#light Google Translated Italian | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nottslove · 2 months ago

Text

LA MIA PRINCIPESSA

Pairing: theo nott x reader 4.5k words

Warnings: 18+, smut under the cut, mdni, porn without plot, established relationship, google translated italian, mirror play, unprotected sex, piv, size kink, praising, degrading, dirty talk, creampie, vaginal sex, hair pulling dry humping, cursing, swearing, mentions of breeding kink, mentions of drug use (theo smoking), lowercase intended.

Summary: modern au. it's your birthday and theo decides to give you a diamond tiara as a birthday present, so you thank him later that night.

Author's note: had this idea in my mind, so i decided to write it.. please, please comment!! and please do send in requests if you have any! i write for all the slytherin boys, not just theo!!

YOU were always thankful your birthday fell in the summer. It always meant that you didn't have to spend your special day in school, listening to teachers droll on and on whilst you sat in class or get to bed early because of the curfew.

No, you got to do whatever you wanted during your birthday, spending it however you wanted without limit. You didn't have to spend it in the classroom like a regular day, you didn't have to worry about waking up early the next day, you didn't have to worry about dealing with a hangover the next morning after getting shitfaced...you were free to do anything you wanted.

You got to host the best parties in the summer, with an unlimited budget, inviting all your friends and having your own private bar set up, your birthday perhaps being the most anticipated event of the summer.

Your eighteenth birthday was perhaps your most expensive one yet. You had spent millions of galleons, hiring the best party planners, arranging for your favorite singer and transforming the ball room into your dream party setting, the way you had always envisioned.

Your invitations on their own were a sight to behold. Made of a deep blue, firm glittery card, the words were hand-written in gleaming ink made of real gold, by professional Japanese calligraphers.

Your dress was a vision itself. Made of the softest material, it was short, perfectly tailored to your size, hugging every curve and fitting you perfectly.

It was made of a sheer, black material, almost transparent, with a low cut neck, the thin fabric slightly see-through. The upper part was stitched the way a corset was, cinching your waist and pushing your breasts together where they nearly spilled over the top.

Your thong was slightly visible through the sheer fabric, as was your belly piercing, the shimmer of the diamond slightly dulled due to the layer of fabric that blocked out the light.

You paired it with your six-inch, black stilettos, which elevated your height by a considerable amount, and wore your birthday gift from your parents, a diamond choker worth millions.

You felt like a Goddess.

Right before the party, your boyfriend knocked on your room door, asking if you were ready.

Theo had been staying at your place for a week— he had come from Italy just for your birthday, and your parents had agreed to you accompanying him back home for the rest of the summer.

"Come in," you told Theo, applying the last of your make-up, a final layer of mascara and lip gloss. You were leaning closer to the mirror, front pressed against the vanity, without even realizing that being in that position was fueling Theo's thoughts about bending you over the dresser and making the mascara you had just applied stream down your cheeks.

"Dio," he breathed, his blue eyes darkening as they raked your figure, mentally undressing you for the few, long seconds that he spent staring at you. He couldn't look away, every movement you made giving him a tantalizing glimpse of the skin underneath. He felt his blood rushing down to his crotch, his pants tightening as they struggled to accommodate his growing erection.

A low groan slipped past his lips and he slowly moved to stand behind you, large hand slowly sliding to your front as he pressed himself behind you, nestling his bulge to fit between your asscheeks.

"You see how hard I am for you?" he muttered lowly, slowly grinding his hips against your asscheeks, pressing a slow, sensual kiss to the side of your neck as he moved your hair to the side. "That dress is driving me fucking insane..."

He made you feel how hard he was, what you fucking did to him. His lips grazed your ear, warm breath caressing the delicate skin on your neck, beneath your ear.

"Non hai idea di quanto vorrei piegarti su questo comò e scoparti…" he murmured, his voice low and strained, his throat dry.

You suppressed a gasp, and you involuntarily pressed your ass further into his crotch, slowly grinding against him as he let out yet another groan and your movements.

Italian was a language you could never manage to master, even though you had been trying to learn it on Duolingo. Theo knew the effect it had on you, whenever he spoke Italian, even though you could never understand, you were always turned on just by hearing the sexy way the words rolled off his tongue.

You could already feel the goosebumps erupt on your skin from where he whispered into your ear, and the coil tighten in your lower abdomen, the gentle press of your nipples hardening underneath your dress and grazing against the floaty, fine material.

Each cold, metal ring seared into the delicate skin on your lower abdomen, through the thin cloth, awakening your every nerve, shivers traveling down your spine.

"Fuck, Theo," you whispered, closing your eyes for a brief moment before reopening them, teeth sinking into your lower lip briefly.

His eyes glittered with lust as they met yours in the looking glass, and he had a perfect view of your breasts with the way you were leaning forward, his eyes glued to your reflection in the mirror.

His hand suddenly drifted into your hair, grabbing your curls in his hand into a makeshift ponytail, as he pulled you harshly backwards against him, snapping his hips forward, an action which caused you to gasp slightly as your hipbones hit the marble vanity, slightly painfully, effectively stopping your movements.

"Don't fucking move," he growled lowly, his mouth dangerously close to your ear. "Unless you want me to take you right here, right now, and you'll be late for your party..."

A soft gasp tumbled forth from your lips and you nodded, your hands coming to rest on either side of you, on the edges of the vanity, letting out a shaky exhale.

Your eyes met his in the mirror, and you allowed yourself to take in the view. He wore a silky, black dress shirt, and he'd left the top three buttons open, allowing part of his muscular chest to peek through and give you a delicious view.

A sleek, black belt held up his black slacks, and you could feel the cool press of his belt buckle against your back, and heightening your desire for him.

"I take it you like my dress?" you murmured, the words catching in your throat.

He exhaled tersely, cock still nestled between your asscheeks, painfully straining against his zipper. He could feel his balls grow heavier with cum that he ached to fill you with.

One of his veiny hands was still firm against your lower abdomen, grounding you, holding you into place, whilst his other finally let go of your hair when he took a step back.

"You look like my whore," he commented with a smirk, his dark eyes glittering with lust, grabbing your hand and twirling you around so he could get an all-round view of you. "So damn gorgeous..." he added, with a harsh, yet playful smack to your ass.

"Theo!" You squealed, a small giggle following right after your gasp at his actions. You looked into the mirror again, adjusting your hair and make-up, fixing your appearance until you were satisfied with it.

He grinned devilishly, the light shining on his face at such an angle that it cast a shadow on the left side of his jaw, making him look even more dangerous that before. A cigarette dangling from his lips, he leant against the wall with his hands in his pockets as he took you in, between clouds of smoke, making no move to hide his boner.

"Are you going to take care of that?" you asked Theo, referring to the bulge straining against his slacks. He couldn't show up to the party like... that.

"No," your boyfriend replied curtly, wrapping his arm around your waist and letting his hand drift down to your ass, giving it a firm squeeze. "It doesn't bother me. If you want it gone, you're gonna have to take care of it for me.."

That shut you up.

A blush residing on your cheeks, you took the arm Theo had offered you, leading you downstairs and into the main ball room of the manor, where your party was fully set up.

The guests had already begun to arrive, and whilst you were so busy greeting your friends and chatting, and drinking, Theo found his friends too, and before you knew it, the party was in full swing.

You danced, you drank, enough to get intoxicated, but not enough to lose sobriety. You'd run into Theo once or twice, and steal a quick kiss or two before parting ways and going back to your friends, playing cheesy games with them and taking selfies that would forever remind you of this glorious night.

Everything was perfect. You cut the cake, your friends sang for you, you blew out the candles, made a wish... The party lasted until long past midnight, and as soon as it was over, you went up to your room, where your butler had brought all your presents.

This was your favorite part of the party— the opening of the presents.

You had asked Theo if he wanted to open the presents with you, but he excused himself to his room, claiming he was tired and he wanted to freshen up.

Slightly bummed, you decided to proceed on your own.

Your friends had given you the best gifts— dresses you'd had your eye on, shoes, jewelry...

But none could compare to your boyfriend's present.

The moment you undid the wrapping, and opened the heavy case, your breath caught in your throat and you gasped.

He had overdone himself.

There, perched on a velvet cushion was the most beautiful piece of jewelry you had ever seen in your life, a heavy tiara encrusted with real, large diamonds that caught the light and shimmered with every movement.

It was made of white-gold, each diamond cut to perfection. It probably cost him a fortune— this was far too much to spend on a gift...

Spending a good few minutes staring at the diamonds, you gulped, your fingers shaking as you picked up the note that came with it.

For my Princess, I hope you like it. Love, Theo.

"It's gorgeous," you murmured, slowly slipping it over your head, admiring yourself in the mirror.

It looked absolutely stunning, each diamond glowing iridescently when you moved the slightest bit, and you couldn't help but feel like a real princess whilst wearing this.

A sudden urge overtook you, one that signified the urgency to go thank Theo for this— the best present you had ever received by far. It even beat the pink Ferrari your parents had given you.

Without second thought, you left your room, and the rest of the presents unopened, making your way down the corridors to his room.

You didn't even bother knocking, your hand just twisted the knob and you barged in, full of desperation to show him how much the gift meant to you— how much he meant to you.

"Theo—" your voice cracked slightly as you entered his room, breaking off when you saw him on his bed, shirtless, watching Fast and Furious, leaning against the headboard as he smoked a cigarette.

Seeing you in that tantalizing dress, wearing the tiara he had gifted you awoke something primal in Theo, something intangible, something that couldn't be explained with just words.

The tiara on your head symbolized something greater than love. It symbolized possession.

His. Theo's.

You were all his, and he didn't have to fucking share. No one would ever have you.

Were you trying to kill him, walking in like that, looking so fucking gorgeous with your long waves tumbling down your back and shoulders, held together by nothing but the tiara?

You hadn't even changed yet, wearing that fucking piece of cloth that had driven him insane the entire night.

Still, he hadn't said a word. This was your night, and he wanted all the spotlight to be on you, he did not want to steal any part of it.

That was why he had maintained his distance all night, and he had jerked off multiple times until he could control himself not to bend you over on the nearest surface and fuck you at any given moment.

But having you standing in front of him in that fucking dress that he wanted to rip off the moment he saw you in it, and the tiara did things to him. It was a tangible reminder of how breathtaking you had looked all night, of how much he had wanted you, but had to stay away.

"Sarai la mia morte," he breathed, trying to ignore the rushing blood to his dick, which had already begun to harden underneath his boxers.

He closed his eyes, pulling the sheets over his lap as he did so before reopening them, turning off the television and giving you his full attention.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you—" you gush, launching yourself all over him, kissing all over his face, your eyes watering because of the amount of emotion you felt for him— you felt like you would explode from joy at any moment. "Your gift, it's perfect..."

All the air leaves his lungs as he suddenly finds you jumping on him, knocking the wind out of him, and he groaned slightly, taken off guard. "I'm glad you liked it," he murmured softly, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to ignore the blissful feeling of having your weight press down on him.

"It's my favorite gift of all," you murmur, biting your lip as an idea suddenly crossed your mind, one that would most definitely be the perfect way to thank Theo for his gift.

He leant his head further back on the headboard, exhaling as he clenched his fists underneath the covers.

"Is that so?" he murmured, eyes still closed.

"Mhm," you murmured, adjusting your position until you had slid the sheets down, straddling Theo. Your bare thighs hugged him, and you could feel his growing erection pressing into your clothed cunt, separated by just a few layers of thin clothing that could easily be taken off.

"I came here to thank you for it," you continued, slowly gyrating your hips over his, acting oblivious to the way he shifted uncomfortably underneath you.

"You already did," he grunted, opening his eyes and suppressing a low groan, blood pounding into his ears. His dick was painfully hard underneath his boxers, pressing against your folds, as if sensing it were there.

"Did I?" you feigned innocence, quickening your movements, as you grew wetter between your legs, biting your lip to help you control your mouth better.

Theo couldn't handle it any longer. Electricity crackled in his eyes as they met yours, and his hands snapped up from his sides to grip your hips, pressing you down harshly on his cock, stopping your movements completely.

"Stop fucking moving," he growled. "You're driving me insane," he groaned, shutting his eyes tightly and taking a deep breath. "Acting like such a slut..."

You gasped softly, a tiny whimper leaving you. You could feel the warmth of his hands on your sides through the sheer material of your dress, each cold metal ring pressing into your skin hard enough to leave bruises.

"Jus' wanted to thank you," you replied innocently, bowing your head low, blinking shyly and looking up at him through your lashes as you pouted. You were manipulative like that, knowing Theo could never risk doing anything to upset you.

Another groan slipped past his lips and his grip loosened slightly. He leant his head back on the headboard, hard enough for the thud to be heard.

"You're gonna kill me amore," he whispered hoarsely.

You giggled softly, and brushed your fingers over his eyelids, making sure he closed his eyes. Then, you placed your hands on his shoulders, before they drifted to gently hold his face in your palms.

You leaned in, your mouth diving in towards his as you kissed him softly, your breath mingling with his.

Already beginning to move your hips against his, the kiss quickly turned to a sexual one as you harshly nibbled his lower lip, sliding your tongue into his mouth.

Your lips muffled his moans, and you took that as a response to slide your hands down his chest, fingertips feeling the hard muscle underneath.

He began kissing you back, unable to resist. Who could say no to a goddess?? His hips involuntarily lifted slightly, seeking friction, his cock sensing your cunt above, wanting nothing more than to tear every barrier away and sink into your tight, little hole.

Giving you that tiara was a mistake, you looked too irresistible. Too good to be true, too pretty to exist.

"Bein' driving me fucking crazy all night," he muttered. "Watching you dance around in that tiny fuckin' dress... And now, the tiara..." He exhaled sharply, a shudder traveling down his spine.

Slowly, you pulled away from the heated kiss, your lip gloss smudged, your lips covered with a mix of his and your saliva instead.

"Let me take care of you tonight," you whispered softly, you beautiful, wide eyes looking up into his pleadingly. "Let me make you feel good..."

Theo moaned. He moaned, and by God, it was the sexiest thing you had ever heard.

His dark eyes looked into yours and he kissed you hard again, lips trailing down your neck as if he could no longer resist, moving down to your dress as he bit on a nipple over the fabric, tugging upward harshly to elicit a whine from you. "Gonna ride me, Princess?"

You were soaking wet for him, your arousal having soaked your panties completely, making them uncomfortably sticky as they clung to your core.

Still, you wanted to pleasure him, so you continued to gyrate your hips over he erection, eliciting low moans from his lips.

You nodded, another whine spilling forth from your lips as he pinched a nipple over the thin fabric of your dress, twisting it harshly. "Y-yes.."

He had finally had enough. Unable to resist any longer, his hands left your hips and came to the front of your dress, rending it into two, a loud ripping sound filling the air.

You couldn't hide the very audible gasp that left your lips. Eyes widening in shock, you could only stare at him, utterly speechless. It had cost a lot, having it tailored just for you, but Theo had ripped it without second thought.

"Theo!" you gasped in surprise.

"Looks better off," was his excuse. "Gonna buy you more.." His eyes were fixated on you, on how gorgeous you looked, pink nipples hardening as they kissed the air, dressed in nothing but a tiny thong and a tiara he had bought you for your birthday.

"God, you look so, so fuckin' pretty," he groaned, hand reaching up to grab one of your tits, which fit perfectly in his large palm. He squeezed and groped your breast, as if that was all he needed to survive— your tits. "Could stare at those pretty tits for hours..."

You were still grinding your panty-clad hole against Theo's erection, your breasts heaving slightly with every movement you made. "Gonna fuck me while I'm wearing your tiara?" you whispered, biting your lip and looking at him through your eyelashes.

You slowly slid lower, placing your hands on the waistband of his boxers as you slid them down, exposing his hardened cock to the air, a hiss leaving his lips.

Your words ignited a fierce desire in him; to mark, to ruin, to impregnate... You were his property, his witch, his bitch, and his fucking slut.

His Princess outside, in front of everyone, and his whore in private, in his room, behind closed doors.

Tonight, you were both.

His balls felt heavy and full, ready to fill you with his cum, ready to make you his.

His dick slapped against his stomach, hard and erect with the veins popping out, precum leaking from the tip that had previously stained his boxers. The head of his cock was pink and swollen, aching to enter your sweet, little pussy.

You eased him into a position where he was lying down, before you clambered over him, bending down with your knees pressed into the mattress as you gripped the base of his cock with your smaller hands.

Your tongue hung low past your lips as you curled the muscle, swiping the beads of precum and pressing your lips against the tip of his cock, giving him a kiss in his most sensitive area.

He groaned, bucking his hips into your mouth, seeking friction. "Don't tease," he ordered, and you complied, knowing he had been teased enough all day, watching you prance around in that tiny dress of yours.

Before you knew it, Theo had already ripped your panties and flung them somewhere across his room, exposing your wet and glistening folds to his gaze.

He spent a few seconds trailing his gaze appreciatively over you, admiring how your pink folds puckered up for him, clenching and unclenching around nothing as they ached to feel his cock shove past your tight barrier and fill you up.

A dark chuckle left his lips. "Tsk, tsk, you want to feel me in that tight hole of yours, hmm?"

"Mhm," you whined, the sight of him enough to increase your need for him tenfold. You bit your lip, your hand spreading the precum that bubbled out from his tip across the length of his cock, using it as makeshift lube.

Your hand guided his length to your entrance, before you impaled yourself on his cock, taking all of him inside you at once.

A loud gasp left your lips, followed by a moan. You waited a few seconds to adjust to his girth before you began to move, starting out with slow movements, his dick so large that you could feel the tip grazing your insides, rearranging your internal organs.

"Fuck, fuck—" Theo gasped, as your walls gripped him like a vice, every sensation heightened with the way your walls squeezed his cock, nearly making him cum right there and then.

He was losing every bit of his remaining control as your weight on him drove him wild, the sensation overwhelming. His breaths were coming in short, ragged gasps when you led him to her entrance, the moment his tip pushed past her tight, inviting folds, he felt an exquisite constriction. Your walls were stretching to accommodate him like a perfectly fitted glove, the visible veins along his cock throbbing against the velvety warmth of her inner embrace.

"God, such a perfect little cocksleeve for me, gonna fill you up with my cum—" he rambled, hands gripping your hips harshly, his rings pressing into your delicate skin harshly enough to leave bruises. "It's gonna drip out of you for days..."

"Theo," you whined, your breathing turning erratic. Once your walls had adjusted, you began to move, setting a slow, steady rhythm, grinding your hips in circular motions. You could feel him push past your barriers, you could feel every vein drag sensually against your tight walls, and it was driving you absolutely crazy.

He sent you into a complete frenzy, physical and emotional, with the way his cock practically split you open, hitting all the right spots.

Your hands were flat against his chest, your perfectly manicured nails scratching his skin, leaving angry red welts across his toned muscles.

On feeling the angry red burn of your fingers scratching him, Theo cursed, his hips ramming upwards into yours as he began to match your slow rhythm.

But it wasn't enough, he wanted more. He needed more.

The sight of you falling apart on his cock, wearing his tiara with your pretty tits dancing in rhythm to your thrusts was enough to send him into overdrive, and his hand grabbed one of your boobs harshly, squeezing it hard enough to make you swallow your moan and let out an almost-scream, nails digging much harsher into his chest, the pleasurable pain driving him insane. "Cazzo— Cazzo Principessa, mi farai venire— Such a pretty sight..." he groaned.

You quickened your movements, as you began moving up and down his shaft, using your palms on his chest to help you bounce as you lost the pattern to your thrusts, which had now turned desperate and sporadic.

"Mhm, cum inside me," you gasped, bouncing on his cock with your head arched back, squelching sounds of skin on skin echoing throughout the room, punctuated with a symphony of moans and erotic groans.

Your tits jiggled in his face, and he caught them with his hands, squeezing and slapping them as you felt something wet slide down your cheeks as another high-pitched moan left you.

A sheen of perspiration coated both your bodies, and you could feel your mascara smudge and stream down your cheeks as you felt something wet spill out from your eyes. "Fuck, Theo, gonna cum..." you gasped.

As both of you grew closer and closer to release, your movements turned irregular, along with your breathing. A ring of cum formed at the base of Theo's cock, coating your thighs in your mixed essences.

"Vieni per me, vieni sul mio cazzo, la mia Principessa—" he rasped, your walls clenching and unclenching around him as you grew closer to release.

He was so close, chasing his high with every passing second. And then, you bounced on his cock particularly harshly, and you saw stars as your orgasm flooded you, like a sudden wave.

A scream left your lips, as you reached your high, wetness splashing out of you in endless spurts, chanting Theo's name like a mantra as he let out a guttural groan and spilled himself inside you.

You felt so full as he painted your insides white, having no intention to pull out as his hands gripped your waist harshly, keeping you right there as another wave of cum spilled into your cunt and begun to leak out.

Drained out, you fell forward, your hair splaying all over his chest as the tiara toppled down Theo's chest to the mattress.

His hands automatically drifted up to hold your back and move your hair away, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

"Thank you," you whimpered, fingers holding the tiara weakly.

"You're welcome, Princess," Theo crooned, a wicked smirk plastered across on his face, already thinking of what to give you for Christmas.

A sudden thought crossed his mind, a vision of him on his knees under the mistletoe, followed by another of his mother's ring kept safely in his vault.

He grinned to himself, allowing him to close his eyes and imagine your reaction.

He looked down tucking a strand of hair behind your ear so he could see your face, wondering why you were so quiet all of a sudden.

But when your face came into view, he chuckled softly.

Of course.

You were already asleep.

profile; nav;

©nottslove 2025. do not copy, steal or claim any works/graphics as your own.

849 notes · View notes

theosbaby · 1 year ago

Text

sundress

theodore nott x fem!reader

masterlist

SUMMARY ! you wear a new sundress to your date with theo, knowing that he loves them on you, and he cannot resist the temptation.

WARNINGS ! google translated italian, dom!theo, sub!reader, SMUT without a plot, public sex, praising, pet names, lots of kissing and groping, choking, neck grabbing, hair pulling, fingering, heavy dirty talk, p in v, unprotected sex, breeding kink... overall, pure filth.

