s all.”

That small, secret smile he’s rapidly becoming addicted to tugs at your lips as your eyes rove languidly over his face. Your hand comes up to rest over his thundering heartbeat with surprising tenderness.

“Well then allow me to bring you back to the present. Right here with me.”

Your tone has taken on that rich sultriness from last night that shoots straight to his groin. Before Carlos can so much as draw breath to respond, you’re rising up to seal your mouth over his in a searingly passionate kiss.

He groans instantly, every atom of his being tuned to your frequency in a way that’s swiftly becoming terrifyingly natural. Carlos’ hands roam hungrily over your naked curves of their own volition, relearning each dip and swell through the silken glide of skin on skin.

When you break apart at last, you’re both thoroughly breathless and aroused. Carlos splays one big hand over the small of your back and simply holds you flush against him, savoring the feeling of your racing heart thundering in tandem with his own. He brushes kiss-swollen lips along the line of your jaw, prompting a delicious shiver.

“Don’t think for one second that I’ve had even a fraction of my fill of you yet, cariño,” he rasps against the feverish skin just below your ear, using his free hand to tug your head back so he can access the soft column of your throat. “You’ve addicted me beyond any chance of recovery now.”

Your breath hitches as he latches his mouth just above your thundering pulse point and sucks a blatant mark. Carlos revels in the needy whimpers spilling from your lips with each pass of his tongue over the tender patch of skin. He needs to mark you, claim you, render you unmistakable as his in every possible way.

“Carlos ...” You keen, back arching like a drawn bow as he continues trailing open-mouthed kisses down the slope of your neck and over your collarbones. “What are you saying?”

He pulls back to meet your heavy-lidded gaze, searching intently for permission to continue with what he suspects you’re asking. And there it is — desire and hope and invitation burning brightly in your soulful eyes, practically begging him to put words to this singular thing blazing between you.

Cupping your face in both hands, Carlos holds your rapt stare as he slowly, reverently presses a soft, lingering kiss to your slightly parted lips. You melt into him, one hand coming up to clutch desperately at his bicep.

“I’m saying,” he murmurs against the plush give of your pretty mouth. “That I can’t simply let this be the end, princesa. Not anymore. Not after experiencing what it feels like to be so exquisitely connected with someone in every possible way.”

The smile you give him in answer is as incandescent and warm as a living flame. You don’t attempt to contain the rush of emotion threatening to overwhelm you. Instead, you simply wind your arms around Carlos’ neck and pull him down into a molten kiss that somehow manages to convey every single infinite feeling ricocheting between your bodies.

He suddenly feels so overwhelmingly lucky in that moment. Lucky to have crossed paths with you by happenstance. Lucky that, by some miracle, he didn’t allow bitterness or pain or preconceived notions to blind him to your kindness and warmth and inherent goodness despite how this whole crazy thing started in his mind.

Because yes, you are the daughter of the man who turned his life and career upside down. But here, pressed against you, Carlos can feel the truth resonating through his bones — you are so much more than any of that.

And for the first time in his life, Carlos cannot fathom the idea of anything frightening him away.

***

The frantic Melbourne nightlife whirls and pulsates around Carlos in a dizzying kaleidoscope of neon lights and pounding basslines. Normally he would revel in the thrum of energy and excess — drinking in the atmosphere and feeding off the infectious exhilaration. But tonight, seated alone in the VIP lounge of one of the city’s most exclusive clubs, he finds his attention utterly undivided.

You stand out like a siren among the raucous crowd, every tilt of your hips and toss of your hair captivating Carlos completely.

He tracks the line of your body shamelessly as you sway and twist to the driving beat, that tantalizing little red dress riding up to reveal glimpses of toned, silky thighs that make his mouth water. A fine sheen of sweat glistens enticingly along your collarbones and in the hollow of your throat, no doubt making your overheated skin taste like salted caramel.

The urge to slide up behind you and drag his tongue along that slender, tempting slope is damn near overwhelming. He can vividly picture himself molding his larger frame against your softly undulating form, one hand spanning possessively across your lower belly to grind the rapidly stiffening ridge of his arousal against the lush swell of your rear.

He imagines precisely how you would react — arching back against him with a shuddering gasp, fingers threading into his hair to tug his mouth down upon yours in a frantic, needy kiss. How you would whimper and writhe against him, uncaring of the very public surroundings as desire rapidly whited everything else out ...

Almost as if sensing the scorching path of Carlos’ thoughts, you glance over your shoulder and catch his eye from beneath the veil of your lashes. That sly, inviting little smile immediately kicks his pulse into overdrive and lights a slow bloom of liquid heat unfurling in his lower belly.

With a crooked finger and a subtle uptilt of your chin you summon him to your side. And like the hopeless fool he is, Carlos rises instantly and crosses the small distance to enfold you in his arms from behind.

“Having fun out here without me, cariño?” He murmurs in your ear, lips brushing the sensitive shell so he feels the full-body shiver that wracks through you.

You lean back into his embrace, all soft curves and intoxicating jasmine scent. “I’m always having fun when I’m with you, Mr. Race Winner,” you sigh as your fingers trail delicately down the solid line of his biceps. “Even if we’re just sitting around doing nothing.”

The words are simple — honest and unguarded in a way that makes Carlos’ heart seize in his chest. For two people who came together in a wild collision of lust and passion, it’s moments like these that continually remind him of how much deeper your connection truly runs. Far beyond mere physicality into some soul-binding and unbreakable place.

You must sense the shift in his energy because you turn in his arms, expression questioning but so openly caring it nearly steals Carlos’ breath away. Tenderly, you cup his jaw and search his eyes.

“What’s going on in that beautiful head of yours, hmm?”

He shakes his head minutely, leaning down to brush his lips across your forehead before pulling you snug against his chest. You settle easily into the circle of his arms like that’s the most natural place in the world, cheek pillowed over his steadily thrumming heart.

“Nothing to worry about, princesa,” Carlos assures you gruffly, stroking soothing circles over the warm bare skin of your back. “Just feeling … lucky, I suppose. To have found someone like you.”

The words seem to catch you off guard and you pull back slightly to study his face, mouth curved in that secretive little smile that always makes Carlos’ stomach swoop.

“Well, I certainly feel the luckiest woman on Earth,” you tease lightly, booping his nose in a playful gesture that somehow serves to implant roots deep in Carlos’ soul rather than make him roll his eyes.

Instead, he just gazes at you for a long, weighted moment, allowing himself to simply bask in your presence. In the soft beauties that first drew him in — that delicate blush that finds its way across your nose and cheekbones, the little crinkles that bloom when your smile widens to that mega-watt, face-splitting beam, and those soulful eyes that never fail to pin Carlos helplessly in place.

Then there are the quieter, more intimate details he’s gradually uncovered the deeper he delves into your connection. The barely-there laugh lines at the corners of your eyes when you’re feeling particularly pleased about something. The trick of tugging on your lower lip with your teeth when you’re aroused and trying not to show it. The subtle furrow that appears between your brows when you’re concentrating intently on something.

Carlos knows them all now like geography he was born to navigate.

Without conscious thought, he smooths his thumbs over your jaw and guides you up into a slow, thorough kiss that has both your pulses kicking into overdrive. You whine quietly into his mouth, winding your arms around his neck and arching against him in ways that instantaneously have him hard and aching. But Carlos doesn’t give in to the heated urgency coursing through his bloodstream.

Instead, he keeps the languid glide of his lips over yours unhurried and leisurely — savoring the sensation of you pliant and receptive beneath his seduction. You seem to shake off your initial fervor as well, melting further into the molten drag of his mouth claiming yours over and over.

This too is a geography Carlos has long since mastered. The precise angle he needs to tilt his head to slot your bodies effortlessly flush together. The soft, mewling noises he can coax out of you with carefully applied suction to your plush lower lip. The tiny shudders when he swipes his tongue in long, slick caresses over the roof of your mouth.

You’re practically vibrating with restraint by the time he finally releases your mouth with an obscene, wet pop. Your lips are swollen and glistening, glistening with shared wanting. Carlos hums deep in his chest and brushes the pad of his thumb over the slick fullness reverently.

“So impatient, cariño,” he chides with a wolfish grin that has your nipples visibly peaking beneath the thin lace bodice. “You know that’s not what I had in mind for tonight.”

With an adorable little pout, you wind your arms around his neck once more. “And what, pray tell, did you have in mind?”

A dozen filthy scenarios immediately clamor for attention in Carlos’ head. Having you right here, up against the wall of this secluded VIP area. Bending you over the sleek lines of one of the low leather couches. Finding a shadowed alcove and sinking to his knees before you, nosing aside those delicate strips of lace to ...

He banishes each carnal thought before it can take root and produce visible effect. Tangling his fingers through the soft tresses at the nape of your neck, Carlos brings your foreheads together with a soft smile.

“I thought we might enjoy a moonlight stroll along the beach actually,” he murmurs, relishing the way your disappointed huff ruffles against his skin. “Just you and me under the stars, far away from the noise and crowds for a while.”

You regard him dubiously for a moment before seeming to melt at whatever expression Carlos doesn’t realize he’s allowed to show through. As always, you give in far too easily to his indulgent whims.

With a soft, fond roll of your eyes, you press up on your toes to drop a lingering kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Of course, mon amour. Just you and me under the stars.”

Twenty minutes later finds you ambling hand in hand down a pristine stretch of beach in the Middle Park suburb. The warm, salty breeze gusts gently over your skin, carrying traces of coconut sunscreen and the briny musk of the sea. Foamy waves lap invitingly against the silvered sands as Carlos steers you towards a small, isolated cove.

He procures a large woven blanket from his bag and unfurls it in a clear spot before tugging you down into the plush nest of fabric. You immediately gravitate into his space — curling against his side and tucking yourself beneath his arm like that’s where you were always meant to fit. For Carlos’ part, he cherishes the easy affection and careless intimacy of the simple gesture more than you’ll ever know.

You spend what could be minutes or hours like that — exchanging lazy kisses and sipping from a shared bottle of wine as the moon rises ever higher overhead. After a while, Carlos sprawls onto his back and you quickly drape yourself half-atop him so he can leisurely card his fingers through your windswept tresses.

The soft, steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your ear combined with the soothing sounds of the lapping tide soon have your eyelids drooping. Carlos has never felt so at peace — this sublime bubble with you the single point around which the rest of the universe spins, perfectly in balance.

“Hey,” you mumble against the warm, sleep-rumpled fabric of his shirt. “Aren’t you the one always saying we should be living in the present?”

He huffs a quiet laugh, stroking one hand down the dip of your spine to rest possessively at the base. “What brings that up all of a sudden?”

You shift enough to look up at him through your lashes, eyes molten with a familiar heat that shivers down Carlos’ spine.

“I’m just wondering what’s got you stuck in your head so often these days,” you counter smoothly, punctuating the observation by swinging one leg over his hips so you can settle atop him fully, careful not to disturb his still-tender stitches. “We’ve barely been able to share … intimate moments at all the last month or so.”

Carlos sucks in a sharp breath as your weight settles over the rapidly stiffening ridge of his arousal. His hands find your hips of their own volition, squeezing reflexively as you begin moving atop him in a slow, undulating rhythm.

“Perhaps I’ve been overtly romantic,” he allows through gritted teeth, letting his head thunk back against the blanket as desire rapidly thrums through his veins. “Missing out on more … physical expressions of passion just because I wanted to remind both of us that this is built on so much more than lust.”

