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theostrophywife · 7 months

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kiss with a fist | chapter four.

masterlist 💋 chapters 💋 playlist

pairing: theodore nott x reader.

song inspiration: bohemian rhapsody by queen.

author's note: i'm warning ya'll now this one is sugary sweet. i'm basically finished writing all the chapters, so i'll be pushing these out more often. as always, i hope everyone enjoys my mans.

The west wing of the castle was eerily quiet as you led Theo through the corridors. The spiral staircase leading up to Ravenclaw Tower snaked all the way up to the fifth floor, which was proving to be a feat to climb in the dark given that you weren’t able to cast lumos without being discovered. It didn’t help that a slightly inebriated Theo kept trudging on your toes during your ascent.

“Oh for Merlin’s sake,” you hissed under your breath before grabbing hold of Theo’s hand. Even in the dark, you could tell that the insufferable twat was smirking. “Not a word, Nott. I either hold your hand like a toddler or keep suffering in silence as you stomp on my toes with your giant feet.”

“You know what they say about giant feet,” Theo whispered behind you. Moonlight streamed through the skylight, perfectly illuminating your scowl. His grin grew wider as he squeezed your hand. “Giant shoes. What did you think I was going to say, Y/N?”

“I’d prefer if you didn’t say anything.”

Theo gave you a mocking salute as he quietly followed you up the stairs. You tried not to focus on the warmth of his hand or the way his fingers twined tightly around yours. You especially tried not to dwell on the strange but not entirely unpleasant sensation of Theo’s thumb rubbing soothing circles across your knuckles.

When you reached the fourth floor, Theo made no move to release your hand as you walked up to the wooden door. It had no knob or keyhole, but a knocker in the shape of an eagle. Identical to the common room entrance, which was a floor above. But you had no plans on smuggling a Slytherin into the eagle’s nest.

Instead, you gently rapped on the knocker. The bronze eagle blinked back at you. Theo nearly fell over in surprise as it rasped out a question.

“What breaks and never falls, and what falls and never breaks?”

“Day breaks and night falls,” you answered.

The knocker nodded, appearing pleased before the door swung open. Theo chuckled softly. “Of course you Ravenclaws would require a riddle for entrance. Godric forbid you use something as simple as a password.”

“Passwords are easily guessed, riddles are not.” You tugged him into the dimly lit hallway and gave him a sharp look. “Don’t get any ideas of sneaking in, either. The riddle changes every day and the eagle is prone to clawing intruders.”

Theo shivered. “And yet everyone thinks that we Slytherins are the sadistic ones.”

You smiled in satisfaction as the two of you walked further into the fourth floor. Theo trailed along after you, more than happy to let you take the lead for once. He stopped short when you opened the door to the music room. Starlight flooded in through the stained glass windows, drawing silver prisms across the crushed velvet couches, ornate persian rugs, and tiered choral risers. Instruments of every kind were organized into neat rows—harps, cellos, lutes, violins, and even a set of bagpipes.

But you weren’t interested in any of them.

In the center of the room sat a baby grand piano. Theo watched curiously as you sat on the bench and carefully lifted the mahogany top.

“I didn’t even know we had a music room,” he remarked as he slid in beside you.

“That’s not surprising at all.”

Theo rolled his eyes. “So this is how you relax?”

You nodded, resting your fingers on the ivory keys. “Like I said, I’m not really the type of person who can just turn their mind off so I have to occupy myself with something else. With music, I can focus on the chords and scales and patterns and eventually I sort of just get lost in the melody.”

“Play something for me, then.”

You nodded and started playing a familiar piece. The music flowed through you like honey, each chord and note so vivid in your mind that you could practically imagine the sheet music floating before you.

When you first came to Hogwarts, you spent countless hours in this room. Every time you felt overwhelmed by the wizarding world, you channeled your frustrations and fears into this piano. You found that music was a universal language that was understood by both the magical and muggleborn.

As you played, you felt the classics pour out of you. Beethoven, Chopin, Liszt, Debussy. They were pieces that you learned from your father. You could almost picture it now, sitting in your sunny London flat and playing the piano together while your mother watched and listened.

The melancholic melody of Swan Lake filled the room. It was the first piece you ever mastered when you begged your father to teach it to you after coming home from the ballet. A wave of nostalgia crashed into you as you closed your eyes and let yourself become one with the music.

Each movement was fluid, the muscle memory embedded into you while your fingers flew over the keys. The piece built to its crescendo and it felt bittersweet as you delivered the final note. You had all but forgotten about Theo until you opened your eyes again.

“Only you would find the morbidity of Swan Lake relaxing,” he said with a small smile.

You quirked a brow. “You know Tchaikovsky?”

“Of course. Contrary to popular belief, I’m not a total degenerate.”

“But he’s a muggle.”

“I’ll have you know that I received an Outstanding in my O.W.L. for Muggle Studies.”

You gaped. “I didn’t even know you were taking Muggle Studies.”

“Advanced Muggle Studies,” he corrected. “As much as I love a depressing classic, I think you’ll find this piece a bit more modern.”

Theo scooted over and began playing a vaguely familiar intro. You strained to place the music and watched with complete bewilderment as he continued to play with a grin.

Any way the wind blows doesn’t really matter to me.

The realization set in just as Theo nudged you to play the next part with him. The ballad came naturally to you after having heard the song so many times.

Mama, just killed a man.

Put a gun against his head, pulled my trigger, now he's dead.

Mama, life had just begun.

The two of you barrelled through the guitar solo and weaved through the operatic section. Your fingers were cramped by the time you hit the hard rock portion of the song. You hadn’t even noticed that you were singing along until you heard Theo laugh in delight beside you. Thank Rowena for the soundproof walls.

You turned over, and sang the lyrics right at him. So you think you can stone me and spit in my eye?

Theo delivered the next line with equal fervor. So you think you can love me and leave me to die?

The two of you looked at each other and serenaded one another rather aggressively. Oh, baby, can't do this to me, baby.

Just gotta get out, just gotta get right outta here.

Both of you were in stitches when you finally reached the outro. You couldn’t remember the last time you laughed so hard.

“We did not just perform a godsawful rendition of Bohemian Rhapsody.”