NOTES ! english isn't my first language, so you might find mistakes. "helping hand" has reached over a 1.000 notes, TYSM! i'm so happy! hope you enjoy this ♡

you were trying to hold back your playful giggles as theo pushed you inside the three broomsticks bathroom, his large hand covering your mouth to muffle your cute little laugh so that the rest of customers didn't hear you both sneaking into the ladies restroom.

'what had brought you two there?' you might be wondering... well, that's actually a really short story.

as every saturday, theo and you were in hogsmeade, having a date. it was may, the weather was warm and the sun was shining in the sky, so you had decided to put on a new sundress that your mother had bought you for your birthday a few weeks ago —knowing that theo loved seeing you in that kind of clothing.

the dress was white, with a flared skirt and a corseted body which ended in a low and flattering neckline. it made your body look stunning and theo had almost gone crazy when he saw you earlier; the soft fabric hugging your curves, bringing out the light tan of your skin... he had been literally drooling over you the entire date, and now, he couldn't hold back anymore: he needed to fuck you.

and he couldn't wait until you both were back at hogwarts.

he kicked the bathroom door shut behind you both while peppering kisses along your slender neck, gently sucking and biting your skin to mark you all over; at the same time, his hands groped your body almost desperately.

"you look so fucking beautiful today," theo whispered in your ear.

he tugged at your earlobe between his lips before turning you around to push you against the sink and you hissed when your body hit the cold hard marble kind of roughly.

you chuckled, tilting your head to the side to kiss his cheek as you tangled your fingers in his light brown curls, his hands grasping at your slim waist.

"just today?" you whispered back teasingly, looking up at him with a smirk on your red painted lips.

he chuckled lowly, pressing himself against you as he slipped his hands underneath the hem of your dress to run his hands over the smooth skin of your legs slowly, pulling the fabric up just enough to expose a sliver of bare thigh.

"always beautiful, but today... fuck," he muttered, nuzzling his nose against yours; the smell of his cologne filled your nostrils, making you feel light-headed, "this bloody dress is driving me fucking crazy, cara mia."

"i knew you'd love it..." you couldn't help but giggle against his lips, giving gim a chaste peck before pulling back slightly. "i put in on just for you," you murmured, kissing his neck softly; your red lipstick left a faint stain on his flesh.

theodore smirked, his hands sliding up your thighs to cup your bare ass through the laced fabric of your panties.

"you're a fucking tease, do you know that?" he groaned before leaning in to claim your crimson lips in a scorching kiss.

your eyes fluttered shut, your body melting into his arms at the intimate contact, which made you gasp against his eager mouth. your lips brushed together in a mind-blowing dance while you ran your fingers through his soft hair absentmindedly.

theo broke the kiss just a moment later only to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, nipping and sucking at your sensitive skin as his fingers worked to lift your dress higher up, until it was pooling around your waist, his body still pinning you against the sink.

"i need you," he whispered in your ear, his voice thick with desire, "need to fuck you so badly, principessa."

you gasped once again when he pressed his hardening cock against your pelvis, grinding against you in slow motions. you grasped at the sink countertop, your head falling back as he placed wet kisses all the way down to your cleavage.

theo groaned at the sight of your perfect breasts almost spilling out of the neckline of your dress and his hand cupped one of them through the thin fabric, squeezing it tenderly.

"sei bellisima, amore mio," he muttered in italian, his lips pressing against yours hungrily once again. (you're beautiful, my love)

you whimpered into the kiss, feeling your wetness start to pool around in your panties as his thumb toyed with your perky nipple over your clothes until it hardened; your shuddered in his arms.

"theo, please," you stuttered into his lips, words coming out as broken sobs.

theo broke the kiss, his eyes darkening with lust as he looked down at you while his other hand slipped between your legs. his fingers traced along the damp fabric of your panties, feeling how wet you were for him.

"merlin... you're fucking soaked, principessa," he growled, his fingers teasingly brushing against your clit.

you moaned at his action, but quickly nipped at your plump bottom lip to try and hold back any sound that may escape your mouth, not wanting anyone outside the bathroom to hear you... though the thrill of getting caught was indeed turning you on.

theo withdrew his hand and kneeled in front of you, fingers gripping at the waistband of your panties to slid them down your legs while he peppered wet kisses all over your belly and hip bones, slowly moving down.

"we have to make this quick, bella," he whispered, placing one last kiss at your smooth mound as he looked up at you with those deep set eyes of his. "but i promise i'll eat your pretty little pussy later on, yeah?"

the smirk he gave you while he stood up made you weak on your knees. he pulled you into a kiss, hands groping at your thighs and ass cheeks avidly as he practically devoured your mouth —at that point, your red lipstick was smudged all over your faces. he grabbed your wrist to guide your hand towards his crotch and you palmed him delicately, feeling his hard dick twitch at your touch.

theo groaned against your lips, breath hitching in his throat. his hand released your wrist and slid between your legs once more, this time slipping two digits inside of you, gently stretching your tight hole.

"fuck... so wet for me," he whispered against your mouth, teeth tugging at your already swollen bottom lip. "you're fucking dripping onto my fingers, principessa."

his free hand wrapped around your neck, choking you lightly while he moved his digits in and out of you in scissor motions to prepare you for his cock. you gasped for air, letting out a needy cry as you worked to unfasten his belt with shaky hands.

"need your cock, theo... please," you breathed out, cheeks flushed.

theo's hand released your neck, his fingers withdrawing from your pussy to help you slide his pants and boxers down; his throbbing cock sprung free, standing tall against his flat stomach, and your mouth watered at the sight. after that, he grabbed your hips, turning your around and pushing you forward until you were bent over the countertop.

"keep your eyes on me, amore mio," he commanded, his voice rough.

he grasped your hair, tugging at it to pull your head back until your eyes met his on the mirror. his rough grip made you whine and you writhed when you felt the tip of his cock brushing along your slick folds, teasing you.

"theo, please," you whimpered desperately.

he positioned the head of his cock at your entrance, slowly pushing inside while his free hand found purchase at your hip. he groaned loudly, the feeling of your tight heat welcoming him nearly overwhelming.

"so big, oh merlin," you whined at the stretch, letting out a little cry that echoed through the bathroom.

"oh fuck... I love being inside you," he murmured, his eyes piercing yours through the mirror. "che piccola figa così stretta... all fucking mine," he grunted, starting to pound into you. (such a tight little pussy)

you reached to cover your mouth with one of your hands, your palm muting the moans that inevitably left your lips when he began to fuck you against the sink roughly. your other hand gripped at his thigh, your nails digging into his flesh, and you couldn't help but close your eyes tightly, face contorted in pleasure.

he released your hair and his fingers curled around your throat instead, applying light pressure as he groaned; his digits dug into your skin, leaving bright red fingerprints on it.

"look at me while i fuck you," he ordered, forcing you to open your glazed eyes and look at him through the mirror.

his grip tightened on your throat as he slammed his hips against your ass, his cock buried balls deep inside your cunt and hitting all the right spots within you. the mirror reflected his flushed face, hair sticking to his sweaty forehead and eyes locked onto yours as he took what he wanted from you, making a moaning mess out of you; thankfully, your hand covering your mouth muffled the sounds.

"damn it... so fucking tight," he moaned, picking up the pace of his thrusts, "pussy feels so good around my cock." he leaned down, his lips meeting your ear as he whispered his filth into it.

he left a trail of wet, open-mouthed kisses all over your neck while his cock made you see stars, his free hand finding its way between your shaky legs to rub your puffy clit, causing you to squirm.

"you love this, huh?" he taunted, smirking against your flesh, "you love it when i'm rough with you, don't you, principessa?"

his hand slid up from your neck to grab your hand and pull it away from your mouth, pinning it behind your back, so that you could answer him. though you struggled to do it; the way he was rocking his hips caused his cock to rub against your g-spot with every single thrust, making you feel like your insides were being torn apart in the best way possible.

"hmm, yeah," you cried out in response, "love it when you fuck me hard."

his lips captured yours again and your walls clenched around him as you moaned into his lips, the kiss muting the sounds of your pleasure. you felt the coil in your belly tightening and your clit pulsed underneath his fingertips, signaling your impending orgasm. he broke the kiss, his eyes dark and hungry as he looked down at you.

"you close, bella? he panted, slapping your ass hard enough to sting.

you nodded in response, blubbering incoherent words, unable to form any sentence as he ruined your cunt.

"that's it, baby... cum for me," he grunted, pushing deeper and harder, the sink creaking due to his harsh thrusts. "i want to see your pretty eyes roll back into your head when you cum on my cock."

his filthy words triggered your orgasm.

he watched with satisfaction as your eyes indeed rolled back, your back arching and nails digging into your skin as you covered your mouth once again, trying to silence the moans and cries that slipped from your lips.

"such a mess... so fucking beautiful," he praised.

he bit down softly on his lip before letting out a rough, guttural groan, the feeling of your cunt engulfing his cock too much for him too handle.

"i'm gonna cum inside you," he warned, "gonna breed this tight little pussy, amore."

you let out a whiny moan, your breathing coming out in sharp pants as your walls clamped around his cock in response to his dirty words.

"you want that, huh?" he mocked you, his hand grasping and pulling at your hair to push you back onto his chest. "want me to make you pregnant with my fucking child?"

"yeah," you whimpered pathetically, "want to carry your child, theodore nott."

"fuck," he cursed, letting out a long, low moan as he unloaded his cum inside you, the warm sticky liquid filling your pussy. "buona ragazza," he whispered, wrapping his arms around you to keep you from collapsing. (good girl)

your legs were completely shaky, making it hard for you to stand up, so you supported yourself on the countertop as you felt him pulling out slowly, his cum dripping out of your abused cunt.

he placed sweet kisses over your back and shoulders as you recovered from your orgasm, whispering soothing things to you while he grabbed his wand to mutter a cleansing spell and get you both all cleaned up.

after composing yourselves, the both of you walked out of the bathroom quietly to not grab any undesired attention, unluckily, pansy parkinson was waiting out of the bathroom, arms crossed and smug grin tugging at her lips; you blushed.

"finally," she claimed, laughing, "you two had fun in there?"

"shut up, parkinson!" theo shouted, grabbing your hand and hurriedly guiding you outside of the three broomsticks.

'we sure as hell did, pansy', you thought as you both walked away.

3K notes · View notes

thatdesigirl17 · 7 months ago

Text

just this once

bsf!theodore nott x fem!reader

warnings: smoking, slight sexual tension, kissing/making out, google translated italian

requests are open!

It was a cool fall night, and a light breeze was present. The castle glimmered with lights, reflecting upon the waters in front with the stars above shining brightly. Theo and Y/N were standing on the top of the astronomy tower, they came here often, it was their spot to find quiet and have endless conversations without any disturbance. Theo was leaning on the railing, his forearms pressed on the top of the railing and Y/N was standing just right beside him, holding his arm.

‘Please Theo, just this once, I promise.’, she pleaded to her best friend. Y/N had been pestering Theo to make her try a cigarette for a month now, but it only ever ended with Theo lecturing her about how bad it was for her, even though he was addicted. His addiction was what intrigued Y/N in the first place. She wanted to know what it felt like and why people, her best friend of all, were so addicted to it. Theo wouldn’t have it, he did not want his best friend to get addicted to a bad habit that he was fighting. His protectiveness was endearing and at the same time annoying for Y/N.

‘You do it all the time, this only makes you a hypocrite, you know.’, she tried. ‘It’s bad for you, cara mia, you know that by now, do you want me to list all the reasons?’, Theo said, sighing. ‘I’ve heard the reasons Theo, they are imprinted onto my brain my now, but please, just once. I just want to know what it feels like.’, she said, her voice laced with pleas.

Theo stood up a bit straighter, turning his head to look at Y/N. ‘What if you like it and get addicted?’, he asked.

‘I won’t, you won’t let me. We’ve already established that.’, she reasoned. Theo looked at her, still hesitant to give in but she knew he was almost ready.

‘Please Teddy.’, she pleaded again giving him the doe eyes that she very well knew he couldn’t resist.

‘You know how to make me agree with your every wish, bella, it’s unfair.’, he said playfully, as he fished out a cigarette and lighter from his pocket.

‘Thankyou! Thank you!’, Y/N chimed and hugged him.

‘Just this once okay?’, he said with a stern voice as she nodded. He puts the cigarette in his mouth and flicks the lighter open, and with a single click, the flame bursts to life, casting a warm glow across his face. He lit it, taking a drag, the smoke filling his lungs, the taste of nicotine flooding his senses. He exhales slowly, deliberately, the smoke curling around him, dissipating into the night air.

Y/N had seen Theo smoke numerous times, but she still observed him taking in the sight in front of her. Theo was attractive but when he smoked, somehow, in the eyes of Y/N, he felt more attractive.

He handed the cigarette, ’Alright, bella, place the cigarette and then suck on it, when the smoke goes into your mouth, inhale it and then exhale it.’, he instructed. Y/N nodded and placed the cigarette between her lips while Theo gazed at her intently, her eyes wide with uncertainty, her body tense with anticipation.

She took a drag and immediately coughed, letting all the smoke out. The sight made Theo chuckle slightly, ‘That happens the first time. Do you wanna give it another try?’, he asked. Theo continues to guide her, his hand on her back, reassuring her as she takes another puff of the cigarette. He watches her intently, his eyes never leaving her face, taking in every little detail, every flicker of emotion that crosses her features. As she inhaled, taking another drag it only resulted in her coughing again.

Theo took the cigarette from her hand, ‘Are you okay? Do you need water?’ ‘No, no, I’m fine. God, how do you do it?’, she asked, tears welling up in her eyes due to all the coughing. ‘Easily.’, he smirked taking another drag and smoothly exhaling the smoke, a smug expression on his face. Y/N glared at him, furrowing her brows and pouting slightly, the expression making Theo laugh.

‘Okay, okay, I have an idea.’, he says, chuckling. ‘What?’, she asked. He smirked as he took another drag from the cigarette, inhaling the smoke, but then without exhaling it, he leaned in closer to her. ‘What are you doing?’, she asked, confused.

Theo’s arm snakes around her waist, holding her in place, making sure the cigarette is away from her body while he places the other on the back of her neck. The growing proximity made Y/N’s heart beat faster as she closed her eyes. Theo’s lips ghosted over hers, passing the smoke to her, as he slowly whispered, while still passing the smoke, ‘Inhale.’

Their lips brushed as she inhaled the smoke. Theo pulled back slightly as Y/N opened her eyes and exhaled slowly, without coughing time. Theo noticed her flustered and smirked. ‘Good job, cara mia.’, he praised. He leaned in closer to her ear, his breath hot on her neck. ‘Now you try it.’, he whispered, shifting behind her, trapping her in between his arms with her back against his chest as he handed out the cigarette to her.

She gulped and nodded as he brought the cigarette to her lips, his free hand resting on her waist, drawing patterns on her skin. He rested his chin on her shoulder. He placed the cigarette between her lips as she inhaled. He removed the cigarette, his blue eyes fixated on her face. She turned to face him, feeling his eyes on her. She met his gaze as she exhaled. ‘Good girl.’, Theo smirked, his voice heavy with an accent that made Y/N’s heart flutter in her chest despite all the times she had heard this phrase from her best friend.

‘How do you feel?’, he asked taking a drag of the cigarette before throwing the butt down and putting it out by his foot. ‘Go-good. Normal.’, she replied, a bit flustered. ‘It won’t hit unless you take some more drags.’, he explained, making her nod.

‘Give me another. I want it to hit and have an effect on me.’, she said, turning around to face him, still trapped between his arms. Theo looked at her unsure of what to do, but he knew she won't give up and he wouldn’t be able to say to her. He fished out another cigarette from his pockets, lit it and handed it to her. ‘This is it, bella.’, he said as she took the cigarette from his hands.

He watched her as she smoked the cigarette, his eyes drinking in the sight of her, the way the moonlight cast a soft glow across her features. He can see the way the smoke curls around them. He leans in closer, his shoulder brushing against hers, his body seeking the warmth, the closeness of hers. The night air is cool against his skin, but the heat of her body, the warmth of her presence, chases away the chill. She looks up at him, meeting his gaze. The scent of his cologne and the smoke made her head dizzy. He gently takes the cigarette from her hands and takes a drag, savouring the flavour as he exhales, the smoke drifting away with the wind. ‘Did it hit yet?’, he asked, his voice low.

‘I guess.’, she says, a bit nervously. He smiles softly, taking another drag. ‘Theo?’, she asks, her voice low. ‘Yes, bella?’, he asked looking down at her. ‘Um, can you do the smoke pass thing again? It felt nice.’, she asks, her voice soft. ‘Of course.’, he smirks as he takes a longer drag and inhales, before leaning even closer. He reaches till his lips brush against hers and then exhales slowly. Y/N feels lightheaded, the nicotine finally taking its effect, she breathes heavily at their closeness. She inhales the smoke, the nicotine taking its toll as she exhales. Noticing that Theo is still there, as their lips barely touch each other, she closes the distance, kissing him.

Theo’s body tenses, her actions take him by surprise, but he soon returns the kiss, pulling her closer by her waist. He breaks the kiss abruptly, licking his lips, ‘This isn’t right, you’re high.’

‘No, no, I want this, Theo. I want you.’, she says, her eyes fixated upon his lips as she looks up at him. ‘You’re high, cara mia, not in your senses.’, he reasons. ‘The only thing this gives me is the nerve to do this, Teddy.’, she says, ‘Please, I have wanted you for a long time now.’

He looks into her eyes for any uncertainty but finds none. ‘Cazzo, you’re gonna be the death of me.’, he says before crashing his lips onto hers again, kissing her hungrily. His hands move down to her hips, pulling her closer, wanting to feel all of her against him. She moans into the kiss as he pulls her closer, taking the opportunity to deepen the kiss. Her hands run through his soft curls, pulling and tugging at them, the action making him groan and sending a shiver down his spine.

They pant, breathless from the kiss as they pull away. Y/N rests her head on the base of his neck as he places a soft kiss on her forehead, chuckling he says ‘Maybe you should smoke more often.’, making her giggle as well.

#theodore nott x y/n #theo nott x reader #theodore nott imagine #theodore nott fluff #theodore nott #Theo #theo nott #theodore nott x reader #harry potter imagine #harry potter fandom #slytherin boys #slytherin #bsftheo #fanfic #writing #wizardblr #harry potter #hpimagines #hogwarts

824 notes · View notes

jayybugg · 1 year ago

Text

study session

Theodore Nott x Fem!Reader

Summary: You're studying with Theo in the library...or are you?

Warning: Established Relationship, Dirty Talk, No House Specified, Kind of Public Sex, Smut (18+), No Use of Y/N, Google Translate Italian, No Plot literally just sex.

Word Count: 1.6K

Note: Wrote this based on a dream I had.....which was based on an RP scenario that I did. Obviously, Theo takes up a lot of space in my mind. Early birthday gift for my Georgie, @pizzaapeteer, please wish her an early birthday and thank you because she is the reason I got this done. @cafekitsune for the banners as always!

You raced to the library, giving small hello’s and excuse me's to the people you passed. You had promised Theo that you would help him with his Charms homework after your club meeting, but you had gotten carried away with some discussions causing the meeting to run over. You hoped that Theo wasn't there yet or would just be arriving because you knew the small quips about your tardiness wouldn't stop if he was already there.

You made it into the library, climbing the stairs to the secluded corner of the floor. A small table with two chairs that you and Theo often claimed whenever you both decided to do some studying. You groaned softly, seeing Theo already seated with a shit-eating grin on his face when you rounded the corner.

"So late, bella. Almost thought you stood me up." Theo said as you sat down next to him. You rolled your eyes, pulling out your Charms notes and your textbook. "Oh, shut up. I've never stood you up before."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, why are you late?" Theo leaned in; his mouth curved into a smirk. You flicked his forehead causing him to lean back, rubbing it softly. "I got caught up in the meeting. I'm sorry, Teddy."

"It's fine, principessa." Theo said, opening his notes, "Just like teasing you."

You and Theo quickly fell into a nice rhythm of studying and light conversation. You gave him the notes to copy as you worked on the actual assignment. You always felt at ease when you studied with Theo, it was one of the only times that he seemed to relax. Usually that was reserved for when you both were in the privacy of your dorms and even then, Theo would rather be participating in other activities.

More time passed before you started wiggling in your chair, your butt starting to fall asleep. "This chair is uncomfortable." You whined, standing up to try to regain some feeling. Theo chuckled, leaning back in his seat, and patting his thigh. "Well, I'm quite comfortable if I do say so myself."

You rolled your eyes as you slid over to him, nestling yourself in his lap. "You've been waiting for this moment, haven't you?"

"I'm always looking for a way to get you in my lap, love. It's where you belong." Theo said, winking at you. You smiled, shaking your head, and returning to your reading for your homework.

Theo's hand reached your thigh, running up and down your leg. Once he finished copying the notes, he trailed his hand under your skirt. You glanced up from your reading to meet his eyes that were already trained on your face.

"Shouldn't you be starting on the assignment now?" You swatted his hand away from your thigh, raising an eyebrow at him. Theo smirked, putting his hand back, "Yeah, but I don't feel like reading that text right now."

His hand once again traveled up your skirt to the hem of your underwear. "Why don't you read it to me, principessa?"

"Read it to you?" You raised an eyebrow at him, "What are you trying to do?"

"Nothing, I just want to hear your sweet voice." Theo smiled, "I'll even reward you."

Your eyes scanned Theo's face, landing on his eyes. The usual expressionless eyes held a certain swirl of mischief in them. "You're up to something."

"Maybe, maybe not. Why don't you read and find out?" Theo shrugged, his smirk never going away. You rolled your eyes, conceding to his request.

"Charms are comprised of a wide range of spells. They focus on giving a target new and unexpected properties or making the target perform certain actions, along with other effects." You recited from the book. Theo's fingers softly moved the fabric of your underwear, pressing down on your clit with the pad of his thumb.