You hum thoughtfully, sitting up fully and swaying atop him in a way that has Carlos rapidly losing his tenuous grasp on reality beyond this blissful patch of the world containing just the two of you. He’s fully hard and straining against the loose linen of his slacks within moments.

“Then maybe we should do something about that right now,” you breathe huskily, arching your back in an inhumanly graceful roll that leaves Carlos’ mouth dry as the Sahara. His hands track helplessly up the delicious curves of your waist, bunching the delicate material of your dress around your hips.

He sits up to meet you so suddenly your foreheads nearly crack together. You release a breathless giggle that Carlos hungrily swallows with his lips, trapping you in a searing kiss filled with all the smoldering hunger he’s been studiously keeping banked for weeks now.

Mindlessly, he chases the taste of you over and over — salty and sweet and everything he’s been desperately starving himself for. His fingers fumble at the tie closures along your ribs until the bodice finally falls away, baring your breasts to his gaze and seeking hands.

You gasp softly into the heated seal of his mouth when Carlos’ calloused palms close over your soft, pliant flesh. He cups and kneads with reverent, possessive strokes that have you quickly arching your chest further into his touch and throwing your head back on a wanton moan.

“Carlos ...” You breathe his name like a prayer, riding his lap with increasing urgency and bringing your mouths back together in a clash of teeth and tongues. Your fingers slide up beneath the hem of his shirt to map the shifting planes of his abdomen, nails raking over the taut, quivering muscles. “Don’t hold back with me any longer. Not tonight … need to feel all of you.”

A shudder wracks Carlos’ entire frame at your breathy plea. He knows you’re right, can feel that same desperate yearning driving you magnified inside himself. Every cell of his body is vibrating with the need to take you fully — heart, mind, and body aligning in euphoric harmony after so many weeks of well meaning denial.

Seizing your hips in a bruising grip, Carlos surges to his feet and simply holds you against him with easy strength. Your legs immediately wind around his waist as you giggle deliriously against his lips.

“Is this what you want, princesa?” He murmurs lowly, swaying subtly to grind his straining need over the lush juncture of your thighs in counterpoint. “For me to finally have my way with you the way we’ve both been craving?”

“Yes,” you hiss out through clenched teeth, back arching as Carlos nips and sucks a path down the slender column of your neck. “God, yes, Carlos. Will you just fuck me already? Here on the sand and beneath the open sky like something out of one of those romance novels you pretend not to love.”

The easy teasing breaks through whatever lingering threads of Carlos’ control were still intact and he growls low in his chest. In one deft motion, he divests you both of the rest of your clothes and spreads you out on the blanket before him in all your unabashed glory. His gaze tracks over your form hungrily, drinking in every dip and swell as you watch him with dark, wanting eyes.

“Princesa ...” Carlos breathes, gratified to see his own desire and reverent longing reflected back at him tenfold in your heated stare. “No more waiting, no more teasing.”

His meaning is clear even without the punctuation of sinking down to settle fully over your smaller form, blanketing you with his weight and forcing your thighs apart to cradle his hips. You immediately writhe beneath him, winding limber arms and legs around him in a vice grip that sears every point of contact between you.

“Carlos, mon cœur ...” You keen breathily into the scant space separating your lips, every word punched from you in counterpoint to the sensual roll of his hips grinding his arousal through your slick folds. “Please. I need you. Need to feel you all around me again after so long.”

He crushes his mouth to yours in answer, tongue instantly delving deep to taste the exquisite velvet heat of you. You clutch him closer even as Carlos shifts his weight to one forearm so his other hand can roam freely over every inch of bare, pebbled skin he can reach. When his calloused palm finally finds your breast and gives a rough squeeze, you shudder and cry out into his waiting lips.

There’s no more waiting after that. Carlos sheaths himself in one powerful, purposeful thrust that buries him to the hilt and your gasp dissolves into a broken moan. He stills for the briefest of moments, just reveling in the unbearably tight clutch of your molten sheath, every nerve ending alight and thrumming. Then he slowly withdraws until just the swollen head remains inside before immediately surging forward once more.

Your nails score lines of liquid fire down his back at the first deep, dragging stroke. But Carlos barely notices the delicious sting. He’s utterly consumed by the feeling of finally being surrounded by you again — hot, snug, and so utterly perfect. Every sound and shudder and arch of your form against his own is like the sweetest plea washing over him.

He sets a demanding pace, relentlessly pounding into you from that first jarring thrust onward. The only sounds are your mingled cries and the wet, obscene smack of flesh on flesh echoing out over the lapping ocean waves. Carlos wants to make sure there’s no doubt in your mind how much he’s craved every inch of you.

“There’s my good girl,” he rasps hotly against the bullet-hard peak of your nipple before laving it soothingly with his tongue. You release a strangled cry, back bowing sharply off the blanket as you clench down on him in rippling, vice-like pulses. “Fuck … taking me just how you were made to. So damn perfect, cariño.”

Your garbled whimpers and keens of his name drive Carlos to new levels of feverish intensity with each hitching breath. He snakes an arm beneath your sweat-slick lower back to position your hips at a slightly higher angle, seating himself even more deeply inside.

Every purposeful thrust now grinds against that tender cluster of nerves in a way that quickly has your eyes rolling back. You go boneless and whimpering, allowing Carlos to manhandle and use your plaint and plush form in whatever way he craves.

Pressure rapidly mounts within Carlos like an incoming tidal wave as your inner walls begin fluttering around him in telltale pulses. He can feel his own imminent release building in tandem at the base of his spine, that familiar molten curl of pleasure threatening to crest.

“That’s it, princesa,” he grits out raggedly against the sweat-slick arch of your throat. He slides the hand not anchoring your hips down to toy with the engorged pearl at your apex — drawing out a stream of sobbing wails. “Take what’s yours. Fucking milk me with that greedy little cunt. You were made for this cock, made to be split open and ruined on it over and over until you’ve got no idea where you end and I begin.”

The filthy words seems to be your undoing. With a sobbing cry of Carlos’ name, you seize up — inner walls rippling and convulsing like they’re taking him for everything he’s worth. Carlos hardens his jaw and summons the last threads of his control to keep himself from shattering apart at the very first fluttering pulse.

As the shattering waves of your release gradually crest and ebb, Carlos chases them down with powerful thrusts designed to prolong and intensify every aftershock. You writhe and whimper beneath him in overstimulated pleasure, rapidly going boneless and sated.

That’s when he finally surrenders to the smoldering inferno in his belly, hips snapping forward in a few final, erratic strokes before Carlos throws back his head and allows his own orgasm to rip through him. White-hot euphoria explodes across every nerve ending as he empties himself in heavy, throbbing pulses deep inside your spasming core.

“Ah fuck … just like that, cariño,” he rasps out hoarsely, grinding himself as deeply inside you as physically possible and simply shuddering through each exquisite contraction. “Taking every last fucking drop of me right where you were made for it ...”

Utterly spent, Carlos collapses forward with the last dregs of his stamina — just barely managing to catch himself on shaking forearms so he doesn’t crush you beneath his weight. You immediately latch onto him, peppering his flushed face with sweet kisses.

For several long moments, you simply hold each other through the aftershocks, chests heaving and bodies trembling. Carlos has never felt more peaceful or completely at ease in his entire life. His every sense is utterly surrounded and suffused by you in the most blissful of ways.

When his lashes finally flutter open, the first thing he sees is your adoring smile glowing up at him in the moonlight. It nearly steals what little breath remains in his lungs.

“Hi,” you murmur shyly. Carlos huffs out a breathless chuckle and tugs you even closer until your overwarm bodies are aligned from navel to sternum.

“Hi yourself, princesa,” he replies, just as softly against your lips before sinking into another deep, leisurely kiss that tastes equal parts salt and sex and forever.

When you part again, your eyes are sparkling with so much uncomplicated happiness that Carlos nearly melts into a useless puddle on the spot. He’s drowning and he’s never felt more gloriously unmoored.

“I love you, y’know? Like … down to the depths of my soul,” your fingers trail over the sharp jaw and cheekbones you now know better than your own.

The words should terrify Carlos with their intensity and implication. Instead, they simply roll through him in a cresting wave of overwhelming tenderness and clarity.

Of course he loves you. How could he not, when his existence now seems to revolve around your presence as the only fixed point in a dizzying orbit?

So rather than balk or deflect or shove those emotions back down, Carlos allows every infinite but of love and adoration and soul-deep need to shine through unfettered. He cradles your face between his palms and simply stares, committing every minuscule detail of this moment to memory before leaning down to brush his lips over yours in the sweetest, most loaded caress.

“I love you too, princesa,” he murmurs the words directly into your mouth like a sacrament. “With every fiber of my being. You are my everything.”

You tug him down into a heated, clinging embrace, holding him like you never intend to let go.

And at last, Carlos knows without a shadow of doubt that he never will either

[frenziedfireworks]

Bad Days

Bad Days with HP Boys!

(Fred Weasley, George Weasley, Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter)

CW : Mentions of anxiety (Fred), Draco being a lil inept to feelings, Ron being a bully (Draco), cheesy pet names, GN!Reader

Fred Weasley : 

Fred can tell what mood you're in most of the time. If you’re in a really shit mood he will baby you.. If it’s not as bad he will go for jokes and humor instead.

“Babe look at me” “I’m not in the mood Fred” “Just look”

He will blow himself up with some fireworks to prove his point and make you happy (much to your disagreeance) 

He will do anything you need.. ANYTHING. Just ask.

You had laid on the couch with your thoughts for what felt like hours. You still felt as anxious as when you started your ‘calming’ routine. You didn’t know why nothing was working today and everything felt off. Even normal and casual things had become the pinnacle of impossibility. 

“Ahem. Y/N, I would like to welcome you to the one and only show. A secret show just for you!” Your boyfriend bowed, his hands working at lighting sparklers. You watched as he did a silly jig, painting small pictures of hearts with the sparklers. The lights went out and he set the burnt sticks on the counter. Kneeling down to be level with the couch his hand brushed your cheek.

“Did you like my show, bunny?” His lips tickled against yours as he stole more than a few fair shares of kisses. You couldn’t help but grin into him as he attempted to crawl beside you.

“Babe you are too big to fit on that tiny portion of the couch.”

“Watch me.”

George Weasley : 

George picks up on your mood right away. 

He drops anything and everything and drags you to his bed

“The universe was telling me it’s cuddle time” “Is that so”

He will NOT let you out of bed.. Just accept your fate

“Fuck me.” You grunted as you walked into the living room. You had not had the best day at work and it seemed to only get worse. Your coworker had spilled coffee on you and then you got splashed with mud on your small walk back to the house. 

“Well don’t you look ravishing. Mud really suits your eyes, darling.” George snorted as you shrugged off your coat and shoes. You rubbed a hand over your face and sighed. You started walking to your shared bathroom hoping to get rid of the reminder of said shit day. 

“Baby, stop for a minute!” 

You turned ever so slowly to George’s frame which stood tall right behind. You raised an eyebrow.

“Take a shower and then come to bed, yeah? I need to treat you to some signature Weasley cuddles. They’re known to cure anything.” He leaned down to press a quick kiss to your lips and winked, leaving you alone to your thoughts. You felt yourself as you smiled just a tiny bit. He was something else.

Draco Malfoy : 

“What’s got you all pissy” (He didn’t mean it he swears)

The moment he realizes you are not just being sassy/sarcastic he is chasing you down

“Babe I’m so sorry what’s wrong” 

I feel like Draco has a lot of bad days and knows how it feels so he just sits and listens

He holds your hand/rubs his fingers across your palm.