“Speak for yourself. My vocals would’ve brought Freddie Mercury to tears.” He touched his heart, looking solemn. “Godric rest his soul. The man was a proper genius.”

“I would not have pegged you as a Queen fan.”

“You can peg me no matter whose fan I am, darling.”

The snort came out of you before you had a chance to reign it in. Theo’s eyes widened in surprise as you covered your mouth in utter mortification. It had taken you years to control your snort, but sometimes it just slipped out.

“Did you just—”

“Speak of it ever again and I’ll maim you, Theodore.”

He raised his hands. “I’m not mocking you, I swear. I’ve just never heard you laugh like that.”

“Yeah, well, I suppose all this faffing around has unearthed my shameful secret.” You tried and failed to conceal your smile. “Consider it a compliment. No one’s heard my snorting in years.”

“Maybe they should. It’s quite charming, you know.”

You chuckled again, not bothering to hide your snorts.

Theo grinned. “On second thought, I think I’d like to keep that laugh all to myself.”

The flush that crept onto your cheeks was entirely involuntary. You stretched your legs underneath you and bumped your knee against his. “Congratulations, Nott. You’ve somehow managed to accomplish the impossible. I actually feel relaxed for once in my life.”

“Relaxed enough for a midnight snack?”

You shook your head. “No way. I’m not sneaking into the kitchens again. I barely escaped Winky’s notice when I nicked your muffin last time.”

“Who said anything about the kitchens? I have my own stash of snacks back in the dungeons. How do you feel about gelato?”

“I’ve never had it,” you admitted.

Theo looked properly affronted. “As an Italian, I take that as a personal offense.”

“Isn’t it the same thing as ice cream?”

“The same as—that’s honestly the most inconsiderate thing you’ve ever said to me.” He rubbed his temples. “This is no longer a matter of choice now. The reputation of my people is on the line until you’ve tasted stracciatella.”

Your mouth quirked. “Got any mint chocolate?”

As you expected, he flung his hands around as though you’d just asked for feet flavored gelato. “Che palle! This is more dire than I thought. Mint chocolate? You might as well squeeze toothpaste on a chocolate frog and call it a day.”

Theo ranted as he led you out of the music room. You couldn’t help but giggle at the genuine distress in his expression. You made it all the way to the first floor of the tower before he stopped grumbling under his breath.

“Well, gelato aficionado, I hope you have a plan because Filch is probably making his rounds as we speak.”

He only smirked in response. “I may know a shortcut.”

You followed after Theo as he approached a portrait on the far end of the west wing. He produced the grimoire from his pocket and shuffled through the worn leather pages before he found the correct page. With a flick of his wand, Theo chanted something in Italian. The portrait, a young woman with dark hair and a mischievous grin, appraised the two of you. As her gaze flickered over you, the familiarity of those watercolor eyes struck you like lightning.

“Fai scelte intelligenti, cugino.”

With that, the portrait swung open into some sort of secret tunnel. Theo’s lips twitched as he gestured for you to step through the threshold. As the portrait swung close, you heard the young woman sigh dreamily.

“La storia si ripete.”

While your understanding of Italian was rudimentary at best, you were fairly certain that she’d said something about history repeating itself. Theo reached for your hand in the dark and you took it without question. You were deep within the secret passage before you even realized it.

“Family of yours?”

“How’d you guess?”

“You have the same eyes,” you observed. “Plus, she called you cousin.”

He seemed mildly amused by the comment. “Been brushing up on your Italian?”

“Only enough to make sure you’re not insulting me.”

Theo chuckled. “Fair enough. To answer your question, yes. The portrait is of Coletta, my second cousin thrice removed. She attended Hogwarts centuries ago. She was a Ravenclaw as well.”

“Why is that name so familiar?”

“She invented the enchantment for the moving portraits. Of course her first subject was herself.”

“So narcissism and vanity is an inherited trait, then?”

Theo smirked. “Darling, when you’re as pretty as we are, then immortalizing that beauty for future generations to behold becomes a high priority.”

“Oh, good. I was worried that you were becoming too humble."

“Let’s just say that dear old Coletta won’t be the only one in my bloodline to be featured on a chocolate frog card.”

“I doubt that being the world’s most massive wanker constitutes the commissioning of a card.”

He rolled his eyes as you rounded a corner. Theo kept you behind him as he pushed on a depression in the walls. It gave way, swinging open to an empty hallway.

“Speaking of massive wankers, welcome to the Slytherin dormitories.”

You smirked and nodded to the giant serpent statue at the end of the hallway. “Is that a basilisk or are you just happy to see me?”

“My poor little Ravenclaw. I’m afraid I’ve corrupted you past the point of no return.”

“Please,” you tutted, strutting through the maze of the dungeon dormitories like you owned the place. “I was depraved way before I ever met you.”

Theo chuckled under his breath as he led you further into the heart of the viper’s nest. Through the windows, you could see the dark waves of the Black Lake ripple as you walked through. It was oddly beautiful, in a morbid sort of way.

“Here we are,” Theo said as you came to a stop at the end of the hall. “Home sweet home.”

Before you entered, he muttered a series of privacy and protection spells that you’ve never even heard of. Magic weaved through the door and sizzled with evergreen sparks before it finally swung open.

“Paranoid much?”

“You have no idea. You Ravenclaws may have your riddles, but learning how to hex your door from nosy snooping twats is a right of passage for every Slytherin.”

You peered through the threshold, suddenly feeling nervous. In the past year doing whatever it was you and Theo were doing, it had become a sort of unspoken rule to have sex anywhere but your dorms. For one, it was too much of a hassle to sneak each other in, but if you were being honest, the main reason why you've never even attempted was because seeing someone else’s room was strangely intimate. You tried not to think about how easily Theo invited you into his space as you ducked through the door.

A mixture of envy and jealousy hit you full force when you walked into his dorm. It was a massive room with a four poster bed, luxurious velvet curtains, and a stained glass skylight. There was a mahogany desk littered with ancient tomes, cracked parchment, and half empty ink pots. The latest Nimbus model was propped up next to his nightstand with a green and silver scarf tied around its hilt. Leave it to Theo to use the expensive broom as a glorified hanger.