You yelped softly, looking up at Theo. He was leaning into his hand propped on the table, his smirk remaining as he held eye contact with you. "Theo," You hissed, "We're in the library."

"I know, bella. Why are you bringing up the obvious? Keep reading, I'm intrigued." Theo contorted his face into fake confusion, all while massaging your clit with his thumb. You narrowed your eyes at him, taking a shaking breath as you felt a familiar feeling boil inside you.

"Charms were distinguished from Transfiguration spells in the regards that a charm will add to or change the properties of an object while Transfiguration spells change the object completely." You continued reading as Theo removed his thumb from your clit, quickly replacing it with his index finger. He trailed up and down your pussy, smiling as you stuttered upon your next sentences.

"Offensive and protective spells f-fall under Charms such as the Stunning, Disarming, mmm, spell, and the Shield spell. The Tickling spell- oh!" Theo’s finger slipped its way into your pussy, pumping in and out as you read. You shut your eyes, attempting to save yourself from the pleasure.

Theo leaned close to your ears, a smirk evident on his face. “What’s wrong, bella?”

“You…. Theo….”

“Blaming me for your distractions?” Theo clicked his tongue, “How rude.”

You slapped his arm, slumping over slightly as Theo picked up the pace of his fingers. Theo chuckled darkly; his eyes trained on your face as it contorted into one of pleasure. “Getting fingered in the library, where anyone could round that corner and see you. Such a fucking slut.”

You felt yourself clench around his fingers due to his words. The adrenaline from the thought of being caught rushed through your body. “Fuck. Please.” You let out a breathy plea, your eyes looking over to the corner that could expose this whole ordeal.

“Please what, amore? Use your words.” Theo whispered into your ear. Your breathing became shallow as you felt a familiar knotting in your stomach. Theo did relent in his pace, smirking as he saw you close your eyes. “About to cum? Go ahead, be a good girl, and come all over my fingers, sunshine.”

A low moan fell from your lips as your climax came in a harsh wave. You fell limp against Theo, who was chuckling lowly. You rolled your eyes, getting ready to scold him. “I can’t believe you- Theo? What are you-?”

You felt your body get picked up and leaned over the wooden table. Theo stood up, taking his place behind you. “What are you talking about, darling?” Theo said, pushing your skirt up to your waist and bending down to be face to face with your cunt.

“We’re in the library! We can’t-” Your words were once again cut off by Theo as his tongue lapped at your clit.

“But you’re dripping, principessa. I can’t just leave my girl soaked like this, now, can I?” Theo smirked against your cunt, lapping at it again. You bit your lip, pressing your face against the hard wooden table. Theo stood up, undoing his belt and zipper as he left a harsh slap on your ass.

“Do you want my cock, baby? Tell me.” Theo stroked himself, pushing your legs apart with his knee. You let out a deep breath, laying your body flat against the table and turning your head to glance back at him. “Yes…... I want it.” You said softly. Theo smirked at you, lining himself up with your entrance, pushing in.

“Fuck, amore, so wet and ready for me,” Theo muttered. You whimpered, your eyes falling close at the feeling of being filled up by your boyfriend. He never fails to stretch you out beyond belief. Theo pulled out slowly, leaving just the tip in before snapping his hips forward, setting a harsh pace.

“Such a fucking slut. Getting railed in the library where someone could see you.” Theo snarled, his hands gripping your hips tightly. You clenched around him again, moans ripping from your throat. “Oh, you like that, huh? You like the idea of someone possibly seeing how much of a whore you are for me?” Theo smirked, reaching around to rub on your clit.

“Y-yes, yes, I like it.” You mewled, your nails digging into the table. Your eyes focused on the open corner, your heart speeding up every time a shadow floated past it. The last thing you wanted was for anyone to catch you in this position, but you couldn’t find it in you to stop Theo or even conceal the noises that he was causing you to make.

Between watching how he disappeared into your greedy cunt and how your ass bounced back every time his hips contacted yours, Theo groaned softly. “S’good…. fuck.” You whimpered.

Theo lifted your leg to be prompted up on the table, knocking the books off the table in the process. With a firm grip on around your thigh, Theo pound into your aching cunt. You gripped the edge of the table, your climax coming fast. “M’boutta….m’boutta cum…” You said, your voice muffled from burying your head to the table.

“Hm? My principessa is about to cum?” Theo spoke, “Cum around my dick, I want to feel you soak me.”

It didn’t take long for you to cum once again, your juice covering Theo’s dick and thighs. He continued to pound into you until his thrusts got sloppy. “Going to cover this pretty ass all in my seed.” He muttered, more to himself than to you. He gave you one last deep thrust before pulling out and spilling his cum all over your ass.

You took deep breaths, your body still bent over the table, as Theo massaged your waist, a chuckle erupting from his throat.

“I didn’t know you were so kinky, bella. Good thing I casted that invisibility charm before you got here.”

Your eyes flew open in disbelief as you turned your head to look at him. That same shit-eating grin on his face from earlier.

Your boyfriend was going to be the death of you.

#slytherin boys #theodore nott #enzo berkshire #draco malfoy #blaise zabini #slytherin #theo nott #theodore nott imagine #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott smut #jayybugg fics

1K notes · View notes

itsprashimusic · 9 months ago

Text

Monaco and Monza

Summary - Charles, his favourite person (and their puppy) before, during and after the most important race wins of his life.

Pairings - Charles Leclerc x fem!Reader

Warnings - no use of y/n, google translate French and Italian, r can make decent conversation in French and Italian, possible inaccurate timelines, it is hinted that R is not from France or Monaco, honorable louis tomlinson appearance bc I am a former louie girlie, R has blue light glasses, cuss words. Happy reading🩵

W/C - 3.9k

A/N - i write all my female Rs with a desi in mind. Written in 2nd pov. I wrote R with a mindset and likes similar to mine, you are free to skip this fic if you don't like it.

| Navigation |

Before Monaco

An hour had passed on the three hour flight from Imola to Nice. Charles was asleep and Leo was curled up in your lap. Sitting in an oversized top and sweatpants, you were quite comfortable while doing some work. You work for a company that allows you to work remotely, which is a huge blessing considering your longtime boyfriend travels the world every other week.

The tiny pup yawned big as he woke up from his nap. You scratched him under the chin. Leo moved around in your lap, found another comfortable spot and went right back to sleep just as Charles also moved to find another comfortable position to nap in. You smiled to yourself and continued working.

Soon the plane landed in a private airport in the French city of Nice. Your bags were handled by the hired help, and Charles insisted on carrying your laptop bag for you. This left you walking along his side with Leo in your arms, still sound asleep. The boat ride to Monaco didn't take long and the drive to your shared apartment went by in a blur.

It felt nice being home during race week. You left Leo in his bed and joined Charles in the living room. Coming up from behind you hugged him while softly asking, "Qu'est-ce que tu penses?" (what is on your mind?). Even after all these years you still cringed at your accent.

"The race" he replied.

You sighed as you remembered the dnfs, mechanical failures and team errors that Charles had to endure. Year after year, the pain just kept getting worse as you watched from the grandstands and eventually the garage.

"You should focus on the positives. The team has been performing well and this season has been different than the last 3, there is hope." you weren't sure if what you said was the right thing. You kissed him on the cheek and moved around the couch to come and sit next to him.

"It is not easy when every other time I have had hope, it has been ripped away and torn into tiny pieces," Charles said while looking defeated. You felt sad seeing him like this. You just held your arms out and let him fall into your embrace. With the couch being big enough for two people to sleep on it, soon you and Charles fell asleep, still in the hug.

During Monaco

Photographers snapped photos of you and Rebecca, Leo's leash entwined with your hand. The two of you were spotted outside the Ferrari hospitality an hour before qualifying. Charles was busy with his engineer and strategist and asked you to give him some alone time. So, you thought a small walk around the paddock with your puppy and good friend would be beneficial.

Eventually the crowd of fans surrounding you and Rebecca who wanted to see Leo was getting quite large, so you politely said goodbye to the fans, picked up the pup and made your way back to the Ferrari motorhome. You got a text from your boyfriend.

Can you come to my drivers room?

You entered the room and put Leo down, allowing him to calm down and drink some water from his very own water bottle and attached bowl. "Darling, do you need something?" you asked Charles as he looked tense.

You moved closer to him. Charles caught you by surprise when he pulled you even closer and hugged you extremely tight. "Je ne me sens pas bien," (i don't feel good) he whispered. "C'est bon. Tout ira bien. It's ok, you'll be ok." you quietly kept repeating to him until Leo began demanding attention with his big brown eyes and soft whines.

Charles wiped the few tears that escaped and picked him up with a new smile adorning his face. For a moment, it was just the three of you, your perfect little family. There was a knock at the door, followed by a Ferrari team member informing Charles that he was required in 5 minutes. Charles placed a wet kiss on your forehead.

"Thank you for supporting me the way you do. I love you so much, mon cœur," (my heart) he said, his lips still on your forehead. The pair walked out of the room and split ways. You had the hired help watch Leo for the duration of qualifying in a private room.

You sat with Charles' family just as the Sky Sports camera panned on you. You smiled when you saw yourself on the monitor and gave a small wave while sitting next to Charlotte.

Even though you knew that Charles would easily clear Q1, you could not help the anxiety that made its way throughout your body. He crossed the line and made it to Q2. With the next session, your anxiety worsened. But within 15 minutes your nerves eased.

Q3. This was it. As the minutes slowly turned from 12 to 2, you were feeling sick. Charles' sleek Ferrari flew over the finish line and your hands flew to your mouth. Pole Position. At his home race. At your home race. The cameras focused on you to get your and his family's reaction.

At parc ferme, Charles ran over to his team who hyped him up even more. He signed the wheel and posed for the photos, the smile never leaving his face. Even after finishing up his media duties and making his way back to his family and you in the motorhome, his smile remained ever present. You swore he never hugged you tighter than that.

Race day. The day that actually mattered.

You entered the paddock a few steps behind Charles, Leo once again in your hold. You didn't get a lot of time with Charles, considering he was the man of the hour after securing pole. The two of you shared a moment together before he had to head out for the national anthem.

"Comment te sens-tu, chérie?" (how are you feeling, darling?) you asked him while he changed into his race suit. He looked up and the look on his face gave you your answer. You smiled and he continued wearing his suit. There were butterflies in his stomach. That meant he felt nervous, hopeful, anxious and confident all at once.

Charles was out on the track, and you once again joined his family in the motorhome. At that point though, it would be more appropriate to call them your family. You and Charles have been together for a long time. The pair of you had seen each other at their lowest and highest. When Charles lost his father and when for nearly a year you could not get a job. When news of Anthoine's death reached Charles, he was on holiday with you and your family in another country. Your family gave him the comfort he needed. When you got news that your parents contracted covid, there was nothing you could do sitting in your apartment in Monaco. Pascale was like a second mother to you.

The race began. You found a place to sit and watch the race. Charles was in the lead. A huge crash. A totaled redbull and a red flag. You felt the butterflies creeping up from your stomach to your throat. The race resumed and continued. Piastri was close to Charles, but not enough to threaten his position. It felt like time slowed down during the final lap. You had an earbud plugged in one ear and could hear Crofty's iconic last lap commentary.

The number 16 Ferrari flew past the checkered flag and fireworks flew out from the sides of the track. Charles' family members were already hugging each other and some of the team members who were there. But you didn't move. Tears were flowing down your face and a smile was etched on your face. The first person you moved to hug was Charlotte, the older woman was like an elder sister to you.

The camera's stream kept cutting from Charles out on the track to you and his family in the motorhome. Everyone quickly left the garage and made their way to parc ferme. You saw Charles pull up and stop in front of the 1st place stand. You watched from the back as he ran to his team, Arthur and Lorenzo pushed their way to the front. After getting weighed, the team moved to allow you to come to the front where Charles walked towards you.

Normally, you and Charles would keep the pda on the lesser side when cameras were around, but not this time. The forever smiling face, messy-haired and slightly teary-eyed boyfriend of yours pulled you directly into a powerful kiss. His left arm was around your back while his right hand was half on your face and half on your neck. You could hear and feel all the cameras going off around you.

Charles broke the kiss but kept your foreheads connected. You held both of his hands. "Tu l'as fait," (you did it) you repeated in all the languages you knew while nodding your head. You could see the tears welling up in his eyes again. He quickly blinked them away, "L'ho fatto," (i did it) he said in Italian quickly kissed you once again before hugging you.

You stood below the podium and watched as he received the trophy he had been waiting his entire life for. You were still crying. The tears would not stop, and they only got worse when Charles made eye contact with you after he was presented with the medal. He mouthed the words I love you. So much. Thank you. You could only hold your hand to your heart in response.

After Monaco

Even after a full day, you could still smell the fragrance of champagne wafting off of Charles.

You and Charles had celebrated his win on Sunday night in a club. He was practically glued to your side the entire night. No matter who he was talking to, either he did it while having an arm around you or holding your hand. By the end of the night, you were left with a very clingy and very drunk boyfriend. With Joris's help, you got Charles into the car. He drove the both of you home.

Back at the apartment, Charles seemed to have sobered up a bit after you made him eat some food.

"Did I ever tell you how much I love you?" Charles was lying down on the bed and was lovingly staring at you.

"All the time," you answered while changing for the night.

You finished changing and joined Charles in bed. Leo who was previously perched near Charles' feet climbed onto you and snuggled up on your chest.

Charles got your attention by saying your name, "I want you to understand what I mean when I say this. I love you. I appreciate you so much, even I cannot comprehend it. You have supported me throughout my years in Formula 1 and Formula 2. You have stood by me all these years, even when you had to sacrifice your job and sleep schedule for me. Je veux que vous compreniez la profondeur de ce que je dis." (i want you to understand the depth of what i am saying).

His eyes kept moving around but eventually rested on your face. He looked into your eyes when he finally spat out what he truly wanted to say.

"Mon cœur, mon âme, ma vie, je veux passer le reste de ma vie avec toi. Veux-tu m'épouser?" (My heart, my soul, my life, i want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?)

I took you a second to process what Charles said. You looked down and saw him holding a simple gold band with three small diamonds set in it. His free arm was laid across your stomach under Leo, who woke up when he sensed his mom feeling strong emotions.

Tears filled your eyes, your heart began beating faster and you were sweating a bit. Leo moved to the bed and was now licking the tears that fell from your eyes. You felt like you couldn't speak, but you very much knew what your answer was.

Before Monza

The summer break was perfect. You used your paid leave and were fully able to enjoy your time with the entire family. The photos of Leo that Charles posted to his instagram were adored by the fans. Your insta account remained private, but you still posted the dog nonetheless.

Neither of you announced the engagement just yet, wanting to keep it to yourselves for a while. Fans got curious when they saw a new ring around that special finger after Charles' win in Monaco, but since it was quite simple and small, they thought nothing much of it. You were known for wearing many different rings on the same finger, so people thought it was just another ring you fancied.

Unfortunately, after your long break, you were required to come back to the office for a few days for important meetings with the higher-ups of your company. That meant you missed the race in Zandvoort and Charles podium. But you made it up to him by joining him in Monza, his adopted home race.

Walking in the streets of Monza with a loved Ferrari driver was always quite the experience. Leo loved the attention from all the fans, he was a born extrovert. You and Charles had lunch at one of your favourite restaurants. The both of you sat in a relatively private section of the restaurant.

"I missed you at Zandvoort," Charles said before eating a morsel of his favourite pasta. "I'm sorry I couldn't be there. I tried to leave as early as I could, but by the time the meeting finished it made no sense to come," you said wishing you could have been there for him. Ever since Monaco, the team had been struggling. It brought back painful flashbacks of 2022 and 2023.

Things were not the best between you and Charles during the week you were out for work. The timings never seemed to match, when he had the energy to talk you were too burnt out, and doing all of this while also planning a wedding was not easy. It put a small strain on your relationship which seemed like it was reaching its breaking point during this weekend.

During Monza

You spent the rest of the week working. In between the free practice sessions, you were spotted with a pair of blue-light glasses on and bent over your laptop and a notebook. Leo was either sleeping in his carrier by your feet or was with Arthur or Lorenzo.

You barely saw Charles the entire weekend. He was either busy with his engineer and strategist or was filming content. It only made the strain in your relationship even worse and left Rebecca having to hear your side of it for most of the weekend considering both the boys were quite busy.

It was only before qualifying that you managed to get a moment with Charles at all.

"Charles, I know this is an important race for you, but we need to talk," you sternly said leaving no room for arguments. Charles was about to protest but you simply pulled him by the arm to his drivers room.

"Pourquoi tu ne me parles pas?" (why are you not talking to me?) you folded your arms while facing him. "You have been avoiding me ever since Thursday!"

"Oh, I'm sorry. I thought you were too tired and 'fagged out' to want to talk," he replied sarcastically and with air quotes. "Je ne comprends pas pourquoi tu dois te comporter comme ça!" (I don't get why you have to behave like that!) Charles started walking around angrily and went off rattling away in French at such a fast pace you could not understand what he was saying.

"Just stop!" you yelled. "Just tell me why you are angry at me," you said, softer this time, almost in defeat.

"I don't like it when you are so busy with your work that you do not have time for us," Charles whispered after a long pause.

"And how do you think I feel when you are so busy with your work? I am required to go to the office at least every six months. You travel around the world every other week. You have less free time than I do, but have you heard me complain? So, instead of getting angry that I had to leave for one week to discuss plans for the company's future with the CEO, you should be happy that it was only one week out of the 52 in a year."

By the time you finished speaking, Charles had his hands over his face and was standing quite far from you. He whispered something inaudibly. With a confused look on your face, you moved closer to your fiancé. Upon feeling your body heat in the cold room, he removed his hands from his face and repeated his words.

I'm sorry.

The both of you wrapped yourselves in an embrace and for 5 minutes were only apologising and promising to do better in the future. You left the room after giving him a kiss. You headed down to the garage wanting to watch quali with Arthur who was watching Leo while you worked.

The timer began the countdown into Q1. Normally you would've been feeling quite nervous, but you were distracted by the charming british singer sitting next to you. Being a young girl during the height of One Direction was something else entirely. Your childhood dreams of meeting your favourite singer from the famous boyband had now come true.

Soon it was time for Q3 and you got a photo with Louis who by the time Q3 began, just like the rest of the world, fell in love with Leo and his photos. Charles put in great laps, but ended up only p4 alongside Russel.

Charles finished with his media duties and met up with you inside the motorhome. You were on a work call when he walked into the room. Leo was in the corner of the room scarfing down his food as if he hadn't eaten in years, his ears flopping all over the place.

You cut the call frustrated, removing your glasses from your face and placing them on your head. "Est-ce que tu vas bien?" (are you good?) he asked while holding you from the side and kissing your temple. You nodded and just packed up your things while Charles gathered his things as well.

The grandstands were filled with a sea of red and occasional yellow. Your outfit consisted of only red, yellow and black. Charles had left for the paddock earlier, so you made plans to have breakfast with Rebecca and leave for the paddock together.

You walked around before the race with Leo on the leash in front of you, Rebecca by your side. "So, how is wedding planning going?" she asked, her beautiful scottish accent making you smile. "We are still looking at venues. All we know is that it's going to be sometime in August of next year."

The drivers would soon be called for the national anthem. So, you went back to the Ferrari garage looking for your soon-to-be husband. You found him sitting next to Arthur, water bottle in hand. Leo instantly ran towards him and began climbing up his dad.

"Just do your best. Give it your all. Je t'aime tellement." (i love you so much) you sent Charles off with a hug. Leo was fast asleep in his carrier, so you joined Arthur down in the garage. You put on the large red headphones and waved at the camera when you saw yourself on the broadcast.

Halfway through the race, it hit you that Charles could possibly win. It was a stretch considering he was attempting a one-stopper. But as lap after lap went by the possibility of that dream coming true seemed more and more likely. His tires were probably gonna look like chewed-up bubblegum by the end of the race, but if he managed them just right...

He did it. He fucking did it. The roar of the Tifosi was stronger than ever. Unlike his last win, this time you were not seated. You were jumping up and down, cheering as loud as you could, matching the energy of the Ferrari team members around you. Some of them hugged you.

While Charles was finishing his cool-down lap, the mechanics and other team members rushed out to greet Charles in parc ferme. You stayed close to Arthur, knowing that you could possibly get pushed in the wrong direction. With a hand around your back, he guided you to the front where you could see the beautiful red car pull up.

Charles came running toward the team, moving quickly to try and hug everyone possible. As he moved from Arthur to hug you, from the corner of your eyes you could see more cameras making their way towards you. FLASH! And that was how one of the iconic photos of Monza 2024 was born. Charles' arms wrapped around you and he had his visor up, his eyes filled with so much emotion. You were smiling widely in the photo and had your hands on either side of his helmet. But the part that made the photo iconic was that your left hand was facing the camera, and in that, you had tucked away all of your fingers except the one with your engagement ring.

Winning the Italian Grand Prix as a Ferrari driver is always special, so you watched the podium celebration from inside the motorhome, wanting him to enjoy the moment with the team and the Tifosi to the fullest.

After Monza

For the next two days, the streets of Monza were filled with Ferrari flags being either hung from somewhere or people waving them around. It seemed like every other Italian was asking for an autograph from Charles or a photo with him. But it wasn't just Charles and Ferrari who were the talk of town. So were you.

That photo of you and Charles just after the race had gone viral. At first, people were freaking out, wondering if the two of you were really engaged or if it was a joke. Only when Charles reposted the photo to his story did fans really start freaking out.

Congratulations were pouring out of everyone's mouth who had seen the photo or heard of the news. You didn't mean for the news to overshadow Charles' incredible win on 38-lap old tires. But it didn't. As a matter of fact, the win and engagement news gelled well together, neither taking away from the other.