“I’m sorry darling, you’ll always have me”

You walked out of Potions class absolutely fuming. The audacity of Ron Weasley to purposefully blow up your cauldron and then laugh at you! You had held back a few choice words and hexes, stomping away to be alone. You jumped as you hit something hard and a hand wrapped around your torso.

“Geez, love. Are you mad enough?” Draco smirked and you growled. You smacked your boyfriend's arms away and started sprinting. 

“Wait-Wait! Y/N!” Draco yanked at your shoulder forcing you to come to a halt.

“What in the world is wrong? I didn’t mean that to be rude. I’m sorry.” 

You rolled your eyes. This day just kept getting worse and worse. You knew he didn’t mean any harm but you were already so wound up that it felt like a gate came crashing down.

“Everything! Fucking potions is a mess. Ron decides to blow up my cauldron and Snape gives me a lecture.. I can’t get a fucking break.” You crumbled to the floor as the sobs continued.

“I’m just sick of this, Dray.” 

His hand wrapped around yours, fingers running soothing circles on your skin.

“I know, love. It’ll get better.”

Harry Potter : 

He just raises an eyebrow and takes you outside

“Where are we going Harry?” “Thought you’d like to clear your mind, love”

He just lets you talk for the most part and rubs your back while the two of you walk

Once you get it all out he will give you a little forehead kiss and make sure you’re all better :)) 

“Hey-” Harry startled you, your teary eyes meeting him. It had really not been your day and the last thing you wanted was for your boyfriend to find you like this.

“Harry, I-”

He shushed you, hand wrapping around your wrist to pull you up from your hiding cubby. He rubbed away at the teardrops that stained your cheek and sighed. You could tell he was worried to have found you that way but more concerned on getting you better.

He stepped away and held his arm out for you to take. The two of you fell into step as he led you out the back of the castle and onto the green grass of the highlands. The wind felt nice against your skin and you felt more at peace with Harry’s warmth next to you.

“Thank you. I really needed this.” You murmured and gave the boy a small smile when he met your stare. He gave you a reassuring hug and hummed.

“Anything for you. Come to me next time, okay?”

[bibbityboppitybillyharvgrove]

Long Days and Quiet Nights - F.Weasley

Summary - After a long day of making products for the Weasley twins’ shop, Y/N finds herself fast asleep on her and her boyfriends bed, not even under the covers or in pajamas. Fred sees this and decides to fix it so she’s more comfortable.

Word Count - 373

Warnings - Use of Y/N, female reader, not proofread

Author’s Note - Welcome to day 15!! 10 more days! I know this is super short but I’ve been super busy and won’t be home the rest of the night. Sorry in advance for any mistakes, I wrote this on my phone.

my masterlist

25 days of fics masterlist

Feedback is welcomed and encouraged!

Enjoy!

Not my gif

Not my gif

It wasn’t surprising to Fred when he found his girlfriend fast asleep on their bed, it was well past midnight and she had been busy helping them make some of their products for the shop. Fred and Geroge had told her to go to bed and that they would take care of stocking the shelves for the next day. She had started working on the products early in the morning before the sun was even up and didn’t stop until it was close to 10 at night.

She had fallen asleep as soon as she had laid down, she wasn’t even under the covers or in her pajamas. Fred let out a chuckle when he took in the sight, his heart filled with love and appreciation for his girlfriend. He didn’t want to wake his girlfriend but he felt like he had no choice, he knew that she hated sleeping in her day clothes. “Baby, wake up, you have to change,” Fred spoke gently as he rubbed her back.

She groaned in response, shoving her face further into his pillow. “Come on lovely, let’s get you in some pajamas.”

“No, I don’t wanna,” she whined back.

“I can help you, you just need to get up.” She let out a huff but obliged, getting up off the bed and into the strong arms of her boyfriend. He had already gotten out her pajamas so he began to help her undress, taking his time and being as gentle as possible.

She was lazy in her movement, trying to help Fred with getting her dressed but she was still half asleep. He didn’t mind though, he was grateful to have her in his life and being so ready to drop everything to help them with the shop. After her shirt, well more like his shirt, was slipped over her head, she pulled him in for a sleepy kiss. “I love you Freddie,” she yawned out.

“I love you more Y/N,” he replied, planting a kiss on her forehead.

With that she had climbed into the bed, Fred following right behind her. The two of them finding comfort in each other’s arms, falling into a peaceful sleep as snow began to fall outside their window.

[wisteria-blooms]

sunburns & dragons (charlie weasley & reader) (8/??)

CHAPTER DIRECTORY

TAGLIST AT THE BOTTOM! (Let me know if you'd like to be added or if I've missed you!) A/N: Sorry this took so long to get out! I've been experimenting using my iPad + keyboard to edit which messed up my coordination on my laptop, if that's any excuse. It's just been hard to edit in this little rut where I can't bear to read what I write, but stick around, things are going to get exciting after this...

(GIF credits to @alicent-targaryen; I have so much trouble properly crediting when the GIF isn't the first in the set, ahh).

CHAPTER 8: Foolishly thinking things would slow down after Charlie moved in with you, you find that you're dead wrong. In fact, he finds a new way to integrate into your life: by attending the highly-anticipated book club meeting your mother had invited you to. But as you watch women flock to him like bees to honey, you find another problem to deal with, one that involves your heart. (6.6k words)

CHAPTER 8: TEA TIME (YOU'RE SO VAIN)

And all the girls dreamed that they'd be your partner, they'd be your partner...

“(Y/N)! Congratulations on the new place—”

“It’s every bit as beautiful as Bill described to us—”

“Perfect for a new couple, truly—”

Fred and George strode through the ajar door while talking amongst themselves as if they were walking into their own place. They displayed absolutely no respect for your sacred space. However, you felt no need to stop them from where you were in the kitchen—you were expecting them on this lovely Friday afternoon. After all, you’d invited them.

George cradled a large, wrapped box. He was strong but you could tell it was heavy by the slight strain in his arms. Fred, conversely, easily held a bottle of wine adorned with a ribbon on the neck.

“Thought we’d bring some housewarming gifts,” George said, setting his present on the counter.

“Had to guess most of it, as you and Charlie didn’t have a registry of any sorts,” Fred quipped, a smug look on his face, proud of his insinuation of you being married.

“Very funny.” You rolled your eyes. “When are you going to give that up? You seem to be the only ones who know the truth, but refuse to acknowledge it.”

You should’ve expected their answer that was given in unison: “Never.” 

“I do appreciate the gifts,” you said earnestly. Underneath their teasing tones, Fred and George were still your greatest friends, and you were appreciative of their generosity.

You laid two palms on the box George had set on your kitchen island. “What’s this?” 

“Open it up and see,” offered George. 

Delicately, you began to unwrap the gift, plucking the tape off and careful not to rip the paper. 

“Save us the anticipation and just rip it open, will you?” Fred suggested, finishing off his remark with an animalistic shake of his head, like he was a lion tearing his prey’s flesh. The prey being your present.

“I’ve been conditioned not to do that,” you explained with a gentle sigh, recalling all your mother’s scoldings when you used to tear into presents as a child. When you set the edges of the wrapping paper down, you beamed at what was in the box. “An espresso machine! Really, Georgie?”

George nodded proudly. “Figured you’d need your coffee first thing in the morning.”

You enveloped him in a warm hug. “Oh, you know me so well.”

George rolled up his sleeves. “I‘ll get it set up,” he offered.

“And I’ve procured some wine for when you need a sleeping aid,” Fred added.

“Thank you,” you responded. “ Now I’ll have my morning and nights covered.”

Fred placed a hand on your shoulder and gently guided you away. “Let’s see Charlie’s room.”

You stiffened. How many times and to how many people were you going to have to explain this one? “It’s not his room.”

“Then what is it?” Fred queried innocently.

“It’s a guest bedroom.”

“We can debate the semantics of the love lair”—Fred had to suppress a laugh when your face contorted menacingly, and even George tried to stifle his laugh—“ but for now, give me and Georgie a tour of the this lovely place, will you?”

When the two jests had finally left after dinner, you closed the door and leaned against it. Fred and George’s footsteps faded with each passing second. You drew a deep breath. After the initial onslaught of visitors, being alone felt splendid. 

You lit a candle and began drawing a bath when you returned to the bathroom. Stripped away were the comforts of Dobby’s aid and you were left alone to your devices. You were off to a good start and you were going to prove you could manage just fine. You submerged yourself in the hot water to wash the grime and the weight of workweek away. 

When you were clean and dry, you slipped into a silk nightgown, the one with thin straps that hung over your shoulders and whose hem just covered your thighs. It was by far the comfiest because of how little material there was. You walked into the kitchen to fetch yourself a glass of water but not without admiring your space shrouded in moonlight first. The only thing keeping you from touching a blanket of stars were your windows. The flowers you’d received from the move-in were still in full bloom, the steel from George’s espresso machine gleamed, and your couch was plush and cozy. 

It was lovely and inviting. You didn’t regret moving out at all, no matter how difficult the circumstances were initially.

“So this is what freedom feels like,” you hummed. You loved the feeling of wearing and doing anything you wanted—you were the master of the house. 

You then ambled back to your bedroom. You set the glass down and walked over to the window to appreciate another view of the city—something you didn’t get back at home. Your eyes found the dome structure of King’s Cross station immediately. Hues of yellow and magenta surrounded the space to guide passengers and it stuck out like a sore thumb in the silence of the night.

You shut your curtains and crawled into bed.  You wondered how Charlie was doing, if his train was timely and if the ride was comfortable. As you fell asleep, you hoped the answer was ‘yes, it was.’

You didn’t know what time it was when a light roused you. Your mind was still clouded with sleep and you had just the slightest bit of consciousness. A weak beam of light seeped out from below the bathroom door. You heard the running of the tap and the bristling of a toothbrush on teeth. 

When the bathroom light flickered off, a new one flickered on. This one was more faint, further from you. 

“Wow.” 

That was all you heard before the second light shut off. You were far too deep in sleep to inquire about what you were seeing or hearing. Probably ghosts of Charlie floating about, taunting you and luring you into wicked, unthinkable dreams. 

When you fully roused in the morning, you rubbed your eyes. The feeling of complete rest tingled pleasantly in your body. You walked over to the window where blackout curtains shielded you from the sunlight. You swung them open and let the light filter in, illuminating every crevice of your new bedroom. You walked into your washroom to brush your teeth, wash your face, and to tame your hair. 

Remembering that George had generously gifted you an espresso machine, you hurried out of your room to get a sip of that sweet substance. 

The first thing you saw when you exited your bedroom was a black topcoat hanging from the rack. Below it, mounted by the wall, was a pair of slightly scuffed leather boots. Fred and George left with all their belongings, so the coat and shoes couldn’t have been theirs. Your heart skipped a beat and fear consumed your body: there was an intruder in the house. 

The most rational thing to do would be to bolt out the front door and to call security for help and enlist someone more qualified to dispose of the intruder. But pride got the best of you, and you decided you weren’t a damsel in distress who needed saving anymore. It could’ve been Fred or George coming back to play an elaborate prank on you. And when you fell for it, they’d never let you live it down. And the concierge would never let in an unauthorized visitor, so yes, obviously, there was nothing to worry about. 