You made your way through the elegantly decorated room and noted that it was far tidier than you would’ve expected. Theo was content to hang back and watch as you looked through his baubles. A picture on his nightstand caught your eye. Mostly because it wasn’t like the moving portraits you were so used to seeing in the wizarding world. This was a still likeness, a polaroid of a beautiful dark haired woman with little Theo. He was wearing a Cambridge jumper three sizes too big and showing off his two missing front teeth with a cheeky grin.

The image tugged at your heart. “Is this your mum?”

Theo nodded. “Yeah, that was the first time she took me with her to Cambridge.”

“And there’s the infamous jumper you begged her to buy, huh?”

“The one and only.”

You kept staring at the photo, noting how happy little Theo looked. It made you think back on that day at the lab when you watched him slip on his smirk like a mask. Like armor. You wondered if you’d ever see his unguarded smile, full of childlike wonder and joy, just like in the picture. You wondered why you even wanted to.

“She was very beautiful,” you finally said, setting down the polaroid.

“She was,” Theo wistfully agreed. “Clearly I inherited her good looks.”

Rolling your eyes fondly, you continued surveying his room. For some reason, you found it fascinating. You nearly squealed in delight when you came across the towers of books he had lined up against the wall.

“Go ahead,” Theo said with a chuckle. “I know you’re dying to snoop, diavolina.”

He couldn’t have been more right. You loved going through people’s bookshelves. You could tell a lot about a person based on their books. In Theo’s case, his reads were nearly as chaotic and surprising as he was.

As expected, there were a few books on quidditch, a rare potions tome that you were fairly certain cost a small fortune, a selection of mystery novels, all magical save for a lone leatherbound book on the top shelf. You carefully cracked it open and found yourself reading through the Divine Comedy.

“Dante’s Inferno,” you said in surprise. “How terribly morbid of you.”

“How so?” He asked, reading over your shoulder. “Alighieri composed it as a comedy rather than a tragedy. It does have somewhat of a happy ending.”

“I suppose, but the poem was mainly a raw commentary on the savage nature of human existence and delved into the ugliness of it all, from the banal to the depraved. The eternal torture chamber was a meditation on evil. Even purgatory explored the flaws of human nature and the fallen state society often finds itself in.”

Theo took the book from your hands and flipped to the last section. “Yes, but Paradiso was all about goodness. It explores transcendence, redemption, and virtue.” He smiled softly. “I know the concept of paradise might be a bit naive, but isn’t there a concept of heaven that we all hold onto to prevent ourselves from despairing? When you’re trudging through shit, you’ve got to hope that you’re clawing for something better on the other side.”

You were silent for a moment. “What does Paradise look like for you, Nott?”

Theo smirked. “You’ll have to get me higher than this to answer that question, dolcezza.”

“Fair enough. Now educate me on gelato like you promised.”

A few minutes later, the two of you sat cross legged on his rug while indulging in decadent scoops of stracciatella. The creaminess of the gelato was perfectly complemented by delicious flakes of dark chocolate. The sounds you made while eating were borderline sexual.

“If I had known it was this easy to make you moan, I would’ve introduced you to gelato ages ago.”

You lightly kicked him in the shin. “I still can’t believe you enchanted a mini fridge to hold your fancy imported dessert.”

It was actually quite impressive. You hadn’t even thought of doing that yourself and you were the muggleborn one.

“Perks of acing advanced muggle studies.”

“Having a Gringott’s vault at your disposal helps as well.”

“Smart, rich, and handsome. I’m just an all around catch, aren’t I?”

“Someday you’ll make some poor unsuspecting witch very, very miserable.”

“Someday?” Theo asked, the corner of his mouth curving into a mischievous smile. “Why wait? I’m perfectly capable of making you miserable now.”

With that, he took a dollop of his gelato and smushed it against the tip of your nose.

You gasped in surprise, squealing at how cold and sticky it felt against your skin. “You’re a dead man, Nott.”

Theo bolted to the other side of his dorm and you followed, trying to fling scoops of gelato at him. He giggled like a child as he dodged your attacks but there was only so much space for him to evade you. Finally, he gripped your wrists to keep you from retaliating.

“Here, let me clean you up.”

As you squirmed in his grasp, Theo leaned over and licked the tip of your nose. You squealed in disgust as he lapped up every bit of gelato. Theo sneakily took your cup from you and set them aside before leaning back to admire his work. From this close, you could see the gold flecks in his eyes. They darkened as you glanced up at him, his blue green gaze turning stormy.

“What?” you asked, brushing at your face. “Is my face all sticky and gross?”

Theo shook his head. “No—you look fine—more than fine you’re—“ He paused, stumbling for words. “Can I kiss you?”

The question suddenly made you feel nervous, which was ridiculous given the fact that you’d kissed Theo countless times before, but there was something about the way he looked at you now that felt…different.

“You’ve never asked before.”

Theo frowned. “Maybe I should have.” He ran his fingers through his hair nervously. “Gods, you’re right. I can be a real wanker sometimes.”

You smiled. “To be fair, I kissed you first. Mostly to shut you up, but still. I’ve never asked either.”

He swallowed thickly as he ran his fingers through your braid. “Well, can I?”

A knot formed in your stomach as you nodded. This was ridiculous. There was no need to be nervous. You repeated those words over and over again to yourself as Theo caressed your cheek, his gaze flickering over your face as though he was searching for that final missing piece of the puzzle. Then, gently, as gently as he ever had, Theo leaned in and kissed you.

He tasted like cigarettes and mint, like dark chocolate and cream, like stracciatella and sin.

But most of all, Theodore Nott tasted like your own personal unraveling.

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#i would lick gelato off of this mans [censored]#theo nott #theo nott fic #theo nott smut #theo nott x reader #theo nott x y/n #theo nott x you #theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x you #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott imagine #theodore nott smut

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emjayewrites · 2 months

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Lil’ Crush (Lewis Hamilton x Black!Fem Hairstylist Reader)

SYNOPSIS: Lewis has a huge crush on his hairstylist.