The night before the team would be heading to Maranello you and Charles laid in the hotel bed, Leo fast asleep on his own bed. "I'm sorry for not asking if you'd be fine with me announcing our engagement," you said in a soft voice while drawing shapes on his torso. Charles, who had you wrapped around his side, kissed your forehead and said, "Je suis content que tu l'aies fait," (I am glad you did it).

The next morning Charles posted a photo of a formal dinner the two of you had with not just his but also your family where the engagement was announced. Of course, Leo was in the center of the photo.

A/n - honestly idk what i even wrote. i am tired af and just needed to get this out of my system. Hope you enjoyed reading🩵

#itsprashimusic #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x you #formula 1 #formula 1 imgaine #formula 1 x reader #f1 #f1 x reader #formula 1 fic #f1 driver x reader #charles leclerc x desi!reader #f1 x desi!reader #formula 1 x desi!reader #f1 driver x desi!reader

460 notes · View notes

gredandforgeweatherby · 1 year ago

Text

A Shared Joint

Theo Nott x reader

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, weed consumption, swearing, making out, brooding?reader (it’ll make sense), Google translated Italian

A/N: Italian!Theo always‼️(accent🤩) ((this man is so hot)), not specified what house you are in.

The Slytherin common room was packed to the brim, mostly with slytherin and ravenclaws, though you could spot some Hufflepuffs and the occasion Gryffindor. The lights were low, music blaring through the speakers as students danced, drank, and talked all around you. Every corner of the room seemed to have a couple making out and groping each other, and smoke from cigarettes and joints hung low in the air.

You didn’t want to be at this party. You would’ve much preferred drinking with your friends in one of your dorms as you normally would. Instead your best friend wanted to come to slytherin’s party that night, and you didn’t want her to go alone. So that’s how you found yourself where you were now; sat on the large couch in the center or the room, one arm propped on the arm of the couch, your head resting upon it with an uninterested look etched on your face.

You watched as your friend danced with some kid in your year, both clearly intoxicated. You had taken a couple of shots and had currently been nursing a drink for the last hour and were entirely too sober for this. The room was hot, the amount of people only exasperating that, the pounding in your head had begun to match the pounding of the music, and you were tired. You wanted to leave, but you knew your friend didn’t. She was having the time of her life dancing with… Berkshire? You weren’t sure. All you know was that she had a smile on her face, so you were more than willing to wait out this boring party for her.

It was only a few minutes later, though it felt like another hour had passed, when you felt the couch dip next to you. Your curiosity getting the better of you, you turn your head to the side to be met with Theodore Nott’s profile. He was staring ahead, his eyes low and his mouth straight as usual. He held a drink in one of his hands, and as he leaned his head on the back of the couch, you spotted a joint resting behind his ear. He was dressed as he always was: smart pants paired with a (probably) expensive button up, the first few buttons undone.

You turned your attention back in front of you, your gaze searching for your friend. She was still dancing with the same kid, though now with considerably more groping and tension. At least one of us is enjoying ourselves, you thought. Surveying the room, it seemed the only two people not on their feet were you and Nott, which made you feel a bit out of place. You weren’t able to linger on that feeling for long though.

“At least I know I’m not the only one who’d rather be anywhere else.” Theo broke the silence between you two. His accent made it a bit harder to understand him under the loud music, but you surpassingly managed.

You turned your head to your right, making eye contact as his head was already tilted toward you. You had to admit, Theodore Nott was attractive. More than that, he was hot. His eyes bore into yours, his stare making you feel as if he seeing straight into your soul.

Breaking eye contact, you huffed out a chuckle.

“I’m only here because my friend wanted to come.”

“Ah,” a half smile-half smirk crossed his face, “being a good friend and not leaving her to come on her own I assume?”

You nodded in response.

He turned his head back straight, breathing out a barely audible sigh.

“Only here ‘cause it’s your common room I assume? Can’t really escape these idiots can you?” You turned back to him to once again be met with the side of his face. He didn’t respond right away, which made you think he was ignoring you, before he sighed.

“My friends like to throw these parties. I find it fucking annoying to have to clean up after everyone the next morning. Too much work sai?”

You nodded. “Thats understandable. Merlin knows I wouldn’t want to do that shit.”

Theo chuckled. “That’s exactly what I’m saying bella.”

You raised your eyebrows in response and turned back towards the crowd. Out of your peripheral vision you could see Theo reach behind his ear for the joint. He rolled it in between his fingers for a few seconds before standing. He walked a bit, before stopping a step or two past the arm of the couch and turns his body towards you.

“Would you like to join?”

──────────────────────

Theo guided you out of the common room up a set of stairs out of the dungeons. The two of you were currently at one of the open windows of the castle, you sitting on the ledge and Theo leaning against it. He pulled a lighter from his pocket before handing you the joint.

“Ladies first of course.” He stated, that half smile-half smirk from earlier making another appearance. You huffed out a laugh and took the joint from his fingers, setting it between your lips, as he lit it for you.

You and Theo passed the joint between the two of you in a comfortable silence. For not having too much interaction with him all these years, it wasn’t awkward like one would have thought. This silence that lingered allowed you to observe Theo when he wasn’t paying attention. You had already admitted to yourself he was hot, everyone knew that, but you have never really seen that for yourself. Now, with a nice high, you were finally seeing for yourself that Theodore Nott was hot. Really hot. He took another hit off the joint before looking back to you, luckily giving you enough time to make it seem like you hadn’t been staring.

Theo offered you the joint and you took it, directing your glance upward as you rest your head against the wall, zoning out a bit. While you weren’t paying attention, he took it as a chance to do the same you have been doing seconds prior, unbeknownst to you. He had always thought you were attractive, he had seen you throughout all your years here. Seeing you tonight by yourself looking like you’d rather die than be at that party gave him the perfect opportunity to actually talk to you. He didn’t necessarily fancy you, you were someone who caught his eye several times, but he could definitely see that changing.

You finally zoned back in and could feel Theo’s eyes on you.

“You’re staring.”

He only breathed a small chuckle. “Am I?”

You locked eyes with him. “Yes.”

Theo kept your eye contact, not seeming embarrassed he was caught staring. Pushing off his arms that were on the ledge of the window, he turned his body to face you.

“What a shame,” his gaze flitted downward before meeting your eyes again. “una bella ragazza mi ha sorpreso a fissarlo.”

Though you weren’t quite sure what he said, you had to admit it was hot when he spoke in Italian. With his gaze still meeting yours, he moved again, this time shifting between your legs. Unconsciously, you opened them a bit wider for him. His hand ghosted over your thigh, a feather light touch almost sending shivers down your spine.

“You shouldn’t stare. It is rude after all.” You replied lamely after realizing you hadn’t responded yet. One side of his mouth tilts up in a half smile.

“Scusa.” He muttered, rolling his lips in to wet them. “Didn’t mean to be rude.” He moved his hand up a bit further, making sure you were still okay with the contact.

“If staring at you is rude would kissing you be rude too?” He asked, his eyes boring into your own.

Instead of responding verbally, you moved to put one of your hands on his face, and leaning in to kiss him.

He responded immediately, kissing you back with fervor. The hand on your thigh moved up even further while his other went to your jaw. You moved your other hand through his hair, lightly tugging on the roots. Theo released a light moan in response, his mouth opening enough for your tongue to slip inside. You scooted closer to him, most of your body hanging off the ledge of the window. Theo moved his hand up under your dress as his hand on your jaw pulled you closer. The two of you were breathing heavy, the kiss igniting a hunger for the other neither of you realized you had. The two of you continued to kiss until a distant bang caught your attention. Jumping away from him, you realized the bang came from the dungeons, and that someone had come out of the common room. Theo tired to chase your lips, using the hand on your jaw to try and pull you back to him when you heard someone quietly call your name.

“Shit,” you sighed. The only person at the party that would’ve been looking for you was your best friend, you could tell it was her the closer she got to you and Theo.

Theo lowered his hand from your jaw, letting it fall to your waist before moving away so you could get down.

“I guess you have to go.” He asked, though they way he said it made it seem like a statement.

“If she’s looking for me it probably means she’s ready to go, so.”

You finally got off the window ledge, Theo’s hands on your waist as you did. Before going back down to the dungeon, you turned to him. One hand on the back of his neck, you drew him into a quick kiss.

“We should continue tho sometime.” You mumbled against his lips.

“Anytime you want.” He nodded.

You gave him a small smile before slipping your hand off your next and bidding him goodbye.

“Ciao bella.” He called to you before you were out of earshot.

You turned back around, winking at him before disappearing down the stairs.

─────────────────────

I’m thinking of making a smutty part 2, so let me know if you would like that. Enjoy xx!

#harry potter #Harry Potter x reader #Theodore nott #Theo nott #Lorenzo Zurzolo #theodore nott x reader #theo nott x reader #lorenzo zurzolo x reader #theo nott smut #Harry Potter smut #slytherin boys #slytherin boys x reader

712 notes · View notes

voidangxls · 3 months ago

Text

ˋ°•*⁀➷ Pink and Red photoshoot ʚ♡ɞ

╰┈➤ a part of my valentines special!

pairings(s)- Theodore Nott x reader

Summary- You got a new lingerie set and wanted your boyfriend to take some pictures of you, though thats not the only thing that happens.

category- smut

warnings- swearing, google translated Italian, sex, p in v, oral (f receiving), missionary, cowgirl, choking, cum on body, hair pulling (theos hair), mentions of hickeys, not proofread

word count: 2926

masterlist; valentines special; slytherin boys masterlist

---------------------------

You had always been into photography but you were also into shopping and your boyfriend. A couple weeks ago from today you had been lying in your bed, scrolling through your laptop for things to buy.

While scrolling you had come across a two piece. It was a matching red bra and panty, they were decorated with red and pink hearts for a valentines theme and it came with a short silk robe with fur lining the bottom as well as lining the arm.

As soon as you saw the cute set you added it to your cart and clicked checkout. You couldn’t wait to see your boyfriends reaction.

Today was the day that your package arrived. You sit onto your bed and lay the box in front of you, when you open the package you are met with exactly what you ordered. The set was beautiful, you couldn’t wait to try it on.

It was now nighttime and it was your boyfriends turn to stay the night at yours. You had asked him beforehand if he could take some pictures of you, you knew that he thought it was something innocent but he would soon be shocked yet pleased at what he saw.

It was normal for you to lounge around your room in a robe so when he walks in it doesn’t raise any suspicion. Your boyfriend Theo walks into your bedroom, a smile on his face. You rise up from your bed and run over to him, your arms wrapping around his neck and squeezing him into a hug while his arms close around your waist and squeeze your body into his. “I missed you Tesoro” he murmurs into your neck, squeezing you tighter

“I missed you too baby” you reply, your response muffled by his chest.

Theo leans back so he could see your face. One of his hands come up from our waist and stops at the side of your face, he brings your faces together in a gentle but long kiss. “love you” you mumble against his lips, he quickly catches you into another kiss “love you” he mumbled back.

One of your hands begin playing with the hair at the nape of his neck “will you still take my pictures?” you look up at him with a smile.

“of course. I love when I get to see you model for me” he smiles down at you

“good because I already have everything ready” you respond excitedly and that was when Theodore noticed that you had sent up a ring light as well as a camera. You turn your back towards him and begin making your way to your bed, as you were walking away from him you undo your robe and let it drop to the floor without missing a step.

You lingerie set is then revealed to Theo and when your make it to your bed your turn back around to face him which reveals the front of your lingerie to him. “merda” he says breathlessly. Hes stuck in his standing position by your bedroom door blinking heavily at you.

He stalks towards your sitting position on the bed and grabs your hips, pulling you into a heavy and rushed kiss. You put your hand on his chest and push him away “my pictures” you remind him, pushing him further away gently and scooting back slightly. You reach over and grab the light remote, changing it from its normal light to a red, encasing the whole room in red lighting.

Theo looks slightly annoyed but he also wears his usual smirk, he knew once these pictures were over something else was going to happen. The first pose you position yourself into is on your knees. You adjust yourself onto your knees while on the bed and once your boyfriend gets into his position behind the camera you push your hands into your hair and take some shots.

For the next position you wanted to do for your photos you spread your folded legs slightly and lean back onto yours hands.

After many different poses you were finally done. You get up off of the bed and walk over to where Theo was by the camera, without even acknowledging him you grab the camera from its stand and begin looking through the photos taken of you.

As you were looking through the photos a pair of arms wrap around your waist tightly and kisses begin to be left on your shoulder blade up to your neck. At the sensation of gentle kisses and gentle nipping you let out a sigh and throw your head back

“such a tease” he mumbles against your neck. His hands around your waist move up your body and cup at your breasts over top your sheer bra, massaging them under his hold. When his hands find your breasts you let out a even harsher breath “Theo” you murmur

Theo then pulls away from you completely. You turn around and see him standing there staring at you, when you turn around to face him he picks you up without warning and sits you on the bed. As you’re laid out on the bed Theo lowers himself over you. His lips encase you in a rough feverish kiss, both of your tongues fighting a battle that Theo inevitably wins. Theo’s tongue fights against yours, one of his hands coming up to your hair while the other grips your hip. Your hands move up, one cradling his neck while the other is in his hair and pulling. Don’t tell anyone but Theo likes getting his hair pulled.

His kisses make their way down from your mouth to the open swell of your breasts. His hands reach behind your back and to your bra, unclipping it and throwing it to the side. “I love it but I love it even more off” he mumbles against your boob when you were released from the bra. Theos mouth then closes around your right nipple while his hand gives the other boob attention. Your back arches up slightly underneath his hold, Theo knew exactly what to do to you. After a moment he then switches, moving his mouth to the left nipple while his hand goes to the other. His tongue swirls around it teasingly and then he swipes the wet muscle over your nipple completely and sucks. Theo loved seeing you marked up in hickeys.

Once his mouth left your breast it leaves pecks down your body. He slowly gets lower and lower, his eyes never breaking contact with yours. Your breathing becomes harsher and harsher the further down to your core, his kisses then begin to reach your panties and when they do so he takes that as his sigh to take them off, His hands move away from your breasts and down to the waistband of your panties. He grips the fabric beneath his fingers, gently pulling it down and off your legs as he leaves kisses in its wake.

He then lifts his body back up with yours and leans down, bringing your lips to his once again. Your hands reach up and tangle his shirt beneath your fists, he gets the message and pulls away from the kiss. Once you get his shirt off you lean forward and begin to peck at his jaw and down to the waistband of his pants. Your fingers work on unbuttoning his pants, once you got them unbuttoned you pulled them down along with his boxers and threw them to the side of the room.

Your lips then meet back in a rushed kiss, your back meeting the bed once again while Theo leans down with you, careful not to break the kiss. During the kiss Theo brings his hand down and runs his middle finger though your slit, his finger collecting your juices. Your hips buck out of shock and the kiss between the two of you break.

His finger then find your clit and starts teasingly circling it while looking down at you with a smile. You throw your head back slightly and look up at him “please” you whisper

“please what?” Theo asks, pushing down on your clit slightly and slowing but not stopping his movements.

“I need more” you whisper, closing your eyes and pushing your head back into the pillow beneath you out of frustration.

Theo hums and removes the pressure from your clit, you let out a breath and open your eyes to look at him. When you do you see Theo crawling down your body, coming face to face with your pussy.

He pushes your legs open and hooks his arms underneath your thighs to keep them in place. His cock throbs at the sighs of your glistening pussy in front of him, now matter how many times he saw you and felt you naked or not he would never get use to how beautiful you are. “so beautiful” he murmurs, kissing your thigh.

He leaves kisses all around your pussy and thighs before finally pushing his head forward and taking it all in. He takes one painfully slow lick before he buries his face into your heat. As soon as you felt his tongue you couldn’t help but to let out whimpers of pleasure while your hands go down to his hair, gripping it beneath your hands for stability. “Theo, fuck” you whimper, tightening your hold on his hair and tugging it harshly when he sucks on your clit a little extra hard.

Theo licks, sucks, nips and devours your pussy, eating you out as he always does, as if you were his last meal. “così dolce” he groans into your core causing you to buck your hips from the sensation.

“fuck theo please more” you whimper breathlessly, tugging on his hair once again without even realizing it. At your words Theo pushes himself further into you, pushing his tongue in and out of your hole while his nose nudges your clit repeatedly. He goes back an fourth from tongue fucking your whole to licking and sucking on your clit.

“yeah? look at you saying please” Theo taunts, moving one of his hands out form underneath your thigh and towards your wet core. He slips a finger into your hole and you take in a short gasp of hair. He starts slowly fingering you and leaving small kitten licks on your bud while looking up at you to watch your reactions.

He slips another finger into your heat and quickens his pace, pumping two fingers in and out of you while he goes back to eating at your pussy like a starved man. That was when you felt that sweet feeling getting closer and closer. “baby, m- so close. Please” you moan and whimper, you didn’t even know what you were pleading for but that didn’t stop you.

Just a short moment later your coil breaks, you let out a loud moan, squeezing your eyes shut as your orgasm crashes over you. Your hips buck and your head throws back while Theo fingers and licks you through your orgasm.

Now off of the high you open your eyes and look down at your boyfriend to see him lifting up from his position between your legs. Your juices were coating his face in a shiny cast but neither of you cared, especially Theo. He leans forward and meets you with a kiss, the kiss was gentle and soft this time. When Theo breaks the kiss he leans his forehead against yours and speaks “I know you got one more dolcezza”

Still breathless you just look up at him and nod, leaning up to give him a quick peck. Theo sits down next to you, his back against the headboard and grabs you by the hips, pulling you onto him.

Your knees land on both sides of him and your hands grip themselves onto his shoulders. He grabs his eager snd throbbing cock, lining it up with your entrance then grabbing your hips to slowly lower yourself onto him. Both of you let out loud moans once his tip enters your core, you lean your head together, each others breath fanning the others face while you slowly sink down onto his cock.

Once you were fully sank onto his cock Theos hands grip your hips tightly, sure to leave marks till at least the morning. He starts gently guiding you up and down on his cock slowly. “so big” you whisper breathlessly

You then begin to take over and start bouncing onto his cock on your own accord. As you bounce on his cock your breasts start to move with your body as well. Theos hands move from your waist and up to your boobs, massaging them while he also sucks onto them, sure to leave hickeys.

You let out a loud moan and start to grind yourself onto his cock instead of bouncing “just like that” Theo speaks huskily into your ear, now moving on to leave hickeys onto your neck.

Your movements switch between bouncing and grinding onto his cock all while the both of you let out your own sounds of pleasure. Your movements start to become slow so Theo leans back even more, grips your hips tightly and starts bucking his hips into you from underneath. You let out a loud moan when he starts quickly fucking himself into you, your body lurches forward, now leaning all of your body wait against his chest while struggling to hold yourself up.

Theo flips the two of you over, now switching your positions. You now laid beneath him on your back with your legs spread out while he hovered over top of you.

One of his hands continues to grip at your hip tightly while the other moves up to hold your throat. He begins fucking himself into you at a moderate pace “so fucking tight” he groans. His hand squeezes your neck, you take a short breath and tilt your head back, looking up at him.

With the look that you were giving him Theo begins to fuck you harder, his hips now bucking into you at a quick pace. “Theo” you whimper, looking up into his eyes with your own eyes glistening from tears of pleasure.

“I know, I know” Theo taunts, lifting your legs up over his shoulder and fucking into you without mercy. His hand on your throat lets up causing you to take in a deep breath while it moves up to hold your leg against his shoulder. “such a good girl, aren’t you?” he groans as your pussy tightens around his cock, his tip hitting your g-spot with every harsh thrust he pushes at you.

“yes, yes, your good girl” you respond quickly, your fingers clutching at the bedsheets beneath you.

The both of you then feel your climax start to creep up onto you. “m- so close baby please” you whimper, clenching your pussy and bucking your hips while he thrusts into you.

Theo could tell you were getting close and so was he but he had to let you cum first. One of his hands reach down and start rubbing your clit it quick circles while continuing his quick thrusts into your pussy. “come on sweet girl, i’ve got you. Cum for me” he leans down slightly and talks you through it.

“fuck fuck fuck fuck” you chant in a high pitched tone. Your eyes roll to the back of your head and you let out a loud mewl as your climax quickly catches you and sends a rush of tingling all throughout you. Your hips buck and your nails scratch down Theos back while he works you down from your high

Theo is then quick to follow, quickly pulling out of you and jerking himself off “where do you want it baby?” he asks quickly. “anywhere” you respond in a breathless whimper. Then just a few quick strokes later he was releasing his cum onto your boobs with a loud groan. He then rolls over and lays next to you, the both of you trying to catch your breath.

After a quick moment Theo gets up form the bed and goes to the bathroom, coming back with a wet rag. You were already almost asleep, in and out of consciousness when you feel a cold sensation on your boobs. You flinch from the cold and that was when Theo’s hand reaches up and brushes through your hair “just wiping you off Tesoro” he says, the cold sensation then moving down to your core. Your eyes were closed so you didn’t even see him leave again, he had put the rag away and came back with a water bottle.

Theo grabs onto you and makes you sit up even through your protests, he makes you drink some water, not letting you feed it to yourself even though you were perfectly capable. He then takes a big drink of his own and cuddles up with you, tiredness taking over the both of you.

He lays down onto the bed, pulls you into his chest, and pulls the blanket over top both of you. He leans down, leaving a kiss on your forehead “I love you, goodnight and sweet dreams beautiful” he whispers

“I love you too. Sweet dreams, goodnight and don’t let the bed bugs bite” you mumble through the sleep taking you over.

A smile overtakes Theo’s face as he cuddles up with you, the two of you heading into a peaceful slumber.

a/n: I never know how to end smut but other than that i’m acc pretty proud of this one shockingly.

228 notes · View notes

anakinstwinklebunny · 11 hours ago

Text

PAIRING: mafia!anakin x f!reader

FLUFF ❦

You were halfway through trying to decipher some ancient-looking Italian cooking book that was spread open over the kitchen island. Your fingers were smudged with flour, your cheek covered in white powder from you brushing the strands of hair from your face with dirty hands. Your voice was all soft and confused as you read out loud with a frown, “Okay, wait—‘aggiungere un pizzico di sale’… that means… add a pinch of salt? Right? Right? It must be salt..”