The only issue was that your wand was in the living room, shredding any chance of self -defence. Instead, you grabbed a metal shoe horn and tiptoed quietly down the hall to the kitchen where you could hear sounds of someone being there: a barstool squeaking, the kettle steaming, and some humming. The bass notes of a man’s voice wasn’t clicking in your memory. Now, you were starting to doubt it was Fred or George.

It was too late to retreat. “Get back!” you yelled with ferocity. You hated to admit, but you’d squeezed your eyes shut so you were waving a shoe horn aimlessly. How you passed Defence Against the Dark Arts was a mystery indeed.

When you heard nothing, and felt no signs of you being murdered, you opened your eyes.

This was no thief or intruder.

It was Charlie.

He playfully threw up both his arms in surrender, teabag in one hand, and pretended to fall backwards, tailbone digging into the kitchen counter. 

You set down your weapon. “What are you doing here?”

He flicked the tag off his tea bag with his thumb, then let out a low whistle. “I think the question you mean to ask is, what are you wearing?”

Charlie’s question echoed in your head as embarrassment stirred up inside you. What were you wearing, exactly?

You looked down for the answer: a thin-strapped silk dress that barely covered your shoulders and thighs. Well, all that while brandishing your favourite accessory: the shoe horn.

“Is that how you win your duels? By distracting your opponent?” he asked. 

You were so infatuated and caught up with the idea of independence that you had forgotten that Charlie had a key and that he was staying over. Combined with the adrenaline of thinking that there was someone in the house, you might as well have had amnesia. His presence did corroborate with the lights and voices you heard last night. Oh shit, come to think of it, he did warn you he was coming over before he departed on Wednesday, but in the mess of things like his and Bill’s untimely appearance and Alicia’s fervent teasing, you’d forgotten.

“This is just what I sleep in!” You were in a right state. Panicked, you tried to make fun of him. Maybe he would lose some of that unbreakable composure. “Don’t you sleep in the same thing? If the rumours are true, that is.”

Charlie chuckled lowly, his laughter rising in volume. “Are you seriously asking me what I sleep in?” he responded. “(Y/N), your mind is a literal cesspool.”

You didn’t want to give off the impression of being embarrassed, so you walked on into the kitchen like nothing happened. “I think I know the answer, based on your deflection,” you mumbled as you settled in the spot beside him. “You can sleep in whatever you like, Charlie, I won’t judge you.”

“I was going to say I often wear much less,” he added in a husky half-whisper by your earlobe.

Oh.

You hand squeezed the metal handle of the espresso portafilter. The coffee wasn’t going to be the only thing steaming in here. You didn’t dare turn your head. You could imagine the handsome smirk at the things he was making you think: Charlie and his naked torso covered in a sheen of sweat, languidly moving under the covers, each hard ridge of muscle skimming the sheets… “Well, that’s just dandy for you, isn’t it?”

“Do I detect a trace of sarcasm?” Charlie pouted, looking down at you. He gave you a nudge. “Need I remind you that you asked me first?”

You kept your mouth shut and fiddled with the top of the espresso grinder instead. It didn’t come off easily, so you tried to pry it off with your nail. When it felt like the grinder was going to take off your nail instead, you gave up.

“Have you made coffee before?” Charlie questioned. His larger hand enveloped the top and twisted it off with ease. 

You seethed silently. 

Charlie continued, unbothered by your lack of response: “I was thinking we could grab breakfast first and discuss how to use the espresso machine after.”

Charlie’s offer was sounding pretty scrumptious. You needed a jolt of caffeine stat if you were going to make it through the rest of the day. 

“Fine,” you conceded quickly, shutting the machine off. “Lead the way.”

“Are you going to get changed first?” Charlie snickered. “It’s a bit nippy for that little number, isn’t it?”

You grabbed the shoehorn from the island. “If you aren’t careful, this shoehorn will meet your head.”

His mouth twisted in a way that made your heart flutter. “Whoa, you’re pretty intimidating for someone so small.”

Beautiful, crooked words.

“I’m really not just saying it for show,” you warned. 

Charlie stepped back, face full of feigned fear. “I’ll believe it.”

You huffed and turned around.

“When I see it,” he added quickly.

You nearly stomped back to your room to change.

“So, if I am staying over Friday night, I’d like to keep some eggs in the fridge and bread in the pantry, at the very least. I get pretty peckish right after I wake up.”

Charlie was explaining his terms and conditions to you on the way back from the cafe where you enjoyed a breakfast sandwich and a coffee. You were grateful you kept your attire simple—a white shirt over some flowy culottes and a trench coat—because you would’ve felt ridiculous setting foot into a homey family establishment dressed otherwise. Charlie even had a long chat with the owners, a married couple in their late sixties who’d insisted on your meal being on the house. 

After breakfast, you’d forgiven him for his teasing and stopped by the grocers to pick up some pantry staples. Charlie cradled a paper bag in one arm and looped a bag of tangerines around the other. Despite all this grocery juggling, he held the door for you as you made your way to the lift and continued to talk about his favourite topic: breakfast.

“Of course you can,” you replied.

“I appreciate you being alright with it. After all, there’s a decent amount of space in your fridge. Do you even cook?”

You reddened. “I only moved in two days ago. I haven’t had the time to—”

“Hm.” He cocked his head as the lift ascended. “Not much of an excuse given the rest of the space looks so furnished.”

“Fred and George came over for dinner last night with takeaway,” you retorted.

Charlie made a strangled noise. “I wasn’t invited?”

“You were at Hogwarts,” you reminded him.

He laughed. “It’s the thought that counts. The notion of me being invited. I thought you Malfoys were all about keeping up appearances.”

“You seem to know very little, Charlie,” you said as you opened the door, “about Malfoys.”

“You’re killing me today, (Y/N),” he said. He set his paper bag down and began organising his purchases on the island. “I didn’t take you to be so mean.”

You froze midway through taking off your trench coat. “I am not mean.”

He placed a carton of eggs in the icebox. “So, so, mean.”

You opened your mouth to say something but your words caught in your throat. You decided not to entangle yourself in the web that was Charlie’s teasing though it felt nice that he was so concentrated on you, and that he kept the conversation going. You sauntered over to the bookshelf instead and plucked out one of Madame Millicent’s books. You turned to the page you’d bookmarked, knee-deep in learning how to knead the most buttery and flaky pie crust. It would’ve been a really mundane topic, but this Millicent woman used such vivid descriptors that you could practically taste the decadence in your mouth. 

“What’s this?” Charlie asked, walking towards the sectional.

“Something I’m reading for a book club.” Oh, shit. You really had to get going on those Madame Millicent books. The date for the afternoon tea was fast approaching and each second brought you closer to a due date of less than a week. 

“Hm.” Charlie plucked a book out from beside the empty space, flipped to a random page, and began reading aloud. “Create a vacuum around his appendage. Use your tongue to stroke the tip of him. This is his most sensitive region. Make sure to gently lap any juices. Remember to engage in eye contact with him. Your eyes will be his undoing.” Charlie looked up. “Did you know that, (Y/N)? You may be on your knees or writhing under him, but you are the temptress with control, he is your subordinate.

You blanked out and blinked at Charlie. “What?”

“Is this what you’re discussing at your book club?” Charlie asked, handing you the book. His fingers touched the header. “Oral sex in flowery prose?”

You frowned. “You made that up.”

“I didn’t, but I’m flattered you think I write so well.”

You grabbed the book from him and looked to where he had been narrating from. To your horror, these were the exact words he’d read, except the addition of your name when he tried to get your attention. “I didn’t know it was about… this. It was supposed to be about female empowerment.” You looked at the book you were initially reading, confusion splayed all over your face. “Or at least her first title was?”

You skimmed your fingers over the textured spine where ‘Madame Millicent: Pleasing the Patriarchy’ was deeply embroidered. Well, this radiated a completely different persona than ‘Madame Millicent: Maître de la Maison.”

“Of course you didn’t, Miss Malfoy,” Charlie said with a snicker. “Wait until your father hears about what you’re reading now that you live all alone.”

You scoffed. “Actually, my mother was the one who recommended it.”

Charlie cleared his throat very audibly. “I’m sorry, what?”

You nodded slowly, never breaking eye contact with him.

Charlie shook his head. “Not the fair maiden, Narcissa Malfoy. She would never muddle her name with such sacrilegious affairs.” He stopped when a new train of thought struck him. “But that’d give our mothers a mutual topic to talk about, if they ever met.”

You eyed him curiously. Was he implying the saintly Molly Weasley indulged in erotica? Feeling awkward, you continued to talk about the book club.

“Well, Charlie,” you started, about to shatter his misconceptions about your mother.  “My mother is part of the book club that Madame Millicent is speaking at next week. She’s invited me as well, hence why I’m reading her titles. And you’ll find that lonely housewives adore books like these.”

“Seriously?” Charlie’s eyes lit up delightfully. “You get to meet the temptress in person?” he asked excitedly. “Can I come, too?”

“Why would you want to do that?” You snapped your book shut. “There won’t be a single man there.”

“Why, (Y/N), because I’m extremely well-read. And I care deeply for female empowerment, especially in the brazen manner Madame Millicent portrays it.”

You cocked your head and narrowed your eyes at him suspiciously. “Really?” You shook the book he was holding. “Or just this title in particular?”

He eyed you curiously, a smirk spreading across his face. “I’ll have all these titles finished by next week.”

“You shouldn’t overestimate your ability to read through all this, it’s quite a bit.”

“Oh, I know my limits,” Charlie affirmed. “I’ll see you at this afternoon tea.”

“You really read through it all?” you asked Charlie, voice thick with doubt, as you walked on the cobblestone entrance. 

Tea was to be hosted this afternoon at a venue your mother had written to you about. It was such a lovely place, green and whimsical, and its dreamy appearance befit its claim as a popular wedding destination. Evergreen shrubs, touched with the slightest amount of morning dew and rain, lined the path you and Charlie were taking. It had rained earlier this morning when the both of you were getting dressed in your apartment. 

“(Y/N),” Charlie started. “We read all day yesterday. All day. You didn’t even let me take a washroom break.”

That was true. He’d gotten back from Hogwarts late Friday evening, slipped into his room, and woke up before you to work the espresso machine for the two of you. Then, you got right to it. You had both claimed the opposite ends of the sectional and read through the rest of the titles in preparation for today. Charlie seemed content to spend his Saturday with you, and you were elated when he nestled into the couch and made no plans to leave. He did head back late Saturday evening to the Burrow, but came back this morning to dress for the event. 

You had Charlie for a full weekend, and you couldn’t suppress a smile at the thought of it.

“I had to oversee you reading the other two titles,” you teased. “Seeing you were so affixed on Pleasing on Patriarch.”

”It’s what I know best. I’m sure Millicent and I will have colourful discussions on it.”

You were received by a dapper little house elf in a bowtie at the front door who guided you through the hallway inside the mansion, then helped you down the back down some stone steps, before leading you into the gardens. It didn’t seem sensible or at all seasonable for afternoon tea to be hosted outside this time of year, but a warming spell that arced across the pavilion kept the women at the round table warm. The trees were blazing with hues of red and orange, nearly ready to shrivel and die as soon as the temperature dipped any further. At least they provided some colour in contrast to the dull, grey skies. 

“How are you feeling? Cold?” Charlie asked. He fiddled with the collar of your tweed cardigan that you’d layered over a long dress.

You perked quickly at his concern for you and the brush of his finger near your neck. His touch was the only thing that was shiver-inducing. “I feel fine. What about you?”