PAIRINGS: Lewis Hamilton x black!fem hairstylist reader (Y/N)

WARNINGS: cursing, slow burn at first, obvious sexual tension, sexual content. RATED R (minors DNI/18+)

TAGLIST: @queenshikongo3 @cocobutterqwueen @httpsserene @mauvecherie-writes @pausmoon @a-moment-captured @yeea-nah @melodichaeuxx-lacritquexx @lewisroscoelove @hxneyclouds @questionable-behaviour @lovebittenbyevans @tian-monique @alika-4466 @saintslewis @cherry2stems @planetmimi @woderfulkawaii @d3kstar @liamundi @trinitoldyouso @scorpiobleue @pharaohanubis0 @certifiedlesbianbaddie @serpenttines-library @peyiswriting @royallyprincesslilly @motheroffae @hrlzy @sinflowersugar @hopefulromantic1

A/N: Just something cutesy/nasty to hold everyone over as I take a step back from writing 🤗

Lewis tolerated your occasional tardiness at appointments, despite his dislike for waiting on others. Time and time again, you apologized, citing car troubles or traffic or double booking as the reason. But Lewis didn't mind; all that mattered was that you always showed up and delivered exceptional work.

You were skillful at your job, always in a chipper mood, explorative, and knowledgeable about your craft. You taught him the basics on how to take proper care of his hair, telling him what products to use for his specific hair pattern. You were licensed, a continuous learner of the industry, but most of all you weren’t afraid to put him in his place.

Although he hated to admit it, he enjoyed how straightforward you were, telling him off and letting him know that all of his championships, his celebrity, you couldn’t care less about it. Now, if that was anyone else, of course that will be the last time they will be within his inner circle, yet it was you.

They dubbed you “Lewis’ girl”, not meant disrespectfully but because there were rumors that Lewis forbids anyone else from pursuing you. He would never admit it openly, but you were special to him - his confidante. And he wasn't willing to let anyone else have you.

It wasn't possessiveness, just a desire to keep you all to himself. So he came up with a plan, vowing to be honest with himself and stop playing games. But knowing Lewis, it would probably take a while.

Until then, he continued pining - casual flirting here and there that goes under your radar, small gifts, giving you his undivided attention. The works. It was you after all.

Once again, you joined Lewis for another race weekend. Despite your growing fame and clientele, you made sure to schedule around Lewis's busy racing schedule. He always spoke highly of you and his fans loved every hairstyle you created for him since becoming his permanent hairstylist toward the end of last season.

Lewis only gave you the best: from hair tools to flights and hotel rooms, whatever you needed, you received it. After all, you were his girl.

Another race in another country. This time you found yourself in Japan. A first time for you whereas a countless number for him. Lewis flew you out first class and booked you a suite with a view. It was your first time, so you had to have a great experience.

Your hair was in its natural state, perfect spiral curls from your flexi rod set. Lewis loved your hair like this, how it framed your face beautifully and reflected your personality. You were always experimenting with different styles - silk presses, bohemian braids, wigs - and they all worked flawlessly. Despite claiming to not be into fashion as much as Lewis, he couldn't help but compliment your impeccable outfits.

You were in your own world, moving around freely as you listened to a song from one of your many playlists. You just finished washing his hair and was now in the midst of detangling his curls before blow-drying.

Lewis had always prided himself on being a disciplined and focused athlete, but when it came to you, he was powerless. Every time he saw you, his heart raced and his mind went into overdrive, imagining all the ways he could make you moan and scream his name, especially with the outfit that you wearing.

He had a preference for skirts over pants on you, admiring how they showed off your long legs despite being a few inches shorter than him. Your ass looked amazing whether you wore pants or skirts, but there was something about you in a skirt that drove him wild with desire. Many nights, he dreamt of bending you over, reveling in how the skirt would rise up to reveal your thighs and perfect backside. He imagined taking you from behind, delivering mind-blowing thrusts and relishing in the sounds you made when you were near climax. You bent over in a skirt, wet and willing for him - it was one of his favorite fantasies. Another was listening to your sultry voice praising him, a kink he didn't know he had until you comforted him after a tough race. As you paused in the middle of braiding his hair to hold him close and speak softly, it aroused him more than he'd like to admit.

The sight of you in that skirt today distracted him like no other. The way the fabric clung to your thighs, subtly emphasizing your hips and drawing attention to the gentle curve of your waist, was nothing short of intoxicating. He could have spent hours just watching you move, the hem of the skirt brushing against your calves as you walked, offering fleeting glimpses of skin that sent a shiver through him. But he knew he had to control himself, or risk losing all restraint and giving into his desires right then and there.

Lewis sat in his seat, stealing glances at you and attempting to distract himself from thoughts of confessing his feelings. He had been keeping them hidden for months, fearing that revealing them would destroy the strong bond of friendship that had grown between you over the past year. Before meeting you, Lewis was known as guarded by his close friends and family, but your presence had slowly broken down the barriers he had constructed after his breakup with his ex.

“Any ideas on what you want to get done today, or are you open to trying something new?” you ask as you part his hair into four neat sections.

Lewis winces as the comb glides through his tight coils, causing him to shift in his seat and prompting you to gently guide him back.

So tender-headed, you thought to yourself. But it was always worth it for the end result - styling Lewis' hair was one of your favorite things to do. You talked about everything and nothing - work, family, hobbies - and each time, Lewis opened up a little more. Plus, he was easy on the eyes.

He hummed thoughtfully before answering, "Hmm, let's go with the usual fade on the sides and maybe some blonde in the braids."

"Okay, I see you, Lew Lew," you exclaimed, causing him to chuckle.

As you worked on his hair, Lewis couldn't help but admire your skill and grace. You had always been artistic and creative, but watching you braid his hair was simply mesmerizing.

"How's it looking so far?" you asked, holding up a mirror for him to inspect the back of his head.

Lewis tilted his head to the side, admiring your handiwork. "Perfect as always," he replied with a smile.

"Good," you said with a satisfied nod before returning to braiding.

"So how have things been going for you lately?" He asks, breaking the comfortable silence between the two of you.

You pause for a moment before replying, "Pretty good actually. I've been busy with work. I got a lot of new clients."

"That's great to hear," Lewis smiles warmly at you. "You deserve all the success that's coming your way."

Your heart flutters at his words and you feel a warm flush spreading across your cheeks. Lewis often showed such overt affection towards you, but it still made you giddy.

"Thanks," you reply with a shy smile. "And what about you? How's everything been since your last race?"