Have you mentioned that the counter was also a mess? With the flour dusting like little sparkles of snow in the air, cracked eggshells swaying at the corner, and a half-chopped onion you were pretending not to cry over glared at you from where it stood. And somewhere behind you, the low sound of footsteps padded across the tile. Of course you were too busy, too rushed in your own thoughts to even hear anything but the italian words mixing in between with your native ones in your mind.

“Yeah, amore mio,” came that deep, velvet voice from behind you, causing a small shiver send up your spine. “A pinch of salt. Not the whole damn jar.”

You gasped in shock before twisting your neck to the side to see the face of a man who almost gave you a heart attack. A silent i'll kill you spread over your expression as you were met with his proud little smirk. His arms had already wrapped around your waist, pulling you into the warmth of his body like a you were some kind of force he couldn’t resist. He buried his face into the crook of your neck with a content little sigh, his voice muffled and dripping with adoration. “God, you smell like garlic and heaven.” lips brushed over your pulse point - lazy, slow kisses like your skin was the holiest thing he’d ever tasted.

“Ani-” you started, half-laughing, “I’m literally trying to make your nonna’s dish here. And remember, you told me she used to smack people with a wooden spoon for distractions in the kitchen.”

He only hummed into your skin, tightening his grip slightly as he swayed the both of you in place without any care about your culinary ambitions you tried to fulfill. “Mm. I’ll risk it,” he mumbled. “You studying my culture like this? Getting flour all over the counter, reading off bad Google translations with your little furrowed brow?” He groaned softly. “That’s hot, sweetheart. So hot.”

You tried to wriggle away just enough to stir the bubbly sauce in the pot, but he didn’t let you go. At least not fully. Those large, mainly hands still stayed firmly on your waist, thumbs grazing the curve of your hips through the fabric of his T-shirt you’d stolen that morning. His mouth ghosted over your shoulder, breath warm. “You don’t get it,” he said quietly, letting his hand slip underneath the shirt, making a bubbly giggle burst through your mouth. “This? You trying to learn my family’s food? My language? It does something to me.”

A light pause.

“You could’ve asked me for help, you know.”

You snorted, finally reaching to stir the sauce. “You’re the worst backseat chef. You hover and judge.”

“I adore you,” he whispered into your neck, voice suddenly turning into more raw and raspy, swollen lips brushing over your skin with every spoken word “that’s not the same as judging.”

“Besides, ti amo, dolcezza,” he whispered. “Even when you burn the garlic.”

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @divineani @haydensprettyprincess @skyguys-princess @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @babybell-cheese @anisluvrgirl @slutforfinnickodair @xhunnybeeex @fuckmyskywalker @gallerygourmet @ysrjune @anakinskwkler @cookybananas @emotionallybruisedx @diorvalentina @sevinax @throughparisallthroughrome @aniiuv @ritosparty @ninastyles @lily-strnlo @thesassypadawan @awhhayden @sydkneez @anisangeldust @l1ttle-misssunsh1ne @anakinca @rubiesarepretty @luluartpop @cloverina @nikiloveshayden @cherriies-snake @skywalkerssgirl @fredswrite @mvst4far @alealuvshayden @kandralice

#hayden christensen #anakin skywalker #star wars #anakin #anakin skywalker fanfiction #hayden christensen x reader #christensen hayden #haydenchristensen #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin skywalker fanfic #anakin skywalker fic #anakin skywalker fluff #anakin skywalker thought #anakin skywalker x fem reader #anakin skywalker x y/n #anakin skywalker x female reader #anakin skywalker x you #hayden christensen characters

120 notes · View notes

rosecoloredsunshine · 1 month ago

Text

wired interview — evan peters

masterlist

PAIRINGS: evan peters x female!reader

SUMMARY: you and evan had been invited to wired to answer some of the web's most googled questions.

REMINDERS: please be reminded that this is a work of fiction. meaning that all events and occurrences in this story are all fictional and all are part of my imagination. any resemblance to actual life events and people, living or dead, are all purely coincidence.

WARNINGS: no use of y/n, background info for reader had been provided, established relationship, fluff, google translated french, and minor typographical errors.

WORD COUNT: 1.1k

AUTHOR'S NOTE: i just have the need to post this one lol hope you'll enjoy this one! :)

The studio lights were bright, but you were used to it by now. The WIRED setup was familiar—crisp white background, black chairs, and the infamous search board waiting to reveal the internet’s most pressing, bizzare, and occasionally ridiculous curiosities. You glanced at Evan beside you, who was shifting excitedly in his chair. He shot you a smile, eyes crinkling the way they always did when he was genuinely happy.

“Ready to expose our deepest, darkest secrets?” he teased.

“Oh, absolutely. I came prepared to be utterly humiliated,” you quipped, adjusting in your seat.

The crew had given you and evan a thumbs-up, cameras now already rolling, and the crew’s voice drifted from off-screen.

“Alright, we’ll start with Evan reading questions about you, then we’ll switch.” The crew had instructed.

“Got it,” Evan said, rubbing his hands together dramatically. “This is gonna be good.”

Another crew handed Evan the board, the classic white rectangle with strips of paper concealing the questions.

He lifted it with a flourish. “Okay, question one! How old are you?” he peeled away the first strip, and looked at you, eyebrow raised before smirking. “Well, let’s hear it.”

“Timeless,” you replied smoothly, leaning back with a smug smile.

Evan snorted. “Yeah, yeah, immortal, ageless, basically a vampire. Noted.”

“Pretty much.”

He moved to the next strip. “Where—” he paused, “where are you from?”

“I was born and raised in Monaco, but I moved to Boston when I was six.”

Evan glanced at you, mock-impressed. “Ooh, fancy.”

“Oh, incredibly fancy,” you joked. “I had the whole Grace Kelly aesthetic going on. Swans, palace gardens, and maybe even a tiara.”

He let out a soft laugh before ripping off the next strip. “How tall are you? Oh, I know this one. You’re like, five-foot-two, right?”

“Haha,” you said sarcastically, rolling your eyes, feigning annoyance. “I am five-seven, thank you very much.”

“Really?” he deadpanned, leaning closer with wide eyes. “Because I could've sworn—”

“Keep making fun of my height and I’ll hide all your sneakers before our next press event.”

“Threats already? We’re only three questions in!” he grinned and moved on. “How many languages do you speak?”

“Three,” you said as you put up three fingers. “English, French, and Italian.”

“Show off,” he teased.

“Tu as de très beaux yeux,” your voice was soft, the French rolling off your tongue smoothly as you leaned closer to him.

Evan flushed, laughing nervously. “I have no idea what you just said, but I feel both flattered and mildly threatened.”

“Good,” you laughed softly. “I just said that you have very beautiful eyes.”

“Oh,” he said, cheeks turning beet red. “Yeah, I mean—thanks.”

You watched him flounder, smiling widely and thoroughly amused at the same time.

Evan then ripped off the next strip. “Okay, next up. What is your favorite song?”

You hummed thoughtfully. “If we’re talking about my current favorite, it’s probably ‘You’re So Vain’ by the one and only, Carly Simon.” you couldn't resist breaking into a song. “You’re so vain, you probably think this song is about you…”

Evan decided to join in, voice terrible but enthusiastic. “Don’t you? Don’t you?”

You both dissolved into laughter, with the crew chuckling behind the cameras.

“Alright, next one,” Evan said, wiping a tear from his eye. He tore off another strip, then burst out laughing. “Oh, wow. The internet’s bold, huh. Are we dating?”

You grinned, leaning back with folded arms. “I’ll let you handle that one.”

Evan’s cheeks turned pink, but he rolled his eyes playfully. “Well, considering we’ve been promoting our rom-com movie together for months, I think it’s safe to say that the internet’s just invested.”

He looked at you, expression softening. “But, I mean, if they’re asking if we’re, like, officially together? I dunno. Should we make it a mystery? Keep the suspense alive?”

You laughed. “And keep the tabloids working overtime? Oh absolutely.”

Evan shook his head with amusement, moving on. “What is your zodiac sign?”

“(your sign),” you answered quickly. “Which basically means I’m emotional, imaginative, and probably crying over dog videos when I should be doing something important.”

“That tracks,” Evan said with a grin. “I’ve definitely caught you sniffly-eyed over a random cat rescue video more than once.”

“They’re heroic little guys!” you defended, crossing your arms.

“Alright, next question…” Evan trailed off as he peeled another strip. “Do you actually like Evan Peters or are you just pretending for the movie?”

You scoffed, overplaying your offense. “Oh, I can’t stand him guys. The absolute worst. Have you heard his laugh?”

He cracked up immediately, laughing loudly and uninhabited. “Oh, well played.”

You giggled softly. “But in all seriousness, he’s alright. Decent co-star. I guess I’d recommend him if anyone’s hiring.”

“Wow, heartwarming, truly.” Evan shook his head, still grinning. “Alright, switching boards now. Ready to be roasted?”

“Oh, born ready,” you challenged.

The crew handed you the board of Evan-related questions, and you eyed him, smiling mischievously.

“Okay, first question,” you peeled the paper away. “How old is Evan Peters?”

He gave you a side-eye. “Considering you’re timeless, I should be, like, ancient, right?”

“You’re practically a fossil,” you teased. “But if I recall, you’re…thirty-eight?”

“Ding ding ding!” he cheered, pretending to throw confetti in the air. “Next!”

You tore off another strip. “Where is Evan Peters from?”

“St. Louis, Missouri. You know, the land of gooey butter cake and toasted ravioli?”

Evan’s eyes lit up. “Oh, you remembered the ravioli thing!”

“Yeah, mostly because you wouldn't shut up about it when we first met.”

He chuckled. “It’s that good.”

The questions kept coming, ranging from silly ones like ‘what is Evan Peters’ shoe size?’ which you guessed wrong, of course, much to his delight—to downright absurd ones like ‘does Evan Peters own a raccoon?’

“I don’t!” Evan said, looking genuinely confused. “Why would anyone—”

“I mean, I can see the vision,” you countered, barely holding back your laughter. “Naming it bandit, dressing it in a tiny leather jacket.”

Evan pretended to consider it. “Actually, that sounds incredible.”

“Great! Now, someone’s going to gift you a cute raccoon during our promotion, or comic con.”

“Oh god,” he groaned, but still smiling.

The entire shoot was chaos and laughter, with both of you going off-track multiple times. By the end of the filming, your cheeks are hurting from grinning so much.

“Alright, that’s a wrap!” one of the crew members called, but the camera’s were still rolling.

Evan turned to you, eyes shining. “We should do this kind of stuff more often.”

“Yeah! It’s a really fun experience,” you smiled at him softly, and put up your hand for a high-five. “Put it there, partner!”

When his palm met yours, he caught your fingers, intertwining them with his own, and tugged your chair closer to his.

“C’mere,” he whispered, voice soft as he pressed a quick, affectionate kiss to your temple.

You turned to look at the camera, smiling, and Evan sent a playfully wink.

124 notes · View notes

requiemforthepoets · 6 months ago

Text

en garde! 𖦹 CL16

PAIRINGS: charles leclerc x fencer!leclerc!reader , f1 grid x fencer!leclerc!reader

SUMMARY: charles had been asking you to teach him fencing, and you finally did.

REMINDERS: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.

WARNINGS: smau mixed with narrations, inconsistent photos, typos, not proofread, cursing, no use of y/n on the narrations, poorly google translated italian, and all photos are taken from pinterest

FACE CLAIMS: all from pinterest

WORD COUNT: 4.5k

AUTHOR’S NOTE: it’s been a long time since i added a new fic to my leclerc!sister series, so here it is hehe sorry, i’ve yapped a LOT about fencing on the narration part, so pls forgive me 😭 i hope i didn’t bore you a lot with fencing stuff 😭 i’m also accepting request for this series (i’m running out on ideas lmao 🥲) but i hope that you’ll enjoy this one!

ynleclerc

liked by charles_leclerc, yourbestfriend, sofia_rossi, marcoromano.fencing, landonorris and 783,984 others

ynleclerc E' passato un po' di tempo, Italia 💘

view all 12,837 comments

charles_leclerc when are you coming home?

ynleclerc idk, why?

charles_leclerc are you serious right now 😐

ynleclerc what…🧍🏻‍♀️

charles_leclerc check my messages for once 😐

username1 OH HOW I MISSED YOU 😭

username2 the y/n drought has finally ended!!!! 😭

username3 MOTHER IS BACK, MOTHER HAS POSTED 😭🎉

landonorris thank god you’re alive. i thought you’re already dead somewhere 😔💔

ynleclerc bro what 😭

landonorris anyways, when will you teach me how to fence for a new quadrant yt vid

ynleclerc you sure you’re up for it? don’t want you poking yourself with the foil

landonorris 😠😠😠😠

sofia_rossi CAN’T WAIT TO SEE YOU NEXT WEEK!!

ynleclerc 🥰🥰🥰

username4 OUR FAV FENCING DUO IS GOING TO SEE EACH OTHER SOON??? OMG 😭❤️

francisca.cgomes you’re in italy and you didn’t even tell me? 😠

ynleclerc I FORGOT IM SORRY IM SORRY!! but hey, i’m italy 🥰 hangout soon?

francisca.cgomes of course!!! just text meeee!!

username5 SHE REMEMBERED HER PASSWORD 🥳

ynleclerc posted a story!

liked by charles_leclerc, sofia_rossi, yourbestfriend, francisca.cgomes, marcoromano.fencing and others

charles_leclerc when will you teach me fencing 😔

charles_leclerc can’t believe it’s so hard to schedule one with you 💔💔💔

charles_leclerc i need big brother privileges 💔

ynleclerc USHCJJSJD CHARLES 😭

ynleclerc i’ll be home by next week! (hopefully you’ll be home as well 🤥) damn, can’t believe our schedules never really align

charles_leclerc ❤️❤️❤️❤️

francisca.cgomes i’m free tomorrow!! how about we go out for brunch?

ynleclerc KIKAAAA!! yes yes, ofc! ❤️

francisca.cgomes YAY!!

username6 OUR FENCING DUO WILL BE REUNITED SOON 😭❤️

username7 oh we pray for times like this (you being active on ig 😔💔)

MONACO

The sound of clashing blades echoed through the halls of the Club d’Escrime, a backdrop to your training session with Marco, your Italian coach. Fully suited in your white fencing uniform, mask tucked under your arm, you watched the double doors open, revealing your brother, Charles and his videographer, Antoine. The latter already had his camera rolling, and Charles, in his usual casual style—jeans, a dark hoodie, and white sneakers, looking like he had just stepped off a magazine cover.

“Finally!” You said, walking towards them with a smile. “Thought you’d never make it.”

Charles chuckled, spreading his arms in mock exasperation. “Don’t start! You’re the one who’s always impossible to catch. What is it this week? Tokyo? Budapest?”

“Home, for once,” you replied with a laugh, gesturing around the salle. “But that’s rare, as you know.”

“The place is very stunning,” Charles said, as he marveled the interior of the salle. “So this is where gold medals are made?” He teased.

“Something like that,” you replied, your voice light with pride. “Though Marco here deserves half the credit.”

“Ah, Charles! Finalmente ci incontriamo,” Marco greeted, shaking Charles’ hand firmly. His thick Italian accent added a charm to his words. “Your sister talks about you a lot.”

“È un piacere finalmente conoscerti. Lei non parla mai di me quando vinco, però.” He joked, shooting a playful look your way.

“Not true, and you know it.” You rolled your eyes at the comment.

Marco laughed, patting Charles on the shoulder. “Well today, we’ll see if athletic talent runs in the family, sì?”

“Okay, so here we are at the Club d’Escrime in Monaco. This is where my sister trains—when she’s not winning Olympic gold, of course,” he said grinning at you and turning towards the camera.

“We’ve been planning this fencing lesson for many months now, but with her busy training schedule and my racing calendar, it’s been almost impossible to find a day that worked for both of us. So finally, today is the day!” Charles added.

“Did you mention how excited you’ve been?” You quipped, folding your arms.

Charles smirked. “I may have. But, let’s be honest, you’re probably more nervous than I am.”

“Nervous?” You scoffed. “Why would I be nervous? You’re the one holding a weapon for the first time.”

“Ah, but I’ve seen the movies,” he countered, mimicking a clumsy lunge. “How hard can it be?”

You laughed at his theatrics, shaking your head. “We’ll see how long that confidence lasts when Marco puts you through the warm-up.”

“Speaking of which,” Marco interjected, “shall we start soon? Time is short, and I want to see if he can last more than five minutes.”

“You’re in for a workout.” You teased and smiled.

Charles gave an exaggerated sigh but could not hide his amusement. “Great. I love being underestimated.”

“You’re about to learn that fencing isn't as easy as people make it look on TV.” You smiled at the camera.

“Or tiktok.” Charles quipped, earning a chuckle from Marco.

You gestured towards the piste. “Alright, let’s get you geared up. I don’t want to hear any excuses later.”

Once Charles was all suited up, he stepped onto the piste, fully suited in his borrowed fencing gear, and you couldn’t help but pause. There was something striking about the way the jacket, breeches, and long socks suited him. The silver sheen of the lamé, a metallic vest worn over the jacket for scoring, added an almost regal touch. You smirked as you took in the sight of your brother adjusting his gloves.

“Oh my god. I’ve never looked so good.” Charles said as he came out all suited up.

“Would you look at that,” you began, folding your arms. “Hate to admit it, but you look good. Maybe too good.”

Charles glanced up, clearly amused. “Oh? Surprised your brother cleans up well?”

“I’m just saying, if this racing thing doesn’t work out, you might have a future as a fencer. Imagine, Charles Leclerc, Olympic Champion.” You gave him an exaggerated once-over. “The gear suits you.”

“I mean, I do look the part.” He smiled, striking a mock fencing pose, which was more comedic than impressive.

“You do,” you admitted with a laugh. “But let’s see if you can move like a fencer before you start planning your second career.”

“Basta con i complimenti. Time for the warm-up! No excuses later when your legs start complaining.” Marco smiled.

Charles groaned playfully, shooting you a mock glare. “Leg day already gets me in the gym. Don’t let him overdo it.”

“Stop whining,” you teased, motioning for him to follow Marco. “You’ll thank him when you’re not limping tomorrow.”

“We begin easy,” he said, demonstrating a forward bend. “Touch your toes, Charles. Keep your legs straight.”

“Easy for you to say,” he muttered, glancing at Marco, who was effortlessly folding himself in half.

“Come on, Charlie. You can’t lose to a guy twenty years older than you.” You chuckled from the sidelines, standing near Antoine, who was filming the entire thing.

“Thanks for the encouragement,” Charles quipped, finally managing to graze his toes. “I see you’re enjoying this too much.”

“I am.” You admitted, voice light with laughter.

Next were lunges, which Charles did with ease, his form surprisingly precise. “Now these, I can handle. We do this in the gym all the time.”

“Good. Now arm extensions, long and controlled. Think of reaching for the target.” Charles mirrored Marco’s movements, extending his arms fluidly.

You couldn’t resist teasing, “not bad, Charles. Maybe you’re a natural after all.”

“Maybe I am,” he replied, smirking. “See? I’ve got this.”

“Next is jumping jacks,” Marco interrupted, clearly amused by your banter.

Charles transitioned smoothly into the exercise, his movements energetic and practiced. As he worked through the routine, Charles suddenly turned to you, his tone curious.

“Why don’t we ever train together? Seems like it could be fun.” Charles glanced at you.

“Because you’d complain the whole time.” You laughed, shaking your head.

“Hey, I don’t complain that much.” He argued, clearly offended.

You just laughed at him, waving a hand dismissively. “Fencing is my thing, Charlie. I need to focus when I’m training, it’s not all fun and games.”

“And today isn’t serious?” Charles raised a brow, pausing mid-jumping jack.

“Not really,” you admitted with a shrug. “Today’s more about proving to you that fencing isn’t as easy as it looks.”

“Good luck with that,” he said, clearly amused. “You forget who you’re talking to.”

“Charles,” Marco interjected, a mischievous glint in his eye, “your sister has a gold medal, she might surprise you.”

“I don’t doubt that,” he said sincerely, before his grin returned. “But I’m still confident I can keep up.”

“That’s the spirit!” You smiled.

”The floor is yours, campionessa.” Marco smiled as he stepped back, and gestured for you to take over.

“Alright,” you turned to Charles. “Let’s start with the basics. This is going to be your crash course in fencing, everything you need to know before you touch the blade.”

Antoine, still filming, zoomed in on Charles’ face as he nodded, looking serious. “I’m ready, let’s hear it.”

“Fencing is one of the oldest sports in the world. It dates back centuries, originally used in dueling and combat training, but over time, it became more of a sport.” You explained. “In fact, fencing has been part of the Olympics since the very first modern games in 1896.”

“1896?” Charles repeated, very intrigued. “So, it’s been around forever.”

“Pretty much,” you confirmed with a smile. “Since then, it’s evolved into three distinct disciplines—foil, sabre, and epee. Each had different rules, strategies, and weapons. That’s what makes fencing so fascinating, you’re not just swinging a sword around. It’s a mind game as much as a physical one, that’s why some call it physical chess.”

Charles tilted his head, clearly interested. “What’s the difference between the three?”

“Come on, let me show you guys.” You walked over to a nearby rack, where several swords were neatly displayed, each one gleaming under the salle’s lights.

“This is a foil.” You picked up a foil, you held it up for him and the viewers to see. “It is the lightest of the three weapons, weighing about 500 grams, and the one I use. Foil fencing focuses on precision and technique, the target area is only the torso, and points are scored with the tip of the blade.”

Charles reached out, and you handed him the foil. He tested the weight of the blade, lifting and lowering it.

“It’s lighter than I thought.” He admitted, giving it a small swing.

“Foils are meant for agility and speed,” you explained. You then picked up a sabre, slightly heavier with a distinct curved guard. “This is a sabre. It’s a bit heavier, and the rules are very different. In sabre, you can score with the edge of the blade, not just the tip, and target area is the upper body—above the waist, including arms and head.”