”I’m at the perfect temperature,” he said as he adjusted his suit. He was wearing an outfit a touch toned down from when you had dinner with your parents. While you liked his bedhead and the mess of curls that he usually sported, you had to admit that he was unusually beautiful when he tamed his hair. It drew attention to the sharp juts of his jaw and cheekbones that were usually hidden.

The two of you continued down the steps and the further you got, the more the stunning set up came into view. A round table was constructed in the centre of the gardens. A tablecloth decorated in rich autumn hues—deep red and gold—draped over it. The centrepiece which consisted of candles, pumpkins, and a leafy wreath snaked around the middle.

“Charlie!”

You both looked up.

This voice did not belong to your mother. It didn’t belong to anyone you were particularly familiar with.

But when a grey-haired woman stood up, you could pinpoint exactly who’d called.

“Mrs. Cromwell!” Charlie responded first.

“Cecile!” she yelled in cheery correction, still a ways away from the base of the steps. She lifted herself from the chair, gloved hands by her side to help with her balance, and ambled as quickly as her old age would take her to where you and Charlie were standing. Charlie, not wanting an elderly lady to walk unsteadily to him, ran over and you followed. Cecile gracefully extended her arm as if pulling him over. Time had softened her bones and compressed some cartilage, and she seemed very, very small next to Charlie. “Remember me?”

“How could I forget?” Charlie chuckled, placing a kiss on the back of her hand. Cecile giggled at his show of chivalry. 

As the twosome continued their conversation, you caught your mother beckoning you over with a glance. You left Charlie and Cecile and shuffled over.

“Why did you bring him?” Narcissa whispered, pulling you in by the arm. “I thought I made the invitation exclusive to you.”

“I informed you in a letter, mother,” you rebutted. 

“And I responded saying there were no extra seats at this function. It is extremely exclusive, (Y/N).” Narcissa’s tone was sharp and stern. “Charlie absolutely cannot be accommodated.”

“Okay,” you said. “Then I’ll leave.”

”You are not leaving,” Narcissa insisted in a harsh whisper. “Madame Millicent is expecting you.”

You looked back up to where Mrs. Cromwell was leading Charlie back to the round table, a funny sight indeed seeing that Charlie had no issues ambulating, but Mrs. Cromwell was roleplaying a nurse supporting an elderly patient at St Mungos.

“Mrs. Cromwell certainly seems to want him here,” you muttered through your teeth. “She’d happily let him take her place.”

Narcissa let out a long, hopeless sigh, and her hands lifted to rub at her temples. “I kindly ask you to ask him to leave.”

”But—”

“Good afternoon, ladies,” a voice called out from the back of the house. Twelve heads spun around to the lady standing at the top of the steps. She was short, slightly stocky in nature, and cloaked in beautiful deep purple robes. Her greying hair was pulled back into a bun on the top of her head. Her features were foxy and homely, and if you didn’t have the context that you did as to who she was, you’d never have guessed she was Madame Millicent. 

Her house elf scrambled in front of her. “Ladies,”—he glanced at Charlie—“and gentleman, may I present to you, Madame Millicent?”

Everyone at the table stood up as Millicent proceeded down the same steps you and Charlie had just taken.  

“Who do we have here?” Millicent called out, fixated on Charlie whose arm now permanently belonged to Mrs. Cromwell.

”Charlie Weasley, madame.”

”Weasley?” she questioned with a quirk of a well-groomed eyebrow. “Now, where have I heard that before?”

Your breath caught.

Narcissa gave you a pointed look and shook her head slowly. If Madame Millicent hated the Weasleys a fraction of the amount your parents did, you’d truly come to regret inviting Charlie.

”Now I know why that sounds so familiar!” Millicent exclaimed suddenly, clapping her hands together with glee. “Molly Weasley. Is that your mother?”

Charlie nodded. “Yes.”

”Such a small world we live in, don’t we?” Millicent continued. “She came to my last book signing and we had a chat about my recipes that lasted over an hour. Such a lovely woman, so lovely. I reckon I’ll be looking to her for advice on homemaking for my next book. A powerful woman, too, raised seven kids, if I remember correctly, and put them all through school.” She looked up Charlie up and down. “She forgot to mention how handsome her son was.” 

“Handsome? Wait until you see my older brother,” Charlie said, brushing off a compliment for the first time you’d witnessed.

Charlie’s comment certainly piqued Mrs. Cromwell’s interest. She looked up at him with an inquisitive look while Millicent did a quick assessment of the available seats and frowned.

“Well, that just won’t do,” Millicent tutted. “Gibbly, fetch me another seat for Mr. Weasley. He can be seated right next by me.”

Gibbly, Millicent’s house elf, dashed back inside the house to retrieve a chair. You and Narcissa just looked on with astounded expressions (like mother, like daughter). Neither of you expected Millicent would be so taken by Charlie. 

“You could’ve given me that honour, Millie,” Mrs. Cromwell huffed with a displeased expression. “I wouldn’t mind sitting next to him.” When Millicent just smiled, you relaxed. It must’ve been an old joke between friends, you reckoned. 

After Charlie was seated, tea had made its rounds. You stirred your earl grey with trepidation, knowing your mother was looking on, ensuring you were following good tea etiquette. You’d stirred for close to two minutes, preoccupied with trying to catch a glimpse of Charlie. You were seated left of Narcissa, so six seats from Charlie which was six seats too far and at a very odd angle. 

“I want to get to know the unfamiliar faces in this room. Would you mind introducing yourself, love?” Millicent was staring at you.

You set your spoon down. “I’m (Y/N) Malfoy,” you said. “I’m Narcissa’s daughter. Pleased to make your acquaintance.” 

“Of course, I should’ve known,” Millicent said with a smile. “I can see your mother in you, but you take after your father so well.” 

You almost retched. 

Then, she turned to Charlie. “And what brings you here today, Charlie? I don’t recall seeing your name on the guest list.”

“Actually, (Y/N) was the reason I came today.”

Millicent leaned in. “Really?”

“Her interest in your writing rubbed off on me,” Charlie explained. “I was thrilled to have the opportunity to meet you in person. Take it as you will, but I was quite literally on my knees to be here today.”

You squinted. Was that… a patch of red spreading on Millicent’s cheeks?

“Well,” Millicent chirped happily. “Let’s start our discussions then.”

The first part of the discussion focussed on her first two titles, Maître de La Maison and Tips for the Domesticated Witch. Women around the table praised her recipes and how the results were always a hit with all their guests at functions they hosted. You nibbled quietly at a cucumber sandwich as the conversation droned on, having nothing of substance to offer. Charlie, on the other hand, seemed very interested, and even asked questions: “Millicent, precisely, how important is the bain-marie method for a perfect cheesecake?”

“Now,” Millicent said suddenly with a clap. “Let’s move on to what I know you ladies are really here for.”

A wave of giggles chorused through the pavilion. You looked to your mother for solidarity, but she remained tight-lipped and looked displeased. Well, there was only one last book left to discuss…

“I wish I could’ve attended an earlier session, but I was touring Northern Europe for the release of Pleasing the Patriarchy all summer. I’m delighted to be back in England to discuss my latest bestseller with you.”

“And I wish Chuck was still here to witness all my learnings through that book,” Mrs. Cromwell added in a serious tone. “You couldn’t have finished that book any earlier, Millie?” Her quip earned a round of subdued laughs. 

“Well, as I say to every woman, it’s never too late,” Millicent assured. “I reckon a steady dose of intercourse will keep all of us healthy and young on all accounts.”

”Trust me, I know,” Mrs. Cromwell said. “But I find men my age are so selfish and well-worn in their ways. I’m from a cursed generation where a woman’s pleasure was always secondary to her husband’s.”

“And it’s so awful,” Millicent agreed. “But you’re a crafty woman, Cecile. You must know a way around such a dated practice.”

Mrs. Cromwell made a face like the answer was obvious. “Of course, I only entertain the younger men now.”

An unabashed chorus of laughter erupted from the table this time. Mrs. Cromwell sent a wrinkled wink at Charlie, who smiled back. 

“Speaking of younger men,” Madame Millicent changed the topic and looked to Charlie, “It’s fate that we have one of those here today. What do you think of the advice laid out in my latest release?”

“You’re still talking about Pleasing the Patriarchy, correct?” Charlie repeated.

“Yes.” Millicent nodded. “I’ve consulted a fair share of men as preliminary research, but I’m curious as to what you think of it, the feasibility and authenticity of the tips, that is, if you could comment on both.”

“Well,” Charlie started, leaning back in his seat, “I reckon your advice is fabulous, very feasible. You’ve really captured the steps precisely. Put it in better words than I ever could.”

“Hm.” Millicent seemed mighty proud of herself. “And have you been able to integrate these tips in the bedroom?”

“Ah,” Charlie stalled, his breath catching in his throat in another historical first. What happened to the ever-so-confident Charlie Weasley you’ve come to know? He cast you a quick glance. You imagined his hesitation was due to the fact that your mother was right beside you, and he was being lightly coerced to talk about his sex life despite keeping things as vague as possible until this point. The only people in the room who knew about you and Charlie were your mother and Mrs. Cromwell; you weren’t certain Millicent or the twelve others had connected the dots.  

If Narcissa weren’t here, he might’ve been more adventurous in his answer. He shifted his attention back to Millicent in a flash; the untrained eye wouldn’t have sensed any hesitation. “Of course. I wouldn’t pass up an opportunity for self-improvement.”

“How considerate of you,” Mrs. Cromwell added with a dreamy, longing sigh. 

“Very much so,” solidified Millicent.

“Millicent, what do we do if our husbands are so consumed in their work at the Ministry that they won’t even pay us the time of day when they get home?” a younger woman in her thirties, draped in a dark teal shawl, piped up. Her seat-mate nodded in agreement. “I don’t even have the opportunity to practise anything I read. I’m so terribly frustrated, Millicent.”

“Sadly, that’s not out of the ordinary,” Millicent consoled, sympathy written on her face. “Has he always been so detached, Anna?”

“Ever since we’ve started living together, it’s as if the passion has faded.”

Millicent nodded. “Through my research, there are a number of things that decimate passion in the bedroom: children, work, and moving in together. When you move in together, you sacrifice the feelings of excitement and mystery that fuelled the passion and intimacy at the beginning of your relationship. We tend to absorb our roles as homemaker or a mother and less of a sexual partner.”

Anna sighed.

“Charlie, do you live alone?” Millicent queried. 

“I live with (Y/N),” Charlie answered without missing a beat. “Most days, anyways.”

Millicent’s mouth rounded. Mrs. Cromwell leaned in suspiciously at this revelation. Likely, her head was whirring around the fact that you spent time with Charlie in the bedroom. 

“And if you’re comfortable sharing,” Millicent asked in such a delicate but firm manner that you know she’d definitely prodded like this before, “what fluctuations in your physical relationship have you experienced since moving in?”

“I reckon everything’s stayed the same,” Charlie mused, his eyes brooding in deep thought, “or honestly, at an increased frequency.”

Both you and your mother immediately turned as red as the sugar-glazed strawberries on the tart on the serving tray. Your mother coughed, the insinuation that Charlie had punched into the conversation—that you and him had sex—interfering with her ability to masticate. You buried your head down to evade curious glances and looked down at the table cloth. Wow, has crocheting always yielded such beautiful results?

Millicent leaned her face into the palms of her hand. “Why do you think that is?”

“Well, as you said, we shouldn’t forget our roles as partners. And with a partner so beautiful, it’s not hard.”