Lewis hesitates for a moment before answering, "It's been...strange. But good." He reaches up to rub at his neck nervously. "I've been feeling different lately. I was in a sour mood about the car this season, but I’m just trying to enjoy the rest of the races."

"As you should, King," you say, making him grin widely. Lewis closed his eyes in relaxation as you worked on him, massaging oil into his scalp as you continued to section off his hair. He enjoyed feeling your hands on him, how gentle you were. "Don't fall asleep on me now," you reply with a laugh as you catch him dozing off.

"I'm not sleeping, just resting my eyes," he responded, trying to play it cool.

"Mmmhmm," you said skeptically, remembering the last time he had said that and ended up snoring away. "You said that last time and your ass was out like a light."

Lewis chuckled sheepishly. "Well, don't be so good at your job," he teased playfully.

"Bye, Lewis," you quipped in a dismissive tone, rolling your eyes. "Flattery will get you nowhere,” you shoot back with a wink before continuing to massage his scalp.

After a few minutes, you finish applying the hair oil and begin braiding the remaining sections of Lewis' hair. You work quickly and efficiently, your hands moving in sync as if they were made for this very task.

"You never cease to amaze me with your skills," he says sincerely.

"Well, I have a pretty amazing canvas to work on," you reply with a smile, referring to Lewis' hair.

He chuckles before getting serious again. "But seriously though, thank you for always taking care of me."

You pause in your braiding and look at him with concern. "Of course Lewis. You know I'm always here for you."

"I do know that," he says softly patting your arm.

Your heart races at the intimacy of the gesture. Lewis clears his throat and sits straighter in the chair.

"Alright, enough of that," he says, "what are your plans for the week?"

"Well, I was going to hang out here for another day or so then head back home to rest before I travel for another client."

"What do you mean 'stay for a day or so'?" Lewis asked incredulously. "Y/N, the suite is reserved until the end of the week. This is your first time in Japan; don't leave so soon."

I want to spend more time with you, Lewis thought to himself. But he couldn't express those feelings out loud, at least not yet.

"I have to rest, Lew," you stated, trying to sound firm.

"You can rest here," was his response, making you frown slightly. Although you didn't mind spending more time with Lewis, you didn't want to intrude on his personal space.

"What are you trying to do, convince me to stay longer so that you can bother me?" you teased half-heartedly, trying to hide your true feelings.

Lewis chuckled and shook his head. "No, I just don't want you to miss out on all that Japan has to offer. Plus, I would love for you to experience it with me."

His words tug at your heartstrings. You couldn't resist that charming smile and pleading look in his eyes.

"Fine," you finally relent with a smile. "But only if you promise not to bother me too much."

"Deal," he says with a grin before pulling out his phone. "I’m texting the guys now to tell them that you’re coming with us to dinner."

"Of course you are," you say as you finish up the last braid and give it a final spritz of hairspray. "All done."

Lewis rises from the chair and swivels around to face a mirror, examining his new hairstyle with a satisfied grin before turning his attention towards you. "Looks amazing."

"It was my pleasure," you reply with a warm smile.

The moment feels charged with unspoken tension, and for a moment, you both just stand there looking at each other until Lewis’ phone dinged with a text.

He checks the message and his grin widens. "It’s Miles," he informed you. "Looks like they're already waiting for us at the restaurant. You good to go?"

You glanced down at your outfit. You freshened up earlier and was currently wearing a mini cargo skirt and a black bodysuit. Simple yet stylish nonetheless. You nod, gathering your purse and other necessities then slipped into a pair of heels. You followed Lewis out of the suite and into the elevator. The ride down was quiet, but you can feel Lewis' gaze on you, making you shift slightly under his scrutiny.

As soon as the elevator doors open, Lewis leads you through the hotel lobby to one of the hotel’s restaurants.

Lewis fills you in on some interesting facts about Japan and its culture as you walk to your table. You find yourself hanging on to every word he says, enjoying not only his knowledge but also his company.

The rest of the guys are already seated, chatting animatedly amongst themselves.

Miles jumps up from his seat when he sees Lewis and rushes over to give him a hug. "Hey, bruv! Glad you could make it," he says before turning to face you with a warm smile. "Y/N, how are you babygirl? Looking as gorgeous as ever."

"I’m doing great." You greeted Lewis' best friend with a warm smile and leaned in for a hug. The embrace lingers longer than you expected, with Miles holding onto you tightly before finally pulling away. You don't think anything of it, as Miles is just as, if not more, flirtatious than Lewis. However, you can't help but notice Lewis's scowl from the corner of your eye. You then greeted Andrew and Tim, engaging in light conversation with them.

"Seriously, cut it out," Lewis whispered to Miles as he watched you talking to his friends.

Miles looked confused. "I just said hi, I can still talk to Y/N, right?"

"It's not about that, man. Just tone down the hugging and all that." Lewis was trying to keep his jealousy in check, but he didn't appreciate Miles being too touchy-feely. Miles was a hugger by nature, but sometimes he could be excessive.

"Relax, bruv," Miles said quietly so only Lewis could hear. "You need to be honest with her and stop messing around. If you keep dragging your feet, you'll end up losing her to someone else."

"But she--"

"Lew, are we going to eat or are you two going to have a private conversation all night?" you interrupted playfully, causing Andrew and Tim to laugh.

Miles nudged Lewis towards the booth. "Go sit next to your girl and quit being a dickhead."

Lewis chuckled and playfully swatted him away before doing as he was told and sitting next to you. He placed an arm around the length of the seat, engulfing you with his closeness and the addictive smell of his cologne. "Get whatever you want, Y/N."

"Oh okay, big spender," you say as you peruse the menu, your eyes stopping at the wagyu. "What if I want this?"

Lewis made a face of disgust at your choice. "You know how I feel about meat, but if you want it, you can have it."

Smiling mischievously, you pointed out another expensive option. "And this too?"

Lewis shrugged. "Anything you want."

You raise an eyebrow at him and put the menu down. "Are you sure? Because I can keep going."

Lewis laughs, knowing exactly what you’re doing. "Okay, okay. Let’s not bankrupt me. You can get things within reason. I don’t want you to become a little brat."

"I’m almost there with the way you’ve been spoiling me lately," you said. "I mean, who flies out their hair braider in first class?"

Lewis chuckled as he leans in closer, whispering in your ear. "Well, I can't have my girl flying in economy."