“Sounds aggressive,” Charles remarked, running his hand along the blade’s flat edge.

“Oh, it is,” you chuckled. “Sabre is all about speed and attack. It’s fast-paced, almost like a sprint compared to foil’s more calculated, chess-like style.”

“And the last one?” Charles asked, pointing to the remaining weapon.

“This is the epee,” you said as you picked up the epee, handing it to him. “It’s the heaviest of the three, about 775 grams, and the target area is the entire body, head to toe. But in epee, there’s no right of way, whoever hits first, scores.”

Charles tested the epee in his grip, nodding thoughtfully. “So it’s more…straightforward?”

“In a way, yes,” you said, setting the sabre and foil back on the rack. “But it can also lead to longer matches since there’s no restriction on who can attack when, you need all the patience you can get when playing epee.”

The camera panned as you gestured for Charles to follow you back to the piste. “Now, let’s talk about the rules. In foil, which is what we’ll be learning today, the target area is just the torso. No arms, legs, and head. If you hit anywhere else, it doesn’t count.”

“Got it,” Charles said. “What about the scoring?”

“In foil, we use something called right of way. It means that the fencer who initiates the attack has priority. If the other fencer wants to score, they have to defend or parry first, and then counterattack.”

You picked up a foil and demonstrated, lunging forward in a quick, fluid motion. “For example, if I attack you like this, you can’t just hit me back. You’d need to block my blade first.”

“So, it’s not just about being faster, it’s about timing.” Charles frowned slightly, absorbing the information.

“Yup,” you said, impressed. “It’s about strategy and reading your opponent’s moves. Now, there are also some practical rules. The piste, the one we are standing on right now, is 14 meters long and 1.5 to 2 meters wide. If you step off, you lose ground or even a point, and you can’t use your off-hand to block, and obviously, no overly aggressive moves like charging into your opponent.”

Charles raised a brow. “No tackling allowed? Shame.”

“Not unless you want to get a penalty.” You laughed, shaking your head. “Lastly, to win a match, you have to reach a predetermined number of points, usually 15, or have the highest score by the end of the time limit.”

“Okay, I’ll give you a quick demonstration of how right of way works in a tournament.” You gestured for Marco to join you, and he grabbed another foil, stepping into position, as Antoine adjusted his camera as you stepped back onto the piste.

“Watch closely,” you instructed as you and Marco faced off. “Marco will attack, and I’ll defend and counter.”

Marco lunged forward with a smooth attack, and you parried, your blades clashing with a satisfying ring before you swiftly riposted, your blade landing lightly on his torso.

Turning to Charles, you explained. “Since I defended first and then countered, I get the point. Make sense?”

Charles nodded slowly, his brows furrowed in thought. “So, if I just swing wildly, it’s useless unless I have priority.”

“Yes,” you said smiling. “Fencing isn’t about brute force, it’s about control, precision, and strategy.”

“This all felt like a masterclass,” Charles chuckled. “This is very incredible stuff.”

Once Charles had a solid grasp of the basic rules and ths purpose of fencing, you decided it was time to get into the technical aspects.

“Alrighty,” you began, pacing in front of him, foil in hand. “Before you can start attacking, you need to learn how to defend yourself. So, let’s talk about parrying.”

“There are four primary parries in fencing, and each one is important for blocking and setting yourself up for a counterattack.” You added.

Charles nodded, gripping the foil in his hand as if ready to jump in. “Alright, I’m listening. Hit me with it.”

“Not literally,” you teased, pointing your foil at him briefly before continuing. “First is parry four. This is your standard parry, used to block attacks aimed at your torso. You bring the blade across your body like this.”

You demonstrated, twisting your wrist and angling your blade so that the imaginary opponent’s strike would be deflected away. Charles mimicked the movement, though his hand was stiff, and his blade angle slightly off.

You leaned in, using the tip of your foil to adjust his blade position. “Loosen your wrist a bit, it’s all about control, not brute strength. The goal is to guide their blade away, not smack it out of their hands.”

“Okay, okay. Got it.” Charles said, trying again. This time, his movement was smoother.

“Better,” you said, stepping back. “Next is parry six. The one is similar to parry four, but instead of protecting the inside of your body, it covers the outside. Like this.” You executed the parry with ease, your blade moving in a fluid arc.

Charles tried to copy the movement, his blade wobbling slightly as he adjusted his wrist.

“Close,” you said, stepping closer. “But watch your wrist, it needs to stay firm, or you’ll lose control of your blade.” You tapped the back of his hand with your foil, and he adjusted accordingly.

“Parry eight is for low attacks to the outside of your body.” You continued, moving on, and crouching slightly, angling your blade downward to demonstrate. “This one is a little tricky because it requires good reflexes. You’re aiming to protect your lower torso and legs.” Charles gave it a go, though his stance was a bit too wide.

“Too much space,” you said, tapping his knee lightly with your blade. “Keep your movements controlled. The smaller the motion, the quicker you can recover.”

“This is harder than it looks.” Charles exhaled, looking at the camera as he adjusted his stance.

“That’s fencing for you,” you said with a grin. “Last one, parry seven. This one is similar to parry eight, but it protects the inside of your body instead of the ourside.”

You demonstrated the motion, and Charles followed suit, this time managing a relatively smooth movement.

“Good,” you said, stepping back. “Now, key things to remember when parrying—keep your blade pointed at your opponent at all times. It’s not just about blocking, it’s about setting yourself up for a counterattack. As soon as you’ve parried, you need to riposte, counterattack, immediately. If you wait too long, you’ll lose your advantage.”

Marco stepped forward, foil in hand, and you turned to Charles. “I’ll show you how it’s done.”

You squared off with Marco, and as he lunged forward with a mock attack, you parried effortlessly, your blade gliding against his and redirecting it away. In the same motion, you extended your arm, blade tip landing lightly on Marco’s torso.

“See how quick that was?” You said, turning to Charles. “It’s a fluid motion—parry and riposte, all in one go. No wasted movements.”

Charles nodded, his brows furrowed in concentration. “Alright, let me try.”

You stepped aside, letting Marco face Charles. As Marco slowly lunged, Charles attempted a parry, though his movement was slightly delayed, and his riposte lacked precision.

“Not bad,” you said encouragingly. “But don’t overthink it. The more natural it feels, the faster you’ll be.”

“Okay, let’s talk about stance,” you said, planting your feet firmly on the piste. “Your stance is your foundation, if it’s wrong, everything else falls apart.”

You demonstrated, keeping your feet shoulder-width apart, one foot pointing forward and the other at a slight angle.

“Your dominant hand is the one holding the foil. The non-dominant hand stays behind you, raised slightly for balance. So, which hand are you using?” You asked.

“Right.” Charles said, switching the foil to his dominant hand.

“Good,” you said. “Now, copy my stance.”

Charles mirrored your position, though his back foot was slightly out of place.

“Close, but—” you tapoed his leg lightly with your foil. “Your back foot needs to be at an angle, like this. Don’t forget to bend your knees slightly. You need to stay low for balance and quick movement.”

“Not bad,” you said, nodding approvingly when Charles adjusted his stance. “Now let’s work on movement. When you’re in your stance, you need to be able to move forward, backward, and side-to-side quickly withou losing your balance.”

You demonstrated, gliding forward and backward with small, controlled steps. “Notice how my feet stay the same distance apart, no matter where I go. That keeps me balanced and ready to attack or defend.”

Charles followed your lead, though his movements were a bit stiff.

“Relax,” you said, smiling. “You’re not marching in the military. It’s more like a dance, fluid and controlled.” He tried again, this time loosening up slightly.

“Better,” you said. “Now let’s add a lunge, the lunge is your main attacking move. From your stance, you push off your back leg and extend your front leg forward, like this.” You demonstrated, your movement smooth and precise. Charles attempted the motion, but his lunge was too short.

“Bigger step,” you said, tapping his front leg with your foil. “You want fo cover as much ground as possjble without overextending.” After a few tries, he managed a decent lunge.

“Not bad,” you said, stepping back. “You’re getting there. Now, let’s put it all together—stance, movement, parries, and lunges. You ready?”

Charles grinned, gripping his foil. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Alright,” you said, picking up the body cord, “before we start, we need to get you all hooked up.”

Charles tilted his head, examining the cord. “What’s that for?”

“This is a body cord,” you explained, stepping closer to attach it to his fencing jacket. “It connects your weapon to the scoring system. When you land a valid touch, the electrical circuit completes, and the scoreboard registers the point.”

“So no sneaky hits?” He joked, watching closely as you secured it to his back and guided it through the sleeves of his jacket to attach to the foil.

“Not unless you want the referee to see it light up,” you quipped, making sure everything was in place before handing him a fencing mask. “Here, put this on.”

“For this first round, we’re keeping it simple, call it a trial run,” you said, rolling your shoulders and flexing your foil. “Marco will referee and keep things light. Just focus on getting comfortable.”

“Got it. Don’t go easy on me, though.” Charles raised his foil slightly, his excitement evident in his stance.

You laughed. “Trut me, Charles, I won’t.”

Marco stepped onto the side of the piste, holding a referee’s clicked in one hand. “Alright, trial run. I’ll call the touches. En garde!”

You and Charles took your positions at opposite ends of the piste, foils raised in salite before dropping into the en garde stance.

“Prêt? Allez!” Marco called, signaling the start of the bout.

Charles moved hesitant at first, testing his footing as he advanced. You let him come forward, observing his movements.

“Don’t forget your stance,” you reminded him, stepping back slightly. “Stay balanced.”

He nodded, adjusting his feet, and made a tentative lunge. Charles’ foil grazed your blade, missing the target area entirely.

“Close,” you said, countering with a light touch to his torso. Marco raised his hand. “Touch!”

Charles shook his head, laughing. “Okay, that was fast. Was that even one second?”

“Welcome to fencing,” you said with a grin. “It’s all about timing. Relax, though you’re doing fine.”

As the trial run continued, Charles began finding his rhythm. He landed his first touch on your shoulder, earing a quick ‘touch!’ from Marco.

“How does it feel?” You asked, stepping back for a brief pause.

Charles grinned under his mask. “Not bad! Are you nervous yet?”

“Me? Nervous?” You teased. “Cute. Let’s see how you handle the next round round.”

The second round began, and Charles was much more deliberate in his movements. He used the parries you had taught him, successfully blocking two of your attacks and landing another touch on your shoulder.

“Not bad, Lord Perceval,” you said, nodding as you reset your stance. “You’re learning quickly.”

“Of course,” he replied, his voice light with mock arrogance. “I’m a Leclerc. We adapt fast.”

By the end of the round, Marco called for a pause. “Alright, let’s use the scoreboard for the next one.”

“See this?” Marco said, pointing to the display. “Every valid touch will light up here with a beep. First to fifteen points wins.”

Charles noticed the screen, which displayed yor names, complete with small Monaco flags next to them.

“Wait, you personalized it?” He asked, laughing. “Now I feel like I’m in the Olympics.”

“Of course,” you said with a grin. “Nothing but the best for my big brother.”

Charles chuckled, lifting his foil again. As you adjusted your own, you bent the blade slightly, an action that caught his attention.

“Why are you doing that?” He asked.

“It’s something all fencers do,” you explained, holding the blade up for him to see. “Foils are flexible, and bending them ensures they’re in good condition and won’t snap. It also helps make the touches more accurate and less painful.”

“Huh,” Charles said, mimicking the motion with his own foil. “Interesting.”

“Alright, this is it,” you said, lowering your mask. “First to fifteen.”

Marco raised his hand. “En garde! Prêt? Allez!”

The boug began, and Charles quickly demonstrated his growing confidence. He moved fluidly, landing a few clean touches on your torso and arm. You could see his competitiveness kicking in, and you responded with sharper attacks, forcing him to parry and riposte.

Halfway through, the score was tied at 7-7, and the beeping sound of the scoreboard filled the room with each touch.

“You’re doing great.” You said during a brief pause.

“Thanks,” Charles replied, panting slightly. “But I’m not letting you win.”

“Good,” you said, resetting your stance. “Because I’m not letting you win, either.”

The intensity ramped up in the final stretch. Charles managed to land three more touches, bringing his total to ten, but you quickly countered with a series of precise attacks, pushing your score to fifteen.

Marco raised his hand as the final beep sounded. “Touché! Match for her—15 to 10!”

“Lifting your mask, you grinned at Charles, who pulled off his own mask, shaking his head in disbelief.

“That was incredible,” he said, still catching his breath. “I actually thought I had you for a moment there.”

“Well fought, champ! Ten points is impressive for a first timer, you did really great.” You said, resting your foil on your shoulder. “But I told you, fencing isn’t easy as it looks.”

Charles laughed, running a hand through his sweaty hair. “Yeah, no kidding. I think I’ll stick to racing.”

Marco, who had been observing with a smile, stepped in. “You were actually good for a beginner. You’re a fast learner, Charles. I’ve work with a lot of first-timers, and not many can pick up that quickly.”

“That’s true,” you chimed in nodding. “You were way better than I expected. Usually, people take ages to figure out how to lunge properly or keep their stance balanced.”

Charles’ grin widened. “Well, what can I say? It’s in my blood to be competitive.”

Marco laughed, clapping Charles on the shoulder. “You should come by more often during her trainings. You’d make a good parry partner.”

“Oh stop feeding his ego,” you said, rolling your eyes playfully. “It’s already huge.”

Charles gave a mock bow. “Keep it coming, Marco. I’m soaking it all in.”

Marco just smiled as the camera zoomed in on you both as he continued. “Not, really, Charles. If you’re free diring off-season, you should consider it. You’d give her a good challenge, and it would keep her on her toes.”

“Hmm…” Charles leaned on his foil again, pretending to consider the offer. “Fencing during off-season. I might actually think about that.”

You laughed. “Sure, if you can handle beaten every time.”

“Bold words. But we’ll see.” Charles grinned. “So, what’s next for you? You’ve already won the Olympics. Where do you go from here?”

“Next up is the Fencing World Cup. It’s coming up in a few months, so I’m focused on preparing for that.” You smiled, feeling the excitement bubbling inside of you.

Charles nodded. “If people want fo follow your journey, where can they find you?”

“Everywhere.” You said with a laugh, then added, “but seriously, you guys can follow me on my social media. If you are curious about up coming tournaments, you can check out Team Monaco’s offical instagram. They post all of the updates there.”

Charles turned to the camera. “There you have it, guys.” He then faced you and Marco. “I just want to say thank you, for real. I know your schedules are crazy, and you took time to teach me something completely out of my comfort zone. I really had fun.”

“You’re welcome here anytime, Charles.” Marco smiled warmly. “You’re a natural. Who knows? Maybe one day, you’ll be on the piste at a tournament.”

Charles laughed, shaking his head. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, but I appreciate the vote of confidence.”

“You did great today,” you grinned, nudging him lightly with your elbow. “Who knows? Maybe we’ll see you fencing for Monaco one day.”

Charles smiled. “Only if you promise not to embarrass me in front of everyone.”

“No promises.” You teased.

Marco gestured toward the camera. “Alright, shall we wrap this up?”

You, Charles, and Marco all faced the lens. “Thanks for watching!” You said with a wave. “Remember, fencing is cooler than you think.”

“And harder than it looks!” Charles added. “Thank you both for taking the time to teach me, I had a blast today. It’s always fun learning new things.”

“Of course, Charlie!” You replied warmly. “We’ll be waiting for your next fencing session.”

“You’re always welcome, Charles.” Marco smiled. “Just don’t take too long to return, alright? We might have to recruit you into the team at this rate!”

All of you laughed as you said your goodbyes, and with that, the video came to a close, screen fading into black.

twitter posts

yn.jpg

liked by charles_leclerc, yourbestfriend, lilyzneimer, landonorris, lilymhe and 88,746 others

tagged: charles_leclerc, gaiusthecaracal

yn.jpg just a regular day at the office (bonus: taught charles fencing, see slide 4! 😁)

view all 10,837 comments

username8 never knew i needed to see charles in a fencing gear up until now 😮‍💨 THANK YOU MOTHER!

landonorris can’t believe you taught charles first, i thought i was gonna be the first one 😞💔

yn.jpg sorry, big brother privileges 😔✊🏻

charles_leclerc what she said! 😁❤️

landonorris i see that you have taken my advice

yn.jpg yes, and i owe it all to you sir 🫡

landonorris when will u be our quadrant athlete 😔🤲🏻

yn.jpg idk bro, what do they do? 🤨

yn.jpg just hit up my personal coach 😁

landonorris ME NEXT PLS

yn.jpg THERE ARE A LOT OF YOU WANTING ME TO TEACH YOU ALL FENCING 😭😭😭

lilymhe I ASKED HER FIRST! FALL IN LINE!!

landonorris IM HER BEST FRIEND

landonorris BESTIE PRIVILEGES

yourbestfriend EXCUSE ME????

landonorris EXCUSED

username9 WE FINALLY GOT A JPG ACCOUNT??? ACTIVE ERA IS UPON US?????

yn.jpg u guys really gotta thank lando for convincing me on making one bc apparently according to him, i always “ghost” you all 😞💔

username9 OHMGYGOSD I LOVE YOU 😭

username10 GAIUS 🥺🥺🥺🥺

username11 CHARLES WHAT ARE YOU DOING 😭😭😭

username12 petition for you to have a yt acc or tiktok or smth 😔😔😔😔

username13 and then what? we all ended up being ghosted 😔😔😔😔

username13 she barely posts on instagram, and now that she has a jpg account, i’ll take what i can get tl have some y/n content 😔😔😔💔💔💔

username12 omg u right 😭😭😭

username14 ok, scuderiaferrari, just hear me out this once…what if y/n teaches charlos fencing on a tiktok or yt vid? huh huh huh, wouldn’t that be a great idea, right? 😁

scuderiaferrari hmmm, i think you might be onto something 🤔🤔🤔

username15 i will sacrifice my first born for this to happen 🤲🏻

username16 we are BEGGING, on our knees

username17 charles leclerc in fencing gear, save me. charles leclerc in fencing gear, save me 🛐

377 notes · View notes

rootspiral · 6 months ago

Text

Agatha All Along deep dive: episode 3 part 3

(Wandavision entries: [1][2][3])

(AAA entries: ep1 [1][2][3][4] ep2 [1][2][3][4] ep3 [1][2][3] ep4 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][+1] ep5 [1][2][3][4][5] ep6 [1][2][3] ep7 [1][2][3][4][5][6] ep8 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9] ep9 [1][2][3][4][5][6])

lilia: falling through time, desperately trying to help alice

agatha: bitch I'm trying to save myself!!!!! oh she's so awkward when she thinks lilia's going mad. she's a moment away from grabbing a broom and going there, there like in that 30 rock scene

I know they had a relatively low budget for this show and it was such a blessing in disguise. they invested in great sets and instead of cgi they relied on classic cinema tricks that I find so satisfying?? Idk if it's just nostalgia talking. here they simply move the camera away for a moment, lower the lights and move the actor in position, and it makes for an amazing jumpscare.

baby lilia asking 'vuoi vedere?' do you want to see? because it is a choice for lilia. for a long time she chose not to use her gift- she was simply too powerful, she saw too much, and the knowledge of the future scarred her and made her an outcast among others

alice's smile at seeing a vision of her mom T-T

why inconvenient? what was jen doing? she was an obstetrician and midwife. she was helping women out with herbs and pagan knowledge passed down from mother to daughter. Back in the day midwives were struggling to get their skills recognized in an increasingly male dominated field, they were advocating alternative treatments for women constantly humiliated by condescending modern doctors - from forced bed rest to insane asylums to lobotomy in worst case scenarios. think Charlotte Perkins Gilman's short story, The Yellow Wallpaper. think about everything that happened to Virginia Woolf.

we know that alice was a teenager when lorna died in a fire. she wasn't well, alice says, and we see now that she had a drinking problem. it's equally possible that the demon got to her or that she set herself on fire out of desperation. and if lorna could feel her own mother dying, alice could too.

daang great zombie makeup on the teacher lady

lilia when her incredible abilities made her able to see Death: burdened by knowledge way beyond the scope of humanity she goes into exile

agatha when her incredible abilities made her able to see Death: you know what I'm gonna tap that

I saw people saying that because the Road wasn't real nothing that happened in the show mattered, that they all died for nothing. I disagree completely, and not only because Billy's chaos magic is so astonishingly powerful that he can create a functional Road out of thin air. like, it wasn't a trick, he made it real. But more importantly, what happened to these women, their experiences, their growth on the Road is real. Even if Billy didn't do it on purpose, even if it's fucked up that a teenager can essentially go, you know what would be cool? if they all experienced their deepest trauma! but that's the point, that's the point, that's the whole damn point of the show. life is chaos and nonsense and heartbreak, it's up to you to find a meaning where there isn't any. look at lilia! the lesson is not that you're going to die, but what you choose to do with the cards that you're dealt, with the time that you're given.

while Patti clearly has an american accent, she is speaking correct sicilian, tutti morti su' - they could have had her talk in italian and hardly anyone would have noticed, but they went above and beyond with the details. the latin in the show is also rather impressive, like they actually hired experts rather than relying on google translate

agatha has gotten too used to run leaving a pile of bodies behind. not so easy to consider them just food when you have to live alongside them and witness their feelings, is it?? first wanda and now this!

@perpetualanon pointed out yesterday that agatha also had selfish reasons for wanting to save billy, i.e. she didn't want to risk him being poisoned because who knows what horrors a hallucinating billy could create. Yes! exactly that! it's always worth saying that when agatha has these fleeting moments of compassion and altruism it's in the context of a whole lotta selfishness. i think of her as that drawing of Stitch's badness level, her whole body is almost filled to the brim with awfulness and there's only a thin layer of goodness that she's constantly trying to smother. her actions on the Road are almost entirely selfish, but for the first time in centuries she's surrounded by people, like Lilia here and Jen and Alice and especially Billy, who are accidentally nurturing her almost atrophied good side. and lemme tell you she's pissed about it!

of course these two don't know what a sous vide is, one is dirt poor and the other eats people.