You were mortified. You thought about asking Gibbly to help you dig a hole into the ground so you could block out all the chatter about your fictitious sex life.

“Well, my love,” Millicent redirected her attention to Anna, “here’s what I think you can do to bring back the spark in the bedroom….”

An hour later, afternoon tea was nearing an end. Gibbly cleared out the trays and teacups as you followed the other woman on the trail back into the manor. Charlie stood back with Mrs. Cromwell by a gate. This old woman and her spindly claws just weren’t going to let go of him! Your eyes followed his body as he leaned down, almost on his knees to listen to what she was whispering to his ear, a corner of his mouth pulled up in handsome amusement. 

‘She’s probably inviting him to her bed!’ you thought. 

“(Y/N),” Narcissa called, gently pulling at your arm. “Let’s go somewhere private to have a chat.”

“Sure,” you responded, walking with your mother northward but eyes still on Charlie southward. 

As you walked, you felt a sharp tug on your heart when Anna skipped over, teal dress grazing the grass, to join in on Charlie and Mrs. Cromwell’s conversation. Charlie’s smile was as friendly as ever as he chatted with a married woman who’d loudly and publicly announced she was lonely—practically a mating call if you’d ever heard one. He couldn’t be so deaf or stupid to ignore that, could he? 

You felt forgotten even though Charlie made such a grand display of you being his partner.

You almost tripped over a divot in the ground, but you couldn’t stop staring at what was unfolding behind you. It reminded you of his chummy conversation with Mallory at the bar, him never brushing off Mrs. Cromwell’s forward advances, Millicent praising his looks and asking him invasive questions, and now Anna giggling at him. If he could be so forthcoming with all these random women in front of you, how many of them was he charming behind your back? All while crawling his way to sharing the same apartment as you?

But it didn’t matter, did it? Your chest felt heavy at the realization that he wasn’t doing anything immoral or wrong. If you were together, you’d be well within your rights to be suspicious. Factually, you were the one who tangled him in this ruse, and the only credit you could give yourself was that it got a little more complicated and spindly than you could handle. So, you forced yourself to swallow the apprehension about the women in Charlie’s life the best you could. 

Narcissa led you over to a more secluded part of the garden where only the trees could hear your conversation. And you were going to be glad for it. 

“Is it true?” Narcissa prodded.

“What’s true?”

“What Charlie said?”

“He said a lot of things,” you reminded her. “But yes, mother, the bain-marie method will yield a better-tasting cheesecake.” 

“No,”—Narcissa shook her head—“about your sexual activity.”

“Mother!” you exclaimed in a whisper. You leaned out to make sure Charlie hadn’t come any closer. “I’d prefer if we discussed it later, or never at all, especially as it was already dissected in front of everyone.”

“I understand,” she said. “It’s a difficult topic, but I regret not sitting you down when you were younger, I truly do, (Y/N). It was a failure on my part. I had your father talk to Draco about these matters, but I need to make sure you’re taking care of your reproductive health before something unwanted happens.

“Of course I am!” you promised. “You needn’t worry about it.” Because we aren’t in a relationship. We aren’t having sex.

You wanted out of here. This conversation and the charades that followed didn’t feel exciting anymore. It now felt empty and wrong. It was a chore, trying to keep in line with what Charlie had announced, and you were certain he didn’t put a single care behind his words to you. 

“Well, it would give me peace of mind if you made an appointment with our Healer. There are many options for contraception nowadays, much more than when I was a young witch.”

“Contra—”

“It doesn’t have to be at the first appointment, but Healer Tousignant will go over your options and you should take some time to decide what works best for you. I promise, she is excellent at what she does. And I won’t ask anything of it afterwards.”

You skimmed through all the options in your head. If you refused Narcissa’s offer, you’d be subject to more questions about your sexual health, and who knows what inopportune place she’d choose to talk about it next? In front of your cousins during Christmas in Switzerland? In the middle of Diagon Alley? At dinner where Draco and your father would be present?

If you just accepted the appointment, you could conceal the fact you weren’t in Charlie’s bed (despite a naughty crevice of your brain that controlled your dreams hoping you were). 

A dull pain interlaced with the beat of your heart at the possibility of that person not being you. Reality told you it wasn’t going to be. It could be Mallory, Mrs. Cromwell, Millicent, Anna— 

“Fine,” you agreed with a forced smile. “Tell me when, and I’ll be there.”

>> NEXT CHAPTER

CHAPTER DIRECTORY

TAGLIST: @badgerqueen07 @superduckmilkshake @k-k-merlin @kisskittenn @pluiesdefleurs@lilianelena39 @bathwater101 @evilunicorns4minions @noah-uhhh-what @earth-to-lottie @kissingyourgrl @sihtricswife @adalia-jaycee @anuttellaa @weasley-clan (Let me know if I missed you, or if you want to be added!)

[captainlunaxmen]

Eyes

Bill Weasley x Fem!reader

This was a request, not for me, but I got permission to write it so... here it is.

The request: Hi! Can I request some Bill Weasley

x reader with prompts:

'If there was ever anybody meant for me, it's

you."

"The closest thing to love at first sight l've

ever experienced happened when I first laid

eyes on you.

Where reader is best friends with

the twins so they invite her to

spend the summer at the Burrow.

Bill is also there and when they met

he's instantly attracted to her, they

spend time together and he starts

to fall for her but he doesn't think

reader would like him because of

the scars, but obviously with fluffy

ending, please? Thanks!

I changed it just a little to fit. Hope the anon who asked this will read it and will like it.❤️❤️

I always loved it when the twins invited me over, whether it was for Christmas or summer.

It always feels like home.

When I was not at Hogwarts, I lived in an orphanage, so experiencing the Wealseys, experiencing a family, definitely felt good.

Maybe this is why they invite me so often, and I'm grateful for that. I usually spend time with Arthur, explaining the muggle world to him, or with the twins and their siblings playing Quidditch, or helping Molly cooking. Which is exactly what I'm doing now.

"Yes, exactly dear. Then you fold it towards you carefully." She instructs me as I knead the dough for the pie.

"Are you done stealing our friend, mom?" One of the twins asks as they both enter the kitchen, and I notice Molly playfully rolling her eyes.

"Yeah, mom, she is our friend." George agrees with his brother.

"She didn't steal me!" I defend, "I asked if I could help her."

"You don't need to do that." Fred tells me.

"Yeah, she already loves you." George adds, "probably more than she loves us."

"Oh shut up, you two." Molly laughs, waving them off.

"See? She is not denying it!" George feigns offence.

"I'm just spending time with my favourite assistant." Molly explains.

I smile at her as I finally finish my own pie.

"You're done." Fred notices, "C'mon, let's go."

"Why?" I ask, wiping my hands on a towel.

"You're our partner."

"And we have business to discuss."

I roll my eyes and look at Molly with an apologetic smile.

"Don't worry, dear. Humour them." She laughs again with that sweet motherly smile that always warms my heart.

"I'll come back later." I tell her.

I have no idea how I, mostly quiet and reserved, got friends with the loudest people at Hogwarts. But it happened, and now I basically help them run their shop in Diagon Alley.

Now, more than ever, I want to help them keep the shop open in this hard and dark time, that... after Dumbledore's death, will probably get worse.

I follow the twins to their room.

I take my seat next to Fred on his bed, and George sits on his.

"So... what was so urgent?" I ask.

"Oh nothing," Fred smiles proudly.

"I hate you." I say.

"You love us." George chimes in, "but we wanted to discuss the new products."

"Alright, alright. " I chuckle.

So we start to discuss what kind of things to start selling, at what price, how to organise the shelf and stands.

A good hour and a half, or a bit more, passes because Molly calls everyone down for dinner.

Finally, I'd say, I'm starving... especially for Molly's cooking.

"About time!" Fred exclaims.

"I'm starving!" George voices loudly, too.

"Same." I groan, following them down.

As we get down, I see the other Weasleys gathering around the table.

There's a new face, though, someone I've never seen before.

"Oh, look who finally decided to join us!" Fred says in his usual teasing tone.

"He's the missing one." George tells me, "you can finally say you've met the whole family."

"Uh?"

"Bill!" George calls the tall man.

"Hi, George." The guy named Bill turns to George with a playfully annoyed face, and I notice an earring with a fang dangling from his ear.

"Meet our friend." Fred chimes in, "she's met everyone except you... and we've been friends for years and years and years and years -"

"I get it, Freddie, thanks." Bill laughs.

"Come, Y/n." George calls.

As soon as his brown eyes meet mine, he freezes, I see him opening and closing his mouth without letting out a sound.

I'm quite confused.

"Hi." I gently wave at him, "I'm Y/n. It's nice to meet you."

I extend my hand towards him, and he watches it for a moment before taking it and shaking it.

"Likewise, I'm William... but, of course, you can call me Bill." He says, a little flustered.

"I like the earring." I tell him to maybe make him feel more at ease.

"Oh," he laughs, "Thank you. See, mom? It's appreciated."

"I give up." I hear Molly saying.

I stop for a second, noticing just now the scars on his face, and I wonder how he got them.

He notices me looking at them and quickly turns his head.

"Well, it was really nice to meet you, Y/n. I hope to see you around." He says before taking a seat at the table.

"Yeah, me too." I say quietly, sitting next to George.

I hope I didn't offend him...

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

I sit outside, enjoying the early breeze, and I read a book. These moments are my favourite. After all these years, the Wealsey silently adopted me basically, which means I do have a family. But the first times I was invited, I would just sit here in the quiet of the mornings and pretend I belong here.

"I thought I was the only early riser." A chuckle snaps me out of my thoughts, Bill closes the door and wraps a small blanket around himself against the early cold.

"You thought wrong." I smile at him and move a little aside to let him sit.

"Aren't you cold?" He asks, sitting down.

"I'm fine, thank you." I say, I see him giving me a sceptical look and putting half of the blanket around me too.

"Sure." He says, and I laugh.

We stay in a comfortable silence for a while before he speaks up.

"Egypt?" He asks.

"Uh?" I turn to him, and he motion to my book, "Oh. Yeah, I always find it so fascinating, for some reason."

"It really is." He agrees, "I got the chance to explore it because of my job, and I have to say it deserves the appeal."

"Really? What kind of job?" I ask, genuinely curious. The twins never talk a lot about their siblings.

"Curse-breaker." He says with a shy smile.

"Oh wow..." I sigh, "that's really cool."

"Is it?" He laughs.

"Yes!" I reply, surprised he doesn't agree, "you don't like it?"

"No, no, it's not that." He says, "most thinks it's pretentious."

"Nah, don't listen to them. They must be idiots." I tell him.

"Fred and George mostly." He adds.

"Doesn't make my statement false." I kid, and he laughs.

"I can see why they like you so much." He chuckles.

"I wasn't like this when I first met them..." I start, "so I really don't understand why they wanted to be my friends in the first place."

"Like what? Funny?" He asks, "or cute?" He adds so quietly I could barely hear it.

"Uhm... I... I don't know..." I stutter out.

"Sorry... sorry, I didn't mean to... it just came out... I'm sorry." He shakes his head, "Uhm... but tell me... uh, how did you meet the two idiots?"

"Well..." I clear my throat, smiling shyly at him, "they kind of bumped into me... while running from Filch."

"Yeah... I can definitely see that." He laughs again, I'm glad he doesn't feel so awkward anymore.

"Then... I kind of helped them hide." I say.