"Your girl?" you scoff, rolling your eyes as you continue playing the game with him. Lewis has always been a flirt, and sometimes the two of you engage in playful banter, but it never goes beyond that. A small part of you can't help but wonder if all the rumors about him being great in bed are true, and the thought briefly crosses your mind to take things further. However, your professionalism always took precedence, and you kept a decorum between the two of you. "So what’re you? My Sugar Daddy?"

"If that's what you want, I can definitely make it happen." He wiggled his eyebrows playfully, causing you to laugh and shake your head.

"You wish," you teased, knowing that Lewis was not one to shy away from spending money on those he cared about.

The conversation continued to flow easily between the two of you, with Miles and the others occasionally interjecting with their own comments and jokes. You couldn't help but feel grateful for this moment of normalcy amidst the chaos and hectic schedule of race weekends.

As the night went on and dinner came to an end, Lewis insisted on paying for everything before escorting you out of the restaurant.

"Thanks for dinner," you said sincerely as Lewis walked you back to your suite. "I had a great time."

Lewis smiled warmly at you as he watched you open the door. "Anytime, Y/N. Can’t have my girl out here starving."

"There you go with the 'my girl' bullshit," you say. "I bet you say that to every woman you’re around."

"Nah," he replied. "Only to you. You’re my girl."

You gave him a quick examination, noting how his frame filled out his clothes. He appeared to have bulked up since the last time you saw him; clearly, he had been spending some serious time in the weight room. You were fully aware of Lewis' reputation as a womanizer and didn't want to be just another conquest, yet you couldn't deny his attractiveness. And with him staring at you with such intense focus, you felt yourself on the verge of giving in to temptation.

"Why are you so quiet?" he asked you, pulling you out of your reverie.

"Honest answer?"

“Of course.”

"Just admiring you," you boldly stated, catching him a bit off-guard. "I’m surprised that you never tried anything with me. I mean, we flirt, but it never ends in anything."

Lewis looked at you with a mixture of surprise and curiosity, his eyes searching yours for any sign of jest, but the serious expression on your face told him otherwise.

"Well, to be honest," he began, "I didn't want to overstep any boundaries. You’re my hairstylist and I respect you."

"Is that all it is? Respect?" you inquired, unable to keep the hint of bitterness out of your voice.

Lewis hesitated for a moment before reaching out to tuck a wayward strand of hair behind your ear. "Of course not," he said softly. "I think you're an amazing person. It's just... I don’t want to ruin our friendship or make things awkward between us."

"We're grown adults," you told him. "Trust me, I wouldn't be even considering this if I thought it was going to fuck up everything."

Lewis searched your face for any signs of hesitation or doubt, before finally nodding in understanding. "I know…and you have no idea how much…fuck Y/N…you have no idea how bad I want you."

"Then show me," you challenged.

Without hesitation, Lewis leaned in and captured your lips in a heated kiss. The passion and desire between you two was palpable as his hands roamed over your body, pulling you closer to him. You eagerly responded, your own hands roaming over his muscular frame, feeling every inch of him.

After what felt like an eternity, you pulled away slightly, both of you gasping for air. "Wow," you breathed out, looking into Lewis' dark eyes.

"Yeah," he agreed, his voice low and husky. "I've been wanting to do that for a long time." Lewis rested his forehead against yours and whispered, "Let's take this somewhere more private."

Nodding in agreement, you grabbed his hand and led him inside your suite, shutting the door behind you.

Once inside, there was no slowing down. He lifted you up effortlessly and carried you to the bedroom, gently laying you down on the bed before crawling on top of you. His lips found yours again as his hands continued to explore every inch of your body. You moaned into his mouth as he kissed and nipped at your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

Lewis' hands traveled down to your hips where he began to unzip your skirt. "You don't understand how bad I wanted to do this, especially with how you kept teasing me with these fuckin' skirts," he groaned, tossing the skirt aside before trailing kisses down your chest.

You let out a breathy moan, arching into his touch as his hands found their way under your shirt before he removed it and the bra you wore. His touch was electric, sending sparks through your body and igniting a fire within you. You ran your fingers through his hair as he continued to leave a path of kisses down your body, finally reaching the waistband of your panties.

He looked up at you with dark eyes filled with desire and need before sliding them off of you. You couldn't help but feel self-conscious under his intense gaze, but he leaned in to press a soft kiss against the inside of your thigh, leaving a trail of wet kisses along the way to your womanhood.

"Look at how wet this pussy is for me," he commented as he glanced at your glistening mound. "You’ve been craving a nigga badly, huh?"

You couldn't even form a coherent response as Lewis dipped his head between your legs, his tongue expertly finding all the right spots and sending you into a frenzy of pleasure. You moaned and writhed under his touch, your hands gripping the sheets tightly as he brought you closer and closer to the edge.

When you finally came undone, it was with a loud cry of his name. He didn't stop there though, continuing to lick and suck at your sensitive folds until you were begging him to stop.

"You taste so good," he murmured, licking his lips before crawling back up to kiss you again.

You could feel his hard length pressing against your thigh and couldn't wait any longer. You reached for the waistband of his pants, but he stopped you, shaking his head.

"So impatient," he whispered against your lips.

"Shut up," was your response, making him chuckle. He stood up from the bed and quickly undressed himself before returning to hover over you.

"Tell me what you want," he demanded, positioning himself at your entrance.

"I want you inside me," you moaned without hesitation.

Lewis didn't waste any time thrusting into you in one smooth motion. The feeling of being filled by him was almost overwhelming as he started moving in a steady rhythm. You wrapped your legs around him, urging him on as your nails dug into his back. He groaned as he felt your tight walls clenching around him. He had been waiting for this moment for what felt like forever. He had imagined it a thousand times in his head, but nothing could compare to the real thing.

Lewis started moving faster, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. Your moans and whimpers only spurred him on as he chased his own pleasure.

You couldn't believe how good it felt. You had been with other guys before, but none of them could compare to Lewis. He seemed to know exactly how to touch you, how to make you feel like you were on cloud nine.

"You're so fucking tight," he groaned, his thrusts becoming more erratic. "So fucking wet."