I'm gonna take a stand for zoomers here, he might have never learned what counterclockwise means, but millennials like me would also have hesitated and tried to picture it in our minds. because a lot of us lack spacial intelligence and are generally rather dumb

the shock and terror on her face when she hears nicky crying

another great special effect achieved only with lights and the cast shuffling out of frame

they show the darkhold because they need to mislead viewers and can't give nicky's story away just yet, but doesn't it make sense that agatha would see it? all these centuries blaming rio, and deep down agatha is haunted not by Death, but by her own actions and choices. the way she kept Nicky isolated and unsafe. the way she insulted his memory by going on killing sprees instead of letting herself mourn. the way she used the darkhold to corrupt her soul more and more, because she was never brave enough to confront her guilt.

kathryn hahn really said, do you want Emotional Devastation???? do you wanna see a woman SUFFER? do you want your heart put through a blender??? I can do that in TWO seconds

agatha wants to NOT DIE so badly that she has to drop the clown act and give jen a proper pep talk. because she knows what makes people tick and she can uplift just as well as she can destroy, she can help jen because she knows her so well. there's always that potential there, all of agatha's talent and her intelligence and experience could shape her into a great mother and sister in a coven. a potential that evanora refused to see and that will likely never be fulfilled.

and the irony, the irony of never wanting to hurt jen, to deliberately avoid going after her - because she's a midwife. because nicky was stillborn, because she had to give birth alone in the woods. agatha believes with all her heart that jen's work is fundamentally good and important. and yet she was the one who bound and tortured and violated her. she was so fucking focused on herself that she didn't even realize she was tramping and destroying everything in her path like a mad steamroller. she allied with the enemy, she went against her community's best interests. there's a lot to think about there, I really want to explore it more

patti during that hot ones episode

NOW YOU GUYS REMEMBER HER. and of course it's alice who does

your internalized stereotypes are really testing lilia's patience, billy (and while they consider the oven sharon is writhing and dying on the table)

how it started: jen pushing lilia out of the way

how it ended: "you are my sister in the craft" 🥲

I love you patti lupone

alice is strong! alice is noble! alice is pure of heart!

gee i wonder why

they had to add a goonies poster in billy's room because of this scene, but i guess disney didn't want to buy the copyright so the poster says "the goofballs"

agatha shoving everyone and then kicking jen twice for good measure

my guilty pleasure is watching reactors on youtube (don't judge) and everyone, everyone had my same reaction to sharon's death: she is not really dead. it was too unceremonious, too sudden. you cannot have debra jo rupp unconscious for half an episode and then get rid of her like that, she's too talented, too funny, how can they keep the humor up without her? if sharon is gone they don't want to watch anymore! no, they're gonna bring her back for sure, they're witches, they're going to find a way.

And then Alice dies, and it's unfair, it's too sad, she just had her big victory! that doesn't sit right with you, that the writers would do her so dirty. And then Lilia dies.

Wanda said it from the very beginning: we cannot reverse death, no matter how sad it makes us. Some things are forever. Sharon's death was horrible and uncomfortable and senseless on purpose, because these shows are about the exploration of grief. How can you make peace with the impossible? How can you reconcile yourself with a nice fun lady dying after losing her last shred of agency, scared and alone and forgotten? Didn't she deserve so much more than being just a casualty of witchfolk drama? And how can you reconcile yourself with someone as good and as wonderful as Alice dying in such a cruel way? What about the death of a parent? of a spouse? of a child? What about your own death, as inevitable and inescapable as your birth?

I'm posting this one early cos I didn't sleep last night and I wanna take a nap now 🥲 when I'm tired i ramble, I knew that already. sorry-y!

we get to episode four tomorrow, and y'all know what, or rather WHO, that means!

go to episode 4 part 1

#agatha all along #agatha deep dive #agatha harkness #jennifer kale #alice wu gulliver #sharon davis #character study

161 notes · View notes

nottslove · 3 days ago

Note

Hello! My favorite song at the moment is bed chem sabrina carpenter

event; profile; nav;

4.6k words. longer than i expected. istg i should call these long-ass fics instead of mini-fics.

hi anon! thank you so much for requesting!! so since this song came from a summer album, it gave me summer vibes... as in, a summer romance vibe. and who better to fill in the role than our favorite, italian reverie? presenting.... none other than theo nott!

warnings: google translated italian, fluff, angst, use of y/n.

song: bed chem, sabrina carpenter slytherin boy: theo nott

Italy in the summer was nothing short of magical. Ever since childhood, you had dreamt of wandering its sun-drenched streets, breathing in the scent of fresh espresso and warm pastries, getting lost in the hum of its language. Finally, after years of waiting—graduation behind you, a job secured—you seized the moment. Three months of careful planning had led to this: a solo summer in your dream country.

From the instant you arrived, Italy wove its spell around you. The rich culture, the lyrical cadence of the language, the way history seemed to press against the very walls of the cities—it all made your heart swell. Rome for the first week, Venice for the second, Verona for the third, before returning home to England. A carefully mapped-out itinerary, structured yet bursting with anticipation. And yet, only two days in, the thought of leaving already felt unbearable.

Your schedule was packed, each day a whirlwind of exploration. Today, you were on a mission—to find the restaurant your coworker had raved about. But somehow, amidst the maze-like streets, you lost your way. A wrong turn led you somewhere unexpected—quieter, tucked away from the usual tourist bustle. The air here felt different, carrying the aroma of fresh bread and roasted coffee.

That was when you saw it.

A small, unassuming café nestled into the corner of a street you hadn’t intended to walk down. At first, you nearly passed it by, lost in thought, until your hip accidentally brushed against a potted plant perched on an outdoor table. As you bent down to set it upright, your gaze traveled to the building—soft yellow paint, ivy cascading like a green waterfall over the doorway, curling around the windows as if cradling the café in a warm embrace.

Through the glass, maritozzo sat temptingly on display, golden and pillowy, just waiting to be devoured. Your stomach made the decision for you—you stepped inside without another thought.

The café had a charm that was impossible to ignore. Dim lighting, shelves stacked with books worn from time, the quiet murmur of conversation blending into the clinking of porcelain. You spotted the perfect table by the window and moved toward it, but something stopped you. A pull, inexplicable yet undeniable, tugging you gently in another direction.

You turned.

There he was.

A classic Italian gentleman, effortlessly poised, his fingers curled around a porcelain mug. Dark curls framed his chiseled features, his presence magnetic, as if he had been waiting for someone—perhaps, for you.

He sat there with an effortless grace, the kind that spoke of quiet confidence rather than arrogance. His strong jawline framed a face that seemed sculpted by the hands of an artist—sharp cheekbones softened only by the warm olive tone of his skin. His deep brown eyes, rich like freshly brewed espresso, carried an intensity that made it impossible to look away. They held stories, secrets, a depth that hinted at a life well-lived, or perhaps, one waiting to begin.

The soft curls of his dark hair, slightly tousled yet undeniably charming, brushed against his forehead, the kind you could easily imagine running your fingers through absentmindedly. His neatly pressed shirt, a shade of crisp white that contrasted beautifully against his sun-kissed skin, was unbuttoned just enough at the collar to suggest a sense of ease. The sleeves were rolled to his forearms, revealing toned muscles beneath, a glimpse of strength tempered by elegance.

As he lifted his coffee to his lips, the movement was deliberate, languid, as if savoring not just the drink but the moment itself. His fingers—long, graceful—curled around the porcelain mug, and you couldn't help but wonder how they might feel tracing against yours.

There was something about him—an air of mystery, a quiet magnetism—that pulled you in. A presence that demanded attention without asking for it. And in that instant, as the world outside continued to bustle on, he was the only thing that mattered.

His eyes locked onto yours, unflinching, electric—a mesmerizing shade of aquamarine that seemed almost unreal, like the sunlit waters of the Amalfi Coast. They held something—an unspoken challenge, curiosity, or perhaps recognition. A glint of amusement flickered beneath the depths, but there was something else too, something that sent a shiver down your spine. It was as if, in that single moment, he had unraveled you entirely—seen you in a way no one else had.

The way they caught the light, reflecting hints of seafoam and cerulean, made them impossibly captivating, as if they carried fragments of Italy itself. And just like that, without a single word, you knew—this summer, your summer, had shifted in a way you never anticipated.

Just like that, your summer had changed.

It didn't take long before you were at his apartment, tangled up in his sheets, bodies pressed close, the world outside forgotten, him feeding you strawberries with your head on his chest.

Your head rested against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulling you into quiet contentment. He reached for a strawberry, holding it delicately between his fingers before pressing it gently to your lips. The sweetness burst against your tongue, mingling with the lingering taste of his kiss, and somehow, it all felt so natural.

It was intimate in a way you had never experienced before. Here you were, in the arms of a total stranger, yet somehow, you felt safer than you ever had in a long time. It had barely been two hours since you met, and he already knew so much—the tender details of your childhood, the wistful echoes of your first love.

You exhaled, staring at the soft rays of the golden setting sun filtering through the window. Was it him, or was it simply Italy itself—the spell this country seemed to weave around everything and everyone? Were all Italian men this effortlessly charming, this easy to talk to, to surrender yourself to?

"Come mai la tua bella testolina è così silenziosa, hmm?" he murmured, large hands sliding down your hair and brushing it away from your face.

You giggled, reaching for another strawberry and placing it between his lips. "I already told you I don't understand a word of Italian..."

"I've heard I'm a very good teacher," he replied with that confident, lazy smirk of his. "I could show you Italy better than any..." he paused, furrowing his brows slightly to think of the word. "guida turistica..."

Once again, you giggled softly, the moment he pressed his lips to your fingers to lick up whatever was left of the strawberry his mouth had just stolen from you. "tour guide?" you asked, trying to provide him with the correct word.

"Si. Tour guide. I can be yours, if you like..." He punctuated his suggestion with a series of open mouthed kisses along your neck and collarbones.

And just like that, all plans of going to Verona and Venice were out the window, and you rescheduled your return trip to a whole month later than your original return date.

His name was Theodore Nott, but you called him Teddy for short.

He had somehow managed you to move into his penthouse, where you spent every morning waking up in his bed, and the scent of freshly brewed espresso all over the penthouse.

Every morning, without fail, he insisted on spoiling you. Before the sun had fully risen over the terracotta rooftops, before the city outside had begun to stir, he was already at work in the kitchen, crafting something new—something special—for you.

The aroma would reach you first, warm and inviting, coaxing you from sleep before his voice did. And then, there he was, standing at the edge of the bed, tray in hand, a knowing smile playing at his lips. He never let you lift a finger.

It was never the same meal twice. One morning, perfectly flaky cornetti dusted with powdered sugar, paired with rich, velvety cappuccino. The next, eggs cooked just right, fresh tomatoes bursting with flavor, crusty bread straight from the bakery down the street. Then, perhaps, a delicate frittata, infused with fragrant herbs, the kind only someone born into the heart of Italian cooking could master.

He knew what he was doing. Better than half the chefs you had encountered. Every bite was a revelation, every flavor precise yet effortless, as if he were drawing from an endless well of knowledge passed down through generations.

And there, in the quiet glow of morning light, the two of you would share more than just the meal. Between sips of coffee and bites of something impossibly delicious, the conversations flowed—deep, unfiltered, woven with laughter and confessions.

It was indulgent, intimate in a way that felt rare, precious. You had never been cared for like this before, never been seen in such a quiet, effortless way.

And each morning, as he looked at you over the rim of his cup, you wondered how you could possibly go back to a life without this. Without him.

But both of you knew that this golden relationship you had wasn't meant to last. It would be over once the summer came to an end. It was nothing but a summer romance, no matter how real it felt.

Yet, despite knowing, neither of you spoke of it. The truth lingered between kisses, between laughter that melted into quiet sighs, between mornings wrapped in sheets that smelled of sun and him. It was there—in the way his touch lingered a moment too long, as if memorizing the feel of you. In the way you watched him, tracing every detail, as if trying to capture something fleeting, something slipping through your fingers.

It wasn’t just a romance. It felt bigger than that. Real, golden, drenched in the warmth of a summer that would soon end. But endings had a way of creeping in, of pressing against even the sweetest moments. The whispered promise of farewell was in every embrace, every shared meal, every sunset you watched together with unsaid words weighing in the silence.

And yet, despite it all, neither of you pulled away. Because for now—just for now—it was enough. It had to be.

He was true to his word. He showed you Italy better than any tour guide would. All the intimate places he spent his time at, all the tourist spots... everything.

And he did it with a kind of quiet pride, as if sharing these places with you meant something—meant more than just sightseeing. He led you through the winding alleys of Rome, past the bustling piazzas and into corners untouched by the hurried footsteps of tourists. The hidden cafés where the locals greeted him by name, the bookstore tucked away in a side street where he had spent lazy afternoons, the unmarked trattoria where the food was better than anything you’d find on a guide’s list.

But he didn’t ignore the classics. He took you to the Colosseum when the sun was soft, when the crowds hadn’t fully formed, so you could stand there in the open space and feel the weight of history pressing against your skin. He pointed out the details in Michelangelo’s work, things that even the guides didn’t mention. He let you linger at the Trevi Fountain, grinning when you tossed a coin in and made a wish, teasing you about what it might be.

"What did you wish for, cara?"

"Would you like to know?" you replied with an air of mystery and a suggestive raise of your eyebrow.

Venice came next, the city that felt suspended between reality and dream. He showed you how the water reflected the light just right in the early evening, how the gondoliers sang not for show, but because music was woven into the city’s bones.

And in Verona, he traced his fingers along the worn letters left at Juliet’s wall, smiling as you read them, as you let yourself believe—for just a moment—that love like that could live beyond legend.

He gave you Italy. Not the packaged version, not the curated one. He gave you the one he loved, the one that had shaped him, the one that mattered.

And in doing so, it became yours too.

He showed you Italy, and you showed him your soul.

He had given you Italy—the real Italy, the one written in hidden alleyways and the scent of fresh espresso, in the history etched into crumbling stone and the rhythm of a language that felt like poetry.

And in return, without meaning to, without even realizing it at first, you had given him pieces of yourself. The quiet corners of your heart, the stories tucked away for only the most deserving ears. The fears, the dreams, the moments that had shaped you. He saw them all—held them gently, as if they were something precious.

And somehow, he remembered all of it.

The way your fingers moved when tying your laces—quick, practiced, a subconscious rhythm you never thought twice about. The way you stirred your coffee absentmindedly, always three times, never more, never less. How your nose scrunched up ever so slightly before a sip, testing the temperature without thinking.

Then, of course, there was the pineapple on pizza—your unforgivable offense. He had gasped dramatically when you first admitted it, clutching his heart as if wounded by the mere thought.

"Mio Dio!" he had gasped, when he had first seen you put pineapple slices on your slice of the pizza he had spent four hours making for you at home, from scratch. "Stai rovinando tutto! This is a betrayal..." he declared, eyes alight with playful scandal, yet he still took your hand that evening, still kissed you like you belonged to every part of Italy.

And perhaps that was what struck you most—how easily he collected these pieces of you, storing them as if they were something worth keeping, worth cherishing.

It was fleeting, ephemeral, destined to fade when summer did.

But for now, he knew you, and you knew him.

It was unexpected—the way he let you in, the way he unraveled parts of himself that felt sacred, deeply personal.

He showed you the school where he had spent his earliest years, where he had first learned to chase dreams too big for a boy his age. He traced his fingers along the worn stone walls, the graffiti scrawled by restless students, and laughed as he recounted the trouble he used to get into, the teachers who never quite knew what to do with him.

Then, there was his childhood home—a modest place tucked away in a quiet neighborhood, walls filled with echoes of the past. He told you about summers spent on that tiny balcony, about the way his father used to hum old songs while cooking dinner, about the arguments, the celebrations, the life that had unfolded within those walls.

But it was when he brought you to her grave that everything shifted. His mother—the woman who had shaped him, guided him, loved him deeply, and left too soon. He didn’t speak much at first, just stood there, quiet, thoughtful, fingers brushing the cool stone. Then, slowly, he told you about her—the warmth of her presence, the lessons she had given him, the ache of losing her.

And in between, you lived with him—fully, unapologetically, as if time had no claim on the moments you shared.

You laughed until your stomach ached, until your cheeks hurt from smiling, until your laughter tangled with his and filled the spaces between you like music. You cried in ways you hadn’t before—not from sorrow, but from honesty, from the weight of stories told that had never been voiced so openly.

Together, you existed in a space untouched by reality, wrapped in something golden and fleeting. Neither of you spoke of the end, but it lingered, always, just beneath the surface.

Yet, somehow, that made it all the more beautiful.

And you loved him.

You loved him like you had never loved anyone else in your entire life. And he knew it.

Tangled up in the sheets after yet another round of him completely rocking your world, your head was resting on his chest when you tilted your head to look into his eyes and whisper the two little words that you had learnt on Google just for him.

"Ti amo..."

His grin stretched wide, unmistakable, almost wicked in its delight—the kind that sent a thrill down your spine, that made you wonder what thoughts ran through his mind in that exact moment. It was the kind of smile that could pull you in effortlessly, like a secret he was daring you to uncover, like he had already won a game you didn’t know you were playing.

The corners of his mouth curled with satisfaction, his eyes gleaming with mischief, amusement flickering beneath the striking aquamarine depths. He leaned forward slightly, as if savoring the way the words hung in the air between you, his fingers tracing absent patterns against the table, his body relaxed, utterly at ease.

Without hesitating, he said it back, "anch'io ti amo, tesoro."

But all good things eventually come to an end, and within the blink of an eye, your summer had come to a close.

You had gotten to know his soul in depth— every inch of him, every quirk, every flutter, every mark on his body. It was a lifetime of love experienced in one single summer.

A love that burned brightly, condensed into fleeting moments, yet carrying the weight of something much greater.

You knew him. Not just his laughter or his charm, but the quiet pauses between his sentences, the way his fingers twitched when he was deep in thought, the crease in his brow that only appeared when he spoke of things that truly mattered. You memorized the rhythm of his breathing, the softness of his voice just before sleep, the way his presence wrapped around you like warmth you never wanted to let go of.

Every mark on his body told a story, every scar a memory, every glance a secret shared only between the two of you. And in the golden stretch of those summer days, you traced them all, learning him in ways that felt impossibly permanent.

A lifetime of love, packed into stolen kisses beneath a foreign sky, into whispered conversations at dawn, into the soft pull of fingertips against skin.

And yet, when the season came to its inevitable close, when the sun dipped lower, signaling the end, you both knew—this was exactly how it was meant to be.

No regrets. No bitterness. Just a summer that would live in your bones forever.

And when the time came, when the final days of summer settled upon you both like the last golden rays of the evening sun, there was no bitterness. No desperate clinging, no sorrowful goodbyes laced with regret.

You had known him completely—every detail, every quirk, every unspoken thought behind those aquamarine eyes. And he had known you just the same. There was nothing left unexplored, no corner of his world, or yours, left untouched.

Yet, this was how it had always meant to end. Not in heartbreak, but in understanding. A gentle farewell, filled with gratitude for what it had been, rather than grief for what it could not be.

Right person. Wrong time. Right place.

You stopped at the café where it all began one more time before he dropped you off at the airport.

It had been almost two months ago that you met him here, but now?

It felt like a lifetime ago.

And so, beneath the amber glow of the setting sun, with Italy wrapping itself around you like a final embrace, you made a promise.

Not one bound by desperation or longing, but by understanding. By the quiet certainty that, though your story was meant to end now, perhaps—just perhaps—it wasn’t meant to end forever.

"If you’re still single," you murmured, fingers tracing the rim of your coffee cup, voice steady but soft, "meet me here. Ten years from now. Same place, same table."

He studied you for a long moment, aquamarine eyes deep with something unreadable—something like hope, something like fate. Then, slowly, he smiled. A real one. A promise sealed with nothing but the weight of the unspoken.

"Ten years," he whispered softly, but you knew him well enough to know what he was saying. "If you find yourself lost, or lonely," he continued softly, looking at you longingly, like he wanted to tell you to stay, but he knew he would be asking too much. "Will you come find me?"

He looked like he was losing a part of himself that he had never realized was missing until he met you.

Your lips curved into a watery smile. "Of course I will..." you replied, your fingers gently brushing his jaw, the way you had done countless of times. "I'll always find you, Teddy..."

And just like that, leaving him was easier, leaving Italy was easier, carrying the summer in your bones, the memory of him pressed into every part of you.

Maybe you’d return. Maybe he would. Maybe, just maybe, the right person at the wrong time would, one day, become the right person at the right time.

He was your soulmate. You never believed in them before, but you certainly believed in them now.

With your pact in mind, of a futuristic promise, you had finally agreed to part ways.

And just like that, it was over.

No tears, no grand gestures—just a quiet understanding, a moment suspended in time, wrapped in the golden haze of a summer that had changed you both.

He had dropped you to the airport, and your heart felt heavy and full as you parted ways.

One last goodbye kiss.

One last fleeting touch.

One last look of his beautiful aquamarine eyes meeting yours.

And then, you turned your back on him and began to walk away.

"Wait," he had called right before you fell out of earshot.

You turned, pressing your lips together to stop yourself from making this farewell harder for you than it was supposed to be.

A moment of silence.

And then he spoke.

"Goodbye, Y/N," he murmured.

"Goodbye Teddy."

It was only when you had turned around fully and passed through the security gates that you allowed the tears to finally spill.

But you held hope in your heart.

You walked away, carrying the weight of what had been, the tenderness of shared mornings, the electricity of stolen glances, the laughter, the knowing, the love—brief but undeniable.

Yet there was no sadness in the goodbye. Because, in the heart of Rome, beneath the watchful gaze of history itself, you had made a promise.

Ten years. Same place. Same table.

And whether fate would honor such a pact, whether time would lead you back to him, was a mystery left to the future.

But for now, you carried him with you, and he carried you with him.