"Well, now I'm surprised." He teases sweetly, making me feel warm inside... it's a new sensation and... weird, but in a good way.

"Yep." I chuckle, "later that week they found me in the library and just... wanted to thank me, so they just stuck around, and now we're here."

"Thankfully." He says, and I look up at him, "Uhm..." he quickly averts his eyes, "I mean, everyone seems to love you so much... and I'm sure mom's happy she gained another daughter."

"Well," I let out a small laugh, "I gained a mother so... it's a win-win situation."

He looks back at me, a confused smile on his face.

"What do you mean?"

"I live... well, lived in an orphanage... so no parents." I tell him with a shrug.

"Oh..." he softly sighs.

"Oh, please, no. I'm sorry... don't feel bad." I softly laugh to let him know it's not a big deal, "yeah, it was harder when I was younger, but now... now I'm fine. Really. Your family welcomed me with open arms. Wide open arms, actually."

I see him smiling, thankfully. The last thing I wanted was to make him feel uncomfortable... again.

"I'm glad they managed to make you feel at home, then." He says, "among the caos, I mean."

"Oh, trust me, the caos is part of the charm." I gently nudges his shoulder.

"Yeah, I have to agree." He nods, "when I spend so much time away, I do miss this caothic environment."

"I bet."

I look up at him, finding him already looking to me. His eyes are even more beautiful up close. As we start to naturally lean in towards each other, Molly's voice breaks the silence.

"Stop testing your products in my kitchen!" She yells to Fred and George... for sure.

Bill and I move away from each other. I clear my throat with an awkward chuckle and stand up.

"I should... I should probably help the twins with their things... so they won't burn the whole house down." I say.

"Yeah... of course." He avoids my eyes as he nods.

"I'll see you." I gently say and he nods once again so I just get back inside.

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

Later in the day more members of the Order arrive, with the intention of discussing the plan of moving Harry from his muggle house to the Wealsey's.

"That's the plan." Lupin says, once Moody stopped explaining the plan of having people drinking polyjuice potion to turn into Harry and confuse any deatheater in case there would be an attack.

"Sounds like fun." George comments.

"We're not asking you to participate, so if any of you isn't sure about it, can back down." Lupin explains with a heavy heart, "only whoever volunteers will drink the potion. And only if you're of age."

Everyone looks at each other, I catch eyes with the twins, I nod at them and they stand up.

"We're in." They say in unison.

"Me too." I stand, too.

"Of course we are too." Hermione says gesturing towards herself and Ron who nods.

I unconsciously search Bill's eyes across the room. He meets my gaze and I notice something in his look, he's worried. Of course he is... three of his brothers just volunteer for a very risky mission, but the way he looks at me with those brown eyes...

I mouth 'it's gonna be okay' and he nods, subtly, but his worried look remains.

"Mundungus too." Moody says, interrupting our silent conversation, and Fletcher just nods defeated.

"Let's pair up." Lupin claps his hands. "Each 'Potter' will be assigned to a protector."

"How would we do that?" I ask, curiosity taking the best of me.

"Using same old pieces of papers with names on." He smiles shrugging, "Everyone, write your name down."

"I want to be the one to bring Harry here. The real one." Hagrid chimes in, "it fair."

Lupin nods, he then takes two bowls, gently offered by Mrs Weasley.

"Here the Harrys," he brings up the bowl in his left hand, "and here the protectors." He lifts the one in the right one.

We all do as he instructed.

He then sits down and starts taking out names.

Each one is assigned and only four people are left.

"Hermione, you'll be assigned to... Kingslay." Remus announces.

I see Kingslay sending Hermione a reassuring nod and she gives one back.

"So that leaves Y/n and... oh, Bill." Lupin says.

"Okay, everyone knows their places, right? We're leaving in an hour." Moody announces, sternly.

Everyone scatter around to get ready, so I take the opportunity to just step outside and take a big breath.

I'm not sure how I got tangled in this whole magic war, but I'm glad I did... even though it's scary.

"Are you okay?" I hear Bill's voice getting closer.

"Yeah, of course." I nod.

"You don't have to do it, you know?" He tells me.

"I know." I smile at him, "I'm not gonna lie, I'm scared, so scared I'm surprised I can still move."

He softly laughs.

"You're really brave." He then tells me.

"I'm no braver then the others," I reply, shrugging.

"You don't give yourself enough credit, I think." He nudges my shoulder.

"Thank you." I say softly, "I'm glad I got paired up with you."

"Me too. I promise to bring you home safe and sound."

"I promise too."

His soft smile makes me almost melt, if it wasn't for the cold breeze, it makes me feel safe, feels like home.

"Did the Twins warn you about the wedding?" He then asks.

"Charlie's? Yes, they did." I nod, "I think... is there something I should know?"

"No, well... if you can, try to avoid aunt Muriel." He whispers, as if he's afraid she might be here to hear it.

"I'll just stick to your side, then, you're my protector after all." I kid and I see his face getting a bit red.

"Well.. uh... of course." He stutters, "I'd rather fight deatheaters than deal with her anyway."

I genuinely laugh, unconsciously I lean my head on his shoulder and I feel him tense.

"Sorry." I say and straighten up.

I just look up at him and he does the same.

"No worries," he swallows.

He seems nervous, but not uncomfortable.

I don't know why I feel this pull towards him everytime we talk, but it's a nice feeling. I just hope I'm not making him uneasy or anything.

I catch his eyes looking down at my lips and mine falls to his.

Suddenly, he moves back, bringing a hand up to cover his scars, I can't help but look at him confused.

"Sorry," he lets out a nervous chuckle and stands, "I..."

He doesn't say anything more and just gets back inside, leaving me dumbfounded.

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

The clouds don't help spotting the bunch of deatheaters chasing us, I try to keep as many eyes out as I can, so I can help Bill who also has to guide the thestral.

Suddenly, I spot three hooded figures flying towards us.

"There are three coming!" I warn Bill.

I cast spells like never before, trying to stop them from coming any closer.

Some deatheater manages to hit me, luckily it's nothing major, but I let out a scream nonetheless.

"Are you okay?" Bill asks, blindly reaching behind him to check on me.

"Yes, don't worry."

I look around, and I can vaguely see Madeye and Mundungus far from us.

I stare at them, ready to interfere in case they need it, when I see a dark figure appearing...

"Shit!" I exclaim.

"What?"

"He's here." I say.

"Fuck! Hold onto me." He says before turning the thestral around abruptly, but something catches my eyes.

"Wait!" I tell him.

"What's wrong?" He asks, breathless.

"Madeye he-" I start, but get interrupted by one more deatheater flying to us.

I got to cast one last spell to take down the last enemy I can see, before Bill starts to bring us down... ready to reach the portkey.

"What did you say?" Bill asks again, reaching behind again to be sure I'm still here.

"Madeye, I saw him falling from his broom." I tell him, tears already forming in my eyes.

"What? How?"

"I think, Mundungus tried to get away as soon as he saw him appearing... Madeye tried to keep him from going anywhere, but... you-know-who killed him." I say, trying to keep my breath as steady as I can, "I say a green light..."

"Ssh, sshh, it's okay." He tries to calm me down as we arrive to the portkey.

"I'm sorry.." I mutter.

"About what?" He asks, sadly turning to face me, "it wasn't your fault, you know?"

"What if I warned you earlier? What if I..." I lower my eyes to my hands.

"Hey, hey, look at me," he says, and I do, "it was no one's fault. We couldn't know."

"Yeah..."

He gently takes one of my hands and caress it gently.

"He wouldn't want you to cry for him, right?" He says, smiling in hope to make me smile too.

"He would probably scold me for it." I let out a weak laugh.

"Exactly." He kisses the back of my hand and then rides towards the portkey, that teleports us in front of the Burrow.

We see almost everyone else already here.

I can see Remus and Tonks close to each other, Harry, Ron and Hermione too. I spot Kingslay, I think I can see Hagrid inside, but there's something wrong.

I can't see Mr Weasley or Fred, maybe they're just not here yet... but Remus is here, so... where's George?

I get down from the magical horse and run into the house, as I do I lock eyes with Remus' guilty expression and I just run faster.

I rush into the house and spot Molly caressing George's hair, as I get close I notice the blood on him.

"George..?" I weakly call and Molly turns to me, she sends a sad smile towards me and I kneel in front of the sofa to take a better look at George.

"George." I call again.

"He's alive, dear... just a dark spell..." she reassures me.

"How?" I shakily ask, more to George than Molly.

I hear fast footsteps rushing in too and Fred is just beside me. This makes me feel so much better.

They're both still alive.

"How are feeling, Georgie?" Fred asks his twin.

George slowly open and closes his mouth before speaking.

"Saintlike..." he says, and I let out a relieved laugh, "I'm holey, I'm holey, Fred. You get it?"

"With the whole wide world of ear-related humour, you go for 'I'm holey'. Pathetic." Fred teases back, I notice he says this finally letting his shoulder relax.

"Well, Y/n still finds me the most handsome of the pair, I reckon." He subtly winks in my direction.

"I'm letting this one slide because you're hurt. And clearly brain damaged, if you make that joke of all you could choose from." I chuckle moving my hand out to caress his.

I notice now that everyone has gotten inside, i spot Bill's tense, yet relieved expression.

"Madeye is dead." He says and everybody looks at him.

"You-know-who killed him." I say. "Mundungus disappeared and he was caught off guard... I think."

I sense George's and Fred's hands on mine, for comfort and solidarity.

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

A wedding sounds absurd considering the times we're living, yet it seems exactly what we need.

A knock on the door catches my attention.

"Yes?"

"Are you decent?" Fred's teasing voice calls from the other side.

"Sure." I laugh and he comes in.

"Are you ready?" He asks.

"Yap." I say, turning to look at him, "oh, look at you, never seen you so cleaned up."

"I take offence in that." He feigns hurt, "take it back."

"Oh, you know you're always so stylish." I stick my tongue out to him.

"That's what I thought." He winks, "I'm the most handsome of the pair."

"Sure." I laugh and sit on the bed to put on my shoes. "Is everything ready downstairs?"

"Yap, all guests are here. The party is ready to begin." He declares.

"Nice." I nod.

"Are you okay?" He asks, I can hear a hint of worry in his voice.

"Yeah."

"C'mon," he says sitting next to me, "tell Freddie what's bothering you."

"It's nothing, Fred, really." I try to divert the subject.

"You don't fool me, young lady." He slightly glare at me.

I sigh.

"Plotting without me?" I look up to see George standing by the door, the bandages on his head as a reminder of the night before...

"We could never." I say.

"Our Y/n here has something on her mind." Fred is quick to say.

"I don't..." I say... not very convincing.

"Uh uh. Tell us." George sit on the other side of me.

"Do you think... uh... did I do something wrong to Bill?" I ask, quietly.

I can sense them sharing a look.

"Whatever do you mean, love?" George asks.

"It's just... sometimes it's like he wants to be anywhere else but near me... and maybe I did something to him... but I don't know what." I explain.

"Do you have a crush on our brother, L/n?" Fred asks teasingly.

"What? No, no... I just ... ugh!" I say laying back down on the bad covering my face with my arms. I hear them softly laughing.

"I'm sure you did nothing wrong." George says, "Bill's just... Bill."

"Yeah, whatever it is, I'm sure it has nothing to do with you. Stop worrying your pretty little head." Fred nudges me.

I nod, understanding, not entirely convinced, but I appreciate their effort.