He leaned down and captured one of your nipples in his mouth, swirling his tongue around it while still pleasuring you. You wrapped your arms around his neck, wanting to feel even closer to him. The intensity was building inside you and you knew you were close to another climax.

Lewis must have sensed it too because he reached between your bodies to rub your clit while still thrusting into you and sucking your nipples. It was too much and you screamed his name as you came undone again, your body shaking with pleasure.

He followed closely after, his hips stuttering before finally stilling as he spilled himself inside of you.

You both stayed in that position for a few moments, catching your breaths and enjoying the afterglow of sex. Lewis rolled off of you eventually and pulled you close against his chest.

"Damn," he murmured into your hair. "That was amazing."

You smiled contentedly, feeling more connected to him than ever before.

"I can't believe I waited this long," he continued, placing soft kisses along your forehead. "I should have made a move on you ages ago."

You laughed softly and snuggled closer to him.

"Well I'm glad you finally did," you replied, feeling completely happy and satisfied in that moment.

The two of you spent the rest of the night tangled up in each other, talking and laughing until you both fell asleep in each other's arms.

The next morning, you woke up to the smell of coffee and the sound of Lewis moving around. You stretched and smiled, feeling content and at peace.

"Good morning," Lewis said, walking into the bedroom with a mug of coffee. He handed it to you before sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Morning," you replied, taking a sip of the hot drink. "Thank you for this."

He grinned. "Anything for my girl."

Your heart fluttered at his words, still not quite used to hearing him call you that, but it felt right and it made you smile even more.

Part Two, anyone? Let me know in the comments.

#emjayewrites #sir lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton fanfic #sir lewis hamilton x black!reader #lewis hamilton x black reader #lewis hamilton x black oc #f1 x black!reader #formula one!black reader #formula one fanfiction #lewis hamilton fanfiction

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katsumox · 10 months

Text

domestic moment with bf!hobie <3

hobie brown x black reader. he loves u so bad its sickening. was a blurb but i’m obsessed with this man so it’s kinda long lol.

"Anyway, 's not stupid. 'S oxymoronic," you pout, rummaging through your makeup bag.

Your Erykah playlist is ringing through your small shared flat in south London. You pull your bohemian braids back into a ponytail before continuing your search.

"Dunno what that means, love," Hobie drawls as he picks at his nails, "Besides, thought you was gonna do my eye-black or whatever, seems you're chattin' me up instead, yeah?"

"Whatever, Bibi," you smile, finally finding your liner. "And you know what an oxymoron is, you ain't dumb. Sit."

"Oh my days," Hobie mutters, fighting the smirk creeping across his face, "Can't believe you've got me following orders. Get on with it, then," he says as he sits on the loveseat.

He's fiddling with the chipped black paint on his nails again as he watches you size up his face, fingers posed like a picture frame.

You huff, two-toned lips poked out in thought. You open the liquid liner, and as you're about to do the first line of black on his eyelid-

Hobie's deep voice breaks your concentration.

"Babes. Don't fuck me up now, yeah?" He hums, looking up at you as you purse your glossy lips, head cocking to the side.

"Can't concentrate if you can't keep your mouth shut."

He smirks at your slight attitude before retorting, "Sides, you're not close enough, innit? Come sit with me," He says, patting his thighs.

You sigh as you grip the liner pen with your teeth, sinking down on his lap. His arms reflexively come to rest loosely around your waist, as his fingers drum out nameless little beats on the meat of your hips.

"Go on then, love," Hobie encourages as you raise the pen, finally making the first marks of eyeliner across his dark eyes.

"Aw shit," You mutter, looking at his liner, "Fucked it up a bit, but I'll..." You trail off as you feel the intensity of Hobie's stare.

“You’ll what, babe,” he rumbles, low eyes trained on yours.

“Smudge it,” you mutter, as Hobie tucks a loose braid behind your ear. “…Finna smudge it out.”

Hobie’s eyes flicker from yours to your lips as his ringed hand holds your jaw. His lips part, his gaze never leaving yours as he runs his thumb over your cheek.

“Whatcha lookin’ at, Bibi?”

“You,” he drawls, pulling your jaw downward, towards him.

His lips are on yours, one hand still cradling your jaw as the other rubs comforting circles into your hip. Your acrylics are scratching at his neck as he presses you impossibly closer to him, smiling into your kisses.

“Gotta finish… Lemme finish, Bibi,” you breathe into the kiss.

“Kay, then,” he hums, “Hurry, wanna keep snoggin’ you.”

You giggle at his honesty, taking the pad of your thumb to smudge his liner. After a moment, you lean back, analyzing your work.

“You so pretty, Bibi,” you mutter, softly squeezing his cheek.

“You’re talkin’,” Hobie rumbles, chucking your chin, “Pretty ting like you, callin’ me pretty.”

His lips are shiny, covered in the brown gloss and lip liner from your kisses. His fingers never stop rubbing soft circles in your hips as he looks up at you.

“Give the pretty girl another kiss,” You demand, hastily tacking on a “Please.”

Hobie snorts at your demand, pierced eyebrow cocked in question.

“You think you give orders round here?”

You raise your brows in turn, watching and waiting.

Hobie huffs in feigned exasperation.

“Alright then, fine. Fine,” he sighs, “Not doing it ‘cause you told me to. ‘M doin’ it ‘cause I like snoggin’ leng tings like you.”

He kisses you again, sighing sweet nothings into the kiss.

#astv hobie #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown x black!reader #spider punk x you #spider punk x reader #spider punk x black!reader #spider punk x y/n #hobie brown x you #hobie brown x y/n #spider punk x black reader #my writing !🏛️🧁

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she-is-ovarit · 1 year

Text

By Sean Coughlan

BBC News

A diary written by a Yorkshire farmer more than 200 years ago is being hailed as providing remarkable evidence of tolerance towards homosexuality in Britain much earlier than previously imagined.

Historians from Oxford University have been taken aback to discover that Matthew Tomlinson's diary from 1810 contains such open-minded views about same-sex attraction being a "natural" human tendency.

The diary challenges preconceptions about what "ordinary people" thought about homosexuality - showing there was a debate about whether someone really should be discriminated against for their sexuality.

"In this exciting new discovery, we see a Yorkshire farmer arguing that homosexuality is innate and something that shouldn't be punished by death," says Oxford researcher Eamonn O'Keeffe.