And maybe—just maybe—Italy would call you home once more.

Ten years passed faster than you anticipated. The years slipped through your fingers like sand, faster than you ever imagined.

Lovers came, and lovers went. Life unfolded—new places, new faces, fleeting romances that never quite ignited the way that summer had.

Theo was embedded into your soul. He was there in every, single thing you did. Your summer in Italy was no longer a distant memory, but a whole different lifetime, one that was etched so fiercely into your soul that it was a part of you. You lived, you loved, you lost, and yet, through it all, Theo remained.

Not in a way that haunted you, not in a way that stopped you from moving forward. No, he was simply there—woven into the fabric of your existence, stitched into the smallest, quietest moments.

It was in the smallest things—the subconscious gestures, the habits formed over a lifetime. In the way you lingered at cafés with ivy-clad doors, in the way you stirred your coffee three times, in the soft ache that settled in your chest when the golden glow of evening light reminded you of the way his skin had looked beneath the setting Italian sun.

Your summer with him wasn’t just a memory—it was a lifetime, a part of you, embedded so deeply that no amount of time could erase it. It had shaped you, changed you, taught you things no other experience ever could.

Because that summer lived within you, etched into your very being, woven into the quiet moments of your day.

It was there in the way your lips curled into a soft, private smile whenever a passing scent reminded you of fresh espresso in a hidden café. In the way your fingers brushed against ivy-covered doors, lingering as if searching for something lost. In the way your heart skipped—just barely—when the evening light mirrored the golden glow of those long-forgotten afternoons.

It wasn’t just a memorable summer vacation. It was a presence, a whisper of something untouchable yet undeniably real.

And whether the promise would be fulfilled or left behind in the folds of time, one truth remained—Italy had never truly let you go.

And neither had he.

And now, here you were. Ten years later.

Standing in front of the café where it had all begun.

Heart pounding. Breath shallow.

Wondering if fate still had a place for the two of you.

The café still looks the same. The ivy overgrown a little more, the paint a little more faded and worn and the steps that lead to the café a lot more rough and round-edged.

You stepped inside, your breath shaky as you tuck your handbag underneath your arm, tilting your head back to shake the hair all away from your face.

Your heart in thumping, your fingers are sweaty as you look around once, a quick scan of your eyes across the room.

And everything stops.

Your breath catches.

Just like that, time collapses.

Ten years, a lifetime’s worth of moments, all fading into insignificance the instant your gaze locks onto his.

He’s there. Exactly where he said he would be.

The same table, the same quiet confidence, the same presence that had once unraveled you completely. But different too—aged by experience, refined by the years that shaped him in your absence.

It's his eyes that give it away— that he's the same person as he was a lifetime ago, the same person you fell so hard for.

His eyes—impossibly vivid, the color of sunlit tides and forgotten dreams—burn into yours, a tether pulling you back, back to a time when love was effortless and fleeting, yet somehow eternal.

Yet, as his aquamarine eyes meet yours, as recognition flashes across his face, as his lips part ever so slightly in stunned disbelief—none of that matters.

"Teddy," you whisper breathlessly, your eyes meeting his, the rest of the occupants of the café fading into a blur— nothing else matters as much as him.

It takes two strides for him to reach you.

"Y/N," he pulls you into his arms, and your lips crash against his, tears spilling down your cheeks as you hear the golden sound of his voice calling out your name.

And you're finally home.

Because this was never truly a goodbye.

And somehow, somehow, it feels like the beginning all over again.

event; profile; nav;

217 notes · View notes

rjalker · 9 months ago

Text

apparently a bunch more people are coming to the Flatland fandom / tags because of gravity falls so PSA:

Flatland: A Romance of Many Dimensions, is public domain. It belongs to everyone. You do not need to buy a physical copy to read it. It has no copyright. It belongs to everyone.

It is free to read online. There are free audiobooks.

Here's another masterpost

Here's a link to it on Project Gutenberg where you can read and download it in many formats:

Here's an amazing free audiobook on the internet archive:

Here's where you can read the 2024 translation into modern English on the internet archive:

there are some typos that I need to fix but. I have covid I'm not doing that right now.

You can also read this translation here on tumblr at @flatland-a-2024-translation

There's an audiobook version on youtube as well now.

___

Here’s an animation from 1965

Here’s a stop motion film from 1982 in Italian with English subtitles

Here’s an animation from 2006

___

I do not recommend watching the free 2007 Flatland film which you can find on youtube until you've read or listened to the book unless you want to be really confused. The movie is an absurdist comedy. The book is a political satire. The movie is better appreciated after you've already read/listened to the book.

It also has a lot of flashing lights and motion-sickness inducing spinning. The timestamps for those can be found here. Please be careful if you have photosensitivity.

do not spend money on Flatland until you already know you like it. you do not need to spend money at all. It's public domain. it belongs to all of us.

Very important edit: The creator of the 2007 film that's free on youtube, Ladd Ehlinger is an extremely racist and misogynistic conservative. He made a political ad so blatantly racist and sexist that youtube has literally resstricted it, so that you can't share the link outside the site. Simply google his name and you will see dozens upon dozens of articles about how bigoted he is.,

Please be aware of what kind of person made that movie when you watch it. His bigotry is baked into the movie, and is why he refused to actually do anything with the original political commentary from the book.

You are not a bad person if you already watched the movie and enjoyed it, but you do need to be aware of what kind of person made it and how that affected the movie, and make sure others are warned.

#Flatland #Bill cipher #the book of bill #free books #free audiobooks #science fiction #vintage scifi

283 notes · View notes

fanfics-i-find-here · 1 month ago

Text

Do I Know You? Part 20

Synopsis: Your neighbor needs help, or maybe not really.

Note: Again, to anyone who speaks Italian and/or French I am so so so sorry. I used google translate because I have no one in my immediate vicinity that speaks said languages. I know I’ve said this before but I’m going to say it again. Platonic, gone. Enjoy!

Masterlist

The invite to the brunch had been attached to the fridge using a magnet you usually use for Christmas cards from family. It made you both anxious and excited. You were curious about what it would be like. Jason had been unceremoniously tightlipped about the whole thing, and you still didn’t know if he would be there. You had yet to discover what you would be wearing but every time you asked the girls about it; they would shoo off the matter. That’s what made you anxious.

Jason kept telling you not to worry, that those things were boring anyway, and he didn’t know why you were going. You replied that he hadn’t told you he was related to a billionaire, so he had no voice in the matter. He stopped bothering you about it unless you brought it up.

The energy between you two had become weird. It wasn’t off per say. He still acted the same way but some of it was more hesitant. It all started after he had been sick. It made you wonder what he caught and reluctantly it made you think of Red Hood, the way he had acted (The way he had kissed you). You had to shake the thought out of your mind far too many times.

Part of you wanted to tell Jason about it. You felt like you were hiding some secret romance from him. Which you weren’t, because Red Hood was not someone you were romantically inclined to. You liked Jason, you wanted Jason. Maybe that was why. You wanted Jason to know that while he had been…courting you? Kind of? Whatever it was he was doing, that you had kissed another man. It felt like something he should know. You hadn’t collected the energy to tell him though because, once again, you would have to tell him about Red Hood.

He was staying at your apartment again, something he started to do more frequently on the days you had off, especially during the day. You still had chores to do, deep cleaning groceries, laundry. All of which he happily helped with, despite how tired he would look (You found yourself going to bed much earlier than you usually would on these days).

That’s what brings you to now, standing in the elevator with a small rolling cart full of groceries, your greatest investment when you moved to the city. You had light-heartedly complained at the grocery store that now you had to buy food for two people (along with foods you didn’t really eat but you knew Jason did). He offered to pay for half of the groceries, and you defend yourself, saying you were joking, that you weren’t really mad about it. He paid for all the groceries before you could stop him. You two had earned an eye roll from the checkout person thanks to the spat that followed.

You got over it on the walk from the grocery store to the apartment complex. Jason hadn’t. He was teasing you about your slow reflexes.

“Should think faster, Sweetheart.” He taunted. You pinch at his arm with a pout. He grins and tugs at a strand of your hair in retaliation. You gap at him in disbelief, even though you’re the one that started the physical ‘violence.’ Before you can get on him about it, the door to the elevator opens and he’s out, dragging your grocery cart with him. You have nothing to do but follow him slowly. He gets to your door and playfully taps an impatient foot at you. You deliberately slow down to which he rolls his eyes.

You're fishing out your keys from your purse when you hear a door open. You glance over your shoulder to spot your neighbor. Her door is open more than just her peeping crack, so you assume she’s going somewhere. You go back to fishing out your keys. Just as you slide your key into the lock, she speaks up.

“Scusa,” her voice is quiet, and you and Jason turn to look at her.

“Mrs. Amato?” you ask, you had met her daughter, Beatrice, when she moved in. You had her number tacked on your fridge for emergencies and the older woman knew that. You wondered if something was wrong.

“Per favore, eh, help?” you and Jason meet eyes, and Jason takes a step forward. Ever one to surprise you, he talks.

“Cosa c'è che non va? come posso aiutarti?” it takes every nerve in your body not to smack him upside the head for not telling you he spoke another language. The woman smiles.

“Ah, un uomo così dolce che parla la mia lingua. Ne ha trovato uno buono.” She brings a hand up and pinches Jason’s cheek. He turns red and you stifle a laugh. He turns to glare at you. Mrs. Amato takes a step forward, grabs a hold of your hands and leans forward to press a kiss onto each of your cheeks.

“Move, help, per fevore.” You don’t completely understand what she wants but you let her lead you into her apartment.

“Mrs. Amato, what is it?”

“No, no, no.” she shakes her head, “Nonna Francesca.” She nods. You smile at her insistence.

“Nonna,” she nods again, “You said move, what needs to move?”

she gestures to her couch, “é wrong.”

“Jason,” You turn to find him hovering at the doorway holding your keys that you had left in your door, “Will you help me move her couch?”

“I’ll move it. You stand there and look pretty for me.” He says as he tosses you your keys, which you don’t know why he did. He knows your hand-eye coordination sucks. The keys promptly land on the ground with no attempt from you. You feel a warmth creep up your cheeks, although you're not sure if it was from him calling you pretty so casually or the fact the Nonna Francesca just watched your non-attempt to catch.

He turns to Nonna, “Come vuoi che venga spostato? Contro questo muro?” You never thought you had a thing for men speaking different languages and you had no idea what Jason was saying, but it was kind of getting to you. You shift on your feet ignoring the thought.

Nonna’s words are accompanied with several odd gestures between the couch and the wall on the opposite side of the living room. Jason moves to the side of the couch and easily starts shoving in the direction she had gestured. Despite Jason’s words, you move forward to help. A hand wraps around your wrist and pulls you back. Nonna wraps an arm around your waist and pats your shoulder with the other.

“No, Tesora. Watch. Enjoy.” She gestures to Jason, and you suddenly feel set up. The weather hadn’t been freezing today but it was still a little chilly. Jason had opted for jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt. You hadn’t thought much about it but now, with someone pointing it out, you applaud yourself for not getting distracted earlier.

He easily lifts the couch up and over the rug on the floor. The fabric of his shirt grows taut over his bicep in the process, and you suddenly have the urge to bite something. He pushes the couch back against the wall and turns catching your stare. Your eyes widen slightly, and he grins.

“You're doing a good job, Sweetheart. Real pretty.” He makes a frame with his hands, like you’re a picture. It makes you flush even more than you had been, but he doesn’t tease. He turns back to the other furniture and gestures to it.

“anche questo?” he asks and you continue to stare.

“sì, anche quello” Nonna answers. Jason is back to work moving things around. She turns to meet your eye.

“You have very good one, yes?”

“What?” you ask unsure of what she’s saying. She points to Jason.

“You have good one.” She presses. You think you understand what she’s saying.

“Oh, he’s not-” you press a hand to your chest, mimicking a mine motion, “We’re not together.” You hope she knows what you're saying. You think she does if only for the sly smile she had been wearing slipping into a disgruntled frown.

“I am not blind.” It’s the first full sentence she has said that you understand but you're at a lose for words, “he is il tuo amore.” She says with conviction. This language barrier was getting on your nerves but at least you know that amore means love. You hoped Jason wasn’t listening to this conversation.

You take glance at him and find him still rearranging the furniture without Nonna’s guidance. He’d set something down, eyes scanning it, head tipping this way and that before moving it again. He seemed focused.

“Me and Jason are just friends, um, amigos?” you shake your head, “no that’s Spanish.” She gives you a disapproving look.

“It’s amico. You were close.” You jump at Jason’s voice suddenly being right beside you. He’s still looking at the living room, now situated. You flush some more, worried that he had heard that entire conversation.

“è questo che vuoi?” he asks tipping forward to see around you and looking at Nonna.

“sì, questo è perfetto” she responds with a smile. She steps around you and pinches at Jason’s cheek again, “che dolcezza.” His entire face reddens, and it has nothing to do with the furniture he just moved. Your happy you’re not the only one flustered by Nonna Francesca. She shuffles you both towards the door with multiple Grazie’s.

“Mitco,” she’s tugging on Jason’s arm and tells him something with a smug smile, gesturing to you.

“Oh, um,” he won’t meet your eye, “She, uh, she says she has a grandson she thinks you would like.”

“What?” you ask, stunned. She had just set everything up so you could watch Jason lift things and now she was setting you up with her grandson?

The woman says something and Jason nods, “Yea grandson.” She turns to look at you.

“Sí, grandson for you.” You try to look at Jason, but he still won't meet your eye, so you look back at her with an apologetic smile.

“No, I’m okay.” You respond slowly. She gives you a conceding nod. She steps into the hallway to give you a kiss on each cheek. And then tugs Jason down by the collar to do the same. He seems startled by it.

“Grazie. Ciao.” She finishes and closes the door behind her. You and Jason stand there staring at the door in varying shade of shock, confusion, and embarrassment.

You suck in breath, “Groceries?” You swing your keys around a finger, and it slips off unintentionally. Jason catches them with ease and crosses the hallway to unlock your door. He doesn’t say anything, just holds the door open for you. You take a step in and move to the kitchen, unloading bags from the rolly cart and Jason follows.

It’s quiet and you worry. Worry about how much of the conversation Jason had heard. Worried because he at least heard the part where you called him just a friend (which shouldn’t matter! Jesus, you are just friends). Worried more that he might think you would take up Nonna Francesca’s offer of a grandson.

“You’re overthinking again.” The statement jars you from where you were rearranging the fridge to make things fit. You turn on your knees to look at him.

“What?” you ask. He stays quiet as he pushes a bag of flour into your pantry cabinet. Then he’s sitting on the ground next to you, the bulk of him essentially caging you into the corner of the kitchen.

“You’re overthinking,” He repeats, “but I don’t know what about.”

This could be a heavy conversation. One that you feel could be dangerous because of the admittance that would come from you. That you like Jason, more than a friend. That you want him here with you and for him to never leave. That your like may be more than that, but you still hadn’t had the conversation with yourself.

A stickle of fear stops you though. You had lived in Gotham for three lonely years. You had befriended Jason and in turn befriended his family. If you admitted your truth to him and it drove him away, his family might follow. (You don’t actually think Steph and Cass would do something like that, but it was a big what if?). You would be all alone again, with Darla, who had her own life as a grandmother to live, as your only friend. So, you don’t say any of that. You go for something easy, something level.

“Why didn’t you tell me you knew Italian?” Jason gives you a look, one of knowing, one that sees right through you. He knows that that wasn’t what you were over thinking but never one to push, Jason doesn’t comment.

“You never asked.” He says with a shrug. You settle back on your ankles, the shelves of the fridge door hitting your back, and you glare at him.

“What? You didn’t.” he insists. You roll your eyes.

“Fine. Do you speak any other languages I should know about?” you ask formally like it was a job interview. He must catch your tone because it makes him smile. He leans forward, elbows to knees, where he sits criss-cross.

“Which ones do you want me to speak, sugar?” His tone makes you press your back more into the fridge despite him not being anywhere close to being in your space. You will yourself to not wiggle where you sit. Evidently, he had seen you early, when he first spoke Italian, how it affected you.

This was newer, the flirting, since he had been sick. It wasn’t just the sweet way he would usually talk to you. This was a little more thick, more dark. And it made you press your thighs together and think of wandering hands when he wasn’t around. You still didn’t know what to do when he spoke to you like this. You wouldn’t shut him down, just avert.

“The ones you actually know, ding dong,” you shove at his shoulder to to hide the warmth of your cheeks and promptly stick your face back in the fridge. You feign finding space for the milk, mostly trying to settle the flush on your skin with coolness inside the fridge. You hear Jason snort, at your comment or your aggressive refrigerator organizing, you're not sure.

“tu es la plus jolie fille que j'ai jamais vue,” his voice is low, a drag to the words you're not use to. You settle back on your ankles as you look at him again. He’s staring at you, tunneling his way into your very soul. Your throat seizes for a moment.

“What’s that?” You ask quietly.

“It’s French,” he answers just as quiet, one of his hand’s clenches into a fist for a moment before relaxing. Your eyes are drawn to it for a moment.

“That’s not what I meant, jay.”

“’s what you said.”

You huff and sit up on your knees. You settle a hand on his shoulder and use it to help you stand.

“You know that’s not what I meant.” You feel the warmth of his hand following your calf as you step around him.

“Yea, I know,” he sighs but doesn’t actually offer an answer. You pick up the gallon of milk, step around him, and kneel down again, settle the milk where you made space for it. You sit down on your bum and open the bottom drawer, sorting through the older items.

“soooo?” You glance at him and he’s still staring at you. Anyone else and it would have bothered you, but Jason is sitting on your kitchen floor watching you organize your fridge after he went grocery shopping with you. You have nothing to be sketched out about his staring.

“What?”

“Bubs.” You say in accusation

“I just called you weirdo is all.”

You scoff at him, “I don’t think the word weirdo exists in the French language.”

“How would you know? You don’t speak french.” He says in a higher than thou voice. Your eyes lift from the drawers to glare at him only to find him with a shit-eating grin.

“I oughta wack you, boy.” You mean half-hearted, not being one for violence against friends, but then Jason, in all his smugness, speaks up.

“I’d like see you try.” The condescension in his tone, while it makes you shiver, riles you up.

“Okay, that’s it.” You leap from your spot on the floor and practically tactical him. You don’t genuinely wish pain against Jason, honestly you just want to bop him on the head. Maybe surprise him by the sudden attack (which you’ve discovered is very hard to do, although you jump at your own shadow sometimes so maybe you didn’t have a say in the matter).

Nothing works out the way you want. Your surprise bop to his head is not a surprise. He easily catches your wrist before it can come anywhere near him.

However, he is surprised by the rest of you that does not slow down. He ends up on his back, you chambered atop him, straddling his stomach. Your far too proud of yourself honestly, you didn’t think you’d best him.

“I win,” you say with grin, your free hand gently pats his forehead. Your grin drops when you look at his face. You have a few thoughts run through you. You think you’ve made a mistake. You’ve hurt him. You’ve made him uncomfortable. He looks far too hot like this. Why is he looking at you like that? Why is his hand tightening on your wrist? Why is his hand on your thigh?

Your thoughts catch up too little too late. Suddenly you’re flipped over, an embarrassingly startled noise escaping you. Then you're blinking up at Red Hood. Black hair, scars, black and white mask. For a moment you remember lips pressed to yours, a nip there. Your breath stutters and you blink. Jason’s staring down at you with a far too victorious smile.

“I think I’ve won actually.” You don’t respond because you feel stuck in a limbo. He’s hovering over your noses nearly touching. Your breath shallow because you think you’ve officially lost your mind. Not only is your mind trying to smash Red Hood and Jason together but with him hovering above you, you want nothing more than to drag his body down against you.

His smile drops and his hand that was holding your thigh comes up to press at your cheek and temple.

“What’s wrong? What’d I do?” he asks pulling up. Your quick to fist at his shirt stopping him. You try for an easy smile.

“It’s nothing, you just startled me.” His face tells you that he doesn’t believe you. “I still think I’ve won.” Your hand leaves his shirt to pat him on the forehead again and then it slides through his hair, pushing back his bangs. You stare at the roots. You think they look darker than they had been a few weeks ago and you wonder if he dyes it.

“Shit, the ice cream.” Jasons words have you blinking in confusion. He climbs off of you and leaves you on the floor. You hate it when he does that. You think he’s going to do something, anything that his actions might hint towards and then he scampers off. You sigh and press your hands to your face. You can hear him rustling around in bags and you’re pretty sure he steps over you to drop the likely half melted ice cream tubs in the freeze.

You feel a skimmed hand at your ankle, a gentle squeeze at your shin, then a less gentle squeeze at your knee. Your leg twitches and you stifle a giggle with your hand.

“Oh, pretty girls ticklish?” you’d flush and stutter at pretty girl if it weren’t for the threat of being tickled. You peek through your fingers, and you think you’ve met a demon with the evil, mischievous look on his features.

You scramble to your feet, “Jason, no” you say with an accusatory finger. Your attempts are for nothing. You make it to the couch before you’re a shrieking, giggling mess of a girl at the hands of one Jason Todd.

Additional note: Again a thank you to MagandaJinx on Ao3 for the idea of Nonna Francesca, I don’t know why she became Italian she just did. Next chapter is longer than I anticipated but the end of it is the beginning of the Brunch chapters, also they got way too horny in it so I am currently trying to readjust because it’s too soon for that. Any who, as always thank you for reading and please tell me your thoughts!

Tag List: @little-miss-naill, @nikilolo787, @joonunivrs, @uzxotic, @qardasngan, @stormz369, @g4bbi3xx, @iwatobiswimbros, @the-lonely-flute, @elz-xo, @gone-batty-fics, @princessesgarden, @notfckincreative, @love-theangel, @feyres-fireheart, @penguimlover23, @herodedicatedblog, @dearghostling, @automaticplant, @alma-ru3, @13fresh, @anuttellaa, @nekotaetae, @redsakura101

#jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #do i know you?#kandywrites #fanfics-i-find-here

103 notes · View notes