"And..." George's teasing tone makes me glare at him, already knowing what he wants to say, "if you have a crush on him, we could help you..."

"I'm sure we really should be going, you know, plus I'll see if Molly need any help." I say standing up and quickly make my way downstairs.

As I rush down the stairs I bump into someone.

"Oh, I'm so so sorry." I say.

"No worries." Bill says and I instantly look up at him, feeling a little embarrassed since I've been talking about him with the twins a few minutes ago.

"Uh... sorry" I repeat, looking away.

"It's no problem. Really." He smiles at me.

"I... I was looking for... for you mother..." I stutter out, "to see if she needed any help."

"Oh she was just outside, still congratulating Charlie and... crying too." He lets out a soft chuckle and I do too.

"Then I'll go congratulate him too, didn't get the chance yet." I smile at him and start walking out, looking for Charlie and Mrs Weasley and I find them right outside the big tent.

"Hey," I say as I near them, "congratulations, Charlie."

"Aahh, Y/n! Thank you!" He says cheerfully, once I'm close enough he brings me in for a big hug, which I reciprocate.

"I'm so happy for you." I tell him, "she seems like a sweet person... or... better a patient one." I tease.

"Alright, that's it." He says letting me go, "you're spending too much time with the twins. I'm adopting you."

"That's my duty," Molly chimes in, linking arms with me.

"Exactly, Charlie, stop stealing your mother's job." I jokingly glare at him, he smiles at me and then his eyes move to something behind me. I turn around seeing Bill walking to us.

"Congratulations, mate." Bill hugs Charlie and pat his back.

"Aah thank you! I'm so happy." Charlie has the biggest smile on his face right now, and it fills me with joy.

"You deserve it. I've never seen you so in love." Bill says.

"Well, I just hope you will experience it too, mate." Charlie sighs, "it's really the best feeling."

I smile at his words, he really loves his family... everyone in this family loves each other so much, it makes me feel at peace.

"Yeah... I can tell." I hear Bill say, I notice Charlie looking at me with a weird look.

"I'm sure you do," he then adds.

"Oh! Charles!" A voice calls from behind us, an old lady is walking towards us.

Molly is gone immediately, and Bill gently takes my arm to lead me away.

"That's... aunt Muriel." He whispers to me.

"Oh..." I chuckle, "thanks."

"No problem, I am your protector." He tells me and we enter the tent.

"Oh wow.." I say, "it looks really good."

"Yeah, I think despite the situation, Charlie got a great wedding anyway. Which makes me very happy." He tells me, and I notice just now he's sort of caressing my arm with his fingers.

"Yeah... I... I think he deserves it. You know, this is how I always wanted my wedding to look like, if I'm being honest." I say, "that... if I ever got married, that is."

"What do you mean 'if'?"

"Well, to get married you would need to find someone you love and someone who loves you" I explain with a shrug and a heavy heart.

"I'm sure.... I'm sure, you will have no problem in that." He tells me.

"I'm not so sure." I say, shrugging.

We reach a table and we both sit down, and I go back at looking around.

"It really is beautiful." I breath, "you all did a great job."

I turn to look at Bill, once again, already finding him looking at me.

"I think anyone would be lucky to marry you." He softly says, and it takes me a little off guard that my cheeks suddenly feel warm and I look away from him.

The music suddenly starts and we both turn to look at Charlie and his wife dancing for the first time as husband and wife. It's such a happy moment I don't want to miss one bit of it.

Soon enough more people join the happy couple and I too start to slightly move my feet to the rhythm. A hand is suddenly on top of mine, gaining my attention.

"Do you...do you want to d-dance?" Bill asks, stuttering a bit.

"Yes." I simply say.

We stand and walk towards the other people dancing, he carefully put his hands on my waist and I shyly put mine on his shoulders and we start moving with the music.

"This is my favourite parts of weddings." I casually say, to break the awkward silence.

"The dancing?"

"Yeah, everyone looks so happy, and it's the most peaceful part of it." I explain, "you know, everything coming before the 'yes' is like tense and uncertain. 'What if they change their mind?' Or 'what if something happens?', it's all about 'what ifs'. But the dancing... is when everything is settled and everyone is happy and can let out a sigh of relief. Does it make sense?" I chuckle.

"Makes complete sense. I kind of agree with you." He smiles, "I'll tell you a secret... Charlie was so nervous since he asked her."

"What? Really?" I ask in disbelief.

"Yeah!" He laughs, "he was so afraid she would change her mind any moment. There was one day I was visiting him, he told me he was actually waiting an owl to deliver him a letter saying she wouldn't marry him anymore. That's how tense he was."

"Oh, poor thing." I laugh, looking to Charlie dancing with his mother now, how happy he looks now.

"Yeah, took me several hours to convince him that was not the case." He tells me.

We laugh together for a moment before our eyes lock for the millionth time.

"Can..." I start, "can I ask you something?"

"Of course." He nods.

"Have I... have I made you uncomfortable in some ways?" I ask.

"What? No... of course not." He answers quickly.

"Are you sure?" I check, "I mean, you can tell me. Really it's no problem."

"I'm sure. You didn't do anything to make me feel uncomfortable." He replies, "I promise."

"Okay..." I nod, with small smile. "If I did something, though, I'm sorry."

"I promise, you have nothing to be sorry for." He reassuringly smiles at me, I smile back.

We stay in silence, looking at each other and, again, I feel the same pull towards I felt before, but this time, before anything could remotely happen, Kingslay's patronus appears.

It says the minister is dead and that the deatheaters are coming here...

The caos emerges as soon as the enemy arrives.

I look up at Bill.

"Stay close to me." He tells me and I nod.

We start fighting along the others, most guests disappear, most remains and fight.

I cast as many protection spells as I can while Bill and the other defends.

I can see Harry, Ron and Hermione disappear. Thankfully. But my attention is caught by another red-haired fighting far from me.

I rush to Ginny without even thinking and stand beside her, Lupin joins us soon.

A caos of "stupeficium" "expelliarmus" and "protego" surrounds us.

I spot someone aiming at a distracted Ginny, instinctively I step in between them, I try to yell, but too late.

I feel myself falling to the ground.

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

It's dark, I can hardly open my eyes, but I hear voices around me.

"She's gonna be fine." I hear someone says.

"Are you sure?" A pair of voices, this time, asks.

"Yes, I am."

I weakly open my eyes and move to sit up.

"Hey, hey, careful there." I recognise Bill's voice.

"What... what happened?" I ask, finally being able to look around. Noticing Fred and George too, I notice this is not a room I recognise.

"What happened?!" George asks shocked, "what happened she asks!"

"Unbelievable!" Fred agrees.

"So..?" I urge.

"You took a stunner for Ginny. A dark one." Bill explains.

"What were you thinking?!" Fred asks.

"I just saw him aiming at your sister and went on autopilot, I think." I say.

"What if it was a killing curse?" George basically yells.

"Could you not shout please?" I ask weakly.

They both sigh heavily and look at each other.

"You're okay." Bill chimes in from his place by the door, "that's important." He says this last bit more to the twins than to me.

"You scared the hell out of us." George says.

"Yeah, we thought we lost you." Fred nods.

"I'm sorry..." I mutter.

"No, we're sorry for yelling." Fred sighs, "we're thankful you're okay... and thank you for protecting Ginny."

I open my arms, asking them for a hug and they do, careful not to hurt me too much they wrap their arms around me.

"Where are we?" I ask, once they pulled away.

"Shell cottage." They both answer.

"In Cornwall." George keeps going, "it's by the sea."

"Oh... Nice."

"Yeah, we'll be using it as a refuge for a while." Freds explain.

"Especially until you feel better." Bill adds.

"We know you like the sea, so maybe it would help your recovery." George says, hopeful.

"I hope so." I smile at them.

"Let's leave her, boys, she need her rest not you two pestering her." Bill teases his brothers.

"We're not!" They both say, standing up and heading to the door.

"A little." I joke.

"You better rest well, young lady." Fred scolds me before following his brother out.

"I'll bring up some tea. Now rest." With this Bill exits and closes the door.

I lay back down, take a deep breath and close my eyes, hoping to get some sleep.

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

The sweet smell of the tea gently wakes me up.

I slowly open my eyes, noticing some rays of sun peaking through the windows.

I sit up, determined to stand up and walk downstairs. I put some clothes on and weakly walk out the room, holding onto the wall just in case.

I make my way downstairs, happy to hear voices coming from what I can imagine is the kitchen.

"Why don't you just tell her, mate?" Fred, I think, says.

"What do you mean why?" Bill asks back.

"What do you mean, what do we mean why?" George replies, "do you like her?"

"I..."

"Of course, he does!" Fred intervenes.

"Then why don't you freaking tell her?" George repeats the question.

Now, I can't help but eavesdrop. Curiosity taking the best of me.

"Have you seen me recently?" Bill snaps.

"Bill..." George starts, but he's interrupted.

"No, George." Bill's serious tone, makes my heart ache, "how could she like me back when I look like this? Uh?"

"Bill, do you think she cares?" Fred's tone got more gentle.

"We know her, mate." George tries to reassure him.

"No." Bill firmly states, "she deserves better. You should know it, she deserves someone who doesn't look like a freak, and most definitely she doesn't deserve a werewolf in her life. What if I hurt her? What if..." he chokes. I can't see him, but I can tell he's crying.

"You love her, don't you?" Fred asks... or rather, states.

"Of course, he does." George confirms, "look how scared he is!"

"Of course, I'm scared!" Bill snaps again, "The closest thing to love at first sight l've ever experienced happened when I first laid eyes on her... and it pains me how much I want to be with her, but knowing she doesn't deserve to end up with someone like me..."

That's enough, I walk up to them and their head turn up to look at me, Bill's eyes widening at my sight.

"I think that's up to me to decide." I tell him, looking him dead in the eyes.

"I..." He's at loss words.

"We'll leave you to it." The twins says and walk out.

I sit down, so I can face Bill, I slightly wince as I do.

"Careful..." he whispers, "you... you should be resting."

"You'll soon realise I don't usually do what I'm supposed to do." I smile at him.

We stay silent, none of us knowing what to say.

"Sorry." He then says.

"What for?" I ask.

"I..." he lets out a nervous chuckle, "I don't even know..."

"Was that true?" I finally ask.

"I'm afraid so..." he sighs.

"Then, I'm afraid you're stuck with me." I say, feeling bold enough to take his hand.

"I..." he look at our hands, "you mean...?"

"Yes..."

"But... you don't have to... I know you deserve something better than this." He tries to make me... reason I think, I softly laugh at this.

"Better than a hot, long-haired, curse-breaker with the kindest smile eyes I've ever seen? I'm not so sure about it." I grin at him, "what you felt the first time we met... I'm pretty sure I felt it too."

"Really?"

"Of course, I think if there was ever anybody meant for me, it's you."

He looks at me with the biggest smile, lets out a relieved laugh and comes closer to kiss me.

I'm a little taken aback, but I quickly kiss him back, my hand moves up to his cheek softly caressing his scars while his is in my hair gently playing with it.

Once we pull away we hear cheering from the other room, and we laugh watching Fred and George coming into view clapping their hands.

"Finally!"

"Good job!"

"Go away you two!" Bill scolds them.

"Hey!" They call, "no naughtinesses while we're here, alright!"

They go away and leave us officially alone.

I look at Bill and he does the same.

"I love you." He whispers, coming closer once again.

"I love you too" I say before kissing him again.

And again.

And again.

And... again.