The diaries were handwritten by Tomlinson in the farmhouse where he lived and worked

The historian had been examining Tomlinson's handwritten diaries, which have been stored in Wakefield Library since the 1950s.

The thousands of pages of the private journals have never been transcribed and previously used by researchers interested in Tomlinson's eye-witness accounts of elections in Yorkshire and the Luddites smashing up machinery.

But O'Keeffe came across what seemed, for the era of George III, to be a rather startling set of arguments about same-sex relationships.

Tomlinson had been prompted by what had been a big sex scandal of the day - in which a well-respected naval surgeon had been found to be engaging in homosexual acts.

Historian Eamonn O'Keeffe says the diaries provide a rare insight into the views of "ordinary people" in the early 1800s

A court martial had ordered him to be hanged - but Tomlinson seemed unconvinced by the decision, questioning whether what the papers called an "unnatural act" was really that unnatural.

Tomlinson argued, from a religious perspective, that punishing someone for how they were created was equivalent to saying that there was something wrong with the Creator.

"It must seem strange indeed that God Almighty should make a being with such a nature, or such a defect in nature; and at the same time make a decree that if that being whom he had formed, should at any time follow the dictates of that Nature, with which he was formed, he should be punished with death," he wrote on January 14 1810.

If there was an "inclination and propensity" for someone to be homosexual from an early age, he wrote, "it must then be considered as natural, otherwise as a defect in nature - and if natural, or a defect in nature; it seems cruel to punish that defect with death".

The diarist makes reference to being informed by others that homosexuality is apparent from an early age - suggesting that Tomlinson and his social circle had been talking about this case and discussing something that was not unknown to them.

Around this time, and also in West Yorkshire, a local landowner, Anne Lister, was writing a coded diary about her lesbian relationships - with her story told in the television series, Gentleman Jack.

But knowing what "ordinary people" really thought about such behaviour is always difficult - not least because the loudest surviving voices are usually the wealthy and powerful.

What has excited academics is the chance to eavesdrop on an everyday farmer thinking aloud in his diary.

Tomlinson was appalled by the levels of corruption during elections

"What's striking is that he's an ordinary guy, he's not a member of the bohemian circles or an intellectual," says O'Keeffe, a doctoral student in Oxford's history faculty.

An acceptance of homosexuality might have been expressed privately in aristocratic or philosophically radical circles - but this was being discussed by a rural worker.

"It shows opinions of people in the past were not as monolithic as we might think," says O'Keeffe, who is originally from Canada.

"Even though this was a time of persecution and intolerance towards same-sex relationships, here's an ordinary person who is swimming against the current and sees what he reads in the paper and questions those assumptions."

Claire Pickering, library manager in Wakefield, says she imagines the single-minded Tomlinson speaking the words with a Yorkshire accent.

There are three volumes of Tomlinson's diaries at Wakefield Library

He was a man with a "hungry mind", she says, someone who listened to a lot of people's opinions before forming his own conclusions.

The diary, presumably compiled after a hard day's work, was his way of being a writer and commentator when otherwise "that wasn't his station in life", she says.

O'Keeffe says it shows ideas were "percolating through British society much earlier and more widely than we'd expect" - with the diary working through the debates that Tomlinson might have been having with his neighbours.

But these were still far from modern liberal views - and O'Keeffe says they can be extremely "jarring" arguments.

If someone was homosexual by choice, rather than by nature, Tomlinson was ready to consider that they should still be punished - proposing castration as a more moderate option than the death penalty.

Tomlinson's former home was still there in the 1930s (bottom left), but has since disappeared beneath housing and a golf course

O'Keeffe says discovering evidence of these kinds of debate has both "enriched and complicated" what we know about public opinion in this pre-Victorian era.

The diary is raising international interest.

Prof Fara Dabhoiwala, from Princeton University in the US, an expert in the history of attitudes towards sexuality, describes it as "vivid proof" that "historical attitudes to same-sex behaviour could be more sympathetic than is usually presumed".

Instead of seeing homosexuality as a "horrible perversion", Prof Dabholwala says the record showed a farmer in 1810 could see it as a "natural, divinely ordained human quality".

Rictor Norton, an expert in gay history, said there had been earlier arguments defending homosexuality as natural - but these were more likely to be from philosophers than farmers.

"It is extraordinary to find an ordinary, casual observer in 1810 seriously considering the possibility that sexuality is innate and making arguments for decriminalisation," says Dr Norton.

Who was the writer of this diary?

Matthew Tomlinson was a widower, in his 40s when he wrote his journal in 1810 - a man of a "middling" class, not a poor labourer but not rich enough to own his own land.

"I try and imagine how he would have looked," says library manager Ms Pickering.

There are no pictures of Tomlinson, who is thought to have lived between about 1770 and 1850.

"Very dour," she suggests. And a "bit of a hypochondriac".

There are thousands of pages of handwritten journals - but some volumes appear to have been lost

"I imagine if you stopped him at his gate for a chat he'd talk about his gout more than anything else.

"I'd love to have a conversation with him about what Wakefield was like at the time," she says.

No-one knows how these private diaries, covering 1806 to 1839, ended up in Wakefield Library, but they were there by the 1950s and are presumed to be part of an earlier acquisition of old books and local documents.

There are three surviving volumes and at least another eight are missing.

But they show vivid detail about life in Wakefield in the early 19th Century.

Tomlinson, from his home at Doghouse Farm, recorded the life of nearby Wakefield

During elections, Tomlinson was appalled by the corruption, the rum drinkers having to be carried home in wheelbarrows and the "hired ruffians".

And at Queen Victoria's coronation he was sceptical about expensive ceremonies and celebrations, calling them all "humbug".

This was not a closed world. His social circle seemed to be avid readers of books and newspapers, following reports of revolutions abroad and riots and insurrections at home.

They saw elephants marching through Wakefield in a circus parade and military bands who had competed to hire the most talented black musicians.

We know where he lived - Doghouse Farm in Lupset, because he carefully wrote it on the front of his journals.

The farm, at the edge of the landowner's estate, is now under a housing estate and a golf course. All that survives are his diaries.

#Interesting #LGB #LGBQ history #gay #gay history #homosexuality #history #British history